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Minerva, his acquaintance only friend, had told him to expect the unexpected. But Tom was always prepared.
He still didn’t expect it.
Tom Riddle, barely a year out of Hogwarts, had scrapped together enough Galleons from his meagre salary as Borgin and Burkes' shop assistant to afford the inheritance test at Gringotts.
Despite facing prejudice and scepticism about his bloodline, he had preserved, chosen to ignore their words (and the sting of isolation, except, unfortunately for Minerva’s annoying presence) and risen through the ranks with the respect of his magic and brilliance. Deep down, a fierce certainty burned within him – he was destined for greatness. He knew it.
He had come a long way, struggling to accept himself (begrudgingly thanks to his acquaintance, Minerva Mcgonaggal who constantly and annoyingly reassured Tom he was as magical as the rest of them). Tom would learn the truth today. Whatever the result he promised himself it wouldn’t change the fact that he was a great wizard.
His future begins now.
His heart swelled with overwhelming satisfaction when he could finally request the test from the Goblin, he was led to the room and his finger was pricked to conduct the spell. Watching the parchment reveal his lineage, Tom's eyes greedily roam over the names of his ancestors, tracing them with his clean hand, murmuring, almost laughing, to himself all the evidence of his magic and strong bloodline.
Minerva’s going to have a blast when she sees this, Tom thinks to himself gleefully. She always pretended to be above all the pureblood rhetoric, but even her stubbornly thin eyebrow would raise.
They accused him of being a mudblood, but for nearly a century his family’s blood had been pure. And surprisingly, through his mother's line, the Gaunts, a long-lost descendant of Salazar Slytherin!
She owes me a whisky, Tom thinks, grinning to himself. All those years of personal self-doubt he had tangible proof that he was a descendent of literal royalty.
The Goblin, Rufter, asked if he would like to inherit the Slytherin Vault as the only remaining heir.
“I am the only remaining heir?” He asked, slightly downtrodden. He had been prepared for the disappointment, but it was still a sting, a painful reminder, that he was an orphan and all alone in the world.
"Ye're no' alone in this warld, laddie! How mony times must I tell ye?" Minerva would say.
“I’m pretty sure harpies don’t count,” Tom would rebuke.
“I keep telling ye to stay with us Gryffindors, and we’ll never leave ye alone.”
“That would be a tragedy.” But his stomach stopped cramping and his gait was more relaxed.
“Your last blood relative passed away a few years ago. His possessions and family heirlooms were spelt to return to the vault.” As Rufter explained. “We were prepared to seal the Vault forever, thinking the bloodline was dead.”
“It’s not dead.” He was the last of his blood then, the remaining Salazar heir. Tom’s shoulders straightened at the revelation. “Please show me to my vault.”
Thoughts of a family aside, this was his chance to be free from the muck of his life. He could finally do as he pleased and travel the world! He followed Rufter onto the cart, deep in the belly of Gringgots. As soon as they arrived in front of the ancient silver snake brass door, Tom’s chest was bursting with anticipation.
Only for it to be revealed and for his face to fall.
The vault was barren saved for three things on the floor.
“Your vault, Heir of Slytherin.” Tom’s blood boiled at the smug tone of Rufter’s voice.
Tom held his head high, collecting the items, his heirlooms, the last gifts of his ‘family’.
The first was a ring.
The second item was a locket.
The last item was a magically sealed parchment, he opened the clasp tying the scroll and to his surprise, a soft burst of magic was released into the air.
“Oh,” Rufter commented looking around the empty Vault.
Tom ignored him at first, hastily reading through the parchment, blinking once, twice… “What does this mean?”
Rufter hummed and nodded briskly, “You have activated a marriage contract.”
“I beg your pardon?” His ears must be stuffed.
“Per Hogwart’s Founders’ decree, it is imperative that the remaining heirs of the Houses be wed after a century to ensure the continuous bloodline and stability of magic at Hogwarts.”
Tom, usually so composed and quick-witted, blinked in disbelief. His mind raced to process the absurdity. “You're telling me there's a stipulation requiring descendants of the founders to... to be wed?”
“Yes.”
“Forced marriage? Really?”, He had only begun his life, gained his independence. “That can’t be legal!”
“It is ordained so by magic and this binding contract,” the Goblin replied. “Which you sir, have activated.”
“Who is my intended?” Tom's voice barely concealed his shock. His mind whirred, considering the possibilities. He was not thinking of Minerva sniggering in his head.
“A descendant of Godric Gryffindor,” Rufter declared, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Salazar and Godric were once close friends. It was their wish for their kin to unite, this must be before their infamous feud.”
A descendent of Gryffindor? Tom thought of Minerva and shuddered.
“How do I get out of this contract?” Tom asked harshly, the glow of his heritage and receiving his heirloom evaporated. “There must be a loophole to this!”
"The other party has already been notified," There was a hint of something in his tone, that Tom might have interpreted as a flicker of amusement in the Goblin's eyes.
