Exchange FIC for Birgitriddle: The Chosen One Knows Not
Recipient: birgitriddle
Author: arbor_vitae
Title: The Chosen One Knows Not
Pairing: Tom/Harry
Rating: R
Warnings: Bondage, blood, masturbation, rough sex
Summary: During a Horcrux ritual, Tom gets a vision of a intriguing stranger.
Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's/artist's notes: This fic was written for birgitriddle. I have tried to include both a post-Hogwarts gen Tom and Tom/Harry with Tom topping. I hope you enjoy it, dear. :)
The rising sun's rays splashed through the open-curtained windows, casting a golden glow on the naked torso and legs of a dark-haired young man. The thin sheets were wrapped around his shins, and one hand was on his chest as he slept. The hand slithered down his taut stomach and lightly brushed against his groin before he shifted on the bed, resting on his stomach.
With a small yawn he woke up, his dark eyes peeking from his pillow. He rolled back on his bed, taking in his surroundings with a grin for a couple of moments before sitting up, enjoying the feel of the cool fabric against his bare buttocks.
Today there will be no work to attend to, and no work tomorrow, or the day after that. Just the previous day, he had resigned from his job at Borgin and Burkes, and he planned on leaving London by tomorrow.
There was not one student or professor who was not shocked by Tom's choice of profession. They had expected him to join the Ministry of Magic at the very least, and not some minuscule antique shop in the middle of Knockturn Alley.
Don't know me very well, now do they? he thought with a sneer as he drained the last of his coffee while staring outside his window. There are better places to be than the Ministry...far better.
Behind him on the floor, the writing desk, bedside cabinet, and half of his bed were laden with books. He had been researching extensively on the Hogwarts Founders' lives ever since he was a student at the magical school. A few years back he had come across a ring left by his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. However, the ring alone was not enough to satisfy his mission.
Fortunately, he had run across not one, but two other artifacts from Helga Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The two rare possessions were inside an old witch's home - a witch who had refused to sell her possessions back to Borgin and Burkes no matter how much Tom tried to persuade her.
But no matter...he had succeeded.
After closing the curtains, Tom made his way to the bed. He pulled out Slytherin's locket from a small carved wooden box made of dark wood. He traced a finger on the S engraved on the locket, imagining his mother wearing it as she walked the streets of London - homeless, helpless, and pregnant with him. Setting the locket gently on the bed and settling beside it, Tom pulled out a small tube that contained an emerald green liquid.
Horcruxes were meant to be created immediately following a murder, but Tom had come up with a plan to not have his soul ripped completely with every murder. He did not wish to hastily shove part of his soul into any nearby object. Nor did he wish to murder just anyone. The murder had to be meaningful, had to be someone worthy enough to die by his own hands...
He uncorked the tube, and a thin line of acidic green fume drifted to the air. He took three deep breaths before tipping the contents into his mouth. Immediately, he felt bitter acid filling his body; it was rising up his stomach, spreading to his arms and legs...although Tom did not have a mirror nearby, he could feel his eyes turning bloodshot. He continued to breathe deeply and slowly, allowing the potion to snip away at the shattered fragments of his soul.
After the final wave of acid washed over him, he positioned his wand over the locket. His body shook faintly from the invasion of the potion, but he gave it no heed. Concentrating, he chanted under his breath, his body rocking lightly on the bed. It was not long before he gave a small gasp of pleasure; a pearly white mist was seeping out from his wand and slithering straight into the locket, and the act of his soul leaving his body triggered a pleasurable sensation.
Absentmindedly his free hand slipped down his torso. Every little touch sent enjoyable shivers throughout his body.
Biting his lower lip, Tom averted his attention back to the spell, but emotions kept flaring inside his body as a fragment of his soul continued to be sucked into Slytherin's locket.
He was reaching the end of the ritual...his soul continued to drift into the locket, but he did not require a wand any longer. Tom let out an involuntary moan; the feelings were intense...blissful...he needed to...
Leaning backwards on the bed, Tom rested against his pillow and headboard. In a few minutes, the ritual would be complete, but Tom did not wish for the emotions to run dry once the process ended. He brought a long slender hand down to his erection.
I am a god, he thought haughtily as he stroked himself. In his mind's eye he was being worshipped by the entire wizarding world. He was their god, the omnipotent. Laughing, he continued to pleasure himself, his eyes tightly shut, his back arched, and his head thrown back.
No one could defeat him...no one could hurt him...he was the master of the entire universe, stronger than God himself...
I am invincible...
As he climaxed, he suddenly saw before him two eyes that were the exact color of the potion he had drank earlier. They seemed to pierce him, threatening the pedestal he stood on.
