𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔫

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

Prisoner—Raphael Lake, Aaron Levi, Daniel Ryan Murphy
𝔎𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔞'𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔳

"Knock knock," a feminine voice says while tapping a fist against one of the double doors that lead into my chambers.

My eyes lift from the hardcover in my hands, and I sit up. "Come in."

The left door opens, and I see Walburga standing in the hallway, leaning against the door frame. She is dressed in a dress that hugs the curves of her body, rises a few inches above her knees, and has small cutouts on the sides of her torso—definitely not a dress for walking through the manor. "What are you doing right now?"

I gesture to the book in my hands. "Just reading."

She raises a brow. "Are you really spending your Christmas break with a book in your hand?"

Her head tilts, and her eyes narrow. She looks me up and down before standing up straight. "Get up. You're coming with me."

My eyebrows furrow, but before I get a chance to ask her what she's planning, she turns around and walks away, saying, "I don't have all day to wait."

I set down my book on the coffee table and quickly get up from my spot on the creme armchair before walking after her.

By the time I catch up to her, she is already halfway down the staircase.

"Where are you going?" I ask her once we reach the bottom of the staircase.

She walks over to one of the elves standing by the large double doors that lead outside and grabs the black coat made of fur in its hands. She puts it on before grabbing the black purse the elf holds and putting on the hat in the elf's hands. Then she turns around to meet my gaze.

"We are going out."

My eyes widen. "I can't go out. It's not safe, and I'm not dressed."

She looks me up and down. "You're dressed well enough."

I glance down at my simple pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. "I'm not dressed for the weather, and as I said, I can't just leave. It's not safe for me to do so."

"My darling, you went sledding in clothing less warm than this, and we are merely going to Hogsmeade, which you have visited before," she tells me, pulling out her wand. "It is warded, so apparition is perfectly safe."

Before I get the chance to argue, she grabs onto my wrist and waves her wand.

My insides twist in and out as my surroundings change, and soon, we arrive in the middle of Hogsmeade.

I quickly rip my wrist out of her grasp, but she does not notice. She just tucks away her wand and begins walking.

With no way to get back without being rude, I follow behind her.

As I follow her, I look around the village to see what has changed. It is still full with people of all ages, from toddlers to the elderly, but the ground is covered in a few inches of thick snow. The buildings are covered in the same, and there is a large tree decorated with ornaments in the middle of the street, almost as tall as the one at Hogwarts.

"This way," Walburga calls as she leads me into what looks like a jewelry shop. She heads inside and walks over to the front counter, making eye contact with the elderly wizard on the other side of it. "I had a watch put on hold here."

"Name?" he asks.

"Black, Walburga," she answers, and his eyes widen. He quickly ducks down into one of the glass cabinets and grabs a red box made of velvet. He slides it over the counter before retracting his hands. "There you go. I made sure it was without imperfections, Miss. Black."

She takes the box from the counter, saying, "I have no doubt you did." She opens up her purse and slides five galleons over the counter, and the man quickly shakes his head. "The payment was complete. The five-hundred thirty-two galleons were already delivered upon your order."

"I'm aware. This is for making the watch on such short notice," she says and then turns around before the man can argue.

She walks out of the shop, leaving the old man flustered and shocked, and I have to jog to keep up with her.

When she slows down, it is only so she can enter another shop, which looks like a ring shop from the looks of it once I step inside.

The front counter looks a lot like the one from the last shop—glass display cases showing off the beautiful jewelry. The rest of the shop is filled with dozens and dozens of shelves filled with display pieces showcasing unique rings.

Walburga makes her way to the counter and does the same things she did at the last store.

Once the brief interaction between her and the middle-aged witch behind the counter ends, she walks out of the shop with a small black box.

She then heads into yet another shop, this one different from the others.

When we walk into the shop, I am hit with an overwhelming smell of herbs. It is so strong that I have to breathe through my mouth as I walk further into the shop.

I walk through the shop as Walburga speaks to the young woman at the counter, looking around at all the different things.

The small building is dimly lit, only illuminated by the sun coming through the small windows and the sparse lanterns on various desks and tables. The walls are covered in dark shelves littered with vials, herbs, and overgrown vines. Between the walls are the counter and multiple tables cluttered with skulls, dishes, and tools used in potion-making.

When I come across a jar filled with something black, I reach out to grab it but quickly recoil when I see what is inside it slither around.

Creeped out by the live creature within the jar, I walk over to the front of the store and find Walburga taking a large bag from the young woman at the counter.

When she meets my gaze, her eyes widen. "There you are. I thought you were lost."

