#deatheater!tomhiddleston

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty-seven // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 8k warnings for this chapter: drinking, a wee bit of p in v

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune

Chapter Sixty-Seven:

It’s the day after Christmas and I spend it overthinking, worried about this ‘gathering’ at Cliveden. To distract myself, I fiddle around with the new camera Thomus bought me. 

And I might have taken a few… dozen pictures of him. 

Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but regardless I now have images of him sitting at the kitchen table with a book, typing away at his desk on the typewriter, and even one I convinced him to take with me in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. 

“I think I’m… nervous,” I say as we’re getting ready to leave.

Thomus finishes adjusting the collar of his cloak around the collar of his sweater and gives me a curious look. “You likely have more in common with them than I do.”

I shift on my feet, clutching the Tupperware full of cookies tighter. “I highly doubt that. Ever since you told me about this party, all I can think about is the time you spanked me in front of them.” A satisfied smile spreads across his face as he chuckles and pulls a forest green knit scarf from beneath his cloak. “Are we all just supposed to pretend like that never happened?” He steps closer and loops the scarf around my neck, eyes focused on the task. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course.” His eyes snap up to mine as he flips one end of the scarf over my shoulder and the other down my front. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I release a strained groan and fidget with my Ilvermorny Christmas sweater, pulling the hem further down around my hips. “Let’s just go.”

We Apparate straight there and I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what to expect. The few parties Jacob Astor has hosted that I’ve witnessed have varied wildly. From a super serious Death Eater meeting about human trafficking to dancing with Thomus while high on a lust potion - you never really know. Not to mention, the usual crowd has been an unfortunate audience to my most embarrassing moments in the last six months. 

I shudder out of my thoughts while we trek to the large hosting room. The smell hits me first, cinnamon and oranges, and then I register the song playing gently from the corner of the room, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas . An Elf snaps away our outerwear as we approach the open doors.

The room is absolutely decked out . Floating candles light the room, hovering just under the high ceiling. Fake snow drifts down from a dim grey sky, fresh holly on every sconce. In the center of the room against the windows is a massive tree, covered in tinsel and twinkling lights. The grand fireplace is crackling with a delicious smelling fire. We walk closer to the tree, where people are gathered around on couches and chairs, and I can make out what lights the top of the tree... A bright, glowing Deathly Hallows mark. 

Well, that’s fucking weird.

I don’t have time to think on it further before Jacob Astor is standing before us. He looks as dashing as ever and not so surprised that I’m not currently blind. He smiles at both Thomus and me, and I wish I could tell if he’s being sincere.

“Glad you guys could make it,” Jake says cheerfully as he shakes Thomus’ hand, but he’s looking at me. 

Thomus smiles in return, looking more relaxed than he usually does when we’re out. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

As they exchange a few more pleasantries, my eyes wander beyond Jake, trying to see if there’s any familiar faces. I clock Kyle sitting near Will when Jake says something that recaptures my attention. “I see you had your very own Christmas miracle.” 

Thomus’ arm slides around my waist. “Yes, I had some very good luck.”

I don’t miss the double meaning to his words. I wanna remark about how his good luck was really my hard work, but I bite my tongue and force a shy smile as Jake turns to shake my hand as well.

Jake gestures to a food and drinks table set up along a wall. “Help yourselves. I think Will’s trying to start up some drinking games here in a minute.”

I start walking toward the table before Thomus, mostly because I’m eager to exchange this box of cookies for something with alcohol in it. Towards the desert section, I glance back over my shoulder to make sure no one but Thomus is watching me slide trays aside, making enough room for my offering. 

Finally with free hands, I scooch next to Thomus standing by the drinks. 

“Can I pour you anything?” he asks me. 

My eyes scan the bottles, then point to the one I want. “Yeah, can I get orange juice with Malibu?”

He reaches for the white bottle I pointed to and pours a double into the iced glass he’s holding. “Coconut rum?” he questions as he’s reaching for the pitcher of orange liquid. 

“It’s my go-to,” I say as I grab a coffee straw, taking the glass and stirring it once it’s full. I take a sip and it’s just right. He’s busy pouring his own glass of whiskey, but I offer him the straw anyway. “Wanna try?”

I briefly pull his eyes away from pouring as he leans down to wrap his lips around the straw. There’s just something about seeing his jaw flex like that that has me pinching myself. 

“Well, it’s certainly a combination of flavors,” he says after swallowing. 

I snort and forget what I’m about to say when I feel an arm brush my other shoulder. When I see who it is, I relax. “Oh, hi.”

Will’s eyes immediately find the box that doesn’t match the rest of the dishes and nabs one of the bright red cookies. “Oh, hi,” he teases after he takes a bite. His face is sans beard and rocking a stache now. “You guys ready to get trashed?”

“What’re we playing?” I ask, taking a few big pulls of my drink.

“Anything,” Will answers immediately. He pulls out his wand and summons a tray pre-loaded with tiny cauldrons just big enough for shots. A bottle of firewhiskey floats from the collection before us and starts filling the cauldrons. “Got nothin’ but a good time on the agenda.”

“Can we play Thunderstruck?” I ask. 

Will beams. “Fuck yeah we can play Thunderstruck.”

As Thomus and I follow Will back to where everyone else is gathered, Thomus leans in. “Should I know what that is?”

I can’t help but smile. “Oh, you’ll find out.”

There’s an empty loveseat Thomus pulls me onto. He tucks his arm around my waist again as he settles back, practically tucking me into his side. 

As Will passes out the shot cauldrons, I can finally sneak a peek at who’s actually here. Kyle and Will - and obviously Jake. That Roosevelt guy is here, too, but I forget his first name. There’s a pretty blond woman talking to Jake that I don’t recognize and… oh, that’s it. Small group, I see. Which I will admit I’m glad for. 

I take the first shot that Will offers me and I down it immediately before putting it back and grabbing another one. I haven’t really eaten much today, so the alcohol hits my stomach like a warm blast.

“Alright, I wanna make a toast,” Jake announces, standing with his shot held out towards the blond next to him. “Firstly, to my sister, Diana, for the last minute decorating.”

“Well, you obviously weren’t going to do it,” Diana says with a laugh. 

“Exactly,” he says. “And then to all of you - for making this past year as successful as it has been.”

For one blissful moment I had allowed myself to forget why I was here, why they’ve had such a successful year. It takes .2 seconds for the anxious pit in my chest to grow twice its size. I’m the first one to finish my shot and then sip heavily on my cocktail to wash the taste down.

“Alright, the first game we’re playing is Thunderstruck, so everyone top off their drinks,” Will says, heading over to where the Christmas music’s playing from. 

Since mine is already more than halfway gone, I shoot to my feet to fill it back up. I’m not the first one to the drinks table because Kyle is there ladeling in some kind of fizzing purple punch. 

“Want one?” Kyle asks as I glance over my shoulder at Thomus, who briefly looked at me before turning to greet Diana.

“Yes, please,” I reply. “Two actually.”

“This your doing or his?” he asks, his voice low. By this he doesn’t even have to clarify - I just know.

I look up at him and shrug with one shoulder. “Mine.”

“Hmph,” he grunts unhappily. He finishes filling the first glass and then starts the second.

“What, don’t believe me?” I ask, taking a sip of the punch. Elderberry and something that tastes like Aloe juice. 

“I believe you,” he says quickly. “Now it’s just my turn to hold up my end of the bargain.”

I sigh heavily. “You haven’t figured out how to get me away from Thomus yet, have you?”

“Well, I have a few ideas, but I don’t think you’re going to like them.”

“Such as?”

Before he can answer, we get called back to the group to start the song. I’m supposed to hide the fact that I have my magic, so with both hands I carefully cradle my half drink plus the two new ones back to the loveseat. Thomus is still chatting with Diana, a conversation I’ve completely tuned out, so I just slide our drinks onto the coffee table in front of us. 

“Melisa, can you explain the rules?” Will asks. 

I’m a bit taken aback by the use of my whole first name - especially being pronounced correctly - instead of my last. Everyone’s eyes are on me now, so I take a deep breath before spilling the details. “Okay so, we go in a circle and every time the song says ‘thunder’, one person drinks until they say ‘thunder’ again, and then the next person starts and so on and so forth, does that make sense?”

“I’ll start!” Will says before pressing play and jogging over. He comes to sit on the armrest of our loveseat.

The first few thunders come in quick succession, so once Will goes, I go, and then Thomus. The thunders go around the circle a few times before the first long stretch lands on Thomus, who has to finish his whiskey, and with some encouragement, grabs the punch I push towards him. With the circle being small, by the time the song’s over, everyone has finished their drinks.

“Now that we’ve all settled in,” Will jokes, “the next game we’re playing is called Captain.” He sets the music back to Christmas music and turns the volume down to a background level. “Usually, it’s played with a pirate's hat or a sailors hat, but since it’s Christmas - “ he waves his wand and a Santa hat appears on Diana’s head, much to her delight “ - this is what we’ve got. Does everyone know how to play?”

I shake my head, noticing the alcohol has started to loosen my limbs. I’d finished my cocktail during the game and have started on the punch - which I swear keeps refilling itself.

Diana rubs her hands together conspiratorially and leans forward over Thomus to explain. “Whoever has the hat gets to pick someone to do a dare. If they do the dare, then we all take a shot and they get the hat, but if they don’t then they’re out of the game. Last person in the game wins.”

I smile at her. “Please don’t pick me first.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry, I got my eyes on someone else.” She jerks her chin towards Jake, who immediately dons this ‘oh shit’ face. She leans back, crossing her arms with a shit eating grin.

“Why’s it called Captain?” I ask. “Just because of the hat?”

“Whenever someone gets the hat, we’re supposed to say ‘Aye, Aye Captain’,” Thomus explains for me, his face leaning in close. 

I immediately giggle. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?”

He runs his hand down my thigh and tilts his head in confusion. “What?”

I shift in my seat, getting closer to him so our thighs touch. “Nevermind.”

“Aye, aye Captain!” Roosevelt and Will shout. 

Diana taps her chin like she’s still considering. “Hmm, dear brother, what shall I make you do?” Then she grins. “I dare you to take your socks off with your teeth and wear them tucked into your collar for the rest of the game.”

My head quickly swivels to where Jake is sitting to get his reaction and he does not disappoint. His face scrunches up in disgust as he slouches in his seat, already toeing off his nice shoes. 

“Hopefully those aren’t the ones you were wearing yesterday,” Will laughs. “Or are they?”

“Shut your trap, Hoffman,” Jake grumbles. 

We all wait with baited breath as he grabs his calf to pull his foot closer to his face. He quickly traps the sock between his bared teeth and pulls. It slips off and he does the same to the other one before tucking them both into his collar. 

He grins triumphantly and quickly summons house slippers for his bare feet. “Ha!” he says. “Drink up, assholes.”

We all take our drinks as the Santa hat gets transferred to Jake. 

“Aye, Aye Captain!” we all shout. 

His eyes jump from person to person, and he’s quick to settle on Kyle, who clearly isn’t paying attention. 

Kyle’s sole focus is on Thomus, blatantly staring at him with something akin to determination and consideration. 

The look quickly disperses as my stare gives Jake’s intention away and Kyle’s expression neutralizes. 

“Kyle,” Jake says. “I dare you to serenade the person to your right.”

Kyle sighs dramatically, rubbing his hand down his face. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

Nevertheless, he swiftly gets down on his knees in front of Diana, a hand clutched over his heart. As he’s clearly about to break out in song, I briefly wonder if he’ll have a decent singing voice, and I find out soon enough as he belts out the easily recognizable first notes to All I Want for Christmas is You . His voice is off-pitch and scratchy, and I genuinely can’t tell if he’s being bad on purpose or not. Everyone starts laughing and I can’t help but join in. 

When he gets to the end of the first verse, he takes Diana’s hand and gives the back of it an exaggerated kiss. We give him a round of applause as he takes his seat. Jake gives Kyle the hat while we take our drink for the round.

It doesn’t surprise me that Kyle chooses Thomus, I only worry what he’ll make him do. He’s looking around, trying to come up with an idea until his eyes land on Thomus’ drink in his hand. 

“Malfoy, I triple doxy dare you to… finish yours and Alder’s drinks in one go.”

Thomus scoffs. “And here I thought you were going to pick something difficult.” He quickly finishes the rest of his punch in a few gulps before trading glasses with me. “Tada,” he proudly announces after easily downing the rest of mine, then he stands holding our four empty glasses by the rim in one hand. “Drink up.”

As Thomus goes across the room to refill our punch, Kyle leans forward, staring at me intently. 

“We need to get him drunk,” he hisses low. 

I blink at him in surprise, then jump my gaze first to Thomus’ back and then to the rest of the group. No one seems as surprised as I am. Even Roosevelt, who I overheard someone refer to him as Eric, doesn’t bat an eye. Is everyone in on this plot?

“That’s your plan?” Will asks incredulously.

“It’s the start of one,” Kyle answers. “Get him so drunk he passes out and she can just… leave.”

“Just leave ?” I ask. I look to the windows, searching for that shimmer from the magical barrier from before. “What about -”

“The tattoo doesn’t work here,” Jake quickly adds. “And there aren't any additional wards to trap you here.”

Everyone is looking at me, waiting for my response. My heart has leapt to my throat to block any logistical questions I have before Thomus swoops back into his seat.

“What’s that look for?” Thomus asks me. I quickly snatch the glass he hands me to swallow my thrumming heart back into my chest. 

Diana jumps in for my rescue. “I was just telling her about my ex.”

“Oh Merlin,” Thomus groans, slumping back against the loveseat. “It’s not a story about me, is it?”

What? Jesus fuck, these people keep smacking bludgers at me one after another. 

I try not to react outwardly to the news that Diana and Thomus used to date, even if this news is just as jarring as the imminent plan for my escape from him. I focus on her, really taking in what she looks like. Extremely tall and willowy with big round hazel eyes and a cupid’s bow mouth. Jealousy flares up inside because I can’t help but compare us. Her thighs combined are the size of just one of mine. 

She flips her long dirty blond hair over her shoulder and crosses her legs, perching an elbow on the armrest of her chair. “No, but I ought to, shouldn’t I?”

“Definitely not,” Thomus says, quickly sitting forward with a hand outstretched towards Kyle. “Pass me the hat.” He settles the white faux fur rim of the Santa hat over his dark curls. 

“Aye aye, Captain!” they all shout. I’m too anxious and fixate my eyes on my drink, still fizzing on the coffee table in front of me. My mind is racing with all that could potentially happen. Where would I go? How long could I hide? Could I be summoned back because of the tattoo? If the idea is to get me close to Voldemort, wouldn’t fleeing just put a target on my back? I wonder if I’d be able to get a message to Hermione about -

Thomus’ hand brushes down my arm. “Melisa?”

My eyes snap to his, focused on me, and I swallow around nothing. “Yeah? Sorry.”

He gives me a sly smile. “It’s your turn.”

“Alright,” I sigh, making a face. “Lay it on me.”

He takes a deep breath and I expect it to be something genuinely challenging, but in all honesty it’s a bit underwhelming. “I dare you to sing the alphabet… backwards.”

I snort. “Jokes on you because I was taught that in the second grade.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Looking at him, I feel less nervous about making a fool of myself in front of everyone else. So I start to sing, keeping my eyes on him or on his person, because after a few moments the prolonged eye contact makes my face heat. 

Even after I’m finished with the letters, I keep going with the end of the song. “ Now we know our ZYXs’, next time we will go to Texas. ”

Will laughs. “Why the fuck are we going to Texas?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Ask Mr. Morley.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My elementary school music teacher,” I reply smoothly. “Now drink the fuck up.”

Jake is the first to finish his drink, so he stands to get a refill. “We should play something else. All our dares suck, no ones gotten out yet.”

“I’ve got a good one,” I say quickly. I’d taken a drink, too, because why not? Who wants to make hard decisions sober?

I pluck the Santa hat off Thomus’ head and slip it over mine. “You ready, Will?”

Will squares his shoulders, facing me dead on, expression serious. “Born ready.”

“I dare you to recite a poem - any poem, but you -” I start to blow a raspberry with my tongue in between every word “- have to talk like this.”

Will snickers. “You got that from Spongebob.”

“So what if I did? You still gotta do it,” I smile. “And I don’t think I heard my ‘aye aye, Captain’.”

Jake and Kyle are the only ones who don’t say it. Kyle is lost in his thoughts if his dead eye stare at his drink is evidence enough, and Jake is too far away at the food and drinks table to care.

It’s hard to keep the grin off my face as Will complies with my dare. “ Mosquito lands on my cheek. I try to slap her, but I just slap me. ” He finishes by standing with a bow. 

“That’s it?” Diana protests. “It was so short.”

“It’s a haiku,” Thomus explains. “A type of Japanese poem.”

“Oh, yeah that’s right,” she says. “Do you still work for the Daily Prophet? Or has that taken a backseat for… other things?” 

“A bit of both, really,” he sighs. “The Dark Lord hasn’t required much of me lately, so I’ve been helping Barnabas Cuffe with editing. In addition to helping my sister-in-law with the New Year’s Eve Gala she’s hosting.”

“Speaking of,” Jake says, rejoining the group, “why weren’t we invited?” It’s obvious he’s not really offended, just genuinely curious. 

Thomus sighs and speaks with a hint of resentment. “Only the Sacred Twenty-Eight and whoever’s crawled up through the Dark Lord’s ranks, I’m afraid. Not even the Lots are allowed to be present.”

“Well, if you’re free, Melisa,” Diana says, speaking to me. “You’re welcome to come to a New Years Eve party here. It would just be us and a few of my girlfriends from Oxford.”

I’m genuinely shocked and flattered that this goddess is inviting me to a party, but I know that this has to be a backup plan for escape if tonight doesn’t go as Kyle wants it. I don’t even get a chance to respond because Thomus puts a possessive hand on my leg, wedging his long fingers into the tight space between my thighs. 

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Thomus says, speaking for me with a tone of finality, and doesn’t even bother to explain why.

She peers at us curiously for a moment before realization dawns. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”

The tray with all our mini shot cauldrons fill back up as Thomus just gives a silent nod of acknowledgement. 

We play another couple rounds of Captain before all the drinks finally start to do their job and loosen everyone up. I know I’m starting to feel it, especially when I stand to go find a bathroom. 

Thomus insists on accompanying me, especially when I steer towards the bathroom down by the kitchens. He takes me back out to the lobby, showing me where the bathrooms are there. Secretly, I’m glad, because I don’t think I’d be able to make it up and down all those stairs without tripping at least once. I don’t think Thomus would either, based on how many times he bumps into me. 

He even follows me into the women’s bathroom, insisting that it doesn’t matter since we’re the only ones in there. 

“I didn’t realize how clingy you were,” I tease, saddling my way into one of the stalls to do my business.

He slides into the one next to me. “Oh, poppycock. I’m just being a gentleman and making sure you don’t fall in.”

My laugh is sharp and loud in the echoey bathroom. “That actually happened to me when I was in preschool. The seat wasn’t down so my butt got all wet and I just sat there waiting to be rescued by a teacher.”

I hear his warm chuckle. “How old were you?”

“Four,” I say as I finish and leave the stall to wash my hands. He joins me a moment later, still chuckling to himself. “What?”

He shakes his head absently. “Nothing, you’re just… adorable.”

I snort as I reach for a paper towel. “Right.”

He dries his hands too and quickly reaches for me as I try to pass him to the door. He leans back against the counter, a hand on my hip and one on my cheek, pulling me towards him. I don’t resist and lean into him, our lips quickly meeting. My arms snake around his waist, wanting a hug at the same time, because it strikes me that if I leave tonight… this could be it. 

I still have a million doubts and questions that need answered, but right now… right now he wants me and I need to bask in it for as long as I can, while I still have the chance.

I deepen the kiss and I boldly slip one of my hands to the front of his jeans. He’s already semi-hard, but at my touch, he groans and bites my lip. 

“You want to do this here?” he asks, his voice husky.

I nod, my other hand coming around to undo his pants and slip my hand inside. “I want you so bad.”

He drags kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “It’ll have to be quick.”

“And hard,” I breathe, practically panting with want already.

Determination in his movements now, he flips us around until my fupa is pressed against the sink counter and he’s grinding against my ass. He moves my hair away from my neck, sensually kissing the soft spot below my ear. Over my sweater his hands slowly grope down from my chest, then my stomach and the fleshy “handles”, as he’s called them before, where my fupa meets my hips. 

I push my ass back against him. “I thought you said we had to be quick.”

He bites my neck, wringing a moan from me. “Patience,” he warns. 

One hand lets go of my handle and slips underneath to firmly cup the junction between my legs. I sigh heavily and whine, rocking my hips, increasing the pressure on my clit. 

“Fuck,” he groans out. Finally he hooks his fingers into my waistband and yanks my pants and undies down to my knees. I push my ass out towards him when he takes a step back to pull his cock out. He moans when his tip pushes through my lips, feeling how wet I am. Then he doesn’t waste a second longer and slides home. 

I cry out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep it muffled. I plant my hands on the smooth cold counter and immediately start rocking back and forth, desperately impatient. With a hand on the center of my back, he pushes me forward while snapping his hips to my ass, seamlessly sliding into the pace I’d set. Quick staccato slapping echoes around the room as he thrusts hard and deep. My eyes roll back into my head, hardly aware of the noises I’m making because I’m too busy losing my mind to the pleasure.

He slows all too soon, pulling me back up to attach his mouth to my neck again. My back bends to accommodate him, and while still keeping him buried to the hilt, my chest juts out. He takes advantage of the position and pushes my sweater up until his fingers find the band of my bra and he pushes that up too. My heavy breasts fall into his hands and he groans, pinching my nipples, and fucking into me with slow, but hard thrusts. 

My eyes flutter open briefly, a sudden urge to see. He’s fucked me in front of a mirror before, but he hasn’t done it since I’ve gotten my sight back. Admittedly, I have a bit of an out of body experience, looking at what’s happening instead of feeling it. I hate what I look like, of course. Sometimes in my head I look different than I really do and seeing myself in the mirror can be pretty jarring. 

But then I look at Thomus’ face. He’s so… wrapped up in me, hands full, mind clearly numb with ecstasy. 

I close my eyes again, grimacing, swallowing down the sudden onslaught of longing and loss. It’s probably all the alcohol, but tears fill my vision because I just can’t bear losing this. I quickly blink them away, avoiding looking in the mirror again. 

I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I start pushing back against him again, urging him to pick up the pace. 

He obliges me for a few moments until he slows to a stop. He’s still panting and holding me against him before he sighs heavily.

“Darling, you feel amazing, but I don’t think I can finish,” he murmurs hesitantly, sounding regretful. 

I nod, sniffling. “It’s okay, we can stop.”

He pulls out and I swiftly right myself, pants back over my hips, bra holding what it should, sweater in the right place. It’s only then that I look in the mirror again. Luckily he didn’t bite me too hard, so there’s no hickey to cover up. I just wet my fingers and run them through my hair before flipping it back over. Leaning close to the mirror, I check that my makeup is still good.

“Were you crying?” he asks point blank, staring at me in the mirror. 

“No,” I lie, but I feel a river about to gush out of my nose, so I quickly snag a paper towel and blow into it. “I just had to sneeze real bad and didn’t wanna ruin the moment.”

Fully dressed again, he slides a hand down my butt, gripping it appreciatively. “I’d be happy to help you finish,” he suggests.

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile on my face. I rock up onto the balls of my feet to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Still scratched that itch and felt amazing.”

He takes my hand, pulling me to the door. “Then let’s get back. Hopefully they won’t give us too much grief for taking so long.” He smirks down at me and winks. Actually winks . It's such a quick thing, but it makes my heart contract in my chest with the need to be wrapped up in him again. 

God I’m so fucked.

~*~

As predicted, when we return Will and Jake are quick to wolf whistle. They’re over by the music and Thomus joins them while I sink into his seat next to Diana. My face has got to be as red as my sweater, but Diana doesn’t comment on it. She just hands me a full shot cauldron with an understanding look. Grateful, I take the shot. Getting dicked down sobered me a bit more than I wanted.

Eric is busy scribbling away in a little notebook and next to him is Kyle and his stupid judgmental face.

I ignore him and focus on Diana. “So what did you study at Oxford?”

“I studied Art History,” she says, “but I didn’t get, like, a degree or anything. I just wanted to know a little more about the art I was seeing in the museums here.”

“That’s one thing I haven’t done since I’ve gotten to England,” I say. “I used to love going to museums.”

She tilts her head, looking curious. “Were you meant to stay long?”

I shrug. “I had an internship at the Daily Prophet, which I’d been hoping would lead to a full time position at some point.”

“Oh, so you worked with Thomus then?” she asks. “You knew him… before.”

“No, actually,” I say, reaching over for my punch. “I… He wasn’t around all that much while I was there.” 

“What gives with the Deathly Hallows mark on the tree?” Kyle asks out of the blue. “You know it’s just a story, right?”

Diana, who’s clearly much more sober than Kyle is right now, looks at him without mirth. “It’s very real.”

I nod along, knowing all too well the truth behind the Deathly Hallows.

“Grindelwald murdered a lot of our family with the Elder Wand,” Diana continues. “Not to mention, I’ve seen invisibility cloaks with my own eyes.” She grimaces. “And yes, I know what I just said is an oxymoron.”

With another pull of my drink, I feel gutsy enough to ask something that’s been on my mind for a while. I lean closer to her and lower my voice. “So… has your brother… always been… “ I sigh. I feel silly saying ‘on our side’, but how else can I put it? “I don't know, I guess I'm asking about allegiances.”

Kyle gives me an ‘are you serious’ look. “Of course he’s been in on it,” he says, as if it should’ve been obvious. 

“The entire time?” I ask skeptically, distinctly remembering how not nice he was when we met the night Montague got beat the fuck up by Thomus.

“He’s playing the long game,” Diana explains. “Jake’s very good at wasting The Great Order’s time.” 

Her eyes are on the three men in the corner and I turn to look just as the three of them take a shot. “Does Thomus know?” I ask, my voice low.

“Thomus is under the impression that Jake just has reservations about certain things,” she says. 

“Participating without actually participating,” I surmise.

She nods. “Exactly.” Her gaze is drawn to Eric, and she stares at him for a moment before she asks, “What happened to your hand, Eric?”

Eric looks up, seeming to have forgotten where he was. He looks around and finds the three of us looking at him. Then the question seems to sink in and he looks down at his hand. Bandages wrap around his palm and twist up his two middle fingers.

“Oh, I uh, had a bit of an accident a few days ago,” he says. “Working on the…“ He eyes me for a second before looking back at Diana. “On the thing.”

“You don’t have to speak in code,” Kyle says to him. “She can handle a few more secrets.”

I nod in agreement, though really it has nothing to do with how good I am at keeping secrets. I’m just too nosey for my own good.

“Right, sure, yeah,” Eric says. He looks down at his notebook. “I’m having a bit of a timing issue. I think I’ve got the explosive strong enough, but it seems the stronger it gets, the less time I have before it goes off.”

I quickly glance back at Thomus, catching him downing another shot, before turning back and whispering, “You’re building a bomb?”

He nods. “Something powerful enough to break through Anti-Apparition wards.”

My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”

The corners of his mouth turn up in an amused grin. “I’m definitely trying to make it one.”

“Do you have the recipe?” I ask, a bit eager. “I’ve had a similar issue with magical film developer. I might be able to help.”

“Yeah, here.” He flips through a couple pages until he lands on a spread that’s definitely got more use than the rest, then passes it to me.

As I scan the page, I see that a few of the core ingredients are the same, just how they’re incorporated is slightly different. The measurements are also scaled down for testing purposes.

“If this were to scale, how much willow root would you add?” I ask. 

“The entire root, but I chop it up.”

“If you grind it down into a powder and then weigh it, it’s easier to be more precise with the amount you add,” I explain, not looking up from the page. “And you’re not adding nearly enough bursting mushroom powder.”

When I look up, Eric’s head is tilted, his eyes unfocused, his mind clearly running away from him with this new information. “Interesting,” he says. 

“Magical film developing potion always implodes on itself. It’s just a fact. But I’ve made it so much that I can time it down to the second it’ll implode,” I explain. “Would you… want me to write the recipe down for you? Then you can compare.”

He blinks back into focus, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please do. Here.” He passes me his pen and I quickly jot down my recipe on the next available page in his book.

By the time I’m done, the music gets turned up, and the three in the corner start making their way over to us. I toss down the rest of my drink before reaching for Thomus’, but Kyle stops me. 

“Don’t,” he warns.

I quickly put two and two together. “What did you put in here?” I demand with a hushed voice.

“Relax,” he says, standing. “It’s just something to speed things up.”

Completely oblivious, Thomus plops right down next to me, swinging his arm around my shoulders. 

“Is that mine?” he asks, not bothering to wait for my response before he grabs his drink and chugs it. He audibly plonks the glass onto the coffee table and turns to me, grinning mischievously from ear to ear, looking like he has a dirty secret he can’t wait to share with me. I return his smile with a hesitant one of my own. 

He leans close to speak in my ear, though he’s not exactly quiet. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

My face immediately flushes because everyone heard that. I look around in panic to find everyone staring at us, too. Their expressions aren’t of disgust, though, just surprise.

“Oh my god,” I say, covering my face with my hands. I shoot to my feet. “I need a drink.”

As I speed away, I hear Thomus ask, “What did I say?”

I glance over my shoulder to see Diana covering her mouth in a fit of giggles and Jake shakes his head. “Dude.”

I’m munching on one of my red cookies when Thomus comes up behind me, his hand drifting down my back to settle on my waist. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Nothing. You just -” I glance up at him, noting his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. “I guess I’ve just never seen you so relaxed. Especially around other people. And we’re acting like we’re…” My heart’s thundering in my chest as I force the last few words out. “Like we’re a couple.”

He turns to face me and leans a hip on the table. “You’re right, it is a bit out of our usual routine,” he admits, his expression serious. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

I sigh and shrug a shoulder. “No more than you usually do.” I put my hand over his where it rests on the table, pushing the tips of my fingers against his knuckles. “And I don’t hate… this, how it feels, you know? It’s just hard to pair it with everything else,” I say. “If that makes sense.”

He nods slowly, looking down at our hands. “This is all new for me, if you can believe it,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to enjoy yourself.”

I bump his hip with mine. “Hey, we fucked in the bathroom. I’d say I'm having a decent time.”

He snickers and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, based on tonight’s agenda, but luckily Will calls us over from a card table Jake summoned to play Exploding Snap.

~*~

A little while later we’re all sitting around the card table. I’ve elected not to play since I don’t have my wand and technically Thomus doesn’t know that they know I have my magic.

Throughout the game, Thomus gets noticeably drunker than everyone else, despite only sipping his drink. During one round while waiting for his turn, I guess all the drinks and whatever Kyle spiked his drink with, finally catch up with him. He passes out with his head propped in one hand and the other loosely clutching his cards. 

When they notice, the room goes silent except for the Christmas music still playing. Kyle slowly reaches over and shakes Thomus’ shoulder, making his head fall right onto the table with an ominous thunk that does not match the vibe of McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime .

I stare at his face, overwhelmingly anxious about his well-being, when an uncharacteristic snore breaks through the silence between songs. 

“Finally,” Jake sighs, tossing his cards onto the table and running a hand over his face. “You sure about this, Kyle? There’s no turning back from this.”

Kyle stands, pulling out his wand. “Trust me. This is the only way.’

“What happens now?” I ask. 

Kyle moves Thomus’ unconscious form into the air where he hovers with his arms and head dangling.

But he doesn’t answer me. 

“ Kyle ,” I press, “what happens now?”

“Now, we put him to bed and by the time he wakes in the morning, you’ll be long gone,” he answers, moving with Thomus towards the stairs on the other side of the room.

I stand too, quickly following him to demand answers. “Where, exactly, will I be?”

“That’s up to you,” he answers casually. “You can probably get away with hiding here in this massive fucking house until he leaves.”

“What, you think he’s just gonna accept that I’m gone?” I ask. “No questions asked?”

“Yeah, we’ll just tell him you must’ve left in the middle of the night or something. What room am I putting him in, Jake?”

We’ve gotten to the stairs and it’s only then I realize everyone has followed us, with Will right behind me. 

“Three doors down from the top of the stairs,” Jake answers. “On the left.”

I realize it’s the same room he put us in before and my face heats at the memory of being bound to the wall and fingered within an inch of my life. We get into the room and I rush forward to pull the velvety soft duvet back from the pillows. Kyle gently lowers him and I make sure he’s settled properly to avoid potentially choking on his own vomit in his sleep. 

“What now?” I ask, pulling off Thomus’ shoes and tucking his legs under the blankets before pulling up the unfitted sheet to his chest.

“Merlin,” Kyle exclaims. “Will you quit it?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “ No , I won’t,” I say tightly. “We need this figured out before there’s no going back.”

“Fine,” he says, mimicking my stance and leaning against the wall. “What’re you so worried about?”

I take a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. “What makes you so sure he’s not going to find me?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s literally the Death Eater’s best tracker.”

“He hasn’t found George Weasley,” Will says.

“I’ve no fucking idea how George has managed to avoid getting caught by anyone , given how much of a high profile he has, but there’s no way I could do the same and be close to Voldemort like you want. A missing Lot? The Death Eaters are gonna go apeshit.”

“What about that Lot that escaped early on? Killed her owner and everything,” Kyle says.

“I’m pretty positive she’s straight up left the country,” I say, talking with my hands. “And I don’t think any of us are on board with killing him.”

Kyle nearly rolls his eyes. “I never said we had to kill him,” he says. “You’re here, out of your wards. There’s no need.”

“Okay, well me leaving the country is the exact opposite of what we want,” I say and start to pace. “How long would I be hiding?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle answers, shrugging. “Could be months.”

