Work Text:
Pacify her
She’s getting on my nerves
You don’t love her
Stop lying with those words
Pacify Her Melanie Martinez
Society works by division. Stratification is necessary to create a sense of superiority and hence, setting of lofty rules that everyone abides by. But there is one universal, strict rule and it is this—The one who sits at the top of the ladder gets to set the rules.
College is a microcosm of this model and here, at John’s University, only one person sits above all.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Rule and let be ruled.
Observing people is fun. Playing with them more so. It’s a game that Tom has learnt to master and has now become almost an indulgence for him.
Tom surveys the crowd from the corner he and his little group has occupied since the moment they had entered the party. Everyone wanting to approach but no one daring to encroach.
Throw them a ball of yarn and watch them get entangled as he pulls the thread.
It has always been so and Tom had come to firmly believe that it will remain so.
Until one.
Inevitably, his red eyes move past the messy, gyrating bodies to latch onto a slim figure dancing with an auburn haired girl. The mutual smiles on their faces sets his teeth on edge.
Harry Potter was the last person he had expected to not fall in his trap.
He still remembers the moment vividly when Harry had become a person of notice for him. Some harmless boy his group had been having harmless fun with. A day like any other, their break spent behind the decadent shed on the college premises.
Tom never joined, preferring to watch from the back on his makeshift throne. But his permission was more than enough.
Then a flurry of messy hair and even messier clothes, a slightly short boy standing against them, interrupting their fun time.
Tom standing up, his followers parting away, every crunch of his footsteps a death knell.
But then he had seen him, Harry. Burning with righteous fury. Caustic words spilling from a tongue that deserved to be bitten. Green, fiery eyes that deserved to be gauged out for showing such disrespect.
And Tom had decided then and there.
He would destroy every bit of morality that Harry Potter prided himself on.
He would eat him alive.
Sometimes, when he is teetering at the edge of falling asleep, this moment comes back to haunt him.
It had been a tough chase, Harry resisting at every turn. But Tom knew Harry wanted him. Oh how he knew. Their first kiss had been a clash of teeth and anger and absolute, unrestrained desire. It still burned something inside him to know that it was Harry who had initiated it.
What he hadn’t expected was for Harry to run away so quickly. And right into the arms of that insipid girl that had been following him with hearts in her eyes since forever,
Tom’s grip tightens on his glass and he forces himself to relax. Takes a long swig and extends his hand out. It’s time for him to join in on the fun.
A pale hand grips his and he lets Bella lead him onto the crowded floor, right into the thick of it where Harry is dancing with her. Bella takes her victory wherever she can and doesn’t fail to lord it over the others.
Especially not against Harry, whom she would have chewed up and spit out long ago if not for what Tom would do to her in return.
Bella puts up a show like no other. Dipping her curvy body fitted into a maroon dress, moving her hips against him, tantalising at every turn and Tom indulges, He touches and savours, maps the lines of her body and grazes the edges of his teeth against the long curve of her neck.
He doesn’t look anywhere, not at the crowd, not at them. Just basks in the stares and the absolute decadency of it all.
And when Tom feels that burning gaze, unwavering, does he lift his own finally, red meeting green. He lets a shadow of a smile slip, cruelty embedded in every line of it.
don’t you know what I am?
He can almost viscerally feel the shiver that runs through Harry’s body. How can his boy not understand that Tom knows him from inside out now? Every part, every cell, every thought belongs to Tom and he can run as much as he wants. He is going to find Tom at every turn.
Some of his thoughts might be visible on his face for Harry looks at him in slight alarm, his lovely face going slack.
Tom feels the urge to laugh out loud.
There is no doubt it would drip with satisfaction and venom.
Tom lounges in the shadows, the crowd slowly dwindling and the stereo belting out a low pop song. He takes a sip of his beer and watches with keen eyes as Harry escorts Weasley out, noting his arm hovering over her shoulders rather than her waist.
He silently moves out into the balcony of the master bedroom, leaving the door open. From up here he is easily able to spy them, Weasley hanging off of Harry like a goddamn leech and probably looking at him with ‘fuck me’ eyes.