I glance over at the woman behind the counter, who looks me up and down with narrowed eyes before looking back at Walburga. "No. I just went look around, but what is it that we are doing here?"

She gestures to the bag and boxes she holds. "Christmas was a few days ago, and Rosier is holding a little Christmas party on New Year's. These are presents."

My eyes widen. "You're buying presents?"

She nods.

"Is everyone?" I ask.

"No, but enough people are to hold the party," she tells me.

"And you're buying everyone a present?" I ask, and she looks at me for a moment before cracking a laugh. "No. No one does except for Rosier so no one feels left out. I am only getting things for a few people."

"I didn't think to get anyone anything," I tell her.

"That is why I had you accompany me. I wanted to give you the chance to," she tells me before walking out of the shop.

I take one quick glance at the woman behind the counter and find her still watching me with those haunting gray eyes before looking back at Walburga, who is already halfway out of the shop.

I follow after her and say, "I haven't brought any money."

"I did. Use mine and pay me back later," she says simply.

"I don't know what to get—"

She rolls her eyes. "Kritana, you are going to blow a circuit. Just tell me who you're buying the gifts for, and I'll help you pick them out."

"Uhm, okay, well I need one for Rhysand," I tell her, and she nods. "Of course. I got him a watch, so don't get that. Perhaps a pair of cufflinks?" she suggests.

Rhysand wears cufflinks as often as I wear dresses, so that probably is not the best idea. "He doesn't have many places to wear those."

I think about what I could give him that would be useful or at least funny and come up with a few ideas. "I think I have something else in mind."

"Which is?" she asks.

I smile at her. "Let's go to Honeydukes."

Together, we make our way into the popular candy shop and are greeted by the smell of sugar the second the door opens.

I grab the biggest basket I can find and begin hauling candy from the shelves into it as Walburga watches me with wide eyes.

"He can't possibly eat this much sugar," she assures, and I look at her. "Date him for another month. Trust me when I say this will be gone by that time."

I grab about a dozen chocolate frogs, some acid pops to mess with him, and a few of all the other candies he enjoys before making my way to the other side of the store.

I finish loading up the basket with enough saltwater taffy to give him a mouthful of cavities before heading to the checkout counter.

"How he keeps his figure eating all of this is beyond me," Walbruga comments as she reaches into her purse to pull out several galleons.

She hands them over to the elderly woman on the other side of the counter, who takes them with a smile. "It's nice to see you again dear. Where's your friend?"

Walburga looks at me and raises a brow.

"We met her last year. We came here for candy," I explain to her before turning back to the elderly witch. "He isn't with me today, but I'll tell him that I saw you."

Her smile widens. "Please do."

She finishes bagging the candy and hands me the bag before wishing both Walburga and I farewell.

I tell her goodbye and exit the shop with Walburga, who turns to me once we are outside once more. "Where to now?"

I think of who to get a present next, and Avery pops into my mind.

"The bookstore."

We spend the next few hours buying presents in Hogsmeade for the people we are closest to before apparating to Diagon Alley. Walburga and I visit a few shops there, and eventually, the sun begins to set. The sky begins to darken and descend with snowflakes, falling gently upon us.

Walbruga finishes up her last order with one of the women in the cosmetic shop before looking at me. "Shall we return to the estate?"

I open my mouth to say yes, but when I see a sign down the alley across from the shop I'm in, my eyes narrow.

I remember that shop from when Tom and I visited Knockturn Alley. Though I only saw the interior through a window, there were a lot of interesting things I saw. And after what Tom gifted me on Christmas day, I owe him something. His birthday is on the day of the party as well.

"One more thing," I tell her. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I have one last thing to grab."

She nods. "Don't take long. I'm famished."

Giving her a quick nod, I make my way out of the cosmetic shop we are in and walk across the street to head down the alley.

Though Tom's warning about how dangerous the alley is reverberates through my mind as I walk further away from Diagon Alley, I ignore it. The shop is barely in Knockturn Alley; I'll be fine if I'm in and out.

When I come across a dark wooden door with glass windows, I stop walking and look up. Above the wooden door is a sign with the words "Borgin and Burkes" burned into it.

I grab and twist the knob on the door and head inside the shop. The smell of musk and mildew meets my nose, and I cringe.

Swallowing, I ignore the smell and begin to look around the shop, searching for something I think Tom will be able to make use of.

He isn't sentimental—he never has been from what I've learned—so he would prefer something that he can use on a daily basis. That is why he was pleased with the journal I gave him months ago.