“Great, so you’re just gonna come get me when it’s time to, what, attack Hogwarts? Do you really think there’s gonna be another fight there? Or are we waiting for him to make an appearance somewhere?”

“I’ve heard he’s pretty reclusive right now, actually,” Will pipes in. “He hardly leaves the school.”

“Great!” I exclaim with fake enthusiasm. “So I’ll just camp out in the Forbidden Forest, then? Take my chances at running into Dementors, Death Eaters, centaurs, fuckin’ giant spiders , for fucks’ sake?”

“Girl’s got a point, Kyle,” Jake says, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the ornate bed post. 

“Well, what else is she going to do? She’s useless to The True Order just playing house with a Malfoy,” Kyle says.

“Hey, I’ve done stuff,” I protest. “I’ve passed important notes to the Order, hidden a fugitive right under Thomus’ nose, and it was me who got the word to that safehouse that it was going to be raided.”

“ What ?!” Jake looks at me absolutely stunned. “That was you?”

“Yes! Who else in that room from the meeting would’ve tipped them off?” I ask. “ And I’ve managed to become immune to that scary as shit magic suppression potion. Have you ever taken that shit? It’s utterly terrifying to not have your magic.” I stop my pacing and look around at all of them. “To be completely at the mercy of someone who couldn’t give a shit whether you lived or died? We’ve all been sterilized and raped and branded as property. ” 

I pull my left sleeve up, bearing the tattoo and the scars Bellatrix left me. Diana’s visibly horrified and everyone else just looks mildly uncomfortable. “And these are just the scars I’m willing to show you.”

I force myself to calm down, breathing deep in through my nose and out my mouth. “I’m not going to jump headfirst into a plan held together with Spellotape and superglue,” I say after a moment. “Thomus trusts you guys. Aren’t you his best friend, Jake? Are you really gonna break his trust by losing something he obviously has put a lot of time and effort into keeping alive?”

Kyle is glaring hard at the carpet and Jake's intense focus jumps between me and Thomus. 

Jake exhales heavily. “She’s right.”

My shoulder’s sag with relief. “Thank you.”

“We have to think of a legitimate way to get you away from him,” Diana says. “Do you think he’d ever… let you go?”

I frown. “Like… set me free?” 

She nods. “Then maybe you could get scooped up by another Death Eater or something, someone who works more closely with You-Know-Who or who’d… loan you, I guess.”

I turn around to gaze at Thomus, sleeping soundly, and recall every possessive look or grab he’s given me. “No,” I say softly. “There’s no way he’d let me go willingly.”

Kyle snorts. “Yeah I second that. The asshole nearly slits my throat if I even talk to her when he’s not around.”

“Even if I could convince him somehow,” I say, “it wouldn’t matter what he wanted. I know he’d use the Death Eaters as an excuse. He couldn’t pretend I was gone if someone saw me. The Malfoy’s reputation and the trust the Dark Lord has in them would be put in jeopardy. There’s no way he’d risk the lives of his family.”

“Is there anybody that out ranks him?” Will asks. “Someone who could make that choice for him.”

“I’m not sure, really,” I admit. “I’m sure there is, but I don’t know who. Someone older, like his brother maybe?”

“We just need a reason for them to take you from him,” Jake explains. “Like a change of… ownership.”

“Who, though?” I ask. “And why?”

“Probably best if that’s something for us to figure out,” Kyle says pointedly. “Just in case.”

I sigh heavily and start heading towards the door. “Whatever. All I care about is that it’s legit, okay? Something that’s not gonna get any of us killed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Will agrees, stepping out of my way. “Where’re you going?”

“To stand outside and pretend that I’m free.”

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

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the spare // chapter sixty-eight // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this fic: 6.7k warnings for this chapter: p in v, fingering, dirty talk

a million boops to my beta reader banners by @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Eight:

Cliveden’s gardens at night in the winter are beautiful. They’re vast and eerily empty, though that could just be the stillness of the night. Victorian lamp posts light the way and with the gently falling snow, kinda gives me Narnia vibes.

 I wander around, careful to stick to the crunchy gravel paths and keep the main house in sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve had such an opportunity for escape. Yeah, I could Apparate anywhere, but why? Now that a plan will be in place, what’s the point? It’s exactly what I wanted. 

Movement draws my eye and I catch Diana’s head above the shrubbery, heading in my direction. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I sit on a nearby bench and wait for her to join me.

“Did they send you to make sure I was still here?” I ask, mostly teasing.

“Kyle did,” she admits as she sits next to me. She’s all bundled up in a stylish thick wool coat while I’m just fine in my Ilvermorny sweater and Thomus’ scarf. “But that’s alright, I’d much rather talk to you.”

Instantly my guard's up. “About what?”

She hesitates for a moment, but I give her my best encouraging expression, despite my raging nerves. 

“Well, I wanted to ask how you feel about Thomus.”

I blink, my eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, um, well, I -”

“It’s just that Jake seems to think you genuinely care about him because of how adamant you are about his safety,” she says. “Now that I’ve met you and I’ve seen you two together, I think he’s right, but I wonder if it’s more than that.”

I think about my answer for a few moments, but respond with a question instead. “Is this because you two used to date?”

She immediately shakes her head and chuckles. “Definitely not. It didn’t last longer than a month or two and it was a long time ago.”

“Did-did he break up with you?” I ask with some hesitation.

“I dumped him actually,” she says. “He just… When we hung out or went on dates, his mind always seemed like it was elsewhere.  The only time he seemed fully present and invested was when we…” she trails off. 

“When what?” I prompt.

She gives me a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it might be a bit TMI.”

I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as TMI for me. I need everything.” Even if that information guts me. I’d always rather know.

“When we were sleeping together,” she says all in one breath.

I don’t say anything, waiting to hear more. “Oh, is that it?”

Her eyebrows tilt up in sympathy. “I suppose if I were in your situation I wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I can see that. Do you know what he was so focused on?”

“Well, I know his mother had passed away a few months before and then there was… her .”

“Bellatrix,” I sigh knowingly.

“He visited her every couple weeks - no matter what. I didn’t even know he was still going after we started dating. When I confronted him, he insisted there was nothing physical going on between them, but I… had my doubts. He told me he stopped going after that, but I know he went back after it ended,” she explains. “Does he still see her often?”

“I… have no idea honestly.”

“Have you not asked?”

I shake my head. “Why would I?”

“Because you two are…” she sighs. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“There’s a massive power imbalance between us and I’m not going to let myself forget that, regardless of how I feel.”

“What about how he feels?” she asks gently.

“If anything he feels is real, then why am I still his prisoner?” I answer a little too quickly. “He doesn’t see me as his equal. I don’t want to belong to him like I’m some kind of possession. I want a partner willing to rely on me as I want to rely on them in return. How can anyone be devoted to an object?” I finish by inhaling sharply, having taken short breaths during my lament. 

Her lips press together as she regards me with a cautious look. “The world has really changed since Harry Potter died,” she says. “No one is doing well - especially muggleborns. No one has been able to fly under the radar since they started implementing some kind of forced registry.” She pauses and then chuckles. “And you would not be able to go unnoticed.”

I sigh. “It’s the hair isn’t it?”

“Actually, no,” she says. “You’d be surprised how popular some of these articles about you have been.”

Now this, I’m taken aback. "Articles? As in more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. The best one is from the New York Ghost , but Witch Weekly's was pretty nice. Does someone have it out for you at The Daily Prophet , by any chance?"

"Probably Rita Skeeter," I grumble. I want to know what they've been saying about me. "Though I'm surprised I was interesting enough for one article, let alone multiple."

"I disagree," she says. "I think what you're doing is very brave. You haven't given up despite all these odds stacked against you. Honestly, I was really excited to meet you when I heard you were coming."

I blush, laughing awkwardly. "I, um, I'm sorry, I definitely had no idea you existed until tonight. Thank you for inviting me to that thing on New Years Eve, even though I can't go. It reminded me of what being normal was like."

"No problem!" she smiles. "I would've been glad to have you. You’re super cool and totally normal.” She winks at me and quietly laughs to herself. “But seriously, you should consider thinking that he might just want to keep you safe, where he can protect you.”

“But I can protect myself ,” I gently protest. “It’s because I’ve been under his ‘care’ that I’ve been vulnerable! He has to realize that.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy. “I think he does, because there was one weekend Jake told me about. He’d just met you and Thomus in Edinburgh and you’d been… assaulted while they’d all just been standing there, unknowing. He said he’d never seen Thomus be that violent before - violent without using magic that is.”

I stare at her eye-wided, enthralled with this story. This change in perspective. 

“And then the next night, there’d been this party Thomus got drunk at and Jake said he could tell something was really bothering him. Apparently, he was really reluctant to talk about it, too.”

I scoff. “I hope he got over himself and opened up so you can share this information with me now.”

“Yeah, so he finally said he blamed himself for being an idiot and not paying better attention. Like, it really hit him that your safety was in his hands.”

I… don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. My heart wants to swoon and my mind wants to roll its eyes. Except, if he’s not as terrible as I thought, am I allowed to hope? 

“I think I remember when he came home,” I admit. “We continued drinking and he asked me how I felt - which was very new for us at the time.”

Diana smiles ruefully. “Does he get points for trying, at least?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “I’m definitely nervous that it could all just be a… fling to him.”

Diana startles me by releasing a loud cackle.

“A fling?!” she bellows, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh honey, you’re delusional.”

“What? No!” I protest. “I’m being realistic.”

“Oh Lady Morgana,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes and standing. “Come on, let’s go inside before my fingers fall off.”

~*~

By the early hours of the morning, I’m utterly exhausted. 

Kyle had changed his mind and decided to tell me his roughly outlined plan. It’s not terrible, but luckily the rough bits still have time to be hammered out. I should have plenty of notice before I have to leave, plenty of time for contingencies.

Thomus is out like a light, still snoring softly, when I return. I try to be as quiet as possible as I strip down to my undies and crawl into the massive four-poster bed with him. 

It must not be massive enough, though, because just me softly rolling into position beneath the covers is enough to rouse a few sleepy words from him.

“Darling?” he rasps and I feel his hands reach for me in the dark.

“Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hums and pulls himself closer, resting his head on my chest. “How did we get back to the cottage?” he says sleepily, curling himself against me.

“We didn’t,” I say, running a hand through his hair and the other over his shoulders. “We’re still at Cliveden.”

“Hm, I don’t remember getting here.”

His tone isn’t setting off any alarm bells. It’s low and gravelly, like he’s not entirely awake yet.  He’s just mindlessly chatting and I just have to be casual.

“Well, you were very drunk,” I say. “You passed out playing Exploding Snap. Jake had to levitate you up here.”

His arm around my waist tightens, pulling me tighter against him. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t say anything, panic instantly spiking my heart rate, and I hope he’s not awake enough to pay attention.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” he continues. “Not that I’d blame you if you did.”

I stay silent, trying to convince myself that his calm demeanor is because whatever he’s talking about, couldn’t be about the drama of the night. There's no way he was awake enough to hear what we said. 

“No,” I murmur. “I didn’t.”

“What room did he put us in?” he murmurs.

I let out a sudden strained laugh. “You’d never guess.”

~*~

On New Year’s Eve, Thomus leaves again. He says it’s to finish last minute tasks for the Gala and whatnot and I feel… depressed… again. I’m mostly uninterested in eating - I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich for dinner. I’m not in the mood to read, listen to music or watch any movies, but I’ve had The Nanny on all day - just to make the house less quiet.

So I just go to bed at the blessed hour of 8pm. 

I’ve barely been in bed for longer than fifteen minutes when the easily recognizable sound of the Floo roaring to life drifts up the stairs. I’ve sat up by the time Thomus finds me.

“In bed already?” he asks, surprised. “On New Year's Eve?”

I shrug, holding the blanket up to my naked chest. “It’s not the easiest holiday to spend by yourself.”

Thomus sits on the edge of the bed, swiftly leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I don’t intend for you to, I agree completely.” He jumps up, taking long strides through the bathroom to my room, where I hear him opening the wardrobe. I sigh, scooting to the edge to throw my legs over it. It’s just my luck I was already in bed.

“A little warning might have been nice,” I say when he returns, arm cradling a black hoodie and black leggings. 

He takes one look at me and the next moment he’s tossing my clothes on the bed and crowding into my space. His large hands cradle my head as he braces me for his lips on mine. He leans in and I have to prop my arms behind me so we don’t fall backward. Of course this causes the blanket to fall and his hand swoops down to cup and grope my chest, the attention causing my nipples to harden. 

His kisses take my breath away and my thighs are quick to part for him. His hips slide right into the space provided, grinding his hard-on against me. My kisses slacken because all of my attention goes right to my throbbing clit and I desperately whimper.  

His hips rock against me one more time before he pulls away, both of us breathless. His eyes trail down my body as he speaks. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “I will have to savor you later.”

When he steps completely away from me, I’m left cold, so I quickly slide on the oversized hoodie as he adjusts himself in his pants.

“Savor me?” I ask when I stand, stepping into the pants one leg at a time.

He chuckles, watching me wiggle the waistband up over my hips and stomach. “I thought it was a bit more romantic than fuck.”

Ping . There goes the tiniest fracture in my heart for him. I scramble for something clever or funny to say. 

“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” I say, popping in a British accent for the last word. “You could’ve said shag .”

“Cute,” he smirks.

I follow him downstairs, sliding on my socks before I stop at the door for my sneakers and turn for the fireplace.

He clicks his tongue. “Not that way.”

I narrow my eyes and follow him out the door. He takes me to the spot beyond the fence and touches the tattoo before Apparating us to the Manor. The front gates are open and he swiftly takes hold of my tattoo again to get me over the barrier. 

We walk down the entrance path, under gilded arches and golden fairy lights crossing overhead from the tall hedges. Holding my hand, he pulls me around the building along the back toward a door being held open by an elf.

“Miss,” Remmy says to me in a disinterested greeting and drops his voice to a whisper. “Master Thomus, Mistress expects you in fifteen minutes. Master isn’t even dressed -”

“Don’t worry, Remmy, I will be there,” Thomus reassures them as we pass. “Mums the word about Miss Alder, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Remmy remembers,” the elf dismisses. 

Thomus leads me to his room, making sure to use hallways noticeably absent of chatty portraits. A familiar route because of the many times I'd avoided them myself. The moment we’re in his room, he heads for the bathroom, already stripping. There’s a black robed suit hanging from a hook on the door. 

“Please tell me you're not gonna surprise me with a ball gown, are you?” I ask, hopping up onto the bed and toeing my shoes off. 

“I value my neck, thanks,” he remarks, pulling on first his suit pants, then the black button up shirt. “Would you grab me a pair of cufflinks from the closet?”

“Does it matter which one?” I ask, knowing he's got a variety. 

“No.”

By the time I emerge from the closet, elegant silver M stamped cufflinks in hand, he’s already dressed. He smiles at me as I pass him the tiny pieces of metal. 

“All you have to do is wait for a few hours,” he says, his mood curiously… cheerful? “Go back to sleep if you'd like - just don't leave this room. Only Remmy knows you're here.” 

“Why all the fuss?” I ask, my eyes greedily taking his suited form in. I suppress the desire to pull him close by his silk tie for a kiss. He looks too suave and sophisticated and… way out of my league.

“For the simple reason that I don’t want certain guests to know you’re here,” he explains, stepping into the bathroom once again. I hear him spritz a bottle of something.

“And why is that again?” 

He glides out of the bathroom, passing me by with a quick peck to my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I completely ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question, because I’m way too distracted by his suddenly fragrant cologne. I breathe in lung-fulls of cedar and pine, trying not to swoon in his wake as he pulls out his wand to light the fireplace. 

Then he’s gone, the door audibly locking behind him.

~*~

Well, I definitely try to sleep. Except I wasn’t even tired when I climbed into bed the first time.

First I change into a purple wispy nightgown with a deep vee in the neck that stops at my thighs. Then I change out of it when the frills around the short sleeves become too itchy under the covers, opting instead for a simpler one with long sleeves and a hem that falls around my ankles. 

All this, just to be uncomfortable in every position I try. Nevermind the fact my mind keeps doing laps of worrying, wondering who exactly Thomus doesn’t want to know I’m here. Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Is he dancing and flirting with her while her husband tracks me down this very moment? 

Finally I give up and decide to grab a handful of Thomus’ old Daily Prophets and settle on the cushioned bench in the alcove of one of his windows. I sit sideways on it, my back against the wall with the door in my line of sight. 

I’m about to cast a subtle illumination spell to help my poor eyesight in this dim lighting when movement out the window catches my eye. It’s the curtains billowing out of the open doors to the ball room - or the large drawing room as Narcissa calls it. Golden light spills from windows and the doorway  as the guests' shadows and silhouettes move within. Some are moving swiftly as if dancing while some are mingling. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing open the French window closest to me.

I hear boisterous laughter and the low hum of chatter, and best of all, music drifts up to me like a leaf in the breeze. It’s the exact kind of music I’d imagine would play at a ball like this, and I can’t help but picture myself down there, in some pretty dress twirling around the room with Thomus.

I sit there, content to listen to the string quartet and people watch. Some come outside for the cool air, others to have a private word alone with each other. 

Hermione is relatively easy to spot. Her black gown is ridiculously puffy around the skirt, but synched skin-tight in the bodice, and even from here I can see the jewels glittering on her chest. I’m surprised to see Draco by her side, dressed head to toe in white. They linger by the door, always surrounded by ladies vying for his attention. I can’t help but notice how his hand slowly caresses her back, almost… lovingly from her waist up to her shoulders and nape when he thinks no one is watching.

Thankfully, I don’t see Bellatrix, but I also don’t see Thomus, either. An inconsequential fact I try not to linger on.

I don’t know how long I sit like that, but eventually Thomus returns, quietly stepping into the room with two empty champagne glasses and a bottle.

“I kinda feel like Cinderella wanting to go to the ball,” I say softly as he approaches. He looks politely puzzled and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s just a No-Maj fairytale.”

“Ah,” he hums. He takes hold of the forgotten newspapers on the other side of the bench and raises an eyebrow.

I feel a blush creep up my throat and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I… maybe like to read your articles,” I say. “It’s crazy to think we both spent time at The Daily Prophet , but at different times so we never ran into each other.”

I feel like I’m rambling, but how could I not? He looks and smells far too dashing for me to think clearly. 

“It is a bit ironic,” he says, replacing his papers where I’d gotten them from before returning. He takes up the rest of the bench, his back to the window, and places the glasses and bottle on the floor next to him.

“Do you think things might’ve been different if we’d met there instead?” I ask hesitantly, knowing all too well his opinions on ‘what if’s. “Before?”

Thomus sighs heavily and the air puffs out his cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways look. “Honestly?”

I nod. “Yeah, always.”

“Hm, I think…” his mouth downturns as he speaks, his voice betraying his amusement. “I’d find you the most annoying person on the planet.”

A disbelieving laugh bursts out. “What?!”

He nods, completely solemn. “Oh yeah, always asking questions, always bothering me.”

“Oh no, I’d have to talk to you about our job ,” I say with dramatic sarcasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face. “Oh no, what a nightmare.”

Thomus grabs my ankle, lifting my foot so he can shift closer, until my calf rests on his opposite thigh. That hand slides from my ankle all the way up my leg, and I’m disappointed it’s not under my nightgown. “It would have been an absolute nightmare to have you prance into my office every bloody day,” he continues as his fingers meet the crease at my hip and wedge themselves in. Then they keep traveling and grip all the plentiful flesh there. “I’d never be able to get any work done because I’d constantly be thinking about bending you over my desk.”

My eyes run laps over the sharp lines of his face, trying to determine if he’s serious. “Is that so?”

Thomus’ eyes drop to my mouth, his free hand brings his thumb to brush my lower lip. “These would be the worst. With every meddlesome question you ask, I’d only be able to think about how they’d taste.”

I’m holding my breath - my heart thudding, my ears burning. I’m suddenly very unnecessarily conscious of how far my glasses have slipped down my nose, the cool breeze from the window across my chest, and how heavy I’m breathing over his thumb. And for some reason his accent is doing funny things to my insides right now, of all times. 

His voice is low, husky, and oh, so hot. “I’d be thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you. And yes, I say when . I could only endure such torture for so long before I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I snort, a disbelieving smile breaking out under his thumb. “You make me sound like some kind of irresistible vixen.” A chuckle rumbles out of his chest, but I keep going. “Well, I have good news for you - I wouldn’t object to any of that.”

“Is that so?” His hand caresses from my jaw to my neck. 

I bite my lip to control my grin. “Well, yeah. Why do you think I’d be bothering you so much in the first place?”

Thomus lets out a breathy chuckle and sits back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I can only stare, mesmerized by seeing genuine happiness on his face.

“So,” I say brightly. “Are you enjoying this party you put so much effort into preparing?”

His smile fades. “Not as much as I ought to, I suppose.”

“Oh, why not?” I ask, placing my hand over his one on my neck, feeling along the lines of his knuckles and fingers.

“The people down there…” he starts, eyes gazing out the window, “the only thing I’ve ever been to them is a source for gossip and scandal. And then the few who look past all that see the Malfoy name and nothing else.”

I let that process. “So what you’re saying is you’re a real catch?”

He bursts out laughing, the hand from my hip reaching up to scratch his chin. “Yeah, for those desperate to social climb.”

“So you’re a desperately eligible bachelor ?” I tease with a bit more drama to my tone. “How interesting. All the finest debutantes must be lining up down there, so what ever are you doing up here with me?”

“I’m a little old for debutantes.” He settles toward me into a more relaxing position, pulling his knee up and pressing his calf onto the bench under my thighs. With his face closer to mine now, his softly spoken words are loud and clear. “And besides, your company is vastly preferable over theirs.”

My face floods with heat and I crumble under his direct eye contact. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert while I’m forced to figure out some kind of intelligent reply. “Quite shocking, really,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat, swallowing down some nerves. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with the wizarding world’s most crankiest?”

He laughs again. “Are you talking about me or them?”

I’m about to answer, but a dull tapping sound coming from the party draws my attention. The guests are returning inside, tapping their wands against their champagne glasses. 

“Ten minutes to midnight,” Thomus explains. “Lucius and Narcissa are about to make their toast.”

I slip my other hand around the one he has at my neck, both of mine cradling it near my chest as I glance at the clock on his mantle. “I guess that means you have to go?”

“Probably,” he admits slowly. “But I’m here.”

“Hold on, speaking of being here, isn’t Draco supposed to be in Switzerland?” I jut in, my eyes easily finding him and Hermione on the edge of the crowd. 

“He is and Lucius is absolutely furious,” he sighs. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Well, it's obvious, right?” I ask, side-eying him, unsure if this is something I could even talk about. “He’s like, really into Hermione.”

A few moments tick by in silence as I stare at the crowd below. I glance at him to see his eyes had been on me the whole time, his expression pensive. When our eyes meet, he holds them for a moment before his gaze follows his hand as both of his gently hold mine instead. He pulls back my left sleeve, his fingers lightly tracing his name inked on my skin. Then he goes further, tracing the white puckered lines of the scar Bellatrix left me. 

“What’re you thinking about?” I whisper.

His lips curl ruefully. “I’m thinking about how much of a hypocrite I am. I’ve called him foolish when here I am,” he says. “Unable to stay away.”

“From what?” I breathe, feeling stupid the moment I finish. My heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can feel my pulse where he holds my arm.

Thomus’ eyes hold on my arm, avoidant of my own. His voice is soft like he's telling me a secret. “I snuck you in tonight because I couldn’t bear not spending it with you.”

My eyebrows come together and I feel my head shake. “It’s just another year.”

“No,” he says, his eyes flashing up to mine, adamant. “Moments like these are important, to spend with those who are important. That’s why they’re all gathered down there, isn’t it? To go into the New Year praising the Dark Lord’s reign, congratulating themselves for their accomplishments this year.” He looks back down at our hands, at his name. “I know I don’t have much to celebrate in that regard, but I do know that you’re important to me… and frankly I'm tired of pretending otherwise.”

I can only stare at him. Unable to think, unable to breathe . How could he say something like that? 

When I finally have to draw breath after what feels like an eternity, I only get to say his name. “Thomus -”

The loud popping of fireworks bursts from below, along with some cheer that has me turning my gaze away only briefly. I turn back and Thomus’ mouth descends on mine. 

The kiss is full and wonderful, but short. He pulls back inches away to search into my gaze, like he’s asking for permission, like he’s making sure what he just said was okay. 

It was more than okay. It’s exactly what my heart wants to hear, even though my own stubborn insecurities push doubt into my mind. 

I can’t say anything back. I can’t tell him how I feel.

But I can show him.

Our lips meet again in a rush. At least it feels like that to me, like we just can’t bare being apart anymore. I pour my heart and soul into this kiss. My hands find their way into his hair, his caress and grip every part of my body he can reach. 

Soon I’m pushing him back so I can climb onto his lap. He’s pulled up my nightgown and the cool air feels amazing on my bare legs. I’ve got one foot on the floor and the other is bent at the knee, helping control my balance while I’m grinding on him. 

He keeps pulling me to him, my weight rocking into him, and I brace a hand on the wall in the bay window as he falls further back, keeping me upright. His hands slip under my nightgown, roaming my thighs. I adjust my hips, feeling brave enough to put both hands on his chest to steady me. His suit pants can’t hide how hard he is. I try to use that as a reminder he’s genuinely into me. No matter how many times I’m in his lap, it’s still hard to believe he wants me here. 

“How long till you have to go back?” I ask with controlled breaths. 

He growls. “Just fuck me, baby.” His fingers painfully dig into my hips as he pulls me down, undulating his hips against me. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

There are things I want to blurt out, simple little words swelling in my chest that threaten to ruin everything. 

But if I confess how I feel, it wouldn’t change anything. I’ll still be his prisoner. His possession.

I don’t wanna be an object. I long to be more .

My hands slide up his chest to meet at his neckline, shoving my fingers into the knot on his tie. I don’t bother pulling it all the way off before I go at his buttons, not stopping until his muscled chest and abdomen are revealed. My hips rock, rubbing my pussy over his cock straining to be let free. 

Then I jump up, standing to shimmy my undies to the floor. Thomus sits up and shrugs off his suit jacket, pulling off his tie completely. I pause, waiting to return to my seat, but then he looks at me, his eyes raking me up and down. 

“I want that off,” he says, referring to the only article of clothing I have left. 

I struggle not to make a face, because I still have a hard time being completely naked in front of him. If we were in bed, that would be different. This just feels too exposed.

I grip the material around my hips and step toward him. “Take it off for me?” I ask.

Lust-filled eyes lock on mine and his hands go to my thighs, sliding them up my sides, taking the gown with them. I raise my arms to help him pull it off the rest of the way and a blast of cool air from the window makes goosebumps rise all over me. It sends a shiver through my body and my nipples harden.

When my arms are free, I step even closer and cup his face, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him softly, from one corner of his mouth to the other. While I distract his mouth with sweet kisses, one hand takes off my glasses and the other goes to his belt.

Of course, I can only use one brain cell at a time, so my mouth becomes distracted when I struggle with undoing his belt. I just pull my mouth away all together so I can get a visual on my hands. I glance up at Thomus’ face to find his heated gaze focused on mine. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at the matter at hand. “Not very sexy, I know.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he says and inhales sharply when my hands finally wrap around his swollen cock. My palms glide up and down gently before giving it a firm squeeze. My thumb circles his head, spreading a bead of pre-cum, and he leans forward, lips and tongue tracing a path from my neck to my breasts. One of his big hands cups my breast and when he immediately bites down on my nipple, I gasp and whimper. His tongue soothes away the pain, swirling around the stiff peak. 

His other hand slides down my thigh, fingers feeling the dimples and divots until they hook behind my knee. My hands go to his shoulders for balance as he lifts my foot until it’s on the bench. His fingers quickly glide back up my thigh, this time underneath it to where it’s most sensitive and softest. 

Thomus’ lips release my nipple and he pulls back enough to see my face. “I think you’re very sexy,” he murmurs. “From this pretty little pussy of yours” - his fingers glide through my folds, teasingly spreading the slipperiness from the center to my clit - “to those lips I just can’t seem to get enough of.”

His thumb presses in on my clit and my train of thought struggles to stay on track. “You’re pretty hot too,” I say breathily. “You’ve got these shoulders and thighs and hands that just -” My words are cut off by a moan when he slips two fingers inside me.

“That just what?” he teases, unmistakably smug. 

It takes me a moment to answer because his thumb in combination with his fingers curling against my g-spot have my hips rocking and my brain turning to mush. My breaths come in short pants and my eyes are pinched closed, focused on riding the pleasurable waves his fingers are orchestrating. 

“Concentrate, darling,” he presses. “Answer me.”

“Hands,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “hands that do terrible… awful things to me.”

His fingers turn aggressive, pressing harder and rhythmic as he hums in approval. “That’s a good girl.”

His lips return to my nipple and that pushes me past the point of no return. A stream of curses and Thomus’ name tumble from my mouth. My toes curl and my body goes stiff as my orgasm washes over me. Thomus slows his long fingers, but still presses in hard on my g-spot as my pussy pulses around him.

When I can finally breathe again, I push at Thomus’ shoulders and he leans back, bringing his drenched digits up to his mouth. He groans at my taste and resituates himself on the bench, pushing his pants and briefs past his thighs. I’m still dazed from my orgasm when Thomus pulls me on top of him. He holds his cock at the base and guides me until he’s sliding home, deep inside my pussy. 

“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes closing. This position never fails to put him as deep inside as possible, and if I really sit on his lap, he’s hitting my cervix. But that would be painful, so instead I move my hips around slowly, figuring out what angle works best and won’t kill my thighs. One particular move makes him groan and my eyes flutter open to find his locked intently on me, watching my body move. I definitely found the right one.

I start to go a little faster, a little harder. I have a hand on a window pane and the other grasping his shoulder to stabilize me. My thighs are burning, but the pain isn’t enough to make me stop. He’s inside me, and I love being connected like this. What I feel for him never feels more real than it does in moments like this. When I can’t be in denial.

With the increasing intensity of my hips, little whimpers start to tumble from my mouth alongside my panting. My bottom lip is nailed between my teeth and as I can feel my orgasm hurtling towards me, fuck is the only word coming out of my mouth. 

Whenever he feels they could use more attention, his hands never fail to stray to my breasts. Supporting them as they bounce and sway, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at my nipples. 

“So fucking beautiful,” I hear him grind out above the steady and erotic sound of our bodies joining. 

My orgasm is close - so, so close. I’m starting to go crazed, desperate to cum again. Thomus is, too. I can hear it in his voice as he groans.

“Baby, I need you to cum on me.” His voice is strained like he’s in utter agony. 

I let out a frustrated whimper as I pause to grind on his lap, hoping for an angle that hits my clit. 

“I need - can you - ?” I gasp out. 

I don’t even have to finish my sentence before his fingers wiggle in under my belly. My pussy’s so slippery, the pads of his fingers find the hood of my clit and press in, rubbing it in circles. My hips jerk, bouncing up and down on his cock, continuing even as my orgasm finally crashes over my body. I throw my head back as my back arches. His body stiffens below me as he cums, groaning out his pleasure.

“Beautiful darling, well done,” he pants with praise after we both have a chance to breathe, his voice shaking. “I lov-”

Thomus is abruptly cut off by loud banging on his door.

We both jump like we’ve been hit. There’s a moment where our eyes meet and I see panic cross his face just as it does on mine. 

“Thomus!” a familiar man’s voice calls from beyond the door. 

Thomus blinks, his expression hardening. He brings a finger up to his lips, warning me to be quiet. “Closet,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

Nodding, my legs are like jelly as I push myself off of him. He’s hastily throwing on his suit as I bend to scoop up my nightgown and undies. I dash for the closet. It’s dark enough I can just hide behind the open door. Instead of the nightgown though, I opt for my pants and hoodie. Plus a pair of Thomus’ socks while I’m at it because mine are lost in the sheets somewhere.

While I’m desperately dressing, the man at the door calls for Thomus again. “Where have you been, Thomus? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

I squeeze behind the closet door to peek through the crack between the hinges just as Thomus strides to the door. He’s fully dressed and smoothing back his hair with his fingers. He pauses to take a deep breath before opening the door. 

It’s Rodolphus. 

“What do you want,” Thomus demands, sounding amazingly composed.

Rodolphus leans a hand on the doorframe. “You missed your brother’s toast,” he says, a mocking lilt to his tone. His hair is disheveled, the tie to his tux hangs loose around his neck. “How could you have missed this moment to show support for the Dark Lord? Your family? ”

“I don’t answer to you,” Thomus says. He keeps his back straight and his chin up.

Rodolphus puts a finger to his chin, tapping it. “And then I remembered a few other times you’ve mysteriously disappeared from similar events,” Rodolphus continues before abruptly shoving past Thomus into the room. Thomus tries grabbing his coat tails, but he somehow avoids him.

Rodolphus stops in the middle of the room, eyeing it while slowly turning back to Thomus. He inhales heavily through his nose and steps back towards the window with the bench. “A moment ago, I was convinced you were up here fucking my wife,” he says casually. He reaches for something on it and my anxiety explodes in my chest the moment I see him pick up my glasses. “Of course, I was only half-right. This room reeks of sex, but my wife has never hid.”

Rodolphus drops my glasses and stomps on them with his shoe, crushing my lenses under his sole. The glass crunches as he turns, backing up towards the closet. Thomus watches him with furious eyes. His hands are empty, but I know in the blink of an eye he’d have his wand.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up for her since her… accident ,” Rodolphus taunts. “She’s utterly repulsing if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Thomus bites.

He’s so close to the closet. My fingers feel for anything on the shelf behind me and immediately feel the unmistakable smooth metal of Thomus’ shoehorn, the very one I tried to pummel him with. 

Maybe New Year’s Eve kisses are good luck.