Gasping, Tom jumped up, but the vision was gone. Stunned, he tried to remember what he had just seen, but his mind was suddenly deprived. He shook his head and picked up the locket; the last bit of his soul segment had slipped inside, and the emotions were gone. He could not even remember enjoying his climax. He had forgotten everything that had happened just a couple of minutes ago, whatever that was.
~
The soul in the locket did not forget. Surrounded by darkness with only his thoughts and memories for company, Tom obsessed over the eyes that had seemed to penetrate into his soul. Sometimes he thought he could see the other features of the face - a boy just a couple of years younger than him.
He did not know how much time had passed. He felt himself being passed from one location to another, but he neither could see where he was nor who was carrying him. For many years he felt coldness around him; he was kept somewhere away from human touch. One day he felt fingers all over him, trying to pry the locket open. He sneered, pitying the idiot.
Then he felt those hands hold him, and instantly he had the vision again. The boy was holding him...
...but not for long, and soon Tom found himself in a darkness once more. His mind obsessed over the boy as the image became clearer. This boy was real; he was trying to knock him off his pedestal, to look down on him, to destroy him...
Tom would have none of that...
~
"Don't struggle like that, Harry," Tom said in a mockingly soft tone, his eyes burning bright red and a terrible sneer crossing his handsome face. Harry whimpered underneath him.
Harry was lying on the floor, Slytherin's locket in his left hand, but he could not move his arms. He was bound all over with thick leather straps and with Tom's own body. He had expertly wrapped himself around Harry like a snake, constricting him, squeezing air out of him. Harry had no recollection of how he had lost his clothes or how he had allowed his body to be violated.
Tom gave another aggressive thrust, and Harry winced. He was being torn inside. He should fight back...but when Harry looked into Tom's eyes, he was mesmerized again by his beauty. His long dark hair, the fervently blazing eyes, the dangerous smirk on his face...years of keeping the attraction bottled up inside burst, and Harry sank into the man he secretly desired and feared.
Pain was pleasure. With every rip of flesh, with every drop of blood splattering to the floor, Harry was being loved. He did not protest when Tom's sharp nails dug into his back, did not yell at him to stop as Tom continued to thrust into Harry's damaged body...he was being loved by an angel...
Loved...Tom snickered at the word. Foolish little boy. He stared down at Harry, filling him with illusions of passion and romance as he slowly destroyed him one thrust at a time...defeating the only one who had ever threatened him...
"They say you would be my downfall?" Tom chuckled. "The Chosen One knows not my true power."
He kissed the bleeding scar on Harry's pale forehead.
Author: arbor_vitae
Title: The Chosen One Knows Not
Pairing: Tom/Harry
Rating: R
Warnings: Bondage, blood, masturbation, rough sex
Summary: During a Horcrux ritual, Tom gets a vision of a intriguing stranger.
Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's/artist's notes: This fic was written for birgitriddle. I have tried to include both a post-Hogwarts gen Tom and Tom/Harry with Tom topping. I hope you enjoy it, dear. :)
The rising sun's rays splashed through the open-curtained windows, casting a golden glow on the naked torso and legs of a dark-haired young man. The thin sheets were wrapped around his shins, and one hand was on his chest as he slept. The hand slithered down his taut stomach and lightly brushed against his groin before he shifted on the bed, resting on his stomach.
With a small yawn he woke up, his dark eyes peeking from his pillow. He rolled back on his bed, taking in his surroundings with a grin for a couple of moments before sitting up, enjoying the feel of the cool fabric against his bare buttocks.
Today there will be no work to attend to, and no work tomorrow, or the day after that. Just the previous day, he had resigned from his job at Borgin and Burkes, and he planned on leaving London by tomorrow.
There was not one student or professor who was not shocked by Tom's choice of profession. They had expected him to join the Ministry of Magic at the very least, and not some minuscule antique shop in the middle of Knockturn Alley.
Don't know me very well, now do they? he thought with a sneer as he drained the last of his coffee while staring outside his window. There are better places to be than the Ministry...far better.
Behind him on the floor, the writing desk, bedside cabinet, and half of his bed were laden with books. He had been researching extensively on the Hogwarts Founders' lives ever since he was a student at the magical school. A few years back he had come across a ring left by his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. However, the ring alone was not enough to satisfy his mission.
Fortunately, he had run across not one, but two other artifacts from Helga Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The two rare possessions were inside an old witch's home - a witch who had refused to sell her possessions back to Borgin and Burkes no matter how much Tom tried to persuade her.
But no matter...he had succeeded.
After closing the curtains, Tom made his way to the bed. He pulled out Slytherin's locket from a small carved wooden box made of dark wood. He traced a finger on the S engraved on the locket, imagining his mother wearing it as she walked the streets of London - homeless, helpless, and pregnant with him. Setting the locket gently on the bed and settling beside it, Tom pulled out a small tube that contained an emerald green liquid.