As I walk around the dimly lit building, my fingers brush against a cluttered table. When I look down at them, I see them riddled with dust, and I quickly wipe it off on my shirt.

Looking around, I see skulls littered all around the shop, and dusty furniture ranging from chairs and tables to large contraptions that I've never seen before.

When I come across a typewriter in what looks to be good condition, I grab it from the dusty table and bring it back to the front of the store, where the counter is. An old man sits behind it and stands straight up when I drop the typewriter onto the counter. He curses under his breath at the loud noise, but once he realizes that I intend to buy the item in front of him, he clears his throat and gruffly says, "ten sickles."

I reach into the pocket of my pants and pull out some sickles Walburga gave me before sliding them over the counter.

He snatches the money off the counter and puts them in his pocket. "Get lost."

I blink at the rudeness of this man but bite my tongue. I grab the typewriter and turn around.

But when something catches my eye, I turn back toward the counter.

Behind the man, on a tiny table between a jewelry box and a skull is a gold locket with a serpent in the center.

Though there is nothing strange or unusual about the locket, I find myself drawn to it.

"How much for that locket?" I ask.

The man looks behind him, searching for what I am talking about.

When he sees the locket, he quickly reaches for it and snatches it off the table. "This ain't for sale. Not for the likes of you muggle-born filth."

My eyes narrow. "I'm not muggle-born."

He scoffs and looks me up and down. "No witch of standing, born in the world of magic would wear such filth."

I roll my tongue against the inside of my cheek. "How much for the locket?"

"I said it ain't for sale. Now get outta here before I make ya," he threatens, glaring at me with disgust.

Huffing, I grab the typewriter from the counter and turn around, exiting the shop.

I hear him mumble something on my way out, but I'm already halfway out the door, so I am not able to make it out.

I turn the corner near the shop before stopping in my tracks and peering through one of the windows of Borgin and Burkes.

I watch the old man as he places the locket back where it was before I pointed it out to him. And I keep watching until I see him walk away from the counter.

Once he does, I quietly make my way back over to the door that leads inside the building and go inside.

I keep my footsteps light as I walk back into the shop and carefully walk behind the counter.

I balance the heavy typewriter in one hand as I reach for the golden locket. Once it is in my grasp, I quickly place it inside my pants pocket and exit the shop, leaving for good this time.

I head back to the shop Walburga and I were in a half hour ago and find her still there, browsing and sampling different products.

When she sees me, she says, "finally. I was about to grow bored." She puts down the tube of lipstick she holds and pulls her wand out.

She walks over to me and grabs onto my arm before waving her wand around.

My stomach twists and turns, my surroundings change, and in a second, I am back in the foyer of the Rosier estate.

I clutch my stomach once I let go of Walburga and hold my breath to calm the wave of nausea that hits me because of the apparition.

"Don't apparate much?" Walburga asks as she takes off her hat and coat.

I shake my head but keep my mouth shut.

I don't want to risk opening my mouth to speak only to end up throwing up on the floor.

"Where the fuck have you been?" a furious male voice snarls, and my head snaps up.

I see Tom marching toward me, his eyes ablaze with anger.

Walburga's eyes widen as she watches Tom walk over to me, but she doesn't attempt to interfere when he grabs my upper arm and yanks me away from her.

He pulls and keeps pulling until we get inside of a room on the first floor. He slams the door shut, locks it, and lets go of my arm. "Where the fuck were you?"

"We were just shopping—"

"Shopping?" he demands.

I raise the bags in my hands for him to see, and he briefly looks down at them before looking back up at me. "You left without telling me to go shopping?"

"It wasn't my idea," I tell him, quickly putting the bags on the desk behind me. "Walburga came into my room and convinced me to go shopping. I didn't have much of a choice."

He scoffs. "You're not a child. You have choices."

I glare at him. "And I told you it wasn't my idea. She wanted to leave to go shopping and requested my company. It isn't a big deal."

"You left the estate without telling me. I thought something happened to you," he snarls, and I scoff. "The elves knew we left. If you would have asked them, they would have told you. A simple question to them would have stopped this ridiculous conversation."

"Ridiculous?" he scoffs. "My wanting to know where you are is ridiculous?"

"It is when you react like this when I do something without asking for your permission," I respond, still astounded at his arrogance.

"When it comes to keeping you from doing idiotic things such as this, I do not find my concern ridiculous," he snarls, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm not doing this again," I say, close to laughing out of frustration. "You're not my parent. You do not control what I do. You do not get to yell or punish me when I do something you don't like. If you do not want me to leave without telling you, fine, but don't throw a fit like a child if I do."