I raise it over my head as he steps to the doorway.

“Your silence is very telling,” Rodolphus chuckles as he slowly steps into the closet. I hear his footsteps on the wood floor as he disappears on the other side of the door.

I’ve shoved my anxiety down enough so I don’t panic as he reappears, wand scanning the room.

Just as he turns to me, I transfigure the shoehorn into a dagger, and hold it up to his throat.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au #new years fic

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the spare // chapter sixty-six // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 4.1k warnings for this chapter: none, but Christmas??? if that triggers you at all

my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Six:

Christmas day starts just like any other winter day here at the cottage. Thomus and I keep each other warm under the covers at night, so in the morning the first thing I do is start the fire in the living room. Then it’s over to the kitchen to make my family’s usual Christmas day breakfast of cinnamon rolls, although I have to make them from scratch because the Wizarding World has yet to discover the magic of canned dough. I put on a Christmas compilation record, hoping it’ll put me in the holiday mood.

Thomus gets up later than I do, and he finds me shoving cookies into little Christmas themed plastic gift bags I’d found in a drawer when I first tore through the kitchen. Cookies into one bag with the cherry pie bar in one of its own, both twist-tied together. 

He pours himself some coffee and rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he studies my spread. “How many of those are you making?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. 

“I only mean there’s not that many of us.”

I look down as I finish bag number 7. I’m only half way done. “Something tells me you’re forgetting the House Elves under your quote unquote ‘employ’,” I say. “I don’t want to leave them out.”

He sits down at the table, sliding his mug into the only available space. “You have a real knack for making me feel like a self-absorbed git.”

I shrug. “That, my friend, is empathy, probably laced with a bit of guilt, too.”

He snorts softly and shakes his head, raising his mug to his lips. “And a Happy Christmas to you, too.”

I give a tight-lipped smile, still not actually feeling very happy today - despite the music. “Happy Christmas.”

“Did you open your gift?” he asks, and that makes me pause.

“What gift?”

Thomus gets up from the table and brings back the box he’d placed next to the tree last night. As he hands it to me, I notice my name scribbled in a corner. I lift away the lid and pull back some tissue paper to reveal an Olympus OM-1 film camera. It’s bright and shiny, the body small in comparison to its lens. 

I slowly run a finger over the silver plating and glance up at him shyly. He's patiently watching me, waiting for a response, and I'm anxious because I'm not quite sure how to respond. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t be,” he says quickly, seeming genuine. “There isn’t much you could give me.” He nabs my favorite cookie, popping it into his mouth, and groaning after a few chews. “Actually you should make me a batch of these.”

I can’t help but let out a small smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He stretches an arm to the island counter, where the cinnamon rolls are, and plucks one off the plate. “I got an owl from Astor this morning. He’s invited us to a gathering tomorrow.”

“A gathering?”

Thomus nods, taking a bite. “You know, for Christmas. A small one.”

I internally sigh. “I’m assuming he wants me to serve?”

“No, actually. According to his letter, you’re a regular guest.”

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief and my tone doesn’t betray any actual excitement. “How nice.”

~*~

When I get ready for Christmas dinner at the Manor, I make sure to cover the dark veiny lines around my eyes with foundation underneath my winged eyeliner. Thomus said he told Narcissa that I had my sight and voice again, but I’m not sure how much truth she actually has. 

I dress in a burgundy blouse with an open black sweater and meet Thomus on the landing. He’s wearing a black suit jacket with a dark green sweater underneath. I don’t resist my urge to reach out and touch the fabric. It’s soft and feels so good on his chest, especially when I snake my arms under his jacket and press my cheek to it in a hug. His arms go around my shoulders and squeeze me against him. I breathe in his apt smell of pine and cedar.

I don’t feel so alone when I’m hugging him, listening to him breathe and his heartbeat steadily under my ear. 

“Darling?” he murmurs after an admittedly very long moment. 

“Hm?” I hum without moving an inch.

“Narcissa doesn’t easily forgive tardiness.”

I sigh, letting out the faintest whine before pulling away. “Okay.”

Before we leave, I dig through my backpack for my little bag of jewelry. It mostly holds my stretchy plastic chokers, but I pull out a silver locket. It’s small and oval with a floral design etched onto the front. Thomus doesn’t question me about it as he watches me put it on. 

When we step into the Manor, I feel a little awkward with the basket full of Christmas treats. I’ve never been good at gift-giving. My anxiety tends to tell me that whatever gift I’ve thought of, won’t be good enough. But those thoughts vanish when we meet Narcissa in a small dining room. After a hug in greeting, her face lights up when I give her a bag of the baked goods.

“Thank you, dear,” she gushes. “You baked these yourself? They look delicious.”

I pull another out and set it on the table for Hermione. “I’m going to visit the kitchen.” I don’t look at either of them and book it out the door before Thomus can protest. I find the elves hard at work, busy completing the finishing touches for our dinner. 

“Miss!” Mippy says, bouncing over to me in the doorway. “Happy Christmas, Miss!”

I smile down at her and hold up the basket. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Mippy. I baked for you guys.”

Mippy lets out a delirious squeal and her voice shakes like she’s going to cry. “M-miss b-aked for M-mippy? And Remmy? And -”

“Yes,” I blush, a bit flustered by such a reaction as I place the basket on their table. “There’s a bag for everyone.”

Murmurs of excitement burst around the room and Mippy’s the loudest of them all. “Miss is so kind and generous and thoughtful -”

“I hope you enjoy them,” I say quickly, and send a smile to the room without making too much eye contact. “See y’all later.”

Hermione's arrived when I return to the dining room and we pull each other into a big hug. 

Dinner is an almost somber affair. Thomus and I sit next to each other, while Hermione is across from me and Narcissa is at the end of the table. Not for the first time, I can tell Narcissa’s putting on a smile for us and as I eye her, I notice her clothes fit a little looser than they had the last time I saw her. 

“Have you heard from Draco at all?” I ask her, hoping it’s not too sensitive of a topic. Immediately her face saddens and I regret ever speaking. 

She answers me anyway. “The last correspondence I received from him personally was to inform me he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. The Dark Lord anticipates an attack on Zurich in the new year, so he and a select few have been asked to remain on guard.”

“I’m sorry he can’t be here,” I say. “It must be really hard without both of them.”

“I do miss them terribly,” she says, a tear beading in her eye. “However -” She reaches over and grabs my hand from my lap and covers Hermione’s on her other side. “I’m grateful to have all of you here.”

I squeeze her hand in return, nodding. “It’s a nice little… distraction,” I say, and speaking of… “Thomus told me you’re planning a New Year’s Eve party?”

This new topic launches both her and Thomus into a tangent, the kind that feels as if I’ve just popped in during the middle of a conversation. There’s something about a particular pureblood seamstress being booked up, or the elves having trouble procuring ingredients for certain dishes that before the war would have been readily available. Then there’s the matter of security - of which Thomus is taking the lead. Apparently with so many Death Eaters and their ‘elite’ society in one place, guests have expressed concerns about being vulnerable to an attack. Hermione and I sit in silence, absorbing all of this information. 

“Thankfully we don’t have to secure the perimeter for the Lots,” Thomus comments. “I don’t even want to think about the logistics for that feat. We only have you two to worry about that night.”

I nearly choke on my apple cider. “I’m going?” Then I look at Hermione and gesture between us. “We’re going?”

When I bring my eyes to Thomus, he looks hesitant. “Granger is yes,” he says. “We believe it best to have her out in plain view where we can keep an eye on her.”

I nod. “Okay, yeah, sure, but what does that have to do with me?”

“On that particular issue, Thomus and I disagree,” Narcissa says, giving him a stern look. “But the issue is tabled for now, especially on Christmas.”

“If it makes a difference, I don’t think I’d like to go,” I say with an apology on my face. “I’m sure it’s going to be very grand, but if I have the option…” I shake my head.

Narcissa smiles at me and lifts her gaze to Thomus. “I believe you have your answer.”

My eyes turn to Thomus as well, curious. He meets them briefly before dropping them down to his dinner plate. His mouth is turned down in a sour expression before a muscle in his jaw ticks and the look is gone. Why does he want me to go?

I take another sip of my drink, desperately wishing it was spiked with something. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” Narcissa says and my eyes bounce up to Hermione before I realize she’s talking to me. “Is it a locket?”

Reflexively my fingers go up to the locket, feeling the texture of the design. I give a soft smile and nod. “A friend of mine gave it to me a few years back.” My other hand comes up to pry it open, careful not to touch the tiny portraits inside. “It’s a picture of that friend and my family.”

“That’s lovely,” Narcissa murmurs when I press it closed with a little snap. 

My throat feels tight and I try to swallow around the lump in it. “Yeah,” I croak, my breaths suddenly shaky and loud. I speak softly to hide the emotion in my voice. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you have nothing to apologize for, dear,” she says. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen them, I take it?”

I nod and sniffle. “Yeah, about… three years, I think.” I force myself to take a steady deep breath and plaster a smile on my face. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. You know how it is.”

She nods, looking ready to ask more, but I interject with, “Is there still a lot to do for the party?”

If she can tell I purposefully changed the subject, she doesn’t show it. Narcissa launches into a whole list of tasks she and Thomus have left. I try to focus on what she says, but if I’m being honest, it just goes in one ear and out the other. 

While she speaks, Thomus slides his hand over to the one in my lap. His hand is a bit cold and I turn my palm up to clasp his fingers between mine.

~*~

After dinner, we walk back out to the main hall. Thomus and Narcissa are discussing their immediate plans for the Gala while Hermione and I trail behind them. I loop my arm under hers and slow our pace. 

“How’s your research been going?” I ask, my voice low. 

Her brown eyes are alight with excitement. “I believe I’ve cracked it.”

I squeeze her arm, angling my body towards her. “Really? That’s awesome.”

“I’m ready to run tests, only…” she looks down, then up at Narcissa and Thomus, ensuring they’re paying us no attention, before leaning in to whisper, “Would you happen to have your wand?”

Regret rises from my belly and spreads all over my face. “No, I don’t.”

She sighs, disappointed. I am, too. “I saw you had your necklace, so I’d hoped -”

“I know,” I murmur. “I thought he’d go through my bag, so I left it in my vault. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

Hermione tilts her head. “Does he know your necklace is a…?”

I shake my head.

“So was it you or Thomus who broke the curse?”

“Well, technically it’s not broken,” I explain as we come to our destination. I keep her close and whisper. “Its effects are just being suppressed by my magic. The suppression potions don’t work on me anymore.” 

Her eyes widen. “Really? That would -”

“Alder, let’s go,” Thomus calls from across the room. “We have one more stop to make.”

I sigh heavily and give him a look, he’s standing by the front door. “Really? On Christmas?”

“Especially,” he snaps. “Let’s go.”

I pull Hermione into a hug. “We’ll figure it out, okay?’

She nods and hugs me back before we let go. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I rush through a goodbye to Narcissa, feeling pressured as Thomus stands with his hands in his pockets. 

We get outside and I shiver, not prepared for the frigid air. “You couldn’t have told me we were going somewhere else? I don’t have a jacket.”

It’s dark out, so I don’t see him pull out his wand and summon his cloak. He settles it around my shoulders and I pause, knowing he’s going to expect to fasten the clasp himself as he usually does. 

“It’s like I have you trained,” he remarks once he finishes and pulls the hood over my head. 

“Well, what can I say? You’re getting predictable,” I tease.

Thomus chuckles as his palms encase my cheeks, holding me still as his mouth descends on mine. His quick kiss tastes of the coffee he had with our pumpkin pie dessert. 

~*~

Thomus Apparates us to a secluded woodsy spot behind a playground. It’s snowing here and there’s already a blanket of it covering the ground. With the snow and street lamps, it’s not quite as dark as the Manor. Thomus takes my hand and guides me down a residential street that branches off with rows and rows of identical townhomes. When I think of searching for a street name, in an attempt to discern where we are, the only one I see is Privet Drive - which tells me nothing.

He pauses under a street lamp with a bus stop and a phone booth. It’s not the classic London version, but a more modern design with unpainted metal and long window panes. 

“I assume you know how to operate one of these,” he says, his hand disappearing into his pocket. He pulls out a small leather pouch and places it in my hand. 

“The bus stop?” I ask incredulously. 

His hand comes up to the back of my elbow as he steers me towards the booth. “No, the telephone.”

My heart begins to race. “W-what? Why?”

He reaches for the handle of the collapsible door and pushes it aside. “To call home.”

I turn to face him, nearly panting with shock. “What?”

“Consider it a Christmas gift,” he says. I feel his hand at my back, urging me inside, but I plant my feet. 

“Just like that?” I ask. “No conditions?”

“I assume you know the obvious one.” He gives me a stern look, meeting eyes. “Don’t give any hints or clues about your… reality.”

I press my lips together and nod, trying not to panic about what I’m even going to say.

I step inside the booth and Thomus closes the door, leaving it open a few inches as he leans against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets. 

With shaking fingers, I start pulling out the No-Maj coins from the pouch he handed me. Calls to the US are expensive, so I put in every single one. I pick up the handset and press the cold plastic to my ear, listening to the slightly deeper dial tone. I’ve only had to do this once, when I first arrived and my phone didn’t work.

With a deep breath, I punch in the numbers and wait. 

It rings and rings. My eyes wander around the booth, taking in the area code poster and emergency numbers, some call for a good time markings up the metal frame. I should’ve known they won’t pick up the phone for a number they don’t recognize. 

But then there’s a click and I hear my mother’s voice. “Melisa?”

My throat is tight again and I force myself to breathe out. “Hi, Mom.” 

“I wondered who else could be calling today - already had a chat with your Aunt Susan, and with grandma passing away last year - as soon as it said Surrey, I knew,” she says. Fat tears spring to my eyes just listening to her talk, hearing her voice. I put my hand over the receiver as I fight for control over my sobs. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, honey.”

I sniffle and force deep breaths, making sure my voice won’t shake before I pull my hand away. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. My phone shattered and no one I’m around uses them and I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it. I’m calling from a payphone near my apartment. What time is it there? I’m not calling too late, am I?”

“Oh no, it’s only about 7 o’clock here. Your brother and I have just been watching the new Doctor Who season - “

“Is that Melisa?” I hear my dad say in the background. 

“Yes, dear. Your dad wants to talk to you, Melisa.” 

“Okay,” I say. I hear her attempt to pass the phone, but my dad mumbles something about putting the phone on speaker.

“Hey, Melisa! How are ya'?” he says and my heart squeezes hearing the excitement in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” I say, repeating the same spiel. 

“That newspaper must be working you like a dog if you can’t find time to call your dear old Dad,” he says and I manage to chuckle. 

“Yeah, I’m crazy busy, but I love it.”

“Well that’s good. They paying you enough? They should, for all that hard work you’re doin’.”

“Yes, Dad, I’m doing just fine,” I say. “How’ve you been? How’s Ben?”

“I’m doin’ alright,” he says. He starts listing various projects he’s had to work on about the house and the latest issue with my mom’s truck, something about the transmission. I use the time to focus on calming my shaking breaths.

I hear Ben’s voice give a faint “Hi, Melisa”.

“He’s almost saved enough for that down payment on the house he’s been looking at,” my dad says for him.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “What kind of house?”

My brother definitely responds, but he’s talked over by an electronic voice announcing I have one minute left.

“I have to go,” I say, failing to keep the sadness out of my voice. “I used all my coins.”

“Well, Merry Christmas, honey,” Mom says. 

“And we miss you,” my dad chimes in. “You need to call us more.”

“I’ll try, but it might be a while,” I admit. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Mom says. “Talk to you lat -”

The call ends and slowly I put the handset back in its place. Mentally I’d been transported back home - I could picture my parents sitting in their usual spots at the kitchen table, my brother on the couch in the family area. If you stand in the right spot, you can see down to the living room through the kitchen, the Christmas tree all aglow. I can see every detail in my mind’s eye and the overwhelming longing to be home brings a fresh round of tears. My hand comes up to cover my mouth as I let out a silent sob. 

Once the emotion has been poured out of me, I feel raw, but… better. I use the sleeve of my sweater to dab at my eyes, knowing my makeup is probably ruined regardless. When I turn back to Thomus, I find him watching me with a wary expression. 

“Okay!” I say brightly, pushing back the door. “We can go.”

Wordlessly, he grabs my hand and we Apparate on the spot.

~*~

We get back to the cottage and I immediately go to the kitchen, cranking on the record player. I'm finally in the mood for music and have just enough energy to make the batch of cookies Thomus asked for. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me and bombard me with a bunch of questions, which I honestly half-expected of him.

Singing along to every Christmas song that plays, I don’t pause until the last tray of cookies are in the oven and the dishes have been washed. When I pass through the living room, I spot Thomus on the couch, leaning against the back cushions with his eyes closed. I run upstairs to take off my pants and bra, getting ready to settle in for the night. 

Just as I finish brushing my teeth, the timer goes off and I rush downstairs to pull out the last tray. Once they’re on the racks to cool, I shut off the music and return to the living room. 

Thomus hasn’t moved. The fire is going and with the kitchen light off, the only other light is coming from the tree. Hesitantly I step closer to him, wondering if he might be asleep, but notice his face isn’t exactly relaxed.

Acting on pure impulse, I crawl onto his lap. He stirs when he feels my legs straddle his, eyes fluttering open in surprise to watch me. I support my weight with my hands on the back of the couch, gently lowering myself until my front is fully pressed against him. He lifts his head as I close my arms around his shoulders and smoosh my face against the side of his. I’m hyper aware of how much bigger I am than him, so I refrain from relaxing completely.

After a moment, his body softens beneath mine and he lets out a long sigh. His arms go around my waist and he hugs me tightly, hips flexing down enough so they’re nestled perfectly between my thighs. Slowly I relax, tension lifting from my body.

“I’m not too heavy, right?” I ask softly, almost shyly, in his ear.

His face moves side to side, nuzzling his nose by my ear. “No, this is…” He runs his hands down my back, smoothing around the curve of my hips down to my thighs before gliding them back up my sides, caressing my rolls. “I love this.”

His sincerity makes my heart soar. It makes me feel so whole, so completely accepted physically. My grip around him tightens, not wanting to let go. I can’t deny how well our bodies just… fit.

“Thank you for my Christmas presents,” I murmur. “This wasn’t… the worst Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Hm,” he replies thoughtfully, his lips nestled against my neck. “Hasn’t been too bad for me either, come to think of it.” His hands travel to my undie-covered ass where he squeezes hard and gives it a little shake. “And look at you, a present already half-way unwrapped.”

One of his hands shoots to the underside of my foot, dancing his fingers along it. My leg jerks and I let out a sudden squeal, trying to push myself away from him. He’s quick though, one arm latches around my waist to keep me sealed against him even as I wiggle in his lap. I’m laughing, smiling so hard my cheeks already hurt. 

I’m breathless and only manage to say his name like a plea. By the time I break free of his hold, he’s grinning too as I swing myself off of his lap to collapse on my back in the remaining space of the couch. 

His hooded eyes are locked onto the space between my thighs and I only have a moment before he pounces. Thomus settles between my legs and spends the rest of Christmas slowly unwrapping me as if I really am his present.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

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the spare // chapter sixty-two // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 4k warnings for this chapter: cunnilingus, squirting

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Two:

“Did it work?”

God, his voice. Rich, deep, smooth baritone.

After the initial shock that left me frozen, my throat tightens and my face flashes with heat as I try to blink away tears. I sniffle, and the fact that I can hear it forces another crack into the dam.

Footsteps barely register as I quickly raise my fingers to my ear and snap.

Sweet, sweet relief spreads from my chest as the sound comes in clear and tears finally cascade down my cheeks, my face crinkling from the emotion.

Someone kneels in front of me. Strong, warm hands clasp mine tightly in my lap.

“Are you alright?” Thomus presses, his lovely voice close now, in front of me. “Does something hurt? Are you feeling ill?”

I work the muscles in the back of my throat, trying to use my voice, but I don’t think that’s working yet. So I just sniffle again and shake my head.

He brings the backs of my fingers to his lips, trailing kisses over my knuckles. “Then why are you crying?”

I pull my hand from his and fingerspell.

“Happy?” he asks hesitantly and I nod. I point to myself, to my ear, and then to him, barely keeping the smile off my face as my fingers touch his chest. He squeezes my hand before I feel him turn. “H.S.?”

More footsteps approach. “Are you hearing any sort of ringing, dear?”

I recognize the voice as belonging to the Healer he brought me to, Hippocrates Smethwyck. There’s a roughness to it I hadn’t noticed when I first met him, like he smokes. I shake my head in response to his question.

“Muffled sound?”

No.

“Are our words slurring?”

No.

“Any sounds dis –“

“What about her other senses, Rakepick?” Thomus demands, interrupting Smethwick.

An unfamiliar voice joins in from farther away, whom I’m assuming is Rakepick. “As I’ve stated before, the curse Lestrange cast on her is one of his own making,” the man bites out, clearly annoyed.

“So you say,” Thomus snaps back.

“So the evidence says,” Rakepick replies. “The evidence you have given me.” The distinct sound of heels upon hardwood begin from the direction where Rakepick’s voice is coming from. He’s pacing. “His blood was absorbed into her skin. There isn’t a simple counter curse for blood magic. You should consider yourself lucky she’s otherwise unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” Thomus hisses. He stands, turning away from me. “Losing vital senses is what you consider to be unharmed?”

The man’s pacing stops. “Absolutely,” Rakepick states. “She is not dead nor is she actively dying.”

“What else can be done?” Smethwyck cuts in, his tone calmest of the three.

Rakepick sighs. “At this point I’ve exhausted all I can think of. If I attempt to restore her sight or voice, she could lose her hearing again. Or worse.”

“Worse?” comes Thomus’ voice. It’s calmer now, almost… fearful?

Thomus? Afraid?

There’s a pause. “Restoring more than one of the senses she’s lost might trigger a failsafe. I’ve seen it happen with tombs in Egypt and Syria. When the first line of defense fails, a secondary measure takes its place to ensure maximum security.”

“What does that mean for a living being?” Smethwyck asks.

“I’m afraid that since we were able to bypass a part of his curse restoring her hearing, if we attempted to restore another…“ Rakepick hesitates again, “the true effects of the curse would be revealed.”

Someone – Thomus, I believe – starts stomping around, his breaths coming in quick and sharp. “So there’s nothing to be done?” he demands.

“Whatever your next attempt, it should be to rid her of the curse entirely.”

The somber finality of his words settles across the room. Heavy. Suffocating.

I close my eyes, focusing on deep breaths. My chest is so tight with anxiety that it’s painful. My dull fingernails dig into my wrist, distracting me from the dizzying emotional pain. It clears my head enough to shove some positivity in its place.

I can’t say for sure which of the senses I’d rather have gotten back. Hearing or seeing both would come with their own set of problems. I’m sure if I could talk I’d just be talking into the void, as per usual embarrassing myself.

Getting my hearing back isn’t so bad. After all, I can hear Thomus’ voice right? I can listen to music. Maybe communicating won’t be so difficult anymore. At least it’s something, and I’m grateful for it.

“I best be off then,” Rakepick announces softly. He begins walking, sounding like he’s going to pass me.

I blindly reach my hand out, grabbing his arm. He stops abruptly, turning towards me. The tips of my fingers come to my lips, and I move my flattened hand slightly downwards in his direction. My mouth moves around the silent words.

“She’s thanking you,” Thomus says quietly.

Rakepick takes the hand on his arm and puts it in his, shaking it. “Good luck.”

“I best be off as well, Thomus,” Smethwyck says.

Rakepick releases my hand and the pair of footsteps retreat from the room. Their voices along with a familiar female one, come from what I assume is the hallway, and then there’s a soft knocking.

“How did it go?” Narcissa’s voice asks, her heels click on the floor as she approaches. Her tone is hesitant, prepped for the news to be good or bad.

I grin and wave in the direction I think she is, before pointing to my ear. I repeat the same simple signs I used with Thomus earlier.

“You can hear me? Oh, that’s just wonderful!” I can sense the smile on her face just from her voice. “It must be such a relief.”

I just smile and nod.

“Aren’t you pleased, Thomus?” she asks, doubt in her voice. There must be something on his face. It makes my own smile falter.

“I’m downright cheerful, can’t you tell?” he replies acidly.

“What did the Curse-Breaker say?”

Thomus starts striding towards me. “Nothing good.” His hand clasps my elbow and he pulls me to my feet. “I’ll discuss it with you later.” My hands go around his arm as he starts guiding me – to the door, I assume.

“You’re leaving?” Narcissa asks, following behind.

“I’m going to take her to the cottage for a few days,” Thomus replies. His tone is biting – still annoyed. “I want to keep her under surveillance, make sure there won’t be any delayed reactions.”

“Alright,” she relents. “Make sure to bring her here if you have to leave for an extended period of time.” My chest warms hearing her concern for me and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.

After a walk down to wherever, he pauses to grab my arm, where I know the tattoo is. We step forward and I feel hot flames lick at my ankles for a moment before it’s gone, the padding under my shoes softer. When I breathe in through my nose, I recognize the familiar scent of the cottage.

Thomus still holds my arm, but I pull it out of his grasp when I turn to him. Stretching up onto my toes, I slip my arms over his shoulders, pulling him tight against me. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me to him just as tightly. A heavy sigh escapes as I relish the comfort and safety of his embrace.

After a long moment, his grip loosens but I hold firm, not wanting it to end. When he realizes that, he refastens his arms. As my cheek presses into his neck, my nose getting tickled by his growing beard, he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Missed me?” he murmurs.

I sigh again and pull back, bringing a hand up so he can see my thumb and forefinger hover centimeters away from each other.

He releases a sharp, amused exhale. “A little?”

I nod and pull him back into my hug, squeezing tighter than before, then release him. Sensing what he’s going to ask me next, I point to myself and fingerspell, feel fine.

“Reading minds now?” he asks.

I shrug and turn towards the rest of the room. With my arms outstretched, I feel the armrest of the couch, the chair with the tv, and then nothing as I slowly make my way across the room. Luckily, there’s no vases for me to knock over here. One hand finds the base of the stair railing, and the other feels for the doorway to the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Thomus asks, his voice close behind.

I shake my head, turning it to show him the W I make at my lips.

“Hm, thirsty.” His hands are on my shoulders and he guides me forward until my stomach presses into the island counter. I hear him move around the kitchen, opening a cabinet and the fridge, water pouring into a glass. Then he takes my wrist and places the cup in my hand.

As I’m drinking, a swooshing comes from the back door before familiar meows and loud purring erupt, moving towards me. Soft fur weaves its way around my legs as Caelan greets me with head-butts. I put down the glass and crouch, scooping Caelan’s cat Animagus in my arms. My cheek nuzzles his while I scratch the back of his head.

Over Caelan’s purring, I hear Thomus sigh. “Just when I thought I had you all to myself.”

A soundless chuckle shakes my shoulders and a bit reluctantly, I put Caelan on his feet.

I assume Thomus is looking at me and so I start to sign. Palms up, I move them side to side in front of me and fingerspell symptoms.

“Symptoms of what?” he asks.

I point to him and spell said delayed reactions.

I know this isn’t complete or proper sign language. When I fingerspell I make sure to keep my pace steady and let my hand go limp at the wrist between words. I do it this way because I definitely don’t remember every sign I need, nor does anyone I’m talking to know sign language – especially American sign language.

“Oh, right,” Thomus murmurs. I hear him step closer to where I lean against the counter. “I might’ve fibbed about that.”

My eyebrows come together as I make a face, showing him the letter Y.

His forearm brushes my hand on the counter as he leans on it, his hand sliding along my waist. I wait a long moment for him to respond, and when he doesn’t, I start signing again.

I sign where, point to him, and spell been.

“Where I normally am, tracking,” he easily replies.

Who?

“Who else?” he says, as I should already know the answer. Which I suppose I do.

I feel Caelan still rubbing along legs and try to find the bravery to voice questions I’ve been dying to know. Caelan will just have to wait.

My pointer finger finds Thomus’ chest, then I spell let Rodolphus take, and I point back to myself. My anger and frustration about it come through when I point back at him and emphasize my letters, let.

His hand at my waist rises as he steps closer, rounding the corner separating us. I sign why as his other hand cradles my cheek. He lets out a heavy breath and touches his forehead to mine.

“I thought he wouldn’t try anything with Lucius there,” he murmurs, his tone laced with anguish. “With me there.” He inhales sharply, his chest rising unevenly beneath my hands. “I’m doing everything within my power to make things right.”

One of my hands slides up his chest to his face, my fingers running through the longer length of his beard.

“I’m sorry,” comes his soft admission. Sincere, vulnerable.

I bite my lip, struggling with a sudden tightness in my throat. Even if I had my voice, I’d still be at a loss for words. Who knew a simple apology would make me so emotional?

He shifts his head back and he glides his thumb across the lip between my teeth, making me release it. The next breath I take is shaky too, and turns into a gasp when he leans in to kiss me. It starts out sweet and tender, but gradually heats up when his hands start down a familiar path along my body. Our panting fills my ears, and when I bite his lip he groans, pulling me tighter against him.

Thomus digs his fingers into my hips, his own rolling his hardened length against my stomach. I release a breathy sigh, mimicking his movements, my fingers finding home in his hair. His thigh presses between my legs, right against that spot that really wants more pressure. I tilt my head back as his mouth latches onto my neck, biting down over my pulse. When he sucks at it, my hips grind down against his thigh, the pleasure combo dizzying.

A mildly distracting thought pops up in the back of my mind: I hope Caelan has left, having put two and two together to see I’m not available to talk.

Thomus brings me right back into the moment with his hot breath at my ear.

“Upstairs,” he growls. “I need my mouth on your cunt.”

When I don’t react, my mind blanking at how fucking dirty his words are, he slaps me on the butt and orders, “Now.”

I leap out of his arms, biting my lip in an attempt to keep the giggly grin off my face. I’d absolutely hate to ruin the moment.

With my arms outstretched, it’s a short distance to the doorway, then to the stairs where I leap up them faster than I normally would have. All I can picture is him chasing me up the stairs, right at my heels.

Which, funnily enough, is not far from the truth as I reach the top and my split second indecision on which room to use makes him guide me to the right, to his room.

“Take your clothes off before I rip them off,” he barks from behind me. I stride into the room and stop when I meet the foot of the bed. I turn to face him, my hands on the hem of my shirt, before I decide against that, bending to untie my shoes first. He groans almost painfully, hopefully at the sight of my ass in the air and my cheeky work-around to his demand.

I hear his clothes landing somewhere as I straighten. Hands back at the hem of my shirt, I lift it over my head while toeing at the heels of my shoes to kick them off. I fling the shirt somewhere on the floor and quickly roll my leggings to the floor, kicking them off as well. I think I’m wearing one of the matching lacey sets today.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines when I’m upright, my hands going around to undo my bra. Before I can he shoves me back onto the bed, where I land with a heavy bounce. “That’s good enough.”

 His hands slide along my thighs, rounding my knees and pushing them open. I lean back on my elbows and try to imagine his face as he hums in approval. His thumb runs down the very damp crotch of my undies.

 “You’re wet, aren’t you?” he says, and I nod. “Show me.”

Shifting onto one elbow, I let my fingers glide down to my pussy, rubbing myself over the material. My fingers find the lacey edge of the panties, slipping beneath it without exposing myself. God, I’m soaked. The slick wet sounds reach my ears as I move my arousal around, circling my clit. My teeth sink into my lip and my eyes close as the pleasure spreads.

“Look at you,” he breaths, his words slow. “Such a tease.”

In addition to my own noises, I can hear his hand pumping his cock, and I marvel at the rush of confidence I feel.

Maybe it’s because I can’t see myself. Maybe it’s because I can only picture what he sees – some glorified, sensual version of myself that’s a stranger to me.

I can’t see him, but I think I enjoy being watched. My body – and what I was doing to it – a magnet for his eyes. All of my flaws don’t exist, because to him they were never flaws in the first place.

I slip a single finger inside my wet warmth, gasping when the pad presses against my g-spot, and that’s when he breaks.

His hands grapple for the waistband at my hips, hooking his fingers in and yanking them down. I hear some threads snap under his eager aggression as the material pulls from under my butt.

I’m not too far from the edge, so when he kneels, his face is right over my cunt. His breaths are hot and heavy before he buries the lower half of his face between my legs.

What would’ve been a moan escapes me in a rush as the rest of my back falls to the bed. His tongue sweeps through my folds, tasting me before lapping at my clit. The noises coming from him feasting on me is utterly obscene. His soft and wiry facial hair rubs at my bear cunt as his jaw works his tongue, adding extra sensitivity to the area.

As he laps repeatedly at my clit, my hips are already rocking, pushing against his face. My fingers clutch the comforter beneath me so hard they ache.

I feel his hand brush over mine as he slides an arm around my leg. My inner thigh presses against the side of his face, cradling his head. His hands destination is my fupa, which he grabs closest to my cunt, and pulls it back. This exposes my clit more and I feel it briefly tingle in the cold air before his lips descend, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.

My jaw drops and my hips jerk at the sensation. If I was in my right mind, I’d be embarrassed he’d had to move a shameful part of me, a part of me I hate. However, the way his mouth is enthusiastically devouring me has me delirious and obviously not in my right mind.

Thomus momentarily gives mercy to my clit so his tongue can dip down to my hole, where his other fingers are holding my lips spread wide. His tongue swirls circles over it, building up aching, anticipating pleasure. I flex my muscles down there when his tongue penetrates me and he moans.

His mouth pulls away from me, I’d whine at the loss, but I can tell he’s hovering from his heavy breaths blowing over me. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, first one, then two. I get the sense he’s watching his work, slowly pushing them in, stretching me out. He sinks them deep, up to his knuckles, turning them up so he can press along the top ribbed wall of my cunt as he slides them out. He repeats the motion and this time my walls clench as he pulls them out.