*
Harry Potter, the remaining unwed heir of Godric Gryffindor, arrived twenty minutes later. Tom was prepared for a sleazy old bastard but was caught by surprise again at the sight of a mature wizard with a beard peppered with white streaks, and golden-rimmed glasses, in a gallant but undeniable muggle coat.
Rufter introduced them to each other, getting down to business and telling them how impertinent it was that the contract would come into effect as soon as possible. “The contract is very old and is binding, the magic has only gotten stronger with time.”
“How much time do we have?” Harry Potter asked, his voice deep and in charge in a way that grated Tom’s nerves. He knew his ‘intended’, was an older wizard but Tom didn’t need to be taken care of!
Rufter took longer than necessary (probably enjoying their breathless wait) before he announced, “I suggest we complete this binding by today.”
“Today?!”
Tom doesn't even know the man!
Potter cursed, hands on his hips, parting his muggle suit, revealing a very slim waist wrapped in golden belt buckle. “I’ll call in my friends, there must be something we can do.”
“
“There are rules!” Rufter repeated, frustrated and unmoved as another two people, one woman with a bun and a wand in her hair and a man with red hair appeared to plead their case. “There is no magic that can undo this ancient binding!”
Potter introduced himself quickly, Tom didn’t like how firm and warm his hands were as he shook Tom’s hand. His eyes were green and earnest, reassuring Tom, even conjuring Tom to sit as they waited, “No worries, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Rufter did not budge. “It stipulates clearly in the contract sir. There are no other remaining heirs and you sirs must be bonded or else your magic will suffer the consequence.”
The witch bit her lip as her head moved up and down the parchment muttering furiously to herself. “I’m sorry Harry, this looks very legitimate. It could potentially harm you both if we had more time…”
Potter ruffled his hair, a scowl formed and it accentuated his chiselled jaw. “You don’t mean- not nothing?”
“I don’t think it’s wise to wait, look at your wrists, they are purple already!” and to Tom’s horror, he pulled back his own sleeve and saw the same result on his. “I think it could potentially take away your magic if you plan on breaking the oath!”
“Not my magic!’ Tom said panicked. For he had survived for much longer without knowing his heritage, but his magic was everything to him. Everything!
The red-haired wizard– Tom suspected him to be a Prewrett or a Weasley, thumped Potter’s back, “Sorry mate, guess the Potter luck can’t help you escape everything eh?”
Potter slumped deeper in his chair. Rubbing his face, “I should call William then.” He mumbled. “He’s always on my back for putting off marriage… but this…” Potter suddenly turned to Tom, “I’m sorry.” His eyes were green and intense and there was something very gentlemanly and very unusually intimate in the way he directed his full attention to Tom. “This is ridiculous. Do you have someone to contact to be your support and err… witness, to help discuss arrangements?”
Tom's cheeks flush and he isn't even sure why.
*
Contacting Minerva was probably a mistake, but he had no other choice.
She whacked him on his chest. “Ye don’t reply to any of my owls for six months and once you do it's for this?”
Well, it was better than suffering the humiliation from his Slytherin friends.
“I know the Potters, they're a good family.” Minerva had whispered loudly in his ear, Harry awkwardly smiled at her and Tom internally groaned. Why had he done this to himself?
They agreed that each of them would call on a witness and perform the ceremony as soon as possible. Conveniently Gringgots had a wedding room for oath bindings such as these and Rufter had already set up all their accounts and was ready to discuss pre-nuptial agreements.
Potter was from rich money, despite the fact his mother was muggle-born, he was still considered part of the pureblood elite. Potter didn’t seem to care much about it, he owned a magical furniture business. He gave a short abbreviation of the highlights of his life- he enjoys travelling, was the last brother of two siblings, his parents had passed, Hermione and Ron Weasley were his best friends and he loves treacle tart.
Tom’s heart thrummed even louder at each revelation, he seemed too good to be true.
Perfect for him.
When it came to his turn, Tom hated how his chest felt like bees filled in his chest. He had only recently found out his own lineage, but he was a fresh student out of Hogwarts, with no money or property to his name.
Potter was apparently an idiot because he gripped Tom’s hand securely. Promising recklessly. “It doesn't matter to me. I promise I’ll help you in any way you need.”
“I can take care of myself.” Tom bit out automatically.
Potter’s face actually softened, he didn’t let Tom’s hand go. “Of course, you can… but hopefully, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Tom hated how reassured he felt by it.
*
They wed simply by holding hands, Minerva solemnly swearing on magic on Tom’s behalf to be his witness, and Potter’s two best friends doing the same. Ancient magic coiled and wrapped around their wrist and Tom couldn’t help but acknowledge the room felt dimmer and for a second it was just Potter and him.
Minerva whispered, rather coyly in his ear, “He’s quite dashing isn't he?”
"Shh!"
"Gorgeous eyes."
Tom groaned. How had his life come to this? With Minerva Mcgonaggal as his witness?
Potter raised their joined hands and kissed his knuckles and Tom's breath hitched, cheeks blushed.
This wasn’t what he expected.
But he thinks it might be…perfect.