Horcruxes were meant to be created immediately following a murder, but Tom had come up with a plan to not have his soul ripped completely with every murder. He did not wish to hastily shove part of his soul into any nearby object. Nor did he wish to murder just anyone. The murder had to be meaningful, had to be someone worthy enough to die by his own hands...
He uncorked the tube, and a thin line of acidic green fume drifted to the air. He took three deep breaths before tipping the contents into his mouth. Immediately, he felt bitter acid filling his body; it was rising up his stomach, spreading to his arms and legs...although Tom did not have a mirror nearby, he could feel his eyes turning bloodshot. He continued to breathe deeply and slowly, allowing the potion to snip away at the shattered fragments of his soul.
After the final wave of acid washed over him, he positioned his wand over the locket. His body shook faintly from the invasion of the potion, but he gave it no heed. Concentrating, he chanted under his breath, his body rocking lightly on the bed. It was not long before he gave a small gasp of pleasure; a pearly white mist was seeping out from his wand and slithering straight into the locket, and the act of his soul leaving his body triggered a pleasurable sensation.
Absentmindedly his free hand slipped down his torso. Every little touch sent enjoyable shivers throughout his body.
Biting his lower lip, Tom averted his attention back to the spell, but emotions kept flaring inside his body as a fragment of his soul continued to be sucked into Slytherin's locket.
He was reaching the end of the ritual...his soul continued to drift into the locket, but he did not require a wand any longer. Tom let out an involuntary moan; the feelings were intense...blissful...he needed to...
Leaning backwards on the bed, Tom rested against his pillow and headboard. In a few minutes, the ritual would be complete, but Tom did not wish for the emotions to run dry once the process ended. He brought a long slender hand down to his erection.
I am a god, he thought haughtily as he stroked himself. In his mind's eye he was being worshipped by the entire wizarding world. He was their god, the omnipotent. Laughing, he continued to pleasure himself, his eyes tightly shut, his back arched, and his head thrown back.
No one could defeat him...no one could hurt him...he was the master of the entire universe, stronger than God himself...
I am invincible...
As he climaxed, he suddenly saw before him two eyes that were the exact color of the potion he had drank earlier. They seemed to pierce him, threatening the pedestal he stood on.
Gasping, Tom jumped up, but the vision was gone. Stunned, he tried to remember what he had just seen, but his mind was suddenly deprived. He shook his head and picked up the locket; the last bit of his soul segment had slipped inside, and the emotions were gone. He could not even remember enjoying his climax. He had forgotten everything that had happened just a couple of minutes ago, whatever that was.
~
The soul in the locket did not forget. Surrounded by darkness with only his thoughts and memories for company, Tom obsessed over the eyes that had seemed to penetrate into his soul. Sometimes he thought he could see the other features of the face - a boy just a couple of years younger than him.
He did not know how much time had passed. He felt himself being passed from one location to another, but he neither could see where he was nor who was carrying him. For many years he felt coldness around him; he was kept somewhere away from human touch. One day he felt fingers all over him, trying to pry the locket open. He sneered, pitying the idiot.
Then he felt those hands hold him, and instantly he had the vision again. The boy was holding him...
...but not for long, and soon Tom found himself in a darkness once more. His mind obsessed over the boy as the image became clearer. This boy was real; he was trying to knock him off his pedestal, to look down on him, to destroy him...
Tom would have none of that...
~
"Don't struggle like that, Harry," Tom said in a mockingly soft tone, his eyes burning bright red and a terrible sneer crossing his handsome face. Harry whimpered underneath him.
Harry was lying on the floor, Slytherin's locket in his left hand, but he could not move his arms. He was bound all over with thick leather straps and with Tom's own body. He had expertly wrapped himself around Harry like a snake, constricting him, squeezing air out of him. Harry had no recollection of how he had lost his clothes or how he had allowed his body to be violated.
Tom gave another aggressive thrust, and Harry winced. He was being torn inside. He should fight back...but when Harry looked into Tom's eyes, he was mesmerized again by his beauty. His long dark hair, the fervently blazing eyes, the dangerous smirk on his face...years of keeping the attraction bottled up inside burst, and Harry sank into the man he secretly desired and feared.
Pain was pleasure. With every rip of flesh, with every drop of blood splattering to the floor, Harry was being loved. He did not protest when Tom's sharp nails dug into his back, did not yell at him to stop as Tom continued to thrust into Harry's damaged body...he was being loved by an angel...
Loved...Tom snickered at the word. Foolish little boy. He stared down at Harry, filling him with illusions of passion and romance as he slowly destroyed him one thrust at a time...defeating the only one who had ever threatened him...
"They say you would be my downfall?" Tom chuckled. "The Chosen One knows not my true power."
He kissed the bleeding scar on Harry's pale forehead.