A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Look at you,” he says again, even slower this time, his voice gravelly and hot, melting my insides while sending shivers across my skin. Underneath the cups of my bra, my nipples harden into stiff peaks. “Such a greedy little pussy, begging to be filled. Merlin, you’re so wet.”

He moans again before shifting, mouth returning to my clit. His tongue and fingers work in tandem. My free leg plants its foot on the edge of the bed to push against his face, like what he’s already giving me just isn’t enough.

Without releasing my clit, the hand holding back my fupa lets go to find my clenched hand on the bed. He tugs at my wrist until I let go and he guides my hand to the crest of his head. His fingers press on the back of my hand, encouraging me to grab hold of his hair. I grip his hair and he covers my hand, using it to push his face further into me.

Oh.

With his mouth on my clit, his fingers inside me, pushing just inside my aching desperate hole, and now control over his fucking head, I know I’m this close to losing it. My hand holds his head in place while my hips grind and thrust against him. His tongue flattens and his fingers still, pressing harder against my g-spot while I fuck his face.

My legs are trembling, my back is bowed, and I can hardly breathe. All of my instincts are telling me to release, to let of this overwhelming pressure.

So I do. I let go and I cum so hard I’d have screamed if I had my voice.

My eyes are in the back of my head, my mind so gone I’m barely aware of the sudden rush of wetness flooding my pussy. It flows down over my ass and to the bed where I can feel it soaking. Thomus is moaning, his tongue retreated back to his mouth as he gapes, panting. My hold on his head relaxes, my brain finally registering how fucking wet I sound as Thomus continues to rub my g-spot.

Then his mouth is on me again, sucking my clit so abruptly that I cum again. This time I’m acutely aware of the literal waterfall of liquid coming from me as his fingers move in and out. It’s so fucking hot that it draws out a third wave, less intense, but the orgasm still has my body jerking, helpless to the pleasure.

When I’m finally spent, I manage to pull Thomus away. Though my body feels as though all my bones have melted away, I sit up, bringing Thomus’ mouth to mine. His face is sticky, beard soaked through like he’d spilled water on himself. My hands run over his shoulders, one down his… damp forearm, and the other to his cock.

I expect to find it hard and aching, but when I reach for him, he’s soft. Still sticky and warm, but soft.

The discovery makes my kiss falter, confusion and guilt settling over my face.

Thomus doesn’t let those emotions last because he presses his forehead to mine, a soothing chuckle comes from his chest.

“What can I say?” he murmurs. “I really liked you squirting on my face.”

My eyes widen and he guides my hand to the bed. Down just over the edge, where it’s still wet from me, there’s a separate, globby mess there.

I just sit there in dazed disbelief at the realization that I squirted on his face and he came from it. A full, actual orgasm.

Wow.

He pulls back, sitting on his heels I assume, because his hands glide over my thighs. “Have you ever done that before?” he asks. “Squirted?”

My head feels light as I shake my head. My lips slightly pucker, repeating the word wow.

Wow wow wow.

Lazily, I reach back and finally undo my bra. It slips off my arms and Thomus’ hands immediately cup my breasts. His thumbs roll over my nipples and he leans forward, kissing my shoulder and then my cheek.

“I hope you’re ready to do that again,” he says, hunger still evident in his voice, “except with me inside you.”

I can’t help the smile that breaks out across my face. My face had finally started to cool, but now a new blush heats my skin. I push at his shoulders and shake my head. He pulls back and my hand is up, spelling naptime.

He outright laughs and the sound is music to my ears, filling my chest with… affection. For him.

“I suppose I did wear you out today,” he muses.

I nod, pulling his hand as I scoot further up the bed. He follows, crawling in after me. I settle on my back, utterly exhausted. He drapes himself over me with his head on my shoulder.

Thank god for sleep. It means I can push off analyzing the budding problematic emotions within me for just a little while longer.

bonjour bonjour! y'all are getting this chapter sooner than ao3 today. i realized I never properly announced this, but my posting schedule has changed. i'm now updating every other Monday. if you've made it this far into my fic thank you from the bottom of my heart. as always, let me know what you think! reblogs and comments are much appreciated. enjoy 💕

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #smut #lust potion #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au #just leave a comment fest

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the spare // chapter sixty-three // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 2.9k warnings for this chapter: none

my lovely beta reader 💕

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Three:

"Come on, don't give up just yet!" Higgins calls.

"I haven't given up!" I snap angrily, shoving my fists into the dirt to push myself to my knees. "The damn thing just –“

Another loud crack of thunder and the wind picks up, drowning out my words. The mass hovers, dark clouds churning with growing speed. Flashes of lightning strike from within its core, spreading like white veins just beneath the misty surface. I watch in horror as the mass gets sucked to its center, almost disappearing completely before exploding outward with a roar. The black clouds cover the sky, pouring rain upon us.

"Don't let it scare you!" I look to Higgins at his words. Even as the rain runs rivulets down his face, he grins encouragingly and gives me a thumbs up. "You can do this!"

My eyes are wide as saucers as I stare up at the sky, mouth agape, lips trying to form the words. Lightning flies across the clouds and the thunder in its wake makes my very bones tremble.

My shoulders rise as I inhale, trying to suck in the thick magic in the air. I raise my hand and point two fingers to the sky. When I hear my voice, it's steady and sure.

"Piertotum Veneficium!"

The rain freezes, frozen in mid-air. The deafening boom of thunder ceases, replaced by eerie silence. I lower my hand, urging the rain to -

When I roll over, my stomach and pelvis press into the mattress, waking me with my need to pee. At first I struggle with the disorienting feeling of waking from such a vivid dream. But Thomus’ steady breathing next to me and faint birdsong from outside tells me it’s probably morning.  

During my sleepy shifting, the comforter had gotten pulled down, exposing my chest. The room is freezing and I really don’t want to get up just yet, so I yank the blanket back into place while I turn towards Thomus. His back is to me, but I curl into him anyway, pressing my forehead and nose into his warm bare skin. 

This is the fourth time I’ve woken up to that dream. It’s just so… weird.

I’ve never had dreams like that before. It’s the first time they’ve been so repetitive and consistent. I find myself remembering more of it the longer they continue. 

It reminds me of some of the extra lessons with Higgins during my early years at Ilvermorny. The encouraging push to use wandless magic, to have control over it, were achingly familiar. 

But the... thing. The... creature? Entity? Whatever it is that I’m trying to control is powerful. Besides the fact that it knocks me on my ass, it’s obvious it scares me. Awake, I don’t feel the same fear, just apprehension. The dream has to mean something. As of right now, I must be too blind to see it. Literally.

When the demands of my bladder become too much, I discretely slide away from Thomus and shiver when the cold air hits my naked body. I’ve gotten familiar enough with the path that it takes me no time at all to venture to the other room to steal a blanket off the bed to keep me warm while I use the bathroom. 

I want to confide in Thomus about the dreams. Something in my gut is telling me they’re important, but I don’t really have a reason for him to know about them. Do I really want his opinions on it? My immediate answer is yes, because it’s hard to reason with my need to overshare things. Objectively, I’m sure he’d have valuable input – there’s always something new for me to learn about magic and its capabilities. 

At the same time, I’m hesitant. He could blow them off and not take me seriously. Or just not care. I’m not sure which is worse.

As I sit there, I start to wonder what movies I’m going to show him today. Besides some work he’s had to do in the office, he’s mostly spent his time with me. At first it wasn’t something we were actively doing together, but since we got back the only thing I’ve really wanted to do – and can do for that matter – is watch movies. Granted, I can only listen to them, but I try to pick the ones I’ve seen a bunch, so I’m not really missing out. 

Since I can’t read the titles, Thomus will read a handful aloud until I pick one. If he’s not around, I just pick one at random and hope I get lucky. I think he’s only been watching them because it’s what I’ve been doing. He’ll emerge from the office and find me curled on the couch, then force me to make room for him. 

And honestly, I’m not mad about it. After so much time apart, after so much time spent missing him, it’s nice to just be around him. 

I’d never admit this to anybody – I even have a hard time admitting this to myself – but I actually like him. I think I have for a while. 

A long while, really. 

Thomus isn't just a faceless Death Eater anymore. There's a man behind the mask now. He's handsome and intelligent and I know he's hurt me in the past, but he's saved me too. I'm sure I've got my rose-tinted glasses back on, but I can't live in denial of how I feel. Especially when it seems like he's been opening up to me more and more. 

I don't necessarily want to put words in his mouth. He said he wanted me to be his, but what I still don't know is why me. From my perspective, I was basically the equivalent to the last second nab of a candy bar in the grocery store check-out line. I know I need to be more cautious because of the unanswered questions surrounding his motivations, but he’s not making it easy.

For the time being, however, I'm enjoying whatever this is. The sex and his company make me feel desirable. As if it's what he wants. As if I’m what he wants. Like I’m enough.

All I can do is give it time.      

“Melisa?” I hear him sleepily call my name from his bedroom, spurring me into action from my thoughts. 

I make sure to quickly flush so he knows I’m in here before washing my hands and brushing my teeth. 

I guess I take too long for him because I hear the door knob tap against the tiled wall when he strides in. His footsteps are quick as he passes me to the toilet.

“It’s so bloody cold in here,” he grumbles. It doesn’t even phase me that he’s using the bathroom while I’m standing right here. The man literally cums in me. “You’ll have to show me how the Muggles heat their homes.”

The corners of my mouth pull into a smile around my toothbrush, silently laughing. When he’s done, he gently nudges me to turn sideways so he can wash his hands. I bite down on the toothbrush so I can tap him on the shoulder and then tap a finger to the back of my wrist, asking for the time. 

“Early enough to get up,” he answers. The faucet stops and I hear the hand towel bar creak as he dries his hands. 

Then they find the gap in the blanket acting as a cloak to shield my body from the cold. I still have toothpaste in my mouth so I turn my face away as he presses his body to mine, face against my neck before he kisses it. 

“Early enough to go back to bed for a bit,” he murmurs in my ear. His hands slip to my bare ass, squeezing while he doesn’t bother to hide his erection against my stomach. 

In addition to watching movies, we’ve been having so much sex. I swear I’ve been bent over nearly every surface in this house – from the kitchen island to his desk to this very vanity I’m leaning against – no where’s safe. On one occasion he’d specifically pulled me into the bathroom to prop me against the sink. From the way he’d tugged on my hair, tilting my head back, I’d bet it has something to do with watching me in the mirror. He’s really living up to his word about being insatiable. Not that I mind. It’s like he’s made it his mission to make me cum. 

And damn if I don’t adore his enthusiasm for it, too. 

He pulls back a bit and I smile, patting him on his scruffy cheek. He’d shaved the morning after we’d gotten here and it’s now back to a length that won’t give me cheek burn when we make out. 

I turn in his arms to spit and rinse. Then I confidently kiss him with my minty mouth. 

When I sweep my tongue across his lower lip before biting it, he groans. It’s a move I’ve learned makes him weak.

“Your lips are so… bewitching,” he breathes before kissing me again, dominating it despite the fact that I’m cradling his face. 

I pull at him, needing him closer, needing him between my legs as I start to hear a faint tapping noise. 

Thomus hears it too, because he curses and pulls away, heading back towards his bedroom. I follow, listening to a window sliding open. Cold morning chill quickly creeps in and I dive for the bed, curling under the comforter, hoping it still retains our heat from the night. 

Wings flap, and there’s a small little screech accompanied by a drawer opening. The owl’s beak clips at the treats Thomus offers it before the window shuts. He sits on the edge of the bed, paper scroll rustling in his hands. I reach out to stroke his back.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I thought she’d taken care of this.”

Then he stands. “Come on. Get dressed. I have to take you to the Manor.”

I sit up, blanket still around my shoulders. I put my hand up next to my head and sign why. 

He doesn’t answer, but it’s likely he just didn’t see me because his wardrobe opens. I wait for him to turn around so I can sign again, but he just ignores me.

“Quickly,” he orders. 

I scoff and roll my eyes, wishing I can verbally tell him how I feel about his rudeness, but I slide out of bed and head to my room. When I open the wardrobe, I forget there’s a new stack of vinyl leaning against it until they plop down onto the carpet. I kneel to move them aside, leaning them against the wall instead. Feeling around the base of the wardrobe, I find a gap between the wall and the furniture, and slide the stack in, tucking it away. 

Thomus had presented them to me the day we’d gotten back (after we’d woken from our nap and he’d given me a thorough deep dicking). This batch was honestly wild – he’s now the proud owner of a Nicki Minaj album, Billie Eilish, and the Rocketman soundtrack. Well, thinking about it now, I’m not sure anything can top the Shrek 2 album. 

I was definitely excited for the Rocketman album, and that’s the one I asked him to play first. However, I quickly realized my mistake. Instead of cheering me up, it became a blatant reminder that I can’t sing anymore.  

That probably should’ve been obvious. I tried mouthing the words, but it just isn’t the same. The emptiness of the vocals in my throat spread to my chest, making me feel hollow.

He’d been busy making us a simple dinner of scrambled eggs – surprising the shit out of me that he could make anything, even though he confidently reminded me he’d learned how to work the stove a while ago. While I could hear him busy at the counter, I’d… turned the volume on the record player down. Subtly at first, but each song kept getting quieter until the gentle clatter of plates on the counter was louder than the music. 

“Not in the mood?” he’d gently asked.

I’d given a small smile and a non-committal shrug. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that listening to music was the last thing I currently wanted to do. Especially when I know he was just trying to make me happy. 

Dressed, I meet him downstairs, feeling reluctant to leave. I hear the fireplace ignite. 

“Ready?” he asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. 

I press my lips together, shrugging again while nodding. He doesn’t say anything, but guides me toward the fireplace. I put my hand on his shoulder, getting him to pause. 

I point to him and spell go long time?

“I don’t know,” he admits. “This isn’t really about me.”

OK I sign.

In the next few moments, we’re stepping through to the Manor and a voice I hear ringing through the hall makes me tighten my grip on Thomus’ arm. 

“Quickly Draco!” Lucius Malfoy’s voice barks. I hear rushed footsteps going up the stairs. 

“Yes, quickly Draco!” says the voice that causes my hackles to rise as she mimics her brother-in-law.     

I know the moment she spots us because she audibly gasps. 

"Thomus!" she nearly squeals with joy as she approaches, her heels rapping against the floor. 

Thomus puts his arm across my waist, smoothly stepping between me and Bellatrix. His jacket is clenched tight in my fingers, one hand on his arm and the other at the nip of his waist. Not that I can really hide behind his lanky form, but I sure would like to. 

"Bella," he greets tersely, "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Oh, clearly," she tuts. "Or you wouldn't be attempting to hide the dog from me." She claps her hands together. "Have you heard the news? Draco's been invited to Switzerland by the Dark Lord."

"Ordered," Narcissa snaps. Damn, has she been here this whole time? "He's been ordered to go."

"It's a great honor, Cissy," Bellatrix replies, her tone implying it's an argument they've had more than once.

“Thomus,” Narcissa’s voice changing to a plea. “Is there anything you can do?”

Thomus’ sigh sounds genuinely remorseful. “I have no authority over something like this. If it’s the Dark Lord’s will for Draco to go to Switzerland, he must be obeyed.”

“No,” Narcissa’s voice almost breaks. “I refuse to let my son –“

“You don’t have a choice,” Bellatrix snaps. I can hear gentle thunks that sound like luggage being placed on the entry hall floor. “This will be good for the boy. I will be there to guide him –“

“Excuse me if I don’t care for your particular brand of parenting,” Narcissa hisses. Thomus’ shoulders stiffen at the statement. Her heels click as she strides away.

“Where are you going?” Bellatrix says as she follows.

“I’m going to speak to him myself.”

Bellatrix cackles. “As if that –“

“Thomus, thank you for coming,” Narcissa says, “but I thought you’d be of more help.”

The front door opens and their footsteps disappear, Bellatrix’s voice fades as they move away from the house. Lucius and Draco’s voices are faintly drifting from upstairs.

Thomus sighs heavily and turns toward me. “Let’s go home,” he mutters.

We escape back to the cottage the way we came. I turn to him with a gentle smile and spell awkward.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but I want more answers than that. I take his arm and pull him down onto the couch with me.

Switzerland? I ask.

"Insurgents attacked the Swiss Ministry offices yesterday," he explains blandly, like his mind is elsewhere.

I sign what and spell Narcissa mean.

"About what?" 

parenting.

He sighs again and leans back heavily against the couch cushions. I stay perched near the edge, but turn towards him. I'm pretty sure I know what Narcissa was implying, but I want to hear it from him. 

Bella no kids I prompt.

"She was talking about me," he admits, albeit sounding reluctant. "I'm well aware our relationship isn't - wasn't exactly normal."

I put my hand on his knee, rubbing my thumb back and forth over his pants. I wait a few moments before asking wasn’t?

Despite how calm and understanding I seem on the outside, my heart's beating so hard I feel it shaking my chest. I feel like the "other woman", and I suppose I have been from the moment Thomus bought me. It has to be why she hates me so much - despite the obvious reasons. 

"Yes," he agrees. "Things... haven't been the same for quite some time."

His words process and I dismay at the multiple meanings behind them. My nosiness and need for answers makes me press on.

since, I pause, when?

He makes me wait so long that I almost begin to accept that's going to be my answer when he says, "A long time."

Granted, it's not a specific enough answer, but I relent. There's gotta be layers to his real one. 

Draco be okay? I spell.

That he answers. "I'm sure Lucius will orchestrate himself there to be able to navigate things as best he can. I'm sure he'll be fine."

I press my lips together and frown, not entirely believing anyone around Bellatrix would be completely fine, no matter who they are.

If you say so I spell.

"You know what else I say?" he says as he sits forward. One hand covers mine on his knee and the other grabs at a fleshy roll around my hip. He brings his face close to mine and kisses my cheek. "I say it's still early enough to go back to bed."

I can't help but crack a smile as our lips meet.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au #plus size ofc

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty-five // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5.8k warnings for this chapter: none

my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Five:

“What happened to the TV?” Thomus asks when we return to the cottage. 

I let out a disappointed sigh, having already prepared a believable lie. “I woke up from a nap on the couch and found it broken. Honestly, I’m really sad about it.”

He stands before TV and tilts it back, taking a longer look at the crack in the screen. “Have you not tried to fix it?”

I snort, tucking my legs under me as I sit on the couch. “Magic won’t fix that.”

“That’s a shame,” he says, sounding genuine. He comes to the couch and sits next to me, one leg over the other, an arm along the back behind my shoulders. “Perhaps I can get you one for Christmas.”

My eyebrows come together and I blink. “Christmas?”

The backs of his fingers casually rub against the back of my shoulder as he nods. “Yes, Christmas. It’s a little over a week from now.”

I still stare at him in disbelief. “You’re shitting me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Afraid not.”

“I guess that explains the snow,” I say, looking out the window at the untouched blanket outside. “Christmas is something you guys are still celebrating?”

“You ‘guys’ as in –“

“Death Eaters, and you know, the general magical population,” I fill in. “I wouldn’t imagine there’s too much to celebrate with the war going on.”

“I can’t speak for the average witch or wizard, but those who support the Great Order believe they do.” 

His wording is confusing. “And where does that leave you?” 

“I’m grateful my family and those I care about are alive and well,” he says after a moments’ thought. 

“But you still support the war?” 

His relaxed posture shifts, spine straightening, lips forming a hard line. Even a muscle in his jaw ticks. “Of course.”

I make a face and turn away. The little spark of hope I’d had is smothered once again. “Should’ve guessed.”

“Do the… Alders have any Christmas traditions?” he asks, his tone relaxed once more. 

My head swivels back to him. Again he looks genuine, as if he regrets upsetting me.

“Um,” I start, unsure of what would be considered a tradition amongst my family. “I mean, they set up a tree, do presents, have a special dinner the day of.” I shrug. “Pretty standard.”

“So you celebrate the birth of that wizard?”

At that I have to laugh. “You mean Jesus?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I’ve heard he walked on water and turned water into wine.”

“So they say,” I reply. “My mom’s the only one who goes to church. I wouldn’t even consider her religious - she just does a lot with music. She sings in the adult choir, directs the kids choir, and is in the church band. During the Christmas Eve service she usually solos Silent Night in German and I like going to hear her sing.” I stare at the fireplace while I speak, but then I glance at him and suddenly feel shy. “I guess that’s a tradition of mine because eventually I won’t be able to.”

His blue gaze is tender, like he understands. “No time wasted.”

I nod. “Did you ever spend time with your mom for the holidays?”

“When I was younger, before she married, yes,” he says. “I hardly had contact with her after.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must’ve been difficult.” I think of the dark-haired woman who looked at baby Thomus with nothing but love in the film I developed. “For both of you.”

He makes a doubtful noise and shakes his head. “I sent her countless letters, but the only one I received in return was the news she was dying.” 

My jaw drops as I suck in a little gasp. My reaction must be encouraging because he continues. 

“It was from her other son, my younger brother, Casey, whom I didn’t know existed until that letter. He reached out because she kept asking for me.”

“You have another half-brother?”

He nods. “I think he’s about your age. I’m assuming he attended Ilvermorny.”

“Hm, I don’t remember any Casey’s, but Ilvermorny’s massive, so it’s not surprising,” I say. “But you went?”

“Yes,” he replies softly, his eyes on the snow. 

“Did you get any closure?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it closure,” he murmurs, looking pensive as he shakes his head slightly. “I think I’ve been too angry to really be at peace.”

“Angry with yourself?” I gently prod.

“Myself, my parents, Lucius… the list goes on.”

“Hm, well, that checks out,” I tease. “Anger does seem to be a personality trait of yours.”

His eyes bounce to me and I clamp my lips together to smother my grin. Trying to hold back my amusement has the opposite effect and a giggle slips through. 

“Yes, ha ha, very funny,” he replies dryly, and that only makes me laugh more. 

While I’m busy laughing, his hand goes from my shoulder to my cheek, and the next thing I know, he’s leaning forward to crush his lips to mine. It’s a surprise, but not one I reject. I readily kiss him back and get lost in it. 

After a few moments, he pulls his lips away and rests his forehead against mine, our heavy breaths between us. 

“I’ve missed your laugh,” he admits so softly, I’m not sure I heard him correctly. It makes my heart pound and my face flood with heat. 

I have no idea how to respond, so I run my hands up his chest and grip his shirt to pull his mouth back to mine. 

~*~

The next morning, I enter Thomus’ room after a shower to find him propped up in bed with a book. Wrapped in a towel, but mostly dry, I climb up onto the mattress and sit next to him, legs criss crossed. I’m facing him and his eyes immediately drop to between my legs, but unfortunately for him I’m covered by the towel. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” I start, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and closes his book. 

“About?”

“Would it be impolite if I asked for something for Christmas?” 

His head tilts curiously, but his expression is skeptical. I’m nervous, so I don’t wait for him to respond before I continue.

“Even though you mentioned the TV, I’m obviously not expecting you to actually get me anything. This is more of an 'I’m hoping you’ll allow me to do this' sort of thing, because I’m hoping that since it’s Christmas, the usual rules can be… bent, you know?”

I pause because I’m waiting for Thomus to shut me down. He definitely doesn’t like where this conversation is going, as evidenced by his frown, but I keep going.

“So what I’m really asking is to do my hair,” I say, fingering the still-wet ends around my shoulders. “My roots have really grown out and so in addition to cutting it again, I need to bleach and redye my hair.”

“You have your magic, I’m not stopping you from cutting it,” he says. “You can do whatever you want to your hair.”

“Yes, I understand that, but I need the materials to do it.”

His face suddenly dawns in understanding. “You need me to run to a muggle shop, don’t you?”

I smile sheepishly. “Um, no. I should have everything I need, but I don’t… have it. It’s in my vault at Gringotts.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You keep hair products in a bank vault?”

“No,” I sigh. “Before shit really hit the fan at the end of April, I put my backpack there. There’s things in it that I didn’t want to risk losing, but it’s also just what I carried all my crap in, so what I need to do my hair is also in there.”

Thomus looks me up and down. “Where have you put your key?”

“I don’t have one,” I say slowly. “I knew that I’d probably lose it, so I asked for an alternative option.”

“Which would be?”

“My blood, fresh from my body.” I wince when I realize I probably said that far too cheerfully. “So I’ll need to come with you.”

“I see,” he says and a cheeky smile vanishes the serious expression on his face. “Well, I have one condition, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

~*~

Thomus had been right. I absolutely do not like his condition. 

“Hold this,” Thomus says, handing me the end of the leash he just fastened at the back of my neck. Now he’s swinging that dark green cloak around my shoulders. 

I sigh heavily, failing to hold back my annoyance. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, stepping back and slipping the leash over his wrist. “The Muggles can’t see it and anyone else wouldn’t dare comment on it.”

“I just don’t see why I have to wear it in the first place. I didn’t try to escape the last time we went to London.”

“You also had a dislocated shoulder, so you weren’t exactly a flight risk.”

“I wouldn’t try to leave,” I argue, pulling my hair out from beneath the cloak. “I’m not that stupid.”

He waves his wand across his face once, his Death Eater mask materializing into place. “I never said you were.”

He readies the Floo powder in one hand and holds the other out for me. I pull up my left sleeve, exposing the tattoo of his name. His fingers find it as he calls out for the Leaky Cauldron and we step through the fireplace. 

From the moment we step foot in the pub, I keep my head down, even though I feel eyes on me. We’ve clearly stopped in during their lunch hours because the place is packed. With the chain, I feel like I’ve got a big red A on my chest. As we make our way to the bricked entrance to Diagon Alley, I peek up at him to see his mask bob when he nods to someone I don’t know.

The first thing I notice about Diagon Alley is it’s covered with snow, the uneven cobble stones revealed by muddy footpaths. Daring to look around, I see most of the shops are still sitting abandoned or boarded up. 

“Put your hood up,” Thomus orders softly as we approach Knockturn Alley. There’s a few figures loitering about the entrance, and one of them is Greyback with his fur-tufted ears peeking out over his collar. 

I hastily do as Thomus asks and my other hand shoots to his, drawing my strides closer to him. We walk on the farthest side of the alley, Thomus keeping himself between them and me. I have half a mind to cast a Disillusionment charm, but I fear it won’t be as sneaky as I would hope for. Thomus is keeping his head forward and I’m following his lead. 

Despite my heart thumping loudly in my ears, I can still hear two very distinct sniffs. Thomus doesn’t react to Greyback’s subtle low growl and walks on.

I, however, do not possess that much self-control. 

My head turns within the hood of my cloak and I only catch sight of him with one eye, but it’s enough. He’s staring right at me. I swivel my face forward, gripping Thomus’ hand tighter. 

All I want is for him to forget he even saw me, or at least forget the clear intent in his expression. No, I can’t do a disillusionment charm, but I can do something better.

When I turn my face back, I make sure both eyes are narrowed on him as I shoot him a silent Confundo. 

Greyback blinks, shakes his head, and looks away, suddenly disinterested. 

My eyes dart to Thomus, making sure he didn’t notice. I don’t think the guy standing with Greyback noticed either, thank god. 

I feel like shit for already breaking my promise to him, no matter how much I can justify using my magic.

My grip on Thomus doesn’t ease as we make our way to Gringotts and I pull my hood down once inside. I take in the extravagant golden tiled floor and glass dome roof, looking very much the same as when I was last here. No one could possibly have guessed a few months ago a dragon broke through from the caverns below.

Thomus took us straight to the tallest desk at the end of the aisle. Behind it sits the oldest looking goblin I’ve ever seen. Gravity pulls on her skin, making her eyelids droop down to the sides. Her wiry white hair is styled to look like a beehive, and just above her bangs sits a jeweled little bumble bee, glittering every time she turns her head.

Her black eyes latch onto Thomus as we draw near and she smiles down at him when he vanishes his mask. 

“You, sir, look very much like a young man I used to know,” she says, her voice extremely gravelly. “Your face says Abraxas Malfoy, but that hair -” She tsks and shakes her head “ - is definitely your mother. Though I wonder how far back we’d have to look to find those curls.”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Orla,” Thomus greets. “I thought you retired.”

Orla shakes her head. “Not yet. Too much going on, you know.” Her beady eyes land on me and the collar around my neck. “Care to state the nature of your visit?”

“I’m making a withdrawal from vault 581,” he states.

“Hm, I see.” She narrows her eyes and with a wave of her fingers, the book in front of her flips several pages. “It would seem vault 581 belongs to an American witch by the name of Melissa Alder.”

“The correct pronunciation is Mel-leesa, and you’ll find that the Mudblood in question is standing with me.”

My throat feels a little tighter that he'd even care to correct her on the pronunciation of my name. I don't even bother when it's someone I'm not going to interact with a whole bunch.

“Very well," she quips, "and you’ll find I must ask why you are making the withdrawal and not her?”

Thomus doesn’t hesitate. “Because under our current Ministry, this Mudblood belongs to me.” With his free hand, he digs into a pocket in his jacket, pulling out a small scroll. “This is the bill of sale, upon which you’ll find states everything belonging to Alder, is now my property. Including not only herself, but valuables and accounts.”

Orla unravels the scroll with her claw-like nails and inspects its contents. She looks up at him, clearly ready to say something, but he says, not without a hint of arrogance, “On the back.”

As she flips it onto the back, my eyes zero in on this document I’ve never seen or heard of before. Yet, there printed in black ink is my name alongside Thomus’ too-familiar signature. 

Just when I think this whole ordeal can’t humiliate me any further, I’m proven wrong. There’s government record of this shit-show?

“I see,” Orla says again, passing the scroll back to Thomus between two fingers. She sighs heavily and looks at him with new disdain. “Do you have her key?”

“There isn’t one,” he explains. “Hence why her presence is required.”

“Hmph,” she frowns. “Very well.” 

Orla stands with the slowness of her age, disappears behind the desk and emerges next to it on our level. She stands no taller than my hip, even with her updo. A lamp floats next to her head. “Follow me.”

The ride on the carriage track is short. I have a newer and smaller account, so it’s not all that far underground. We get off and approach a locker-sized door with 581 painted above it. In the middle of the metal door is a sharp point with the shallowest pool of water no larger than a Galleon cupped beneath it. I always dread this part. 

Wanting to get it over with, I step before the door and press the pad of my thumb onto the point. It easily slices through and I feel blood beading up along the cut before I dip my finger into the little pool. The water lights up around my blood like some kind of bioluminescence and locks audibly pull back behind the door. 

It swings open and my excitement and happiness eclipses all the stress to get here once I lay eyes on my backpack, nestled exactly as I left it. I quickly suck the rest of the blood out of the cut and grab my bag. I’m about to close the door when I remember something that’s in it. 

I unzip it and avoid Thomus’ eyes. “Hold on.”

My arm descends into the main compartment, feeling around for what I threw hastily inside. I step into the door, turning my back to Orla, but keeping Thomus privy to what I pull out. His eyes widen and he visibly tenses when he sees my wand. Before he can get any angrier, I quickly drop it on the shelf inside the vault and close it. With a sheepish smile, I hold the bag out to him. 

Now with suspicion in his narrowed eyes, he takes it and slings a strap over his shoulder, under his cloak. I turn my back to him, facing Orla. I give her the same smile, but hope it’s a bit more genuine. 

“Thank you,” I say softly. “All done.”

“Hmph,” she huffs, and repeats these words, but with a much more suggestive tone, “I see.”

~*~

Outside Gringotts, Thomus waits until no one’s looking and pulls me into the secluded alcove of an abandoned shop. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” he hisses, backing me into a corner. “I thought I could trust you.”

I raise my chin, glaring at him. “You can. That should make me even more trustworthy.”

“How do I know this wasn’t all a ruse?”

“If it was, why would I have left my wand there?”

“Maybe there’s something else you wanted in this bag.”

“And maybe,” I say, pulling it off his shoulder and yanking open the main compartment, “maybe I just want to do my hair.” My hand dives in again and I pull out the bottle of Hair Stay, the box of bright pink dye, and - “Shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any bleach,” I sigh. I toss the dye and potion back in, zipping it up and opening the small pouch in the front. My wallet’s still there, along with just enough British pounds to get what I need. “Can we go to a No-Maj store? I apparently don’t have everything I need like I had thought.”

He rolls his eyes. “I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

“Not if you want me to look pretty again,” I bite with a fake smile.

Thomus looks at me for a moment, then leans in so close I have to press my back against the charred door. His mouth connects with mine long enough to make me melt and relax as I realize he’s not really mad. 

“You never stopped,” he murmurs before giving me his back. 

I’m left dazed at his words until he tugs on the leash of my collar and I scurry after him. He takes my bag and puts it on his shoulder again before taking my hand, the chain on his wrist. 

He speaks to me again only when we’re out on the No-Maj streets. “I’m assuming you know what shop will have what you need?”

“Yeah, of course,” I reply. “There.”

The stop at the pharmacy is quick. It’s not a proper beauty store, but boxed bleach works just as well. At the counter to pay, Thomus hands the cashier money before I can even count out the correct amount. 

“Thanks,” I say while we wait for the correct change and receipt. He just gives me a crooked smile. 

When we get out onto the sidewalk, Thomus looks around, eyeing the different stores. 

“Are you looking for something specific?” I ask, bewildered as to what he could possibly want from a No-Maj store. 

“There’s a shop that I remember - oh, there it is,” he says, already pulling me by the hand to a store two doors down. 

“A hobby shop?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, just releases my hand and opens the door for me to enter first.

As I’m busy looking around, Thomus makes a beeline for the glass counter in the back. I have no choice but to follow him, and when I see what’s on the shelf behind the store clerk, I gasp.

It’s a Toshiba TV with a VHS and a DVD player. 

“Does that work?” I blurt out, pointing to the TV. 

The teenage worker looks back at it and reads verbatim off a bright orange sticker. “Yes, it works.” 