Tom scoffs. As if prim and proper over there is going to do that before a hundred dates and a million heart to heart talks.
He kissed you and you guys hadn’t gone on a single date.
Tom ignores the derisive voice in his head and continues observing them. Weasley is a girl. Harry wouldn’t be able to disrespect her or whatever morality crap that makes him just so good.
Weasley whispers something and then suddenly her face is getting closer and Harry…doesn’t move his away.
Something ugly twists his insides and Tom whirls around instinctively, his hand shoving into his pocket and bringing out the cigarette and lighter. He gets it on the third try and takes a long puff.
He will forget about Harry. He had wasted his precious time on a useless challenge. It will be easy.
He takes another puff, feels a crawling sensation grip his insides and with a curse, whirls around to look again.
They are not there anymore.
Harry had left.
He had left unlike the many times he had stayed back to engage in a cruel clash of words with him, the tension between them intensifying every word, every stare, every gesture.
Something splintered inside of him, something so ugly he couldn’t extinguish it even with the clench of his fist. If he dared, he would spit on it all.
He felt venomous.
Emotions breeding like adders in his throat.
“Having fun by your lonesome?”
The voice cut through the haze and he whirled around, unbelieving. There he stood, leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, like the absolute fuckin’ newborn he was. Coltish. Disrespectful.
“Your little minions ditched you or something?”
Rude.
Harry started to laugh uneasily, raking his hands through those untamed, stupid hair and probably gearing up to say something more rude and Tom could just bite.
He took two long strides and grabbed that face that has been haunting his nightmares, his dreams, his wants.
“W—what are you—umph,” was all Harry could get out before Tom captured that insolent mouth into a harsh kiss.
It wasn’t sweet. Nor delicate. Or whatever pretty adjectives Harry probably thought when kissing Weasley.
It was pure want.
Clashing of teeth, meeting of hungry mouths that could swallow each other whole. His insides were burning and Tom slammed Harry against the wall, taking everything and anything.
All Harry could do was writhe and moan and take it all.
“This is what you truly like, Potter,” Tom whispered heatedly in between kisses. “This. Getting ravaged.”
“By me. Me. Not Weasley.”
Harry’s eyes, that had almost rolled up from the pleasure, snapped slightly into focus at the mention. Tom gave him a shark smile, his hands sliding down.
“Oh, I am sure that girl makes you feel all those pure, safe feelings that you delude yourself into believing you want.”
He saw Harry gearing up to fire back and that won’t do at all. He palmed the evident bulge and watched Harry release a sudden moan. He nosed into the crevice where his jaw met his ear and licked down the slope. “But Harry, what you like best is…this.”
“Danger.”
“Anything that gets your blood boiling.”
Harry’s eyes, those pretty eyes, flashed in mild horror, unable to deny the truth behind the words. And now that Tom had him right where he wanted him, he went for the kill.
He wrenched Harry’s head back and intoned lowly, carefully.
“Only I can give it to you, my darling. So stop running away.”
Something vulnerable flashed across Harry’s face and Tom, bolstered, continued while simultaneously rubbing their bulges together. Everything felt hot and tight and crucial.
“This is the last time I let you run away. If you do this again—“ Tom breathed through his nose, the pleasure stealing his breath. His attention got stolen at the look on the shorter male’s face, dipped in ecstasy and on the crest of orgasm.
Tom sped up, growing rougher with his movements and Harry looped his arms around Tom’s neck, bringing him closer till they were a mess of bodies and passion and greed.
I will never forget this, Tom thinks, when they reach their orgasm. Harry’s face now will forever be burned in the walls of his mind palace.
He grabs him again, tipping his head back and looking him dead in the eye. “Harry, darling.” He felt Harry shiver at the endearment and hid a smirk.
“If you ever run again, I won’t be here when you decide to come back. And I don’t forgive easily…do you understand?”
He knew Harry grasped the underlying meaning and waited. He chewed his lip to a bright red and all Tom wanted was to continue what they had started. But he waited.
And with those vulnerable, green eyes looking back at him, Harry gave a slight nod.
Tom wasted no time capturing Harry’s mouth again in a searing kiss and thought,
This is what victory tastes like.