His eyes narrow, and his head tilts.

And that's when I realize the mistake I've made.

"You think I won't punish you for defying me?" he asks, his eyes darkening, and I swallow.

"I did not defy you. I just didn't ask your permission," I say carefully.

"You think that makes a difference?" he asks, taking a step closer to me.

My heart begins to beat faster, and my throat tightens. "Yes."

He takes another step toward me. "It doesn't. You do something I do not like, and you will be punished for it."

My backside hits the desk behind me, and my hands grip the edge on instinct. "You can't just punish me. You don't own me."

Even as I say this, I find my thighs clenching together.

Though I know he intends to hurt me in some way, the thought of it doesn't terrify me. It scares me, of course, but fear is not the strongest thing I feel in this moment.

"Don't I?" he challenges, reaching around my head to grab a fistful of my hair. He keeps it tight in his grip but doesn't pull. Instead, he threads his fingers through it. "You said it yourself."

The night I told him I was his flashes in my mind, and I swallow, my mouth becoming dry. "That's not what I meant."

His head tilts again, his eyes black with an emotion that I can't identify, but one that I have seen before. "You told me you were mine."

"I didn't mean it like that," I assure, though it's a lie.

And he knows it.

He forces my face closer to his using the grip he has on my hair. "You did. And you're going to prove it, right here."

Before I can question what he means, he grabs my hips and turns me around. He uses one large hand to clear the desk in front of us before shoving me onto it, my ass in the air for him.

He rips my thin pants with his hands and tears them off as if they were made of paper, leaving me half-naked in front of him.

"Tom—"

A whistling sound reaches my ears, followed by a burning sensation in my ass.

I gasp when I feel the burn and turn my head to look at Tom. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Another slap lands on me, and I suck in a breath.

"Keep your mouth shut," he orders, forcing my head back to where it was so I cannot see his slaps coming.

"Fuck you," I yelp when he sends another painful slap down. His hands are large, meaning they cover more area when he hits me, and he doesn't hold back.

"If you earn it," he says into my ear before hitting me again, in the same place as the last one.

A moan of pain escapes my lips, and I hear him scoff behind me. "You like this, don't you?"

Now, it's my turn to scoff. "Fuck you."

He snickers, and I feel his fingers gently trail down my ass until he reaches my panties. He moves them to the side and swipes one finger down my slit.

My face burns with embarrassment because I know what he found.

"And what were you saying about not liking this?" he whispers, coating his fingers in the wetness between my legs.

His fingers swipe over my clit, and my hips buck against him.

The next thing I feel is another hard slap to my ass, which causes me to whimper.

"You think you deserve to be pleasured after what you did?" he asks in my ear.

"Go fuck yourself," I tell him, furious with him for touching me and then taking his fingers away.

"You know I'd rather fuck you," he whispers into my ear, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down my spine. He swipes his fingers down my slit again, and I shake with pleasure.

"But not until you earn it."

His fingers leave my slit, and his hand comes back down on my ass.

I hiss in pain, the sensitivity of my ass making his slaps really hurt.

He continues bringing his hand down on me over and over until tears are streaming down my face.

Only once he looks at my face does he place his hand on my ass and gently massage the burning flesh.

With his other hand, he wipes the tears off my face. "Are you going to leave without my permission again, Kritana?"

I shake my head, my eyes fluttering in exhaustion.

"Words," he whispers, looking over my face.

"No," I tell him quietly.

"Good," he says, wiping away the last tear that leaves my eye. "Do you think you deserve to be fucked now?"

I look up at him to meet his gaze before glancing down.

He's hard, so hard that I can see the veins of his cock through his pants.

The sight makes me clench my thighs together.

"Do you?" he presses, his blue eyes boring into mine.

"Please," I whisper, and that seems to be enough for him because he undoes his slacks and gets behind me.

My panties are moved to the side again, and Tom slowly pushes into me without giving me any warning.

"Oh, God," I whimper, burying my face into the wooden desk.

"He's not the one making you feel this way," Tom whispers, sliding his fingers down my spine.

He grabs my waist and pulls out of me before flipping me over. He pushes me up on the desk so that I am sitting on it before sliding back inside of me and bringing his lips to mine.

Despite my exhaustion, I kiss him with the enthusiasm that I always do and allow his tongue into my mouth whenever he pleases.

"You're mine," he breathes against my lips, and I smile against him.

"Say it," he demands, sliding his hand up my waist and up my chest until he reaches my neck. He curls his fingers around my neck and tightens them. "Say you're mine."