I blush and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Thanks. Is it plugged in? Can we test it?”

“Sure,” the worker says, grabbing a remote off the shelf next to it. He hits a button and the TV pops on, volume blasting the intro music to Gone with the Wind.

“We’ll take it,” Thomus says.

The worker gets busy lugging the 20 inch box off the shelf to the register and my eyes wander to the aisles of movies on display. 

“Is that all?” the worker asks.

“Give us like two seconds,” I say, tugging Thomus towards an aisle. The used DVDs are a pound each with the VHS tapes being half that. I quickly nab Home Alone 1 & 2, The Holiday, and The Polar Express, Christmas movies I know we don’t have in the bin. Cradling the DVD case and two tapes, I ask Thomus, “Anything that looks good to you?”

I glance up at him and his head is tilted, his eyes focused on scanning the shelves. When he doesn’t answer, I softly chuckle and slip the end of the leash off his wrist. “Well, you look here and I’ll check behind us.”

He nods absently, picking up The Dark Knight to read the back. 

By the time we leave, Thomus is lugging the TV under one arm while I have a full bag of our movie haul. As we were checking out, I tried very hard not to judge his choices. While my choices were movies like Forrest Gump, Back to the Future, and Wall-E, his were Sherlock Holmes, The Great Escape, and The Silence of the Lambs. I’m not saying his choices were bad, just different. I made sure to add my No-Maj money to the bills he counted out for the cashier, especially because I’d snuck in the boxed series of The Nanny.

To get home, Thomus doesn’t want to use the Floo in the Leaky Cauldron because that would reveal our location to those in the pub, so we chose to Apparate. We hide behind a dumpster in an alley to shrink the TV so it would fit inside my backpack. 

After we land and get inside the gate, I wait for Thomus as he closes the protective barriers. 

“What’re we watching first?” he asks.

“A Christmas movie, obviously,” I reply. “Have you heard of A Christmas Carol?”

Finished, we walk up the snow covered path to the front door. “By Charles Dickens? Yes, I’ve actually read that.”

“Good, because that’s the one I want to watch first.”

~*~

The version of A Christmas Carol Mary has is the one with Patrick Stewart, which just so happens to be my favorite. 

After the movie, we take a break so I can start on my hair and Thomus can pop out to visit Narcissa. When he comes back my hair is about four inches shorter and I’m half-way through bleaching my roots.

“Merlin, that smell is foul,” Thomus says as he saunters into the bathroom, propping himself on the edge of the tub. 

I’m focused on sectioning the last bit of hair from the back of my head, so I only respond with hums. Once I don’t have to concentrate so hard, I finally glance at him. 

“How’s Narcissa doing?” I ask. “With Draco being gone.”

“As well as can be expected,” he replies. “Luckily her mind’s preoccupied with party planning for the moment.”

“Party for what?” 

“The Dark Lord wishes for her to throw her annual New Year’s Eve Gala.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Didn’t know he was such a partier.”

I hear him chuckle. “Not quite. She explained it’s to provide some kind of normalcy and amusement for his loyal followers.”

“The revels at Edinburgh aren’t enough?” I ask, a bit exasperated by this news.

“Edinburgh is for a specific crowd, if you haven’t noticed,” he explains. “The Gala will be… formal.” 

“Oh, so trading in the sex slaves for the wives, huh?” I roll my eyes and let out a big sigh, trying to not to get all worked up. “Surprise surprise.”

He shifts in his spot, crossing his arms. “I’ll be in and out to help her prepare.”

“‘Kay.”

“And then Christmas day we’re going to the Manor for dinner.”

“That’ll be nice.”

He tilts his head, sending me a questioning look. “You think so?”

“Better than being here alone.”

He looks down. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

~*~

My hair is a yellow bleach blond for the next few days to give it a break from the chemicals. There’s still some remnants of the pink on my ends, but it’s super faded. When Thomus first saw me he did a double take and spilt coffee on his sweater. 

I show him how to get into the attic, after making sure George’s temporary nest was cleared away first. We poke around the bins, looking for any Christmas decor, and hit the jackpot when we find a mini tree, complete with a box of little ornaments and lights. 

In the living room I clear the short bookshelf of Mary’s figurines, making space for the mini tree. I come back from placing the figurines on a shelf in the office to find Thomus struggling to get the tree stand put together. I wait for a few moments, pulling everything else out of the bin in the meantime, to see if he can figure it out. 

When he finally gets it standing on its own, he looks a bit chagrined. “Well, that was more difficult than I expected.”

“Seemed like it,” I chuckle, and pass him the tree skirt, which really seems more like a scarf. He just kinda stares at it and then at the tree. “That’s the skirt.”

“Right,” he says, holding it up. “The skirt.”

“Have you never done this before?” I ask. “Decorate a tree?”

“No,” he says slowly, tentatively wrapping the skirt around the base of the tree. “It was always a task the elves did, and usually when we weren’t around. Not to mention the trees were much larger and not…” he fingers the stiff artificial needles “made of plastic.”

“A real tree is much nicer, I agree, but this suits the space, I think,” I say, shrugging. I totally brush off his comment about never having decorated a tree before. My heart wants me to get all sentimental, but my brain reminds me to stay detached. I pass him the string of lights. “Here, plug these in.”

At least he understands that and plugs it into the outlet behind the bookcase. They’re pretty, multi-colored lights with ridged bulbs. I show him how to wrap the string around the tree, starting at the bottom and finishing at the top. I plug the star into the end of it and pop it onto the top. Then we start rummaging through the box of ornaments. 

They honestly make me sad. Most of them are homemade, clearly made by kids. A few say Merry Christmas Nanna with the year from a few decades ago. I sift around for non-personal ones. A Nutcracker, a turtle dove, a few trumpeting angels, and multiple Santa Claus heads. Since it’s technically his tree, I let him put them where he wants. A few miniature knitted candy canes finished it off. 

I come back from shoving the bin into the attic and find Thomus sitting on the couch, just admiring the tree. 

~*~

On Christmas Eve, I finish my hair and start baking. Thomus has been in and out, running errands for Narcissa, so when he comes back that night, Christmas music blasts from the record player, and there’s several different batches of cookies and a plate of cherry pie bars littering the kitchen. 

“Merlin’s beard, you’ve been busy,” he says, surprising me with a kiss to my cheek while I’m half soaked from doing dishes for the eighth time today. He sets a takeout bag on the counter. “Who’s army are you trying to feed?”

I shrug, feeling a blush spread to my cheeks. “It’s just for Christmas. I wouldn’t even know what to get everyone.”

He tucks my freshly pink hair behind my ear. “Feel better about your hair?”

“Much.” I nod toward the takeout bag and dry my hands. “Is that dinner?”

Thomus nods, turning to open the bag. “I thought you’d want a break from cooking, seeing that it’s Christmas.”

The moment I get a whiff of pure, authentic Chinese food, I almost start to weep. Instead, I stifle that urge and throw my arms around his shoulders, despite his protests because of my wet shirt. 

~*~

Thomus disappears into the office for a bit and I settle on the couch with the blazing fire and a cozy blanket. 

Despite the tree and the plethora of Christmas movies we’ve watched the last few days, it doesn’t really feel like Christmas. The absence of my loved ones is far more apparent this year. My family is an ocean away. This cottage I call home isn’t really mine, it’s just a place where I live. 

I reach for my backpack, where it’s sat mostly untouched except for the removal of my hair products, and plunge my arm into the main compartment. I feel around through clothes, books, and a camera bag. My fingers run along a smooth rubber wire that leads to my phone. It’s no doubt loaded with unanswered texts and voicemails from my parents wondering where I am and how I’m doing. 

As I hold it in my hand, I wonder what Jonathan’s been saying to them. What lie he’s told my parents to make them believe I’m okay. I wonder if it ever became too much, if they had too many questions he couldn’t answer, and he had to resort to the worst case scenario. 

Eventually I abandon my phone and continue my search. When I finally find what I’m looking for, at the very bottom of my bag, I pull out the two large, full photo albums.

I know looking through these probably isn’t in my best interest right now, but I’m already depressed, why not make it hurt a little more? Christmas is the time for looking back at old memories. 

A lot of them are pictures of Ilvermorny, especially in the beginning. I just couldn’t get over how beautiful the school was and I just had to share this special, most amazing place. Views from the front gates to walking the path from the nearby town with the school in the distance just barely emerging from the fog that keeps it hidden from No Majes. Our Quidditch pitch and outside stage for theater performances. She was most interested in the library, so I flip through at least two full pages of the seemingly endless rows of books, a few flying through on their way to their rightful shelf. 

The pages slowly transition to random students practicing spells in the halls or the courtyards. A few are of my homework working with mandrakes. We had to grow them ourselves from seeds and as someone who struggled with Herbology, I’d been so proud of my fully grown plant, so I had to snag a picture. 

I’d given Jonathan my camera during the Wandless Magic Tournaments. My first year competing, the tournament was held at the Salem Witches Institute. The school is almost entirely underground and despite the ceilings charmed to look like an endless sky, I couldn’t get past knowing that we were miles beneath the surface. 

Since I couldn’t bring my family, Jonathan came in their place. Cheering me on from the sidelines and managing to capture the ugliest, most unflattering images of me red-faced and sweating from nervousness. I’ll admit he did manage to capture how much of a badass I looked during the dueling portion though.

The pictures that hurt the most are the ones of Sam. She’s not alone in any of them, whether it’s me third-wheeling her and Jonathan, or us in front of museum signs or with a concert in the background. My favorite is one Jonathan caught of us on her couch, both curled up with our noses deep into our books. That one was taken around Christmas, her tree peeking out in the corner of the picture. Her favorite bit of magic I’d started to do once I was old enough was cast an illusion of a little witch with a Santa hat flying around on her broomstick. I can see it moving in and out of frame on its path around the tree. 

I look up at the little tree, barely waving my hand to conjure the little witch. She flies across the room, slowly circling the branches and ornaments. 

Thomus emerges from the office when my eyes are dry and ready to slam shut. He places a plain box next to the tree and then kneels by my side, kissing my cheek. 

When his eyes take in the pages of the photo album, he just stares. His expression betrays how unprepared he was to see pictures of Sam. He doesn’t say anything as I flip through to the next page. 

It’s a single picture, the last one she ever put in. It’s of fireworks shooting up from below the frame, trailing to the center where they explode, scattering red and blue sparkles across the night sky. It was New Year’s Eve, the year she died. 

The empty expanse of the remaining pages is what finally sends tears blurring my vision. With Thomus right next to me, I try to smother my emotions, but it translates to choked sobs and a runny nose. 

Quietly, he takes the photo album from my lap, closes it and sets it aside. He’s running a hand over my shoulders, trying to comfort me.

“Come on, my darling,” he murmurs. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I nod and let him lead me upstairs to bed, where I crawl in and he wraps me in his arms. 

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

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the spare // chapter sixty-four // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5.7k warnings for this chapter: none

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Four:

“I haven’t given up!” I snap angrily, shoving my fists into the dirt to push myself to my knees. “The damn thing just –“

Another loud crack of thunder and the wind picks up, drowning out my words. The mass hovers, dark clouds churning with growing speed. Flashes of lightning strike from within its core, spreading like white veins just beneath the misty surface. I watch in horror as the mass gets sucked to its center, almost disappearing completely before exploding outward with a roar. The black clouds cover the sky, pouring rain upon us.

My eyes are wide as saucers as I stare up at the sky, mouth agape, lips trying to form the words. Lightning flies across the clouds before striking the ground several yards away, sending shock waves through the dirt. The deafening thunder in its wake makes my very bones tremble.

My shoulders rise as I inhale, trying to suck in the thick magic in the air. I raise my hand and point two fingers to the sky. 

“Piertotum Venefi –“

Another arm of lighting pierces the earth in a bright white flash, temporarily blinding me. It struck so close that the seismic waves sends me flying backwards. I land on my back, but quickly push myself up, braced by the heels of my hands. Though the bright light has left blinding imprints on my vision, I see the clouds swirling, circling right over my head. 

The next time the lightning strikes, it’s not going to miss.

Tears in my eyes, I crane my neck to where Higgins stands, and his name freezes on my tongue.

Instead of Higgins, it’s Rodolphus. Hands in his pockets, a relaxed, cruel smile on his face. 

“Did you really think you were strong enough?”

I gasp awake, nearly jolting upright in bed. Blindly my hand reaches out across the bed, panic rising briefly to find Thomus’ side empty and cold. Then I remember Thomus has been gone for nearly a week. 

My face falls back onto my pillow as I squeeze my eyes shut. A tension headache is building behind my eyes, but I don’t have the will to get up just yet. The room is silent except for a soft cool breeze drifting through the open window, bringing the sound of rustling trees. I don’t hear any birds, so it’s probably night. I’d have to go downstairs to get the actual time. 

Before he left, Thomus had presented me with an analog clock. He’d pried off the clear plastic cover so I could feel where the hands were positioned. It had been so thoughtful and unexpected that I’d really fought to keep my emotions at bay. It gave me a smidgen of control back, more self-awareness instead of just floating through my current state of existence directionless. The ticking noise drives me so fucking bonkers, so I have to keep it shoved under the couch in the living room.

The door squeaks open and I’m instantly wide awake, clutching the covers and sitting upright. As I wait for Thomus’ voice, a light weight plops onto the bed. A combination of purr and meow comes from the moving weight. Smiling, I hold my hand out and Caelan bumps his head into my palm. 

A second later and the fur under my hand transfigures into hair that’s definitely more human-like. My hand falls away as the head rises to match my height.

I smile and give him a little wave. Then, remembering I’m naked except for my undies, I pull the covers back up to my chin. 

“Melisa,” Caelan says hesitantly. “Ye can hear me right?”

My lips curl up again and I nod. 

“Goldman’s downstairs. He wants to talk.” Caelan sounds calm, but this surprise visit instantly puts my heart in my throat. I don’t know for sure what Kyle wants, but I have a pretty good guess.

Caelan moves off the bed at my slow nod. “I’ll tell him you’ll be just a minute.”

When the door creaks closed with a soft click, I toss away the covers. My hoodie is on the floor, and I think my shorts are in the bathroom. After I have those on, I turn my head down and run my fingers through my hair before flipping it back. I showered yesterday, so I shouldn’t be too disgusting to look at. 

I know I shouldn’t care about what he thinks, but it’s impossible to turn fears like that off. Like despite not wearing them for weeks, my face still feels empty without my glasses. Some days I wear them for nothing. Old habits die hard. 

I take the bottle of meds with me downstairs, the shaking of the pills against plastic announcing my arrival long before I’d finished my descent. I don’t stop in the living room, turning right into the kitchen. I get one bare foot on the tile floor before barreling face first into someone. Immediately, I stumble back, muttering curses no one will hear. The bottle shakes as I grip it tighter and throw my other hand up against a solid chest.

Strong hands on my upper arms hold me steady. “Whoa-ho, watch it there, darlin’ – holy shit, you weren’t kidding, man.” The deep voice I’ve heard before, but the slight drawl I pick up makes me think I haven’t. “She looks rough .”

I don’t bother to hide my confusion as I shove his hands off me, feeling for the way around him through the doorway. Once I find my exit, I push past him, heading for the cupboards. I feel for the second one to the right of the sink and pull out a glass. Two steps over and I’m filling it from the tap. As you can tell I’ve done this routine a lot.

I turn to the kitchen island with my water and meds. My mind whirls as his words sink in. What’s so wrong with my appearance that he felt the need to comment on it? 

Footsteps hadn’t followed me into the kitchen, so once I’ve swallowed my drugs, I head for the living room. With a hand up, I don’t run into anyone at the doorway. The room smells pleasantly smokey as I walk toward my usual spot on the couch. Snaps, crackles, and heat tell me someone lit the fire. 

“Glad to see you finally joined us.” Now this voice I recognize. Has Kyle always kinda sounded like a douche? 

I curl my legs up onto the couch beside me and shrug. Someone sits next to me.

“You sure Thomus isn’t gonna come walkin’ through the door any minute?” that deep drawl asks from across the room. 

“Malfoy’s in Switzerland,” Caelan answers from beside me. “Do ye really think he’s gonna be walking in if he’s in Switzerland?”  

“You sure you got the right Malfoy?” Deep Drawl asks. 

“Aye, I’m sure,” Caelan quips.

I tap Caelan on the shoulder, sign who and point towards Deep Drawl’s voice. 

“Damn, there goes my reputation of being unforgettable,” Deep Drawl says. I still wait a moment, facing Caelan, waiting for an answer. When he doesn’t, Deep Drawl jumps back in. “It’s Jacob Astor.”

At my surprised expression, Caelan quickly replies, “He’s here because he can understand what you’re sayin’.”

I mouth oh and nod in understanding. I turn my face towards where I heard Kyle last and gesture for him to speak.

“She’s sayin’ go ahead,” Astor says.

“Obviously,” Kyle snaps. “So what’s going on with you? I hear you’ve been cursed.”

Nodding, I spell out and sign my response. Astor translates pretty easily.

“She says, Blind. Mute. But fine. ” 

“And your magic?”

I press my lips together and shake my head. 

“Really?” Kyle says, dripping with hostility. “After all this time you still can’t perform magic? What happened to the two time Wandless Magic Tournament Champion? I want that girl back.”

My jaw has fallen slack and my hands start to move, but I’m too slow for him. 

“How hard are you really trying?” he berates. “Don’t you understand there’s a war going on out there? Not everyone can sit on their fat asses all day and play house.”

There’s only one sign I have for him now and it’s my fuckin middle finger raised right to his face. 

“What the bloody hell’s your problem, Goldman?” Caelan jumps in.

“This war has been getting out of hand,” Kyle responds, frustrated. “MACUSA has to keep finding excuses not to interfere. What’s happening in Switzerland is bad .”

“I thought Switzerland was stable?” Astor asks.

“The new Swiss Minister is another fucking puppet to the Death Eaters.” Kyle sounds like he starts to pace. “It’s only a matter of time before things get worse. There’s only so many No-Maj’s that can die before their kind starts to notice.”

“People here have been suspicious since the Royals went to Australia,” Caelan kinda agrees. 

“Look, the end of the war is months away at the very least,” Astor says. “She’s got time to figure her shit out.”

Kyle sighs disapprovingly. “I still don’t like it.” 

I give him another middle finger and turn to Caelan, signing.

“She wants to know what more she can do to help,” Astor says for me.

“I’ll have to let you know,” Caelan says hesitantly. Which means there’s nothing. 

I sigh in frustration, turning away to scowl at nothing. A burning ball of rage and frustration is growing inside me. 

“Do you think you’ve made Sam proud?” Kyle asks and I freeze. 

“Who’s Sam?” Caelan asks, no doubt remembering my old name for him. 

“Her childhood best friend who was murdered by Voldemort.” 

My shock has rendered me speechless, not that I can speak obviously. Before I could demand how he knew that, he continues.

“You look shocked. Did you think I was joking when I said I’d done my research on you? Professor Higgins was so quick to open up once he’d been told you’d been kidnapped.” He chuckles darkly. “No one questions MACUSA investigators.”

I’m not shocked Kyle found out about me so easily, but I am shocked that he’d be such an asshole. Is this really happening right now? That burning ball inside is only glowing hotter.

“Do you think Sam would approve of you sleeping with the enemy? Fucking and forgetting that Malfoy works for the man who killed her? What kind of friend are you?”

My chest convulses with suppressed sobs as tears brim my eyes. 

“How could you forget what they did to her?”

Rage swells in my chest, uncontrollable and wild. I’ve somehow gotten to my feet, my fists balled at my sides. 

“ Shut up!” I scream, and I hardly recognize my own voice. It’s practically sandpaper, so dry and scratchy. “ Shut up! Shut up! ”

There’s a loud glass cracking noise at the tail end of my words and I slap my hands over my mouth in shock. 

Goldman laughs. “There she is! I knew you were in there.”

“You owe me 50 Dragots, Goldman,” Astor says, not hiding his smug tone. 

“Ye had a bet going?” Caelan hisses. “That’s so fucked up. Look at her! She’s - “

“Not fucking useless afterall,” Kyle replies with ice.

While they were talking, I feel around for the glass I heard crack. I shuffle to the armchair, sinking to my knees in front of the TV. My fingers run down the big crack across the screen. I bite my lip to stop it from trembling as tears finally fall. 

My loud sniffle breaks up their chatter. 

“Think you have a better grip on it now?” Kyle asks me. “I wouldn’t have to be such a dick if you could just get your shit together and be the badass witch you’re supposed to be.”

I nod. It’s a lie, but I’ll say anything just to get them to leave. I’m seconds away from falling apart and I don’t want an audience for the hot mess I’m about to turn into. 

“Both of ye are right pricks,” Caelan says. “Tis not right.”

“There’s far more at stake than some hurt feelings,” Astor says. “She’ll be fine.”

I’m crying on the floor. Does anybody really believe that I'm fine?

“We’re Flooing out,” Astor says, his voice getting closer. “If Thomus asks, tell him I was just lookin’ for him.”

He shuffles past me, calling out for Cliveden. Kyle does the same after him. Caelan kneels down next to me. 

“Do ye want me to try to fix it?” he asks. “I know it’s Muggle tech, but I could give it a try.”

I shake my head, not sure I’d even trust myself to do something so risky. 

“You’ll… be alright?” he asks. 

I’m already nodding before I realize. 

I have to be. I have to be alright. 

~*~

After Caelan leaves out the back door, I don’t hold back my sobs. I hear my heavy breathing, but not my voice. 

Do you think you’ve made Sam proud?

How could I even entertain that question? Do I think she’d want me to be risking my life trying to avenge hers? Absolutely the fuck not. Like what kind of question is that?

It doesn’t matter what she would think anymore. She’s fucking dead . 

What kind of friend are you?

A terrible one. The worst kind.

I’d come here to do everything in my power to fuck shit up and take my revenge. Is it what Sam would have wanted? No. Even Jonathan tried to persuade me out of coming. 

But I hadn’t been able to stay. I couldn’t stay and continue to blame myself for her death. 

I’d been hung up on some guy whose name I don’t even remember. I was  supposed to meet her for dinner at Alonzo’s, our favorite Italian place, but the guy wanted to see me at the last minute, so I called in a raincheck on dinner. I’d been so envious of her and Jonathan’s relationship, and I was desperate to be in one, too. 

I know it’s stupid, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted. To have that specific kind of love, like it’s the only thing that could ever make me feel whole. 

And because I’d been selfish, I bailed on her. 

She had already been on her way, based on where they found her body. She’d been alone. Vulnerable. 

If only I’d been there. 

None of these feelings are new to me, of course. It’s an old wound Kyle had just ground in dirt. But there’s a new ache now. It’s suddenly shown up and appeared out of the blue like a bruise. I’m bleeding internally and it’s far too late to save me.

Snot is gonna come running out of my nose any second, so I grab the edge of my hoodie and blow into it, too numb to care. When I can breathe again, my fingers feel for the TV. 

I have to continue, regardless of how I feel. What I feel doesn’t matter. It’s not about me when I have the chance, the power to help. 

I’m sounding a lot like fucking Spiderman and I don’t like it whatsoever. I don’t want to be a hero. I just want this to be over. 

Thomus is… a distraction. He can’t be what I want him to be. He’s not the one that’s going to fulfill my only dream, my only real desire. It’s not like he’s going to suddenly change his mind about people like me. He’s not going to wake up one morning and decide to be a better person. I don’t wanna be with someone who’s basically a fucking Nazi. We can’t pretend that once this is all over, he’s not going to end up either dead or in prison. We don’t have a future together.

Because of course, the one guy that I want is the one guy I can’t have. The one my gut is telling me could be… more, could be something. 

The TV breaking has to be some kind of sign, and I don’t think it’s a good one. 

When I finally go to bed, I force myself to go to my own. 

~*~

Another loud crack of thunder and the wind picks up, drowning out my words. The mass hovers, dark clouds churning with growing speed. Flashes of lightning strike from within its core, spreading like white veins just beneath the misty surface. I watch in horror as the mass gets sucked to its center, almost disappearing completely before exploding outward with a roar. The black clouds cover the sky, pouring rain upon us.

My eyes are wide as saucers as I stare up at the sky, mouth agape, lips trying to form the words. Lightning flies across the clouds before striking the ground several yards away, sending shock waves through the dirt. The deafening thunder in its wake makes my very bones tremble.

My shoulders rise as I inhale, trying to suck in the thick magic in the air. I raise my hand and point two fingers to the sky. 

“Piertotum Venefi –“

Another arm of lighting pierces the earth in a bright white flash, temporarily blinding me. It struck so close that the seismic waves send me flying backwards. I land on my back, but quickly push myself up, braced by the heels of my hands. Though the bright light has left blinding imprints on my vision, I see the clouds swirling, circling right over my head. 

The air thins, like the atmosphere is swelling, pulling back from the shore before the wave hits. 

Then it happens in slow motion. Just beneath the dark clouds, jagged tendrils of light spread out like roots from a plant. The main stem of the lightning bolt comes from the spiral, its point sharp. Its aim is precise and sure as it comes straight for me, gaining speed with every second. My hand shoots out just as it reaches me.

“ Piertotum Veneficium! ” I yell before it touches my palm and I’m blinded with bright white light. 

The electricity instantly flows through my body and instead of finding an exit, it surges within me. I feel the entity’s immense power as thunder booms again. It doesn’t feel foreign, it feels like it belongs. Like it’s always been mine. 

Once my vision clears, I notice the rain stops and the dark clouds fade away to a beautiful blue sky. A swallow swoops low, sailing past me to land on a nearby tree branch. Bubbling water fades in with birdsong and I look around to see I’m by the creek. I feel the smooth rocks and cool damp earth beneath my hands as I lean back. 

A twig snaps and I look over my shoulder to see Thomus approaching me with the most devastating smile. He settles next to me as I turn back to the creek. A grin breaks out across my face and I feel at ease, content. Maybe even a bit relieved. 

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I wake from my dream feeling rested, the soothing sentiments carrying over into reality. I roll over, rubbing the crust out of my eyes. Then with my eyes still closed, I toss my arm towards the other side of the bed. 

It’s foolish to hope that Thomus would come crawl into bed with me. Especially after finding his own bed empty. I mean, okay, he’d definitely come in and demand why I wasn’t in his bed. So that tells me he still hasn’t come home yet. 

I want to stay in bed and wallow in how much I miss him, but that’s not a feeling I should be holding on to. I need to get a grip and go touch some grass, I guess. 

When I finally roll myself to the edge of the bed and sit up, my eyes try opening, but they flinch against the light. 

I think shock is what delays my brain from realizing what’s actually happening. My eyes crack open, my vision hazy, but I can still make out the pale carpet and baseboard, then the wallpaper and window. 

I ball my fists and rub my eyes again, a bit more vigorously this time. When I try looking again and I can make out the little flower pattern lining the wall, I’m flooded with happiness and fucking blissful relief. 

Standing, I go to the window to look out over the backyard, and I’m stunned to see snow blanketing the garden. The brush is bare of leaves and I can see right down to the creek, white snow lining rocks and fallen tree trunks. It’s so beautiful.

With my bladder demanding to be emptied, I drift to the bathroom in a daze. Is... is the curse just gone? 

The moment I ask myself the question, I know it’s not. I swallow and there’s a little spicy tingle in the back of my throat, like I just baby barfed. My knuckles press in on my chest, trying to rub away the burn I feel there between my breasts.

I clear my throat and the short little bursts of vibration in my throat make my heart race. I try to hum and when the noise fills my head, my vision becomes glassy. 

I immediately start talking to myself. Nothing I say is important but being able to hear my scratchy voice feels like a miracle. 

When my butts numb because I got so distracted, I finish and go to wash my hands. Looking up at myself in the mirror, I gasp in horror at my reflection. 

There are dark, veiny lines on and around my eye sockets. They’re kind of blurry, like old tattoos. 

Have I looked like this the entire time? Is this what Astor was referring to a few nights ago? How could Thomus not tell me? Why didn’t Hermione? Or Narcissa? Surely , fucking Lucius would have. 

The worst part about my reflection though? My fucking hair .

It’s just past my shoulders, split ends sticking out and frayed. My roots have grown out several inches since I’d last seen them. They’re dark compared to the faded pastel tone to the bleached part of my hair. In some sections, the vibrant pink has washed away entirely to reveal the pale blond beneath.

I’m sure if I’d seen the change gradually, I wouldn’t be so horrified, but suddenly seeing a different version of myself than what I expected absolutely crushes me. 

I brush my teeth and hop in the shower, needing to warm up. The snow outside makes sense as to why it’s so cold now. I’ll have to ask Thomus what day it actually is when he gets back.

Speaking of Thomus coming back, I wonder what he’s going to think. I want him to be happy about it, but I worry that he’ll be disappointed for some reason. I won’t be the quiet submissive Lot anymore. Not that I was before, but I’m sure I was easier to deal with when I couldn’t voice my opinions.

I take advantage of the good acoustics of the bathroom and sing some scales, trying to warm up my voice. Gradually, I start singing any song I can think of, and soon I’m belting out lyrics at the top of my voice. Some notes are so off-key they’re painful, but I don’t care. I’m just so happy.

My happiness lasts till I go downstairs and stop dead in my tracks. A familiar potion vial is on the counter waiting for me. I lean against the counter, rolling it back and forth between my hands. 

I know I have my magic back. That’s what all those dreams have been about - I’ve been internally fighting to regain control of it. I’ve only gotten my senses back because I’ve gotten my magic. 

Or that’s my theory anyway.

Even though my heart is racing and I know my decision before I’ve made it, I know having control over my magic is more important than having my senses. Becoming as immune as possible to the suppression potion is vital to my usefulness to the Resistance, to my mission here. 

Before I take the potion, I meditate for a while. Thinking back to my dream, I try to visualize the lightning, taking it in, letting it flow through me. The concentration allows me to feel it crackling, humming just below my skin. 

Holding onto that feeling, I pull the stopper and tip the vial back. The strength of the potion burns my throat and its strong minty taste makes me gag. I have to concentrate on taking deep breaths so I don’t throw it back up. I feel light-headed as if I’m struggling to catch my breath. Because I’d been concentrating on that, my magic is starting to slip away. My vision starts to fade along with it as black spots bloom, blocking out light. The lightning I can see in my mind’s eye is returning to the sky, dark clouds forming, preparing for its arrival. 

No . It’s my fucking magic. 

There’s a mental tug of war that has me gripping the bolt with all my might, determined and desperate not to lose it again. 

But it works. Slowly, I feel the potion’s power lessen until I’m pulling the bolt back into me and my magic flows through me once again. When I open my eyes , I realize my vision has fully returned and I’m gripping the edge of the counter. It’s not until I can breathe again that I realize I had been holding my breath. I try to take a deep breath but there’s an ache in my chest, that same burning from before, clawing its way out through my throat. That must be the curse. 

But you know what? I feel fucking amazing . I bounce around on the balls of my feet as I pull together my breakfast, adrenaline and endorphins pumping through me. 

Before I start to make breakfast, I hunt down the record player. After dragging it from the office, I put it on the table and set up the Rocketman soundtrack. As I’m dancing around, sing-screaming my head off to the Bitch is Back , I can’t help but think that the only thing that could make this better is having Thomus here, celebrating with me. 

~*~

Finally having all this energy and the eyes to see, I clean the rest of the day, album after album blasting through the house. With that kind of motivation, it doesn’t take long, so the next day I layer on warm clothes, wanting to spend some time in the snow. I should’ve done this first, I know, but now I don’t have the weight of a messy house on my mind. 

I bring a Betty Neels book with me, along with a couple blankets, down to the creek. I cocoon myself on the bank with a warming charm. I don’t even start to read at first, choosing instead to just take in the scenery for a while. I feel so calm and at peace, and I want to enjoy it while it lasts. 

The book is short and in no time at all, the two love interests are snowed in together in their little cottage. 

“Well, that’s ironic,” I say quietly to myself, glancing around at the snow. My eyes go back to the page and I start singing Winter Wonderland , zoning out.

A loud branch snapping shocks me out of my headspace, and when I turn towards the sound, the next lines of lyrics are stuck in my mouth.

Thomus is standing there. His eyes are wide and bright blue in contrast with his hair. His lips are parted in pure disbelief.

“Thomus!” I gently exclaim, scrambling to my feet. I can barely feign the uneasiness in my voice. This is it, the moment I’d been waiting for. The moment he’d find out.

The crunch of snow under his boots and the bubbling water from the creek are the only sounds around us. He’s slowly approaching me, his expression gradually morphing from shock to something else. I give an awkward smile as I wait for him to say something. He blinks rapidly, but his gaze never leaves my face.

“Is…” he starts to say, breath clouding in front of his face, “Is this real?”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down, hard. I nod.

Pulling gloves off his hands, he steps closer, so close he reaches out to cup my cheek in his palm. When his other hand comes out to do the same, my fingers curl around the edges of his cloak, pulling him to me. I gaze up into his eyes as he stares down into mine, his thumbs brushing along my cheek, under my eyes.

“H-how?” he breathes.

A nervous, breathy laugh escapes me. “My magic.”

“You did this?” he asks, awe in his voice. I realize he keeps blinking because his eyes are glassy. “All on your own?”

I nod and bite my lip again.

“So is it – is it gone?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just… I think I’m stronger than it is.”

It’s his turn to let out a breathy laugh, the corners of his lips turning upward. “That’s amazing.” His hands cradling my face slip back, threading into my hair. “ You’re amazing.”

A blush floods my face as I suppress a grin and shrug. “I am pretty happy about it, not gonna lie.”

He just keeps gazing into my eyes with a look I can only describe as awe. Then his eyebrows pinch together and he frowns.

“I instructed the elves to give you the suppression potion yesterday,” he says. “It should have lasted�� two weeks, maybe more.”

My breath is coming in quicker now because I’m so not ready for this, even though I’d tried to prepare.