I'm in pain, and I'm aroused, and I'm exhausted, so I don't entirely know what saying this means, but I whisper, "yours," against his lips anyway.

He smirks against me. "Now scream it."

He changes the angle of his thrusts so that he hits that spot inside of me that makes my eyes roll and trails his hand down my waist and in between my thighs until he finds my clit.

"Oh, God, no," I whimper, my head throwing back.

"That's not what I told you to say," he taunts, rubbing circles into my clit.

He tightens his fingers on my neck and whispers into my ear, "I said fucking scream."

He punctuates his words with a rough thrust that causes a loud moan to leave my mouth, even with the added difficulty his hand around my throat creates.

He smirks. "That's right. Let it out, little witch."

I tighten around him, and he doesn't miss it. He keeps his thrusts the same but adds pressure to my clit, which soon causes me to explode around him, moaning loud enough to make that prideful smirk on his face widen.

When I come down from my orgasm, I expect him to continue his rough thrusts so he can watch me writhe in sensitivity until he finds his own release, but he doesn't.

Instead, he pulls out of me and pulls me to the edge of the desk before getting down on his knees before me.

I don't even get to say something before he buries himself between my thighs and eats away at me like he is a starving man.

"Oh fuck," I moan, my head falling backward. "Too much, too much."

"But you'll take it," he says against me before thrusting his tongue inside of me.

A sound that can't be described as anything but a squeal leaves my mouth, and I grab the edge of the desk with my hands. "Please," I beg, squirming to get away from him.

He grabs my thighs with his hands and forces me to get closer to him, pinning me with a glare that sends a chill down my spine.

He swirls his tongue around my clit, sucking and softly biting until I am writhing against him once more. "Fuck please don't stop," I beg, bucking my hips to get closer to his face.

He smirks against me and continues his motions until I come undone, shaking against him and moaning his name loud enough for the entire first floor to hear.

The second my orgasm ends, Tom Riddle is back standing and climbs onto the desk, forcing me to lie down. He positions himself at my entrance and thrusts in, giving me no warning and no time to adjust.

I whimper at the sensitivity, and his smirk widens at that.

"It's too much," I moan, unable to determine if the pleasure I'm feeling is worth the pain that comes with my sensitivity.

He just looks down at me with that smirk on his face, making no move to slow down.

And when the tears begin to fall from my eyes from the pleasure and the pain, he just wipes them away and speeds his thrusting, telling me to, "take it like a good little witch."

Soon enough, the rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter, now becoming rougher but more uneven.

His eyes roll, and he quickly pulls out of me before releasing himself onto my stomach, coating me completely.

His abs flex as he finds his release, contracting in a way that makes me swallow.

When he comes down from the high brought by his climax, he looks back at me, his eyes focusing on my stomach, which is coated in his release.

Waving his hand, he cleanses me of his release before meeting my gaze. "Don't make me have this conversation with you again."

A weak laugh escapes my lips. "Which one?"

"Both of them."

The sheer domination of his voice makes me swallow, and I am quickly reminded of the burning pain in my ass, which had previously been disguised by pleasure.

He grabs my clothes and helps me dress before dressing himself and smoothing out my hair so that I look somewhat presentable—as if that would help after how loud I was.

"They heard us," I tell him as he fixes my hair.

"I know. I wanted them to," he says, still focused on my hair.

"You didn't before," I quietly remind, thinking back to how much he wanted to keep what we had a secret.

"That was before," he says simply.

"Before what?" I ask, looking up at him.

He meets my gaze and looks at me for a moment, but he doesn't answer. He just fixes the last strand of hair that's out of place before leading me out of the office and taking me up the vacant staircase.

The house is silent as we walk up the staircase and through the hallways that lead to our chambers, so silent that I don't even hear the gentle tapping of an elf's feet as they walk.

That silence just increases the tension between us as he takes me to the double doors that lead to my chambers.

He opens them and takes me inside, but does not cross the threshold into my bedroom. Instead, he stays behind.

When I look up at him and realize he isn't planning on staying, I say, "stay. Just until the hour changes."

His eyes narrow in the slightest way, and he looks back and forth between my eyes. We stay looking at each other for a few moments before he finally takes a step forward, going past the threshold between my chambers and the hallway, and closing the doors behind him.

We walk over to the bed, where he undoes the covers and waits for me to crawl under them before joining me and pulling the covers over us.

I settle into the bed and shut my eyes as Tom blows out the candles lighting the room with a wave of his hand.

Sleep takes me in just a few minutes, and the last thing I feel before I am consumed by darkness is the feeling of Tom's cold body behind me.