My hands come up to hold his forearms and I speak slowly. “My magic is the only thing keeping the curse at bay.” I pull one of his hands away from my face and press it against my chest, where the burning still lingers. “I feel it like… trapped inside me.”

He’s quickly shaking his head. “No, it’s not safe for you. It’s not safe for us .”

…Us? I tuck away that tidbit for later.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” I ask. “I know how to handle myself, it’s not like anyone would find out.”

“It’s not you - “

“It’s them?”

His hands drop from my face and he sighs heavily. “The consequences would be far too steep.”

“Can you even make the potion stronger?” I ask, pulling at strings. “Like what’s it going to take for you to understand it’s going to stop having an effect on me?”

“And what’s it going to take for you to understand that your life’s in danger?” he demands angrily.

“My life’s always in danger!” I snap, releasing my grip on his cloak and taking a step back. “It was in danger the moment I stepped foot in a country where people like you want people like me dead!”

“Fixating on your revenge mission again, are you?” he asks, tone dry. “Believe me when I say that’s a bloody lost cause.”

“Not until he’s dead.”

He scoffs. “What you want is impossible.”

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what needs to happen,” I press. “All this?” I wave my hand between us. “This is just a distraction. No one could possibly care that a single insignificant witch has her magic when everyone’s busy fighting for their lives.”

He stares at me for a moment with an emotion hidden by his usual mask. “You are anything but insignificant.”

His statement has me reeling. I want to lean into how his words make me feel, but a moment of a few deep breaths and my Occlumency shuts that shit down. 

Slowly my head moves side to side. “No, I’m not,” I reply calmly. “If I was, I’d already be dead.” 

Thomus looks like he wants to argue, but he stays silent on the matter. He turns away, beginning to pace, kicking away snow. He’s clearly working up to something, and I don’t know what until he stops in front of me, holding his pointer finger in my direction.

“Promise me,” he says. “You have to promise me that you won’t use your magic. Not when we’re in public, not when we’re at a meeting, anywhere , and no matter the circumstances. I don’t care if someone, including me, is dying in front of you, you will not use it.”

My heart’s racing because holy shit, he’s actually -

I make a face. “I don’t know if I can just let you die in front of me,” I admit slowly. “Can I use it when no one’s around? Like here? And what’re we going to say about the curse?”

He shrugs. “That I just found the right method. No one needs to know the truth.”

I nod, obviously agreeing while trying to hide another grin threatening to break out. “So… can I use it here?”

Thomus hesitantly closes the short distance between us. One hand closes around mine and the other comes back to my cheek. His eyes bounce back and forth between mine and fuck, I missed looking at his face. 

“If you promise me one more thing,” he murmurs, a slight curve to his lips. 

“Let me guess, you want my first born child,” I joke, unable to help myself.

His panty-dropping chuckle melts my insides with his smile. “Promise me you’ll sing more? When I’m around? Not just when you think you’re alone.”

“What?” I ask, genuinely surprised. A blush renews on my cheeks. “I’m not that good of a singer.”

“I could listen to you for hours,” he admits softly. 

A breathy scoff escapes my nose as I softly shake my head. “Sure.” 

Gripping his cloak once again, I rise up onto my tiptoes to meet his lips with mine. I pull back only to say, “I promise.”

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #smut #lust potion #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

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the spare // chapter fifty-six // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3.6k warnings for this chapter: abuse

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Six:

“So you’re just gonna leave?!” I call after him. The door to his room stops just before it can slam shut, but I don’t get a reply.

At first my heart is racing at the revelations, but after a long while of sitting in silence, the shock eventually passes. It’s about the same time the water chills and my chest starts to shudder form the cold.

My mind is anything but silent. I wish he’d come back so I can ask him every question that’s replaced the all-important ‘Why did he buy me?’. The new ones are buzzing around inside my head like flies with nowhere to land. I pull the plug on the tub and stand, not bothering to wait for the tub to drain completely before rinsing under the showerhead.

After awkwardly toweling off with one hand, I head to my room with the towel clutched against my chest. I manage to get on a pair of undies, but give up the idea of a top since I’m just going to bed. The sling isn’t even wet, probably magicked to stay dry.

It’s been a little while since I’ve slept here and I’m grateful I’d put on clean sheets. Even though I’d rather spend my night in Thomus’ bed, it’s probably safe to assume he wants some space after he booked it out of there. The Skelegrow is sitting on my nightstand and I take the Healer’s recommended dose before burying myself under the covers.

The alcohol from earlier makes it easy to drift into unconsciousness. I’m teetering on the edge when the covers move as Thomus slides in behind me, an arm around my middle, his bare chest pressed against my back. I shift towards him and he presses a kiss to my temple.

It’s quiet for a few moments as I gather courage to speak my mind. Because what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? He doesn’t answer me?

When I do speak, my voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Did you think I was dead?” I ask. “Before the auction?”

He breathes a heavy sigh and adjusts his head on the adjacent pillow. “I feel like it was safe to assume after leaving you to bleed out.”

I only laugh once, because it’s morbid, but funny. “Fair enough.”

The only sound in the room is our own breathing while I buffer between the next question. I adjust my good arm, so I can rest my hand over his forearm, my thumb rubbing back and forth in the crook of his elbow.

“What did you mean when you said you were there to support Draco?”

“Exactly how it sounds,” he replies. “He went there with intention. I didn’t.”

“Okay…” I trail off, still confused. I feel like the answer could be staring me in the face, but the math just ain’t mathin’ for me. “And you changed your mind because you were… jealous?” I could hear my doubt dripping off the word as I say it.

“I’m not really sure if it was jealousy,” he admits slowly. “And I’m… not sure if I can explain it.”

Can’t or won’t? “Did you want revenge?”

He makes a bewildered scoff. “For what?”

“Because I kicked your ass the first time we met.”

“You certainly left an impression,” he chuckles. “Wounded my ego mostly.”

“That’s what you get for underestimating me.”

His arm around me tightens. “Serves me right, I suppose.”

“Remember when you were talking to Rabastan at Cliveden and he basically asked why you picked me, was any of that true?” I ask, speaking quickly so I wouldn’t have time to change my mind. It stood out to me at the time, but I haven’t been brave enough to ask until now.

“Partly,” he sighs. “Owning a Lot didn’t appeal to me until… you.”

I let that sink in. “So you just wanted to own me? That’s kinda fucked up.”

He shrugs. “No different than owning a House Elf, really.”

“Both are really fucked up.”

He sighs again. “I know. I’ve… looked into the legality of emancipating our House Elves, but I, myself, don’t have the power to do so. That falls under Lucius’ purview as heir, but even then I’m not sure he’d be able to.”

“Excuses,” I scoff, rolling my eyes in the dark.

“Also, I didn’t want to own you,” he murmurs sleepily. “I just wanted you to be mine.”

I play off my gasp as just another breath, my heart pounding a little harder than before. “Yeah, like there’s such a difference,” I snap dryly.

“There is, but I’m far too tired to explain it to you.”

“Oh come on, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and expect me to –“

His hand jumps up from where it was tucked under my tummy to my jaw, turning my head enough so he could plant a kiss on my mouth. And boy, what a kiss. His lips drag over mine, his tongue dipping into my open mouth. The gentle feel of his lips makes every bone in my body melt. He shifts up onto his elbow, the angle providing him better leverage to take the kiss deeper.

With my mouth thoroughly occupied, his hand slips down to cup between my legs, successfully distracting me from my questions for the rest of the night.

~*~

The Skelegrow heals my clavicle overnight and in the morning Thomus takes the sling off. I barely have time to mentally wake up and drag myself down to eat some kind of breakfast before he’s telling me he got word of a Weasley sighting.

“Oh,” I respond, my shoulders sagging in defeat as I make myself a cup of coffee. “Well, I hope you don’t catch him.”

He rolls up the owl parchment and ignores my comment. “It’s not much of a lead, but I have to do my due diligence.”

I hike up my shorts until my ass cheeks were saying hello and rock my hips from side to side. “Sure I can’t convince you to hang around instead?” I tease with a cheeky tilt to my lips.

Thomus doesn’t bother to hide the fact his eyes zero in on my ass. If he seriously considers, I can’t read it on his face.

He stands from his seat at the table. “As tempting as that may be…” he says as he comes up behind where I stand in front of the counter. One of his hands caresses and squeezes an ass cheek before both of his hands go around my waist, caging me in. “It will have to wait until I get back.”

I turn in his arms and place my hands on the sides of his head to bring his mouth down to me. I kiss him with all the passion I can muster and he eagerly returns it, pressing his body against mine until the counter digs into my back. When I pull away, both of us are out of breath.

I trail my finger down his throat. “Don’t be surprised if I start without you, then.”

The corner of his mouth turns up and he makes a satisfied hum. “Good. I’ll be picturing that.”

His words make me blush and I can’t resist the smile on my own face, too. I try shoving him away, but he pulls me in for one more quick kiss goodbye.

~*~

Being alone gives me far too much time to think, to stew in my thoughts. Thoughts about Thomus mainly.

As if I’d really be thinking about anything else.

His confession that he’d bought me on a whim as a strange impulse buy kind of makes sense. Not the why’s of it, but the evidence. For most of my time here, it’s seemed like he hasn’t known what to do with me. He’d shown no interest in causing me harm and certainly didn’t want to take me to his bed. Not at first obviously.

He’s… different when we’re in public and around others who have certain expectations. It had never needed to be said that I just had to play along, because I always did, even when it didn’t correlate to how things were at home.

If he hadn’t wanted to buy a Lot in the first place, is that why he treats me differently? Does he disapprove of the whole thing? Last night he basically agreed that owning me was fucked up, even though in the past he’d made so much effort to drive in the fact that he does. It makes me wonder where the difference lies to him, where does he draw the line between ownership and being ‘his’.

If he really disapproves of it, how can he participate? He could’ve just set me free, faked my death or something. And hadn’t he captured other women to be Lots or Carrow girls? Like I haven’t imagined what I overheard, have I? Maybe I’m just lacking a whole lot of context. He’d never corrected me when I’d brought it up.

Then is he keeping me for some other reason? When did he find out my connection to Sam? Maybe he saw me as a bargaining chip as an American if – no, when – this whole thing goes south, using me as leverage for his own freedom? Or maybe he really did want to keep an eye on me because of my wandless magic, like Bellatrix said.

The question is on repeat in my head like a broken record – why me? He shouldn’t have given a flying fuck that Goyle was about to publicly assault me. If he wanted a virgin that badly, there were far better options than the fat American with bright pink hair. Even if now he’s admitted to being into what I look like, that wasn’t – couldn’t have always been the case. It just doesn’t make sense.

For whatever reason, it had been me he picked. The Lot that no one else wanted. I want to believe his intentions were good and he just has a hard time admitting it, but I have to prepare for the worst. The last time I’d felt like this for him, right before we had sex for the first time, I’d been so out of my mind with wanting him to want me in the same way. I can’t look at him with rose-tinted glasses just to let him hurt me again.

~*~

Thomus comes home just after I’d gotten into bed. The front door slams and by the time his hurried footsteps make it up the stairs, I’m sitting up, waiting for him. The look on his face when he enters the room immediately puts me on edge.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tossing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side.

He’s panting when he kneels in front of me, gripping the sides of my arms. His eyes are wide with worry and he swallows hard, clearly trying to calm down. He briefly closes his eyes before looking directly into my own.

“Bellatrix is here.”

I let out a heavy breath. “Oh, is that all?” I put a hand over his, trying to reassure him. “What’s the problem, she’s been here before.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “But this time’s different.”

“How?”

“No one besides my brother, Draco and Narcissa knows how you’re treated here,” he explains, trying to catch his breath. “Bella’s already highly suspicious of Draco, and I have no idea what Rodolphus told her, but we… I have to keep up appearances. She must believe that nothing is amiss.”

“Okay, and how do we do that?” I ask. “You’d know better than me how to lie to her.”

Thomus finally breaks eye contact with me, his hands run down my arms to my hands, and he stands, pulling me up with him. The look on his face tells me he already has a plan… and that I’m not going to like it.

He drops me down to one hand and starts for the door. “Come with me.”

He leads me all the way downstairs to the kitchen and opens the back door. It’s misty outside, almost the sprinkley kind of rain. The yellow porchlight is on, and I immediately see why he’s brought me here.

It’s a dog house. A literal dog house with grey siding and a red slanted roof. It’s just plopped into a corner of the back yard near the house, just beside a bush and one of the patio chairs. Grass sticks out from beneath the corners which makes it look as if it’s been here the entire time. There’s a thick metal chain attached to the wall next to the entrance. The other end of it disappears into the structure.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” he promises. As if that could make this better.

I’m speechless. I’m literally speechless. My mouth just hangs agape in shock. His hands fumble with something he’s putting around my neck.

“It’s just the necklace for Edinburgh.” Then he grabs my shoulders and pushes me toward the box. My bare feet hit the cold damp ground and it makes me shiver. He goes around me, picking up the end of the chain and lifts it to my collar. “All you have to do is play along. I’m going to get rid of her as quickly as possible.”

With a gentle push, I’m crouching onto my hands and knees, crawling into the dog house. It’s not as cramped in here as I was expecting, but it’s cold and dark. I’m only in my t-shirt and shorts. I face the door to see Thomus waving his wand, casting a warming charm within the small enclosing. Then he shoves his arm into the box, pulling forward a throw pillow from the house.

Thomus and I are face to face. As he looks as me, he brings a hand up and runs his fingers from my temple to my chin. It’s simultaneously a cold and warm gesture. The act itself, sweet, caring. The look he gives me? It’s the opposite. I see his expression change to a look so callous and detached that it almost scares me.

“Just play along,” he murmurs in a soft voice not befitting his face. “Everything will be fine.”

I can only nod, the heavy chain a burden on my neck.

He leaves and I settle down into the box. I want to keep my face toward the entrance, so I lay on my side. Pillow propped under my head, arms tucked across the my middle, listening to the whispering rain.

I keep my eyes pinned to the door. The light from the window shines right into the hole, but my face remains in the shadows. I can hear the front door open and close, voices drifting across the light breeze. It’s not long before their silhouettes crowd towards the back door.

“A dog house?” Bellatrix trills as the door opens. “I don’t remember a –“

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees it, sees me. Her eyebrows raise and she clucks her tongue, crossing her arms across her chest. “Well, isn’t that a welcoming sight,” she says, showcasing almost genuine surprise. “The self-righteous mudblood’s finally in her place.” A dimple appears in her cheek as she smiles and takes a step toward me, her head cocked to the side, observing me with acute fascination. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Thomus clears his throat.

“Is there a reason for your visit?” he asks.

Her smile drops and she rolls her eyes before facing him. “So quick to have me out?” she pouts. “One would think you’d prefer the dog’s company over mine.”

“How could I ever, Bella?” he soothes, his voice a familiar deep drawl. His expression is warm but cautious as he leans against the door frame, peering down at her as she looks up at him. It makes a painful throb appear beneath my ribs. My tongue is like sandpaper in my mouth while I watch them.

She sighs. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Thom. You know it’s only a matter of time. Whatever your instincts are telling you, they’re wrong.” She steps back, meandering in the sprinkle of rain on the patio concrete. “You are so far in over your head, you won’t even be able to swim your way out of it – and when she inevitably dies, because she will, you know – you will have no one to blame but yourself.”

She’s talking like she’s from a horror movie, crazy-eyed stare and all. To Thomus’ credit, he doesn’t bat an eye. Maybe he’s just so used to her bat-shit crazy talk, it doesn’t faze him anymore.

“Or,” she emphasizes, then drops her voice down to a whisper, her eyes darting around and over her shoulder. “You can let me take care of her. You know I can get you out of this mess without a scratch on you. The pig’s filth won’t be able to tempt you any longer and all your problems will just disappear.”

He remains stone-faced in his reply, his arms crossed over his chest. “As I’ve told you a hundred times, there is nothing between the dog and I because she is a dog. Must I continue to repeat myself?”

One slow, measured step at a time, she backs up towards me. “With all this talk of dogs, I’ve realized I made a mistake.”

Bellatrix suddenly crouches at the entrance, her hand reaching in to yank my left arm out, pressing it flat against the ground with her weight. She leans back enough so the light hits my forearm, the pale words only just visible. A knife appears from within her cloak and her healed boot stomps on the metal chain, preventing me from moving. The tip of the knife trails down my skin, following the lines of the last scars she left. “Oh dear, it seems I did make a mistake. Shall we correct it, Thom?”

When I dare to tear my eyes from Bellatrix, Thomus hasn’t even moved in reaction to what’s happening. He continues to observe calmly, almost bored. From this angle, my eyes can’t be anything but a plea for him to intervene.

He doesn’t of course, because why would he?

She must be waiting for a reaction from him, the knife hovering just over the word ‘pig’. The longer the moment drags on, I see her fingers tighten around the handle and the corner of her mouth tips down.

Then she releases me and stands. I snatch my arm back and watch her strap her knife back inside her cloak as she approaches Thomus again. She cups his cheek in her palm and sighs.

“I hope you’ve got your money’s worth, Thom,” Bellatrix says. “I hope she’s worth every sickle.”

I close my eyes and shrink back into the recess of the dog house because I can’t bear to look at them anymore. The magic of the warming spell has worn off and I’m cold again. Cold and dark and damp.

She audibly pouts. “So stoic anymore. Come! Let’s go discuss our impending dinner plans.”

I hear them shuffle back inside, the door closing in their wake. I grab the throw pillow and pull it in to where I’m tucked against the back wall, shivering.

The kitchen light goes off, the new darkness swallowing me. The rain picks up, too, a breeze circling through the small space makes this even more unbearable.

Another light comes on, dimmer, in a different spot. I shift slightly, my eyes craning up the side of the cottage to see where it’s coming from. My heart leaps into my throat when I see shadows moving around in Thomus’ room. My breathing comes in faster as my eyes desperately try to analyze their movements.

Denial helps me close my eyes and pretend I didn’t see anything. Anger makes me kick walls and punch the floor, yanking at the chains anchoring me to this stupid house. I try bargaining with myself, desperate to live in a reality where I’m not treated like an animal just because of who I am.

And no, I don’t give a fuck that Thomus was supposedly pretending. Bellatrix and the rest of the ton are so not pretending.

The sudden onslaught of depression wracks my body and I feel utterly exhausted, crushed, devastated.

How can I believe anything he’s told me? The seed of hope had planted, sprouted, and got torn up out of the dirt, it’s roots scattered everywhere. Doubt has been tossed in its place, shadowing over every semi-pleasant memory.

This is… this is my life.

The rain picks up again, flashes of light behind my eyes with drums of thunder soon after. The sound of the heavy rain against the roof drowns out my sobs and I’m able to cry myself into the temporary bliss of sleep.

~*~

Rain on a thin wooden roof makes great background noise for sleeping. Lying on the floor reminds me of the naps I used to take in the middle of cleaning my room as a kid. Nothing knocked me the fuck out more than that.

I’m woken from the kind of sleep that makes you forget time and place even exist. My head still feels heavy even after warm hands remove the tight restraints around my neck. I barely hear the chains clatter and clink outside before someone moves into the small space behind me. They curl up against my back, their arm and shoulder draped over me, pulling into me so close their breathing dulls the rain.

I feel warm again, and sleep lures me back in with the promise of comfort and oblivion for just a little bit longer.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. If this fic is getting too long/you want it to end already pls don't tell me.

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the spare // chapter sixty-one // death eater ! tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 2.8k

warnings for this chapter: smut, bjs, fingering, choking

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-One:

“Melisa, you have to control it!”

The great swirling mass knocks me on my ass again. Breathless, lightheaded, and frustrated as fuck, I glare at Professor Higgins and bite back the profanity on the tip of my tongue. Wind whips his short white hair about his head, my pink strands start to swirl within my vision.

Thunder cracks, the booming sound my only warning before the mass charges toward me like a Graphorn. I throw my hand up, the spell sputtering out of my mouth. “P-piert-to –“

The cloudy mass gets too close and I roll out of its way just in time. It’s behind me, out of sight, and just as I get to my feet, I’m knocked down again.

“Come on, don’t give up just yet!” Higgins calls.

“I haven’t given up!” I snap angrily, shoving my fists into the dirt to push myself to my knees. “The damn thing just –“

Another loud crack of thunder and the wind picks up, drowning out my words. The mass hovers, dark clouds churning with growing speed. Flashes of lightning strike from within its core, spreading like white veins just beneath the misty surface. I watch in horror as the mass gets sucked into its center, almost disappearing completely before exploding outward with a roar. The black clouds cover the sky, pouring rain upon us.

“Now’s the time!” I look to Higgins at his words. Even as the rain runs rivulets down his  face, he grins encouragingly and gives me a thumbs up. “It’s waiting for you!”

My eyes are wide as saucers as I stare up at the sky, mouth agape, lips trying to form the words. Lightning flies across the clouds and the thunder in its wake makes my very bones tremble.

My shoulders rise as I inhale, trying to suck in the magic thick in the air. “Pierto – !”

I’m woken by Thomus trying to gently slide out from under me. I peel my cheek from his chest, making a face when I feel a little puddle of drool smear across my chin. Propping myself up on my elbow, I quickly wipe it away with the heel of my hand.

I’m not quite awake yet and so it takes me until this moment to realize I’d been dreaming. There’s a strange sense of déjà vu. I’m convinced it never happened and yet… it was all so familiar.

He’s still trying to slide away, so I secure my foot on the other side of his thigh. I slip my hand under his side and nestle my face into his neck, sleepily planting kisses along his jaw. His beard has grown long enough that it’s not scratchy, just soft.

Tension leaves his body as he relaxes beneath me. I lift my head and trail my lips to his, kissing him sweetly. He returns the kiss, the arm draped over my shoulder brings his hand to the back of my head. His other hand cups my cheek.

He pulls back enough to say something, lips whispering over mine. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he holds my head and tries to reposition himself, backing out of bed.

I have enough movement to shake my head. I don’t want him to leave. He needs to stay and answer my questions. He needs to stay because I miss him when he’s gone.

Since my hand tucked into his side did absolutely nothing, I move it to his shoulder and shove him back down. My lips immediately find his chest, dragging kisses down his sternum. He releases my head as I slide down the bed, my fingers and lips trace down his little happy trail along his stomach.

When I’m at his pelvis, my hand continues until it finds him, hard and hot against my palm. I feel the blanket get shoved away as I kiss around the base of his cock. He smells of sex and sweat with the barest hints of his usual scent, a heady combination that has me throbbing between my legs. My flattened tongue drags up the underside of his cock, circling around the head before diving back down to his base, smoothly scooping a sack into my mouth. I suck lightly, my tongue lathing at the skin. Thomus squirms, thighs moving beneath my breasts as his hips roll.

As my mouth finally wraps around the head of him, I realize he tastes like sex, too. Slightly sticky, tangy, and salty, it makes my mouth water. I let it drip down his length, my hand comes up to pump him beneath my lips, using my saliva as lube. His tip is leaking pre-cum when I suck, bobbing my head up and down.

My elbow supporting my weight, I tuck my forearm along his side, my hand pressed flat along his ribs. He’s breathing heavily and I feel a burst of vibration when my tongue laps the underside of his head.

His hips won’t keep still and his hand scoops up my hair, fisting it at the back of my head. His grip is tight as he pulls and soon he’s guiding my head, slowly dragging his cock out of my mouth. Then he’s pushing my head back down, filling my mouth until his head hits the back of my throat and I gag. He immediately lightens his hold, but after a brief second to pull air in through my nose, I push myself down on his cock. He’s probing my throat and I repeatedly close it around his head.

There’s another more prominent vibration from his chest and I feel his sack tighten beneath my hand before his cum floods the back of my throat. His cock throbs and pulses on my tongue. My head lifts slightly as I continue to swallow around him, but his hand on my head holds me down. I dispel air through my lungs like I’m moaning.

I would definitely moan if I could. I press my thighs together, feeling how slick I am as I continue to drink in his orgasm. His hand lightens on my head as his pleasure dims and I give him one last good suck before pulling my mouth off.

I can’t keep the smile off my face as I push myself up, a hand running along his inner thigh.

My smile vanishes when I feel him sit up, his hand snapping to my throat. My breath comes out in pants as his long, strong fingers press in and squeeze. His lips brush my cheek when he releases the pressure and the lightheaded feeling makes my eyes roll back. He keeps his hold as he kisses me, his tongue diving into my mouth, no doubt tasting himself.

After a moment, he’s guiding me again. His hand still on my throat, he maneuvers me until I’m kneeling on the bed. My thighs are spread wide and I rest my butt on my heels as his other hand slips beneath me. His fingers slide up and down my slit, spreading my arousal around, my hips rocking as he circles my clit.

My chest heaves as his fingers squeeze my throat again, the ones between my legs slipping into my pussy. They go knuckle deep as I press my weight down. Just as he curls them against my g-spot, he loosens the ones at my neck. Blood rushes in and my hips roll against his hand, my head swimming with pleasure.

He quickly squeezes again, his thumb finding my clit as his fingers massage inside me. My internal muscles clench around his digits and my hips rock against his hand as if I were straddling him. One of my hands clutches his forearm, the one attached to the hand around my neck, my other braced on his shoulder at the crook of his neck.

He leans forward his forehead pressing against mine. I’d try to kiss him, but I’m too busy panting. My hips grind down on his hand, pumping his fingers in and out. My orgasms so close.

His fingers do a quick release on my neck before pressing in harder than before. The brief rush propels my hips to jerk uncontrollably, desperately fucking his hand.

My eyes roll into the back of my head and my lungs cease to work when my orgasm hits. It crashes into me like a tidal wave when he lightens his hold on my throat. All the blood rushes to my head and my jaw drops with a silent scream. My hand on his shoulder and his on my neck is the only reason I stay upright as my head drowns, giving in to the dizziness as my pussy contracts around his fingers.

My movements come to a stop altogether as I settle down. He removes his hand from between my legs and I feel him bring it to his mouth. When it falls away, he kisses me, and I can  taste myself on his tongue.

Then his hands drop from me. Mine are still on him so I can feel him turn, putting his back to me as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. I grab his shoulders and quickly crawl after him, pressing my chest against his back.

With one hand on his chest, my arms draped around him, I use my other to fingerspell stay. My cheek is in his hair and I feel when he shakes his head.

He puts his hand against my palm. C – A – N – T

I hug him tighter to me and use one letter to press for answers. Y?

Thomus shakes his head again. B – U – S – Y

The serotonin and dopamine that had flooded my body quickly drains. Busy doing what? Death Eater stuff? Hunting down George or maybe a curse breaker? Whatever it is, it’s taking him away.

My lips drop to his shoulder and I squeeze my eyes shut as I hug him. My chest hitches on a breath as I try not to cry. My fingers start to form more letters, asking a question I’m dreading the answer to.

F – I – X – M – E ?

His chest expands with a heavy sigh and his hand just pats the back of mine. Is that it? Is that the only answer I’m getting? What does that even mean?

He leans his head back against me for a brief moment before he grabs my wrists, gently prying me off. I let him go without any fuss, barely keeping my emotions under control. I keep my eyes closed to fight off tears from falling down my cheeks.

I just want answers. I just want reassurance. Does he just not want to sign? Is communicating with me too much trouble for him to bother?

Or am I asking for too much? Am all I good for now is a bed partner? The classic trope of a whore who catches feelings for someone who won’t ever return them.

I grab the sheet and pull it up to my shoulders, shielding my body from him as he stands. Under the sheet, I move until I’m on my butt, waiting for him to interact with me. Waiting for his inevitable goodbye.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, I feel the now-familiar elf hand on my shoulder after they’ve climbed onto the bed. I give them my hand, so they can guide it to a stack of neatly folded clothes, my outfit for the day.

I ask where Thomus is and the elf’s tiny fingers tell me he’s gone.

~*~

Thomus’ absence eats away at me. I shouldn’t think about it as much as I do, but I can’t help it. Despite being surrounded by people, I feel even more isolated than I did back at the cottage.

Communication with everyone remains difficult. I ask Hermione how her “project” is going, but I quickly get lost as she tries to explain it. Her fingers move fast in her excitement and I have to frequently request she repeat herself. The repetition doesn’t make her letters clearer, it slurs them, makes them less defined and harder to read. I retain a polite façade, pretending to understand her.

Narcissa chatters. Mainly about common everyday things, things that don’t particularly pique my interest, but I have no plans to ever stop her. I don’t know if she does it to make me feel better, or if she’s naturally like this. Either way I appreciate her patient efforts to talk to me.

Several days after Thomus’ last visit, I break and I ask Draco about him. Hermione helps translate a bit. I ask if he knows what Thomus has been up to recently.

Besides his usual hunt for George, Draco doesn’t know. He explains Thomus often gets tasked with tracking, whether its Death Eater deserters or rebels who’ve made some noise amongst their radar.

That night they go to Edinburgh, and the next afternoon when I meet Hermione in the library, she explains that Draco won’t helping her any longer. I ask if she wants to talk about it, and she simply responds that they’d had opposing views on what to do with her research, once completed. Once she’d figured out a way free of the tattoos, what would she do with it?

Just from fingerspelling and signs, I can’t tell how she feels about it. She only says she doesn’t have a plan yet.

Which, fair enough. It’s a lot to think about. I told her if she figures out, I’d happily volunteer as a guinea pig.

Even if I have to stay – stay to participate in whatever Kyle’s plans are, I’d like the option to bail. I want to trust him, but I don’t want my life completely in his hands. My guts tellin’ me… something. I don’t think he’s entirely bad, there’s just this… ruthlessness about him that sets my anxiety alight.

And currently, my anxiety’s already through the roof. No matter how many times I pass the hook-shaped rock through my fingers, I don’t feel any better. I just wish he was here. I just wish he'd stick around long enough to talk to me.

~*~

A few days after Hermione tells me about Draco, an elf retrieves me from Thomus’ bedroom. They don’t tell me where I’m going, they just pat my hand reassuringly before Apparating me. When I arrive wherever they’ve taken me, two hands shove at my shoulders, pushing me into a chair. By the feel of it, it’s a chair from the dining room.

My hands feel the space around me. I’m far away from the dining table – if I’m in that room at all. From the smell, it might be the library. After a moment, my hands drop and I rest my elbows on the armrests.

A vial gets put into my hand, and I sigh dejectedly. What’s all this for, if it’s just the suppression potion? Plus, I was given it two days ago. I bring it to my nose, expecting the Pepto-Bismol smell, but instead smell something lighter. Slightly acidic in an unappetizing lemon way.

Someone pushes at the bottom of the vial, encouraging me to drink. I do and find the potion tastes sweeter than it smells, but it hits my stomach like actual acid. Gagging, I bring my hand up to cover my mouth, choking down vomit. A hand pulls at my wrist and pushes my upper back, causing me to lean forward. My hands grapple a metal bin thrust before me and I release the puke.

I haven’t puked since… since Montague. The force and violence of the sensation rings in my memory, Thomus’ magical lock box in my head barely containing it.

When I’m done, I shove the bin away and lean my head against the high back, focusing on deep breaths. I’m startled to feel cool fingers press along my forehead and I wave them away, embarrassed by the feeling of sweat beading at my hairline.

I sit up straight in my chair again, fighting through the sudden exhaustion I feel after puking.

I freeze when a wand taps my forehead. I can tell it’s a wand by how much it bounced off my head, like it was tapping a table top. A slight breeze blows across my face, my hair tickling my neck as it billows. An overwhelming feeling of dread and anxiety settles heavily in my stomach, and I feel on the verge of puking again.

I close my eyes as my head swims, my fingers coming up to cover my mouth, to force it closed if necessary. Nausea always makes me want to die. It’s no different here. I wish someone would tell me what’s going on. I’d stand to leave, but I don’t trust myself quite yet.

Pressure makes its way from my stomach to my chest, floating up to my head as I lean back against the chair again, waiting for it to burst.

Then the pressure dissipates, floating back down to my stomach until I can’t feel it any longer. My head feels light, but in a good way. My ears pop and I can breathe normally again without fear.

As I breathe, I realize it’s not as loud as it was before. Neither is my heartbeat, though I can still feel it thumping away steadily.

Before I can assess anything else, someone speaks, and my heart might as well have stopped when I instantly recognize Thomus’ voice.

“Did it work?”

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #smut #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-nine // death eater ! tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3.2k warnings for this chapter: none

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Nine:

My eyes are open. That I know.

I can feel myself blinking – stupid rapid little flutters, but nothing changes. Had Rodolphus extinguished the torch while my eyes were closed? All I can see is black.

My scream had stopped mid-breath. I know my lungs expunged the air, but why couldn’t I hear my scream?

My breathing has gotten louder, echoing inside my head like I’m under water, and I’m strangely more aware of my heartbeat. It’s throbbing like crazy within my chest, pulse drumming steadily in my ears. My hands are still positioned beside my head so I snap my fingers, twisting my ear towards it, where the sound should be.

But there’s nothing.

What the fuck has Rodolphus done to me?

Rodolphus is still on top of me, straddling my hips and thighs. I say his name, my lips and tongue forming around the sounds, and I don’t hear it. He puts his finger to my mouth like he’s trying to shush me. There’s still blood on his finger and the metallic taste seeps between my lips.

Get off me, I growl through clenched teeth.

He relieves some of his weight by leaning forward on his knees, a hand braced on the floor next to my waist. He hovers over me, wine tinted breath blowing across my face. I turn away from the stench and he dives for my throat, his teeth sinking into a new spot under the corner of my jaw.

I scream some more, bucking my hips and shoulders in attempt to dislodge him, but that only makes him bite harder. His tongue swishes against the skin between his teeth and by the time he pulls away, the bite is soaked with his saliva. I feel it pulse and ache when I swallow.

I feel a rush of relief when his weight disappears off me. A moment later the floor trembles faintly with a strong and abrupt vibration.

Did he just… leave? Was that the door closing?

My hands are freed from the floor and I quickly sit up, only to pause when my head spins. I shake off the feeling and stand, needing to brace myself against the wall.

I glide my fingers along the stone wall, trying to get a sense of where I am in the room. Moving to my right, the wall falls back, revealing an edge, and when my fingers feel wood, I know I’ve found the door.

I try for the handle, but of course it’s locked.

My fingers curl into my palm and I bang my fists against the door. Maybe they’ll let me out if I make enough noise – if I’m actually making any noise at all. I can feel dull thumps and the door shaking a bit on its hinges, but that’s it.

Frustrated, I move on, continuing right. If I didn’t completely lose my mind, the cell barrier should be immediately next to the doorway, and I’m relieved when my fingers brush over the bars.

Okay, so if I’m right by the door, then across from me should be where the torch is. I shuffle towards it, my arm outstretched. My fingers come in contact with the wall again, and a sudden hot feeling next to my face has me jerking back. With my face away from the heat, I feel the base of the torch.

I blink again, staring right at what should be the flames. It’s extremely disorienting to see absolutely nothing but black when there’s light inches from my face.

I snap my fingers by both ears this time. When there’s no sound, I rub the side of my head near my temples, and scratch my hair line. I hear some kind of sound, but it’s as if my ears are clogged all the way to my ear drums.

Motherfucker turned me into fucking Hellen Keller.

I turn and move back, until I’m pressed against the wall and slide down. How the fuck am I gonna get out of here? I don’t have my magic and I’m missing two of the five basic senses. All I can do is sit here and wait for Rodolphus’ plan to unfold. I don’t hold much hope for Thomus rescuing me. He let Rodolphus take me in the first place.

But could he have just been playing along? Like he’d told me with Bellatrix?

A touch to my hand startles me from my thoughts and I yank my hand away, wondering briefly if Rodolphus has been in here this whole time. I quickly remember it’s just Ron.

I scoot closer to the barrier, leaning against it. Tentatively I put a hand through a gap in the bars. I feel his shirt, I think, his chest rising and falling beneath it. He takes my hand in his and I put my other hand through, closing around his. His hands are cold and boney, fingers slimmer than I remember them being.

Selfishly, I’m so grateful that he’s here. We hadn’t exactly talked much while we’d been on the run. When he did talk to me, it was mostly about his family, and I could tell how much he missed them. He’s someone familiar.

I’m sorry if I don’t respond to you, I can’t hear anything, I tell him.

A few moments pass and then I feel him move, his other arm brushing against mine as he pushes his hand through the bars. With the hand I’m holding he touches it to his face, my palm against his cheek. His fingers tentatively touch my lips and he shakes his head.

Am I being too loud? I ask, hopefully softer this time.

Another long moment passes before he shakes his head again. The fingers on my lips pull away and he pokes a single finger against my chest. Then his head shakes and I feel his fingers on my lips again.

My head tilts and my brows pinch together as I frown. He doesn’t want me to speak at all?

What? I ask.

He moves my hand to the side of his face until my fingers are touching his ear. He points to me again, then taps my lips and taps his fingers over mine on his ear, shaking his head.

Oh.

It’s not that I’m being too loud or that I shouldn’t talk. He can’t hear me.

I briefly consider the possibility that they’d taken his hearing as well, but remember he’d been listening and able to respond when Rabastan was bullying him earlier.

I pull the hand on his face back and touch my mouth. With my lips closed I attempt to hum, but there’s no vibration tickling the inside of my lips. My hand moves to my throat as I continue to hum and become further distressed when I can’t feel the vibrations where they’re supposed to be.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the bars, mouthing curses to myself.

Suddenly Ron yanks his hands away from mine, pushing at my shoulder. I flatten a hand on the ground and feel when there’s another strong vibration. He hears someone coming.

Ron pushes at my shoulder again and something drops into my lap. I grab it before I get to my feet, careful to avoid the torch’s heat. It’s a metal cup.

With two long, unconfident strides I’m across the room behind where the door will open. My back presses against the wall and I keep a hand over the edge of the doorway, fingertips touching the wood. As the door swings open, I raise the cup over my head.

Warm fingers encase the wrist of the hand on the door and the persons other arm goes around my waist as they pull me towards them. When my body’s against theirs, my arm comes barreling towards them. With their breath on my face I try to imagine where their head is so the cup can smash into it.

My forearm smacks against their shoulder and the cup flies out of my hand. The reason their head isn’t where I thought is because it’s much closer to mine than I’d realized.

If Rodolphus thinks that because he took away some vital senses, I’m just going to be docile, then he’s got another thing coming.

I tear my wrist out of his hold, shoving at his shoulder and chest. I kick at his legs with my knees before stomping my feet over top his. My other hand grabs a fistful of his hair and just before I yank on it, I stop entirely.

The hair – it’s curly and soft. Wonderfully familiar.

I breathe through my nose and the comforting scent of cedar and pine fills my nostrils.

Thomus.

I fling my arms around his shoulders and I immediately hate myself for forgetting how they feel, how he feels against me. He’s so strong and tall and firm against my body, perfectly balanced with his.

If I have any doubts its him, they evaporate the moment his other arm joins the one around my waist. His lips descend to mine, so wonderfully familiar, I know its him without a shadow of a doubt. Then he kisses down my cheek to my neck and I quickly guide him to where Rodolphus’ bite mark is.

Once he realizes what it is, his body pins mine against the wall before he reclaims the marking with one of his own. My lungs expel a moan that no one can hear as he sucks and pulls at my neck with a sharper force than he ever has. His tongue swipes over it repeatedly and my body squirms under the intense sensation.

Eventually his mouth unlocks from my neck and finds my ear. I feel his lips move and vibrate against my ear, but there’s no sound. Not even his warm breath. He’s saying something and I have no clue what it is.

I shake my head – the simplest form of communication I can think of that he would understand.

His hands grab either side of my face and guide me around the room, pulling me forward only to turn me around until my back is to another wall. Then he tilts my face up and the warmth I feel tells me he’s moved me by the torch. His hands leave my face and pat down my body. Checking me for injuries, I assume.

When he finds nothing, he cups my face again and then freezes for a few moments. Is he staring at the cut on my cheek? The blood dripping across my face? Maybe he’s trying to read the markings in blood Rodolphus left on me.

I bring my hands up to touch my chest, but as my fingertips graze my skin, I’m shocked that I don’t feel the dried blood on me. The shock quickly turns to panic as I have my full hand covering my chest, not feeling a dry speck anywhere. The markings were the key to figuring out what Rodolphus had done to me. Without them…

Thomus grabs my wrist and starts pulling me along. We leave the dungeon behind and go back upstairs to the main floor. I have my free hand up in front of me to prevent me from running into anything as I’m blindly – literally – being guided through the Rabastan’s place.

I stumble into Thomus when he stops and yanks me to the side. My hand brushes over a door frame as we pass it, but don’t seem to go far into the room because my hand hovers on it.

Sometime later I’m being backed out the way we came and it’s a miracle I don’t trip over my own feet. We don’t stop until Thomus pauses to grab my arm over the tattoo and the warmth of flames engulf us as we step through them.

I know we’re not at the cottage because of the floor. The cottage has carpeted living room. This is smooth and there’s a strange tap that I feel as I walk over it. Thomus leads me for awhile, pausing before the whoosh of air from a door flows over me. He pulls me again until he grabs my upper arms, backing me up until my legs hit a cold fabric. My hands feel around for me as he pushes me down, encouraging me to sit. It’s a leather couch.

I wave him off when he tries to help me further, but I can very well sit my ass on a couch on my own. I slip off my flats and curl my legs under me as I settle against the arm rest.

~*~

I sit there for a long while. My mind replays everything that happened, wishing I’d fought him off more than I had. Maybe I should’ve played hookie and pretended to be too sick to come tonight.

My legs get too stiff and so I uncurl them, letting my feet hit the cold… wooden floor. I think there were leather couches in the library. Why did Thomus bring me here?

My bare feet feel movement and vibrations from the floor like someone’s walking around. Based on the strength, maybe multiple someone’s. Fuck, I wish I knew what was going on.

I took three years of American Sign Language in high school, but I’d always been better at reading it instead of signing myself. Not to mention, British sign is completely different. Even though both countries speak English, the U.S. takes after France when it comes to sign language. I hesitate to even try to communicate with sign because of this. Who here would understand me? Would I just look like a fucking idiot? I only remember a few basic signs and how to fingerspell.

I yawn and realize how dry my mouth is. It gives me an idea, a place to start, at least.

Someone sits down next to me, the cushions of the couch shifting under their weight. A hand touches my own and I turn towards them. I expect it to be Thomus, but the hand feels feminine. If I remembered correctly, Narcissa had longer nails than Hermione. The nails are clipped and neat. Slowly, I run my hand up to her shoulder and when I feel her soft fluffy hair, I’m further convinced it’s Hermione.

Thank god, someone with brains who might understand me.

My first three fingers form a ‘W’ and I bring it up to my lips. They form around the ‘W’ sound as I repeatedly touch my pointer finger to it. I tilt my head to indicate it’s a question. Then I pretend I’m drinking from a cup by shaping my hand and tipping my head back.

I stop when I feel something sharp nudge my knee. My hand comes down and realize it’s an opened book propped in her lap.

The hand covering mine dips under it, her fingers forming letters against my palm. W – A – T – E – R

Grinning, I nod my head and make the sign again. Then I take my fist and lift it up and down by the wrist, seconds later followed by me finger spelling yes.

I assume they send for water because Hermione starts signing something else. F – L – U – E – N – T pause A – S – L

I quickly shake my head while spelling out remember. I make sure to do it slowly. Next I hold out my hand flat and tilt it up and down for somewhat or kind of.

Her fingers start to move and I cover it with both of my hands this time. R – O – D – O – L – P – H – O – U – S

I sigh heavily, knowing this was going to be a long night.

~*~

A couple painstaking hours later, I’ve somehow managed to communicate what happened. I can’t see or hear or speak because of something Rodolphus has written on my chest in blood.  

She doesn’t really explain anything in return, just continues to ask questions with her fingers. I use signs that I remember and fingerspell the rest. This seems to be enough for now, even if it takes a few moments to find the sign I’m using in the book. I can feel the pages move as she quickly flips through it.

There comes a time when she doesn’t sign anything, seemingly being in decisive. Then she spells Goodnight. Morning Talk. Her fingers move confidently and I’m relieved she’s been able to pick it up so quickly.

I smile and wave in the direction I think she is once the couch shifts once more when she stands.

I wait for someone else to come up to me, hopefully Thomus, but only a tiny hand wraps around two of my fingers. I assume it’s an elf based on how strong their pull is as they encourage me to my feet. After I stand, my free arm moves about, searching for him. How else am I going to get back to the manor?

It’s strange how much relief and comfort his touch brings the moment his hand is on mine. It runs up my arm until both of his arms encase me in a hug. I hug him back while still attached to the elf. He pulls back slightly and cups my face, placing gentle kisses on my lips and tired eyes.

Thomus points a finger to my chest then puts his hand in the palm of my free one, his fingers forming letters. B – E – D

I nod, excited for bed because I’m exhausted.

I repeat the sign, asking if he’s coming with me. He puts my hand on his cheek and shakes his head.

Either he’s staying up or we’re just not sharing a bed. I want to protest, but I don’t have the energy. His reasons for sleeping separately aren’t known to me, and I think its wishful thinking to believe they have nothing to do with Bellatrix. Even if he says he didn’t sleep with her, years of self-doubt and insecurity come to that conclusion for me.

The moment he pulls away from me completely, I feel my face fall. I tell myself it’s from exhaustion and not disappointment.

The elf squeezes my fingers and the familiar sensation of Apparating overtakes my body. The lingering smell of Thomus still surrounds me and I’m trying to figure out where they’ve taken me when I reach out my hand. It comes into contact with a bed.

If Thomus himself didn’t take me home, then we must be staying at the Manor for the night. Or at least I am.

I give a small smile down in the direction that I think the elf is and sign thank you. Pulling my hand from their grasp, I feel along the bed until I come to the side I usually sleep. After I crawl in, I shimmy the dress over my head from under the covers. I want to assume the elf has left but this is just to be safe.

Once the only clothes I have left are my undies, I curl onto my side. An arm is stretched out to the other side, hoping that I’ll wake if Thomus slips in. That hug and goodnight kiss weren’t enough for me and I regret not asking him for more than that.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au #deaf and blindness

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-seven // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

word count for this chapter: 2.5k warings for this chapter: none

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Seven:

The next time I wake my body is entirely too stiff. When I open my eyes, it’s barely morning, everything beyond the doorway of the dog house tinted blue.

I’m warm, though, really warm. I’m wrapped up in something, cocooned. Based on smell alone, I realize it’s Thomus’ cloak. He’s behind me, arm over my stomach, legs tucked tight behind mine. I can feel his deep even breathing, hear it next to my head on the throw pillow we’re somehow sharing.

Slowly, I lift his arm, scooching out of his embrace and the cloak without disturbing his sleep. I push up onto my hands and knees, crawling out onto the damp grass. Then I stand and stretch, thrusting my hands into the sky. I bend down to touch my toes and notice the golden choker discarded a few feet from the dog house, like it was tossed there without care. Good.

When I straighten, I’m shocked to see an owl perched on the back of a patio chair. It’s got a definitive circle around it’s white face and pitch black eyes the size of marbles. I freeze and we just stare at each other for a hot second before the owl’s hackles start to rise, it’s wings restless.

“Shh,” I coo softly at it, taking a step forward. The owl’s head twists to an almost unnatural angle as it shoves one foot forward while balancing on the other, and I realize it’s got a scroll tied to it.  

I glance back at Thomus to make sure he’s still passed out before rushing to the owl and taking the scroll. As soon as the scroll’s in my head, the owl departs. While my fingers fumble with opening the scroll, my eyes follow its flight path into the trees towards the creek. When it’s gone, my eyes scan the paper.

meet me at the creek – KG

K.G… Kyle... Goldman? It’s gotta be.

With the paper crumpled in my fist, I make my way through the damp grass to the path to the creek. I check over my shoulder every few seconds and don’t stop until the cottage is no longer visible beyond the trees.

Next to the creek I walk slower, my eyes scanning for movement, for anything out of place… for a disillusionment charm.

And there, on a fallen tree across the creek, the familiar shimmer catches my eye. I stop and stare at it, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What do you want?” I ask, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the bubbling water, but soft enough my voice won’t carry to the cottage.

Kyle chuckles as he sheds the disillusionment charm. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

“Thomus could wake up at any moment and will wonder where I am, so make this quick.”

He just stares, quietly assessing me without the humor from a moment ago. “I wanted an update on the magic suppression situation.”

I bite my lip. I don’t wanna lie, but I have a feeling he isn’t going to like the truth.

“It’s… fine.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Just… fine?”

“The ones you gave me, didn’t really affect me, especially the third one. The batch he was giving me was already stronger than what they were giving us at the start.”

“That’s what I’d given you. I’d managed to scrounge up some left over vials from a contact at the Ministry.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “How did the stronger batch affect you?”

I shift my feet, trying to adjust to where the rocks aren’t killing me. “Three days was the minimum, but it was easy to do magic than when I’d tried any other time.”

“Well, that’s great,” he says, clearly pleased. “Do you think you’ll be able to do it in less than three days?”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

The satisfied look on his face disappears as his eyes narrow and he frowns. But I go on.

“I don’t know because Malfoy had been… suspicious, and so he made it stronger.”

“Did you give him a reason to be suspicious?”

“Not really,” I shrug. “I think he’d believed I was using Occlumency.”

“How long is it taking you with the new batch?”

I shrug again. “Today’s the third day, so I don’t know yet. I’ve only taken the new batch once.”

He gives me an expectant look. “Try it right now, then.”

I hold out my hand, palm up. I stare at my palm, wordlessly trying to cast the illumination charm. The familiar ball of light doesn’t appear and I don’t bother trying to cast the spell verbally.

With his eyes on me, the anxiety in my chest is pounding in beat with my heart. I get down on one knee, touching my fingers to the damp ground.

“Electrovis,” I mutter, but the heat that usually pour from my fingers with the spell doesn’t come. I repeat the spell and wind up with the same effect. My fingers are even colder than they were before actually.

“Does it come out under pressure?” he asks. “Say if you were in a situation where you needed it, if your life was in danger.”

“It’s a mixed bag with that one,” I admit, standing and brushing the crud off my calf. “My magic doesn’t seem to care how much danger I think I’m in.”

“So, theoretically, let’s say Dementors attacked you, you don’t think that would be any sort of catalyst?”

When I straighten, it’s my turn to narrow my eyes at him. He’s looking at me calmly, without any sort of misgivings about what he said.

“Dementors?” I ask, my voice flat. Thomus had been sure it wasn’t Bellatrix, but he hadn’t been sure about Rodolphus. Meanwhile I think Rodolphus wouldn’t send a third party, at least not with me, at least not after what happened.

But Kyle?

“Did you send them?” I ask, point blank. “The Dementors?”

He releases a humorless laugh and breaks our eye contact. “I guess my question wasn’t subtle.”

“And I’m not an idiot.” I want to scream at him. How could he? “Why did you send them?” I demand angrily.

“It was just a test,” he says smoothly.

“A fucking dangerous one!” I hiss. “Thomus almost –“ I stop, breathing heavily through my nose to calm down. “It was fucking pointless. I already had my magic. Now that’s the reason he made the potion stronger.”

His head tilts, his tone is accusatory. “You exposed yourself.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I bite. “Malfoy can’t produce a Patronus charm.”

“Most Death Eaters can’t from what I’ve heard,” he shrugs. “Too much dark magic.”

“So you knew there was a possibility we’d both die?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to perform under pressure,” he says casually. “The threat of rape didn’t seem to be a strong enough motivator.”

My jaw actually drops this time. “What the actual –“  

He ignores me. “As it happens, the test didn’t prove to be fruitless. There’d been a few things I hadn’t anticipated.”

“Like what?” I fume.

“Malfoy’s a liability,” he states. “You care for him and because of that, you’ll need to be separated.”

My mouth falls open again, but I quickly shut it, my mind whirling. “How is that the conclusion?”

“The attack proved that you will risk the entire operation by exposing yourself just to save him.”

The new perspective on the situation has me stunned and momentarily speechless.

“Severing ties with Malfoy will be the only way to get you close to Voldemort.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “There has to be another option besides his death.”

He starts shaking his head. “There is no –“

“If you want me to cooperate, then he stays alive. If you don’t know how to do that, figure it out.” As I glare at him, I hope then venom in my voice conveys my seriousness.

He stands, glaring right back. “This war has to end.”

“No shit Sherlock,” I snap. “Answer me this, do you know how I’m gonna get close to Voldemort?”

“The first step is severing –“

“Ties with Malfoy, yeah, okay, what’s after that? Do you know who’s going to buy me? Is it you?”

He scoffs, pinching the bridge between his nose. “I can’t believe this,” he mutters.

“Oh, so that’s something else you need to figure out.” I bring my hands together and give him a fake ass smile. “Great. So while you do that, I’ll work on my immunity to the suppression potion. You got that?”

He scowls with his hands on his hips, looking absolutely done with me. Well, the feeling’s fucking mutual.

“Got it,” he snaps.

“Great,” I repeat and turn my back to him, heading for the cottage. I hear rustling leaves and when I glance back, Kyle’s gone.

I get to the edge of the woods and pause, needing a moment to calm down. I’m too worked up for it being, what – barely 8 in the morning? Though I guess I have good reason to be worked up. From Rodolphus’ attack to being chained up while Bellatrix holds a knife to me seems like enough.

After calming a bit, I march up the back yard. Thomus isn’t in the dog house when I get to the patio. In fact, the dog house isn’t even there. All that remains is a square outline pressed in the grass from where it used to be. The chains and choker had been gathered up as well.

I wish this didn’t upset me. I know what happened last night, but seeing it in the morning hasn’t made anything better. I still feel… crushed.

I go inside and upstairs. I’m in need of a shower after sleeping outside in a wooden box.

Thomus has just finished his, as evidenced by the steamy bathroom. As I turn on the faucet and showerhead, I’m already mentally cursing him for potentially not leaving me any hot water.

“Enjoy your walk?” Thomus asks from the open door to his room. He walks into view, dressed in slim pants and an open belt, toweling off his hair. “The mornings are pretty here.”

I close the door to my room and walk over to his. “It was fine,” I reply without looking at him before closing and locking the door.

~*~

After my shower, I find Thomus downstairs with two mugs of steaming coffee already on the table. He’s gathering what looks like the makings of scrambled eggs. I don’t acknowledge him and shove two slices of bread into the toaster.

“Would you like me to make you an omelet?” he asks, his tone a little unsure.

“Nope,” I say, moving around him to pour cream and sugar into my coffee.

Normally, I’d probably sit and watch him try to make an omelet. As far as I know, he can’t cook, but I’m not in the mood.

“I see.” He sounds disappointed.

I grab a plate, butter, and a butter knife just before the toast pops up, and all without really looking at him.

Is this childish? Sure. Do I know what to do with how I feel? Not at all. Do I even know what I'm upset about? No sir-eee.

With my toast buttered and my coffee creamed, I head into the living room and settle on the couch to re-watch Ever After for the millionth time.

The blue titles have just faded in and out when Thomus emerges from the kitchen, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorway. I only see him in my peripheral, preferring to keep my focus on the screen.

“Need something?” I ask after taking a sip of my coffee.

“There’s a dinner on Friday,” he says. “A… familial one, at the Lestrange estate.”

The one slice of toast I’d managed to consume in the last ten minutes turns to lead in my stomach. I grab the remote and pause the movie, finally looking at Thomus. “What do you mean familial?”

“My brother, nephew, Narcissa,” he trails off. “The in-laws.”

“Why?”

“It is… at the Dark Lord’s request.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Weird, but okay. Guess I’m serving again?”

He inhales sharply. “Bella expressed her desires for all our Lots to be in attendance. You, Granger, and Rabastan’s Lot.”

“Well, fan-fucking-tastic,” I deadpan. I bring my attention back to the TV and hover my finger over the play button. “Is that all?”

He takes a few steps into the room, his eyes bouncing from the TV to me. “What are you watching?”

"A movie.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

An instinctual heavy sigh releases from my chest. “Don’t you have any Death Eatering to be doing?”

Thomus stands straighter, hands coming out of his pockets. “What’s your problem?”

I hit play and the main orchestral theme blares from the speakers. “Nothing.”

I feel rather than see him scowl at me before promptly turning on his heel and storming into the office.

~*~

He stays in there all day, only leaving to use the bathroom. He asks – no, demands based on his tone – for me to make him a sandwich a little after noon. I sloppily slap something together that I guess one could call a sandwich and I don’t even bother knocking on the office door before barging in and slamming the plate down on his desk.

Around the time I normally make dinner, my depression has gotten so bad that the only thing I have for dinner is an early bed-time. So by 7 pm I’m in bed with the lights off, hugging a pillow to my chest.

I don’t know how long I lie there, pretending to sleep, but I know it’s not long enough when I hear Thomus calling my name from outside my door. He opens it and steps in, taking in the darkness of the room.

“Go away,” I say, pulling the comforter tighter to my chin.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks. To my annoyance, he steps in further, and I hear the door close.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, putting a hand on my ankle. I pull it away.

“Why don’t you come stay in my room?” he asks gently.

My response is quick. “I don’t want to.”

“May I –“

“No, I don’t want you here either.” I turn away from him, hugging the pillow even tighter.

He’s silent for a while before speaking again. “I’m not going to feign ignorance as to why you’re upset, but I just – “

“I’m not upset,” I interrupt. “I’m just tired.”

“I didn’t fuck her.”

His words punctuate the silence that follows, so much conviction in his tone that for a moment I’m speechless. I’m absolutely stunned that he slammed the nail on the head when I couldn’t even do it myself. My chest is heavy and hollow at the same time with that all too familiar ache. Only I know now why it aches.

“I didn’t ask.”

I don’t know if he’s being truthful and I don’t know if I really even want the truth.

He slowly exhales, his voice soft. "Okay."

My lip quivers, but I manage to hold back any tears as he quietly makes his exit. 

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-four // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3.4k warnings for this chapter: violence, attempted rape

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Four:

Thomus lured me into his bed that night. Though that honestly might be a bit of an exaggeration. He lead me by the leash and I happily followed him. After what just happened, I want nothing more than to curl into his side and hold him close.

In the morning, I wake up alone. This doesn’t surprise me, but I am disappointed my time in bed with him was limited.

I don’t find him in the house as I start another boring day. As I start cooking breakfast, I realize he didn’t leave a suppression potion.

I don’t have time to wonder because the back door swings open. The moment I hear the sound, I hold the handle of the frying pan with a death grip, ready to whip it, frying eggs and all, at whoever steps in.

“Oh, it’s you,” I say with relief when Thomus glides in.

He grunts an acknowledgement, his chest huffing. He fills a glass of water and chugs it down. My saliva production triples as I take in what he’s wearing.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve grey shirt with a green stripe going around his biceps and chest. The fabric is soaked with sweat down his back, clinging to the muscles there. His black shorts aren’t leaving much to the imagination, either, and my eyes almost leap away out of pure guilt for ogling the man.

Finished with his water, he turns, pushing the cuffs of his sleeves back up his forearms, and I nearly give in the bubbling female hysteria within. He pushes his damp, curly hair off his forehead as he brings his eyes to me.

I immediately drop my eyes, turning back to my eggs. I have to start scraping partially stuck bits off the bottom since I was too busy eyeing his bottom.

“Didn’t know you run,” I say, forcing a casual tone. I’d thought he’d just up and left like the countless times before.

“I run almost every morning,” he shrugs.

“Really?” I say, genuinely surprised. “I’ve never seen you.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the counter. “I usually do it on the Manor’s estate, simply because of the size.”

“Why change that?” I ask. “Just for the fun of it?”

He tilts his head, hesitant. “No, not exactly.” His eyes follow me as I move my eggs to my plate. “I… felt it was safer, if I remained here this morning.”

“Because of last night?”

He nods.

“I suppose that makes sense,” I give him a teasing grin. “You scared the shit out of me, though. You almost got a face full of hot egg.”

He chuckles. “Lucky you rely on your muggle instincts and not magical.”

“It would get the job done, though, wouldn’t it?” I say defensively, feeling a blush crawl up my neck. “Um, hungry? I can… I can make you eggs.”

His lips press together and his eyes crinkle with laughter. “I think I’m going to have a shower, then figure all that out.”

“Okie,” I mutter as he scooches past me, but speak up when he’s almost at the door. “Would you want to watch a movie tonight?” He stops and looks back at me. His gaze burns into me and my insecurities rise to the surface.  “Uh, if you want.”

“What movie?”

“I’ll let you pick. The backs of the cases have little synopsis’ on the back.”

“Well, I’ll have to check my schedule,” he sighs. The corner of his mouth turns up, so I know he’s only teasing.

~*~

Later, when he’s digging through the VHS bin, that teasing smile is gone.

“I had no idea this would be such a difficult decision.” He’s kneeling at the foot of my bed, bent over the bin. I’m busy walking around the bed, tucking the fitted sheet under the corners.

“What looks good?” I ask.

“Something for adults preferably. Most of these seem to be for children.”

I sigh. “You might like Star Trek or Monty Python.”

“The Holy Grail?”

“Yup. It’s a comedy.”

Thomus sighs, too. “Very well.” He pushes the bin back under the bed before standing.

“Don’t act too excited,” I tease, stuffing my pillows into their cases. Then I settle them on the bed and spread out the comforter.

Thomus us reading the back of the case as he drifts to the door. “You’re still staying in my room tonight, yeah?”

I look up at him to see him eyeing my bed. “Of course,” I say with a shy smile. “Your bed’s way comfier than this one.”

He chuckles. “Right, I’ll see you downstairs.”

~*~

Thomus seems to enjoy the movie, even if he admits to not understanding things sometimes. He’s sitting up on the couch, and I’m laying down with my head in his lap. At first I lied on my side, facing the TV, then I turned onto my back.

I can tell when he loses a little interest in the plot when his hand slips under the blanket covering me. He starts drifting his fingers along my jaw and neck. I peek up at him out the corner of my eye, but see he’s still looking straight ahead.

His hand moves lower, cupping and kneading my breasts. They shift under my t-shirt from his grip and the fabric rubs my nipples and they quickly stiffen. I inhale sharply through my nose and bite my lip when he pinches and rolls them between his fingers. He does this long enough for my hips to start shifting and my thighs fall open.

He cups my jaw in his big hand, turning my face to look at him. His thumb brushes over my lips. “If I put my fingers on your pussy, am I going to find you wet for me?”

I swallow hard and nod. “Yes.”

Thomus chuckles low. “A little eager?”

“Only if you want to,” I whisper.

“Think of it this way,” he murmurs. “Your pleasure is my hard day’s work; satisfying, rewarding…” His hand inches down my stomach, dipping under the band of my shorts. “It’s like –“

A buzzing goes off, making Thomus pull his hand away from me. He pulls out his wand to stop the timer. He looks down at me with a guilt expression.

“What?” I ask, sitting up. “You have somewhere to be, I guess?”

“No, um,” he stands, summoning the bag of Floo powder and starting up the fire. “You can keep watching. I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. Mostly I’m bummed because whatever it is, cheated me out of an orgasm.

He calls out for the Manor and steps into the green flames.

~*~

To his word, he isn’t gone long. Enough time for me to pee and grab a glass of water without looking like I’ve moved at all. I stop the tape, too. Just because it seems rude not to.

When he comes back, he has potion vials in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I had to let it simmer for three hours.”

“Let what simmer?” I ask, point-blank. I can’t help the apprehensive look on my face.

“The suppression potion,” he replies calmly. “I, er, had to make it stronger.”

My voice is soft, almost pleading. “Are you really going to make me take it? You know I’m not going to hurt you. Or, try to hurt you.”

Slowly, he moves forward to sit on the edge of the couch, angled towards me. His expression is guarded.

“Strangely, I believe you,” he admits. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Right… Owner, property. “But you still –“

He nods. “I still have to suppress your magic.”

“Why?” I ask. “Draco hasn’t been suppressing Hermione’s magic.”

“Granger isn’t abnormally skilled with wandless magic, is she?” he bites out with an irritated tilt to his head. “What my… nephew and his parents decide to do with their charge is their own risk.”

“What risk?” I snap. “I’m not –“

“Please,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows. He reaches out and covers one of my hands. “It’s safer this way.”

“Safer?” I ask, anger rising in my voice. “What’s safe about me not being able to protect myself?” I try to pull my hand out from under his, but his grip tightens.

“If anyone found out I knowingly let you possess your magic –“

“Let me guess, they’d kill us both?”

“They’d make me kill you,” he states, his eyes on me intense. His words ring in the silent room. He puts the new batch into my hand. “So, please. Don’t fight me on this.”

I grip the vial tightly in my palm. “What happens when this becomes ineffective, too? There has to be a limit.”

“That is a problem I will deal with when the time comes. For now…” He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

I sigh, resigned and pull out the stopper, tipping the vial into my mouth. I give him my middle finger as I do.

~*~

Thomus doesn’t leave again until the next day. He gets summoned by the dark forces behind his tattoo just as we sit down for supper. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and then he’s gone.

He didn’t say how long he’s going to be gone so I finish my meal and get up to start clearing it away. I’m contemplating what to do with his still full plate when there’s a knock on the front door.

Immediately, I put his plate back on the table and crouch. The curtains on the living room window are wide open. After making sure there’s no eyes on me, I crawl on my hands and knees to the front door. I put my eye to the peep hole and I stagger back a step out of pure shock.  

It’s Rodolphus.

He knocks again, stepping back to peer into the living room window. “Hello? Mudblood!” he calls. “I know you’re in there.”

He must think I’m a fucking idiot if he believes I’ll just open the fucking door for him. My hand hovers over the deadbolt, turning it until it locks. I do the same with the door handle lock.

He sighs and pulls out his wand, pointing it at the door. He mutters Alohomora and the deadbolt unlocks. He tries the doorknob, but after seeing that’s locked too, he redoes the spell. While he’s casting it, I relock the deadbolt. Then when he tries for the door again, it’s locked. While he unlocks the deadbolt, I relock the doorknob. This goes on for a few minutes and I’m almost laugh at how many times he lets it go on.

The blasting spell catches me by surprise though. I’m not sure what happened because it was so quick, but I know I was airborne based on where I wake up, sprawled out in the doorway to the kitchen. The front door is off its hinges, broken into pieces. Rodolphus stands in the doorway, wand fisted in his hand.

“There you are,” he smiles. He takes a step inside and I try to flee. My left shoulder is in so much pain and I can’t move my arm. I manage to sit up, gripping the doorway to get me on my feet. My eyes never leave him.

He takes another step towards me, studying the room. “Not much, is it? With how heavily enchanted and protected this place is, I’d expect Thomus was stockpiling gold.” He looks curiously at me. “But no, it’s just you, isn’t it?”

“Thomus will be back any minute,” I lie, slowly taking steps back.

Rodolphus laughs, an off-kilter, disturbing sort of laugh that sends fear racing down my spine.

“No, he won’t,” he says. He turns toward me, body language screaming that he’s ready to pounce on me at any sudden move. “You’re all mine now.”

I spin on my heel, dashing towards the knives drying on the rack from dinner. I grab one and aim it, knowing full well that it won’t slice through any sort of skin. But he doesn’t know that.

When I turn to him, he’s in the kitchen now, his hip pressing into the island. He’s barely an arm’s length away. If he gets any closer I’m gonna slice him right open. Or try to.

“I don’t belong to anybody – especially you,” I seethe through my teeth.

He laughs again, breathy and casual. “Fine,” he concedes, holding up his hands. He takes a heavy booted step towards me and I mirror him, taking a step back. Rodolphus’ voice deepens. “But your cunt belongs to him, doesn’t it? Do you think it’ll cry and weep for him as I fuck you?”

“Stay the fuck away from me.” I’ve backed up so much I’m by the door now.

With as much force as I can muster, I whip the knife at him and yank the door open, bolting out into the autumn evening barefoot. I just need to make it until Thomus comes back. I need to hide.

The panic is starting to take over as I speed off towards the creek. The cold water will clear my head and there’s rocks. I can use rocks.

And of course, I’m a fucking idiot because how could I ever think I could defeat a wizard with fucking rocks?  I’m surviving on pure luck and whim since he hasn’t casted another spell on me.

“Oh, mudblood!” Rodolphus calls from up the path. I’m at the creek now, I barely splash my toes into the water before I bend to pick up a rock. One light enough to throw and heavy enough to bash his brains in. “Mudblood, I know you’re here. You won’t get very far. This property is embarrassingly tiny.”

Of all the times for my magic to randomly kick in, this would definitely be the time. I see movement through the dying brush and briefly try to cast a disillusionment spell on myself. I know it doesn’t work because he spots me immediately.

I hold the rock up as I half-concentrate on walking over the stones that make up the bank of the creek. He just watches me back up, his wand isn’t even raised.

He smiles wide. “Go on, run. I like it when they run.”

Needing no more encouragement, I book it down the path. He might be baiting me, but at least it’s an opportunity.

I follow the path along the creek until I can see the front of the cottage. I get right to the tree line when a massive weight blows right into me, putting me flat on my face. I scream and struggle against Rodolphus’ weight on top of me. His hand’s twisting my hair into his fist and he pulls, my back bowing. I push my working fist against the ground, trying with all my might to get my knees under me.

Rodolphus’ breath is at my ear. “Hope. That’s what they get when I allow them to run. They get this brief rush of hope that they’ll survive, that they’ll get away. It’s exhilarating to watch it drain from their eyes as I fuck it right out of them.” He grinds his hips into my backside, his boots digging into my calves.

He pushes my face back to the ground and a painful moan escapes as his weight forces the air from my lungs. My elbow gives, my arm shoving outwards across the dirt. The pain in my shoulder is almost blinding.

“But enough about me,” he taunts. “Let’s talk about you. You’ve managed to get so deep under Thomus’ skin that pureblood cunt just isn’t enough for him anymore. He’d rather dirty mudblood cunt now, and that’s a problem, you see.”

He pushes up, his load bearing hand the one that’s twisted in my hair, driving my head into the ground. My glasses bend and the nose piece presses far too close to my eye. His other hand pushes up my shirt, grappling for my breast where it smushes out under my arm. Each touch feels like a sharp pinch.

“Thomus thinks he can just walk away,” Rodolphus pants from above. “As if he hasn’t been fucking my wife for the last fifteen years.” He turns my head out with enough pressure that I feel my neck popping. His hair tickles my face when he leans down. “He thinks he can just walk away.”

I scream when his teeth sink into where my neck and shoulder meet. I use whatever core strength I have in attempt to shake him off, but this only tightens his hold on me.

He tears his lips from my skin, boldly licking up to my ear. “It’s only fair, right, love? That I get to fuck what’s his? Fuck the only whore he’s ever laid claim to?”

Then his weight is off me and I can breathe again. He’s rolling me, my dislocated shoulder getting the brunt of my weight. My fist clenches at the dirt and I whip it at him, unable to control my cry of pain.

The dirt lands right in his eyes and as he’s stumbling back, I kick him right in the face. It’s just enough for me to stagger to my feet, shakily hauling ass through the front yard, without time to look back. I don’t really have much of a thought besides hide.

The front door is open, obviously, and I skid to a stop in front of the laundry room. The door is already open and it makes sense to me at the time to leave it as I climb onto the dryer. I push the attic panel aside, pure desperation and tunnel vision the strength that pulls me up. I shove the dirty collar of my shirt between my teeth to stifle my pain when I roll onto the attic floor.

I manage to put the panel back into place just as Rodolphus’ boots come stalking their way through the living room. I’m on my stomach, watching through the tiniest crack between the panel and the ledge.

“Where did you go, mudblood?” Rodolphus calls, a gentle lure to his voice. I see the tops of his boots through the doorway to where his stands in the living room. “I’m not finished with you yet, you daft thing.”

I’m holding my hand over my mouth, not even daring to breathe heavily. My heart is pounding so hard in my ears that I almost miss the second pair of footsteps as they approach.

“Thomus!” Rodolphus excitedly greets. “I was just looking for your mudblood. The naughty little minx has escaped. You’re lucky I was here.”

I wait for Thomus to respond, but he doesn’t, and I panic for a brief moment, wondering if this is a trap.

But Rodolphus’ boots disappear and I assume he’s stepping closer to whoever came in.

“This can’t last forever, you know,” he continues. “I will have my way with her.” He chuckles. “Might even make you watch.”

The second person still doesn’t say anything. If it really is Thomus, I can only imagine he’s giving Rodolphus his thousand yard stare.

“I will ruin her,” I hear Rodolphus whisper in the quiet.

Then more footsteps, heavy like they’re Rodolphus’. My eyes are locked onto the floor, hoping and praying that the one who remained is Thomus.

The moment his familiar dragon leather boots come into view, I shove the panel aside. I go down legs first, keeping my weight on my good arm to lower myself to the dryer. My feet are on the floor and I feel dizzy with relief when I see Thomus standing there.

I don’t run to him. He doesn’t come rushing to me. There’s only silence as we stare at each other. What is there to say that our eyes couldn’t?

“Can I…” I whisper, my breaths still shallow, “have a hug?”

His face twists with an emotion unfamiliar to it, and I just can’t hold it in anymore. Can’t hold back the tears that fill my eyes and blur my vision. I can’t hold back how afraid I am and I can’t stop myself from running to him like he’s a port in a storm. He doesn’t push me away when I slide my arm under his, pulling him close. My chest shudders with my sobs as I bury my face in his shoulder. His arms instantly swallow my shoulders, holding me just as tight. His cheek presses against the top of my head and his breaths are deep and measured, like he’s breathing me in.

“You never have to ask,” he whispers.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #smut #lust potion #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter sixty // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5.2k warnings for this chapter: smuttyy, good ole p in v

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty:

“Melisa, you have to control it!”

The great swirling mass knocks me on my ass again. Breathless, lightheaded, and frustrated as fuck, I glare at Professor Higgins and bite back the profanity on the tip of my tongue.

Thunder cracks, the booming sound my only warning before the mass charges toward me like a Graphorn. I throw my hand up, the spell sputtering out of my mouth. “P-piert-to –“

I gasp awake. My breathing and rapid heartbeat mimicking the thunder from my dream. It takes me a second to register that something cool is tapping the back of my hand. I start to shove the duvet down, away from my shoulders until I remember I only have my undies on.

Underneath the covers, my arm spreads out over the expanse of the bed I’d left for him. I come up empty and start feeling around the other side. My fingers notice a difference of fabric from something by the edge of the bed. The material feels like a thin towel.

Then that same cool thing taps my hand feeling the fabric. Tiny fingers.

My eyes are open and I still can’t see anything. Or hear.

The elf’s fingers grip my hand and guide it down the bed. I have to sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest as they lead my hand to a different pile of fabric. I feel around the different textures for a moment, trying to place them. The first item my brain registers is a sock. They brought me clothes.

I smile and sign, Thank you.

I run my hand through my hair and get the ick when I feel how greasy it is. I need a shower.

Sinking back under the covers, I grab the unfitted sheet and pull it free from the tucked side of the bed. I wrap it around my shoulders like a bunched up cloak and climb out. If I remember correctly, I’m sure to be on the side of the bathroom. My elbow brushes the elf’s shoulder as I scoop up the clothes, then I point to the direction of the bathroom before heading in that direction.

Showering in complete darkness isn’t new to me. I’m a freak who finds being in the dark with the lovely warm water a nice sensory experience. It’s just a bit more intense without my hearing.

I have to use Thomus’ soap and shampoo. Thankfully, he uses a bar of soap and the only guessing game I play is with the shampoo and conditioner. I still wind up with conditioner in my hair first, but I make sure to put them on separate sides of the tub when I’m done.

It takes me a good while to get dressed because I spend a lot of time feeling around. I touch seams and look for tags to make sure I put things on the correct way and not backwards or inside out. When I have the shirt on, it feels like some flowy peplum top with a stretchy elastic band under the bust, and the pants feel like normal leggings.

I start to question who picked out my clothes when I feel the bra and undies. The material on the items feel the same, some kind of super soft lace, and that’s… I mean I’m sure it’s common to have a matching set, but I don’t normally wear them. My main focus has always been finding things that are comfortable. These undies are super cheeky and ride up my butt more than I’d like when I put on my pants.

I briefly wonder if Thomus picked them out, but decide against it. I’m not really worth seeing, whether I’m in lingerie or not. And I don’t think Thomus cares enough, at least about that.

I scowl when I remember how needy I was last night. I’m supposed to be mad at him. He knowingly put me in danger, sent me off with Rodolphus like he didn’t care what happened to me. He knows I don’t have my magic, he knows I can’t defend myself. This goes so far beyond just playing along.

And… what did Rodolphus do to me? Taking someone’s senses like that with blood magic is scarily powerful. Does he just do things like this all the time or did he pull out all the stops for me? I don’t know the first thing about reversing one.

I decide to forgo socks when I emerge from the bathroom. I want to see if I’ll be able to tell where I am through the floor alone.

The elf grabs my hand and Apparates us somewhere with cold tile floors. The texture beneath my feet isn’t smooth like hardwood. The floral scent of the room tells me we’re in Narcissa’s conservatory, or sun room, as I’d call it back home. My hand gets tugged and placed on a chair and I feel around it before taking a seat.

There’s a table in front of me, and my fingers feel a plate. I come into contact with some toast before fingers graze the back of my hand. Using the pad of my thumb, I run it along their nails. It’s Hermione.

We exchange pleasantries through finger spelling. She asks how I’m doing and I just tell her I feel normal, despite everything else. I ask her if she has any theories on what Rodolphus actually did, and that’s when she hesitates. After a moment, she explains that Thomus wants to find a curse breaker.

Reading the word curse makes my chest tighten and my heart pound faster. Thomus thinks I’m cursed? Like literally cursed? From what I know, the survival rate of cursed individuals is not high. Curses tend to bog people down, become painful, slowly killing them from the inside out.

So why would Thomus look for a curse breaker? Career curse breakers usually only deal with objects or property, not people.

I take a moment to breathe before asking her what she thinks. She hesitates again, but I press her for information. Letter by letter, she starts to spell out her sentence.

I don’t want to scare you, she pauses, but yes.

My head bobs slowly. It feels adrift and weightless, but the rest of my body anchors me in my panic.

As if she could see it on my face, Hermione places a glass of something in my hand, and I quickly bring it to my lips. Orange juice. It helps me breathe at least. I put it down and take a bite of toast.

Maybe I’m getting worked up over nothing. Maybe Thomus will find a way to undo what Rodolphus did. Maybe I just needed something to eat.

I fingerspell his name, shake my head and sign here with a questioning look on my face. Hermione puts her hand in mine and spells N – O – T pause H – E – R – E.

~*~

Every day, I ask where Thomus is, and every day, the answer is the same. Not here.

And every day things get a little harder. Tasks I used to take for granted have suddenly become the most tedious thing in the world.

Eating with utensils is laughable when every time I try, food either ends up on my face or my shirt. One night I kept spilling Mippy’s pumpkin soup, so I just said fuck it and drank from the bowl. I know Hermione and Narcissa aren’t judging me for eating with my fingers, but I wouldn’t doubt Lucius has made more than one snarky comment. I want to think that Draco wouldn’t, but I don’t know him that well.

Getting around the Manor is difficult, too. Yeah, I can walk just fine, but I keep a hand on the wall as I go, so I can keep a general sense of direction. I can feel when I’m at a doorway or when I’ve turned into the wrong hallway based on the wallpaper and trimming. I’ve gotten lucky in terms of what I bump into, like hallway dressers or chairs. Fancy, expensive vases on pedestals though? Not so lucky. I simply nudged the pedestal, my out-stretched hand felt something wobble, and I desperately tried to catch it as it gives in to gravity and physics.

I totally cried big fat tears for a solid ten minutes out of pure guilt while I waited for someone to come along and find me. I couldn’t move because I’d been barefoot with glass everywhere, but I also was keen to fess up immediately, instead of fleeing the scene of the crime.

I could feel the wooden floor shift as someone approached moments later. Based on the strong slender hands that touched mine, I’d gotten my hopes up that it was Thomus, but whoever it was didn’t try to communicate with me. They yank me by the wrist and guide me back down the hall by the elbow in the direction I’d come from. My fist was circling against my chest, the sign for sorry.

Since the dinner, Hermione told me that Narcissa was visiting Bellatrix for a few days, but didn’t go into detail about why. Something to do with Draco not going to Switzerland I believe. Hermione has been working on the Scourer trail still, trying to translate some kind of journal. She even told me that she’d convinced Draco to help her.  

I’m curious as to why Draco’s helping her. He’s a Death Eater, too, isn’t he? Maybe because they went to school together, she was able to turn him into some kind of double agent. He’s still a kid, though, and while he might be a leader amongst those of his age, I can hardly imagine him being higher up in the ranks. What do I know of militant ranking? Nothing, so it’s just an assumption.

They’ve been holed up in the library, preoccupied with their research. At first I’d sit in there with them, at a table or on one of the leather couches, just to be around people. I want to ask Hermione if she’d do any digging on my curse, but I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I already am. I’m bummed that I can’t join in on the hunt, too, but I can’t fucking read without my sight, can I?

She’d pulled some books on braille for me, so I sit there with my fingers blindly feeling along the pages. I keep hoping that I’ll pick up on the patterns, but I haven’t had the best of luck and I’ve nodded off on more than one occasion.

Another problem I hadn’t anticipated – not that anyone can anticipate going blind and deaf all in one go – but I’ve never been so goddamn bored in. My. life. I thought I’d been bored before at the cottage, but no no no. Clearly I just lacked imagination.

Eventually I leave the library at some point in what I would assume is the afternoon, and go to Thomus’ room. The first time I make the trek by myself since the vase incident, (and I was indeed lead by someone for a few days) I notice anything I bump into doesn’t move a goddamn inch. Even things that should, like the Malfoy busts that line one of the hallways. I guess someone went around and baby-proofed the place with magic.

In Thomus’ room, I take unnecessarily long baths just to play in the water. Once I’m good and pruney, I transition to bed for my second nap of the day. Or I just lie there and think about all things that I wish I could be doing. Like reading, listening to music, singing, cooking, practicing my photography, or shit, even cleaning. Something, anything besides just lying here with naught to do, but twiddle my thumbs and day dream.  

After several days of the same goddamn boring routine, I decide to spend some time outside. It’s late October, maybe even early November, I’ve no fucking idea, so it’s getting colder. I wear shoes outside, but can still feel the difference between the rocky gravel paths and drying grass with crunchy leaves. It smells like it’s going to rain, so I probably shouldn’t be out here very long.

I find my way to the little clearing near the front fence. At least I think I do. I know I passed through some brush until I found some grass to sit in, and I may or may not have tripped over a log. Hopefully the same one Thomus had perched his foot on all those weeks ago when he returned from Italy.

I thought it’d be better to practice my magic out here than inside, where I could unknowingly blow something up if I wasn’t careful. Through all this alone time with my thoughts for contemplation and meditating, I haven’t even felt a spark of my magic.

I know the new batch Thomus made lasts longer, but this long? I can’t even Occlude. I try to visit the mausoleum where all my memories with Thomus are, but it’s not… there. The memories are normal, vague, and unspecific. All of them are, at least the ones I’d deemed important enough to be categorized and stored.

Breathing deeply, I feel a slight breeze on my face, and maybe a rain droplet or two.

Gotta focus… gotta focus…

First I try out Accio, trying to summon a branch, but to no avail. It’s one of the few spells I can think of that I’d be able to feel worked.

My hand turns up empty, though, no matter how hard I concentrate.

Eventually I give up. I’m so fucking tired of trying. What’s the point if he’s just going to give me another potion, and then I have to try again. When I have my magic, it’s so easy to forget how hard it is to get it back.

I return to the Manor just as the rain hits, the thunder so strong it makes the ground shake. When I make it back to Thomus’ room, I open one of his balcony doors to let the crisp rainy air whoosh in. The curtains billow so hard, they reach where I sit on the side of the bed, droplets of rain following in their wake.

I kick my shoes off and lie down the length of the bed, as close to the storm as I can get. When I settle down, I realize I’m lying on something. I pull out a potion vial and… my hook-shaped rock. I uncap the vial and take a sniff. The pungent winter green scent makes me wrinkle my nose and barely stifle a gag. Dejectedly, I sigh and take the suppression potion. This is starting to get eerily predictable.

Lying back again, I run my fingers along the rock. Had Thomus been here? Or had he sent someone to get it? If he’d been here, why hadn’t he tried to talk to me? If he’d stuck around I’d have asked how the hunt for the curse breaker is going. Is he just avoiding me?

I’ve avoided him in the past, so I guess that’s nothing new for us.

But now, of all times, is not the moment I’d wish for him to disappear. I want him to tell me again that he didn’t sleep with Bellatrix. I want him to tell me why he let me go with Rodolphus, and I want him to tell me if he really thinks he can break this curse.

If the curse breaker’s just a ruse, just something to placate me, then… what does that mean for me? Stuck like this forever? Would I start to lose more senses? Taste, smell… touch?

Maybe that’s just it. I’m only going to get worse and Thomus wants nothing to do with me anymore. I’m only a sex slave after all, aren’t I? What good is a sex slave if they can’t even feel you? What if he wants to get rid of me? Cause I’m… broken.

I grip the rock a little tighter in my fist, holding it closer to my chest. If any of that was true, why would he leave this? He left it where I could find it, a reminder that... maybe everything would be okay. Maybe wherever he is, I’m still on his mind.

I pull the comforter from the opposite side of the bed, cocooning myself. Bringing the rock to my lips, I kiss it before settling in to sleep.

~*~

From then on, everywhere I go, I take this little rock with me. In my pocket, shoved in my bra, or out sliding between my fingers. I even sleep with it tucked beneath my pillow.

I don’t know if this is a side-effect of whatever Rodolphus did, or if it’s just that time of the month, but I’ve gotten so incredibly horny. Maybe it’s because I’ve realized there’s nothing better to do than to have my hand between my legs, but ugh. I feel both guilty and disgusted with myself every time my thoughts stray to the tall… strong… good-smelling man – no, Death Eater, whose bed I lie in all the time. Especially when those thoughts are particularly filthy.

For a few days, I had stopped going to hang out in the library while Draco and Hermione worked, preferring to stay in bed dealing with this particular issue. When I contemplate trying to find something suitable to act as a dildo from within his room, I realize it’s time for a breather and return to my regular routine.

These feelings are so intense. Not being able to see or hear allows me only to focus on what I’m feeling. Never before has masturbating felt so profound, and I can only imagine what actual sex would be like.

I want him, but I’m afraid to ask for it. What if he says no? I don’t feel any different, but what if the curse has altered my appearance? Doomed the few redeeming qualities this body has?

Suffice to say these anxious thoughts strike down any courage to act on these feelings.

~*~

“Melisa, you have to control it!”

The great swirling mass knocks me on my ass again. Breathless, lightheaded, and frustrated as fuck, I glare at Professor Higgins and bite back the profanity on the tip of my tongue. Wind whips his short white hair about his head, my pink strands start to swirl within my vision.

Thunder cracks, the booming sound my only warning before the mass charges toward me like a Graphorn. I throw my hand up, the spell sputtering out of my mouth. “P-piert-to –“

The cloudy mass gets too close and I roll out of its way just in time. It’s behind me, out of sight, and just as I get to my feet, I’m knocked down again.

“Come on, don’t give up just yet!” Higgins calls.

I try to move, to get up, but I’m stuck on my side, hands tucked under my cheek.

“I can’t move! I’m –“

Knuckles brush down my cheek. Hot breath fans over my ear, slightly tickling my hair, and sending goosebumps down the back of my neck. I gasp awake and realize I’m still in bed. Someone’s curled around my back, knees tucked behind mine, an arm draped over me. Their touch is gentle, comforting.

I pull out a hand and reach back, their hand guiding mine to their head and I feel the familiar curls.

Thomus, I murmur, even though I know he can’t hear me.

My hand explores, fingers feeling his face, the curve of his jaw, the outline of his nose. His eyebrows are soft, and his eyelashes softer. My fingers find his mouth and I turn myself enough to press quick desperate kisses to his lips.

He doesn’t let the kiss go on for more than a moment. Instead taking my hand and placing it back down in front of me. His own hand he tucks down where my belly meets my fupa. His grip is snug as he pulls us together, his head nestling just behind mine.

The cuddling feels divine, and based on how he’s still and his breaths even, he must want to sleep more.

My pussy has other plans, though. My pussy is so much braver than I am. She doesn’t care that he might reject me, she’s willing to try.

At first I make it seem like I’m simply readjusting. I position my hips just so, my hand tracing patterns along his arm. Then my pillow needs repositioned and I wiggle my hips in the process, pressing back against his lap. I can’t be sure, but it feels like something is nestled right against my ass. I move my hips to investigate, to… instigate.

My half-awake brain reminds me that I’m still mad at Thomus. I should be demanding answers from him on where he’s been, why he’s stayed away for so long.

I roll my hips in a circle, pressing into his lap with a little more force, and my heart jumps to my throat when I feel him hardening, lengthening against me.

My pussy tells my brain to go the fuck back to sleep.

I lift my foot and curl my calf over his, tucking my foot under his ankle. This slight adjustment puts him almost where I want him, and so I move a little bit more, desperate for contact with –

His hand snaps to my hip, fingers digging into the bone more exposed while I’m lying on my side. His grip stops my movements, my heart pounding in my chest. I try to move, but he keeps me still, his own hips unable to resist flexing against my backside.

Fuck I want more. Besides outright stripping or pushing him down onto his back, I’m not sure how best to communicate. I can’t use my words… but I can still use my mouth.

I grab the hand on my hip and tug, bringing his longest finger, the middle one, to my lips. They open and my tongue greets it with enthusiasm. As I suck it deeper, treating it the exact way I’d treat something else of his, I feel him shift onto his elbow. His breath is quicker, panting across my face.

My eyes have been closed and as I feel his face closer to mine, I open my eyes, hoping by some miracle my senses have returned, and that his face would be the first thing I see.

But it’s not and I feel his chest shudder. I turn towards him again, the hand holding his going to his jaw to caress him.

He takes the hand at my mouth and puts it back down at my hip. He fists my nightgown – a garment I wear to sleep now because I’m terrified an elf is gonna see my tit hanging out one day – gathering the material and pulling it up. He reaches down to grab more from my thigh and frees my legs of the restricting fabric. Breathing heavily, I hook my leg up over his thigh, grinding against him without restraint.  

When his fingers trace a slow line up the inside of my thigh, I feel every goosebump that rises in its wake. My nipples are hard peaks and I use my free hand to pinch them overtop the cotton nightgown. My other hand is busy diving into Thomus’ curls.

My fingers fist his hair at the base of his head when his touch reaches my core. His fingers trace the damp material covering me, torturously dragging it away from where I want it, all the way up to my belly button. He starts going back down even slower and I can hardly catch my breath. My leg hitches around his tighter, thighs spread wide, my hips rolling with anticipation.

Finally, finally his fingers push aside my undies and delve into the slickness between my lips. I feel his chest vibrate against my back, his mouth hot on my shoulder. He sinks two fingers inside my aching cunt, all the way to his knuckles and I just can’t keep still. He pulls them back out and plunges them again, curling right against my g-spot. My clit is swollen and neglected, but I’m so close without it.

My hips rock, pressing his fingers harder against that perfect spot, and my thighs start to tremble. Back arching, my chest pushes out as the orgasm crashes through me. My cunt pulses and twitches around his fingers and I feel myself get even wetter.

Desperate for the feeling to continue, I free my hand from his hair and quickly find my clit. I swirl circles around it with the hood, barely touching it at all, and my brain ceases to function as I cum again, even harder than the first time. My juices spread down my inner thighs as he continues to finger fuck me through this bliss.

Once my peak slows enough for my body to function again, I twist my torso so I can grab his face with both hands to bring his mouth down to mine. Our tongues meet and dance over fevered breaths and frantic touches. My hands start to tear at his clothes, needing to feel his skin on mine.

I struggle with the buttons before his mouth lifts off mine and the opening of his shirt gives way. I help push the material off his shoulders before my hands run all over him. They feel every dip and curve of bunched muscle beneath his skin, every imperfection I’ve never noticed before, every scar.

When they finally search below the belt, I find he’s already beat me there. Pant buttons undone, zipper down. I push the band of his briefs down and his hard cock springs into my hands. One hand at the base, fingers dipping to feel his balls, my other hand twisting around his head, smearing pre-cum all over my palm.

His hands are on my chest, fondling my breasts and rubbing the material against my nipples. I feel his fingers curl into the conservative neckline, the two buttons there I’d left undone. He grips the gown and I feel the material give as he just… tears it down the chest. Then he’s pushing it down my shoulders, freeing my arms. He leans down over my body, his mouth latching onto my breasts, all teeth and tongue and saliva.

The gown is now bunched around my waist where I’m twisted. My ass is out, torso turned toward him where he kneels behind my ass. He presses a palm to the back of my upper thigh, pushing it out of his way, I feel his fingers tug the crotch of my undies and then there he is right at my entrance.

I could not be begging for him more than I am at this very moment when he pushes in. I’m tight because all I’ve had for a while is my fingers, but oh my fucking god. Every single inch feels massive as he sinks to the hilt, balls deep in my soaked cunt. The walls of my pussy flutter, squeezing him repeatedly like it missed him just as much as I did.

His hand on the back of my thigh and other one now at my hip, grip my flesh so tightly it hurts. If I had my voice, I’d be turning my head to muffle my noises into the pillow as he slowly pulls out to slam his cock right back in. My nails dig into his forearm as his thrusts intensify.

My front turns towards the bed where I grip the sheets, hanging on for dear life as Thomus continues to pound into my pussy. The feeling is so fucking good, my brain has completely turned to mush. The only sense I have is to tighten my walls, to flex and squeeze his cock as he fucks me because it only intensifies the pleasure I’m feeling. My body rocks from the strength of his thrusts and there’s a damp spot under my cheek from where I’m drooling onto the mattress.

For once I’m not worried about what I look like to him. I don’t care that my stomach and fupa have got to be bunched up in the most unflattering way possible. All I care about is his big fat cock absolutely wrecking my cunt.

He stops only to lift my leg up, hooking it over his arm to spread my thighs wide and put me on my back. His other hand grabs mine and shoves it toward my pussy. Without needing to be told twice, my fingers start to swirl around my clit as he picks up his pace again. His hand not holding up my leg, presses my other leg down, pinning it beneath his weight. As I feel I’m on the brink of cumming again, the muscles in my legs and stomach tense up and I grab at the hand holding my leg down, our fingers twining.

I mutter soundless curses as I cum, practically singing in my head how much I love his cock. The curses on my lips turn to his name, feeling safe to do so only because he can’t hear me. He can’t hear the love and praise and adoration his name has on my lips.

The moment my body relaxes, he pulls out, his cum splattering all over my chest and stomach. Whatever last drops he has, he pushes back inside my well-used cunt with his tip.

My brain is still mush, slowly unscrambling itself from the overwhelming lust that consumed it moments ago. Absently, my hands start rubbing and massaging his cum into my skin. Everywhere I felt it fall, from my mound to the rolls in my stomach to my breasts, I make sure it seeps in. I even rub some on and around my still-hard nipple, playing with it while my breaths slow. It feels right, satisfying even.

When he pulls out again, he’s softer, but not completely. His fingers find my dripping hole, pushing in and then pulling out. He does it once more before I realize what he’s doing. It’s not a coincidence. I did this on purpose, just like he did the first time. He was marking his territory, and wanted me to mark mine.

My mind was so clouded with other worries at the time, I didn’t even realize, but maybe I understand now. I don’t know what any of this means. Mostly, because I’m not thinking right now. My body is thoroughly fucked and I’m still recovering.

He helps drag the ruined night gown over my hips and down my legs, tossing it to the floor. I right my undies and turn onto my other side, so when he lies next to me, I can curl up into him. His heart and breath are still run away with him, but he’s calming by the minute. I push up until my cheek is pressed against his collar and I can wrap my arm and leg over him, cuddling as close as I can possibly get. Maybe if I hold him tight enough, he won’t disappear again.

His arm goes around my shoulder and he kisses the top of my head. His chest vibrates against the side of my face, but I’ll never know what he just said.

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the spare // chapter fifty-two // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 7.3k warnings for this chapter: exhibitionism, public sex, a little dubcon?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Two:

I wake with a start. I know I’m in the living room, but I’m not sure how I got here. My head aches and it hurts when I open my eyes. They adjust to the dark, taking in the light streaming in from the kitchen.

I only notice Thomus when he moves his arm. He’s sitting in the armchair, one leg perched over the other. The glow from the kitchen casts shadows on his face, the ridge of his brow and glasses hiding his eyes. There’s something about the set of his shoulders that radiates tension and it puts me on edge.

I’m just gonna ignore my unease for now and push up onto my elbows. “Hey,” I say, my voice relays how dry my throat is.

He doesn’t respond to me. This is weird. Is he angry? What for?

“Oh… kay,” I murmur and shove myself into a sitting position up against the armrest, my legs curled under me. There’s a blanket laid over me, I clutch it closer to my chest. “What is it?”

He still stays quiet. Yeah, he’s gotta be angry with me. My heart thuds with nerves while I mentally trace my steps as to how I got here. I remember listening to music, baking, crying… dancing, and then… nothing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that. “My head is killing me, which probably means I drank too much and didn’t hydrate.” I press my fingers against my brow, pushing in to relieve some of the tension.

“I’m glad we both agree you over indulged.”

“And… your point?” I ask. “Are you scolding me?”

“No,” he answers smoothly.

“Then why’re you being so…” my hand makes an unintelligible gesture as I search for the word “I don’t know it just feels like you’re mad at me.”

He shifts in his seat, re-crossing his legs and looking away. “I am angry,” he says, “but I’m not angry at you.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “So I didn’t do anything to embarrass myself?”

He lets out a chuckle that surprises me, his entire demeanor shifting. “I never said that.”

“Right,” I huff, letting out a laugh. “So what did I do? Vomit all over myself?”

“Loads. It was disgusting,” he deadpans.

I look down at myself and then into the kitchen, a horrified look morphing onto my face. Everything’s all cleaned up now, so he’d have to have taken care of me while I was piss drunk.

Thomus laughs again, and when he speaks his voice is soothing. “No, you were far from vomiting, which is impressive considering how much you drank.”

I shrug. “I’m a big girl. I can handle my liquor.”

“Not to mention how much I spun you around,” he says as stands. He reaches down for the blanket tucked on me, and I realize it’s his cloak. When he takes it back I feel chilly and exposed, noting the loss of his scent.

His words confuse me, but then, “Oh, right, dancing.”

Thomus drapes his cloak over his arm and walks closer to the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, his head tilting adorably as he speaks. “How much do you actually remember?”

I bite my lip. “I’m afraid it stops there.”

Thomus looks back at the stairs. “Interesting.” He heads up them, two at a time, then pauses. “Edinburgh on Friday.”

I don’t know what’s worse – going to Edinburgh or the gap in my drunken memory.

~*~

As I wait around for Friday, not being able to remember what happened after we danced really starts to bother me. Thomus doesn’t bring it up again, and besides outright asking about it, I can’t think of a way to naturally bring it up in conversation. I’ve never been so drunk that I couldn’t remember what happened before.

Friday afternoon I spy him outside at the border of the property, walking along the stone wall. I watch him from the living room window as he recites incantations from a book he’s holding. An iridescent mist pours from the tip of his wand, it shimmers and clouds over the property line as it creates a wall that just goes up and up past my line of sight. As he walks away from it, continuing, the wall disappears.

I have a feeling that this new ward is going to keep out more than just our mysterious intruder. It’s going to keep out everyone else too. I’ll have to leave another note across the creek for Caelan or Kyle to find once Thomus is done.

While Thomus is outside, I practice my magic. Three days seems to be the magic number right now. Literally. Within a few minutes of concentration on that same lightbulb, it’s glowing in my hand. I wonder how long I’ll be able to keep this a secret. Especially since just me zoning out makes him suspicious.

~*~

Since I’ll have my magic for Edinburgh tonight, I don’t second guess the dress I chose. It’s getting chillier at night, but with the warming charm, I should be okay wearing a shorter dress with merely straps for sleeves. Granted, the shape of the dress isn’t all that different from ones I’ve worn in the past, but I’ve really only got a few options when it comes to styles that flatter my body shape.

The color is a few shades paler than my hair and I’m busy layering on a darker shade of pink onto my eyelids when Thomus moseys into the bathroom from his side. He comes up behind me to grab his comb off the vanity, his hand briefly touching my hip to keep me still. I step to the side anyhow to give him room, because having him directly behind me like that while I’m bent over the sink put the dirtiest images in my head.

I do my best to ignore him while I continue doing my makeup, but every so often I glance up, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the movement of him combing his hair out of his face. I freeze when he leans forward to turn on the tap and wet the comb before returning it to his hair.

You’d think I’d be used to his closeness by now. We’ve literally slept together, so how is it that he can still make me blush? I internally roll my eyes, because I need to get over my stupid crush on the man. He’s a Death Eater. It’s not like he’s ever going to feel the same. He’s not going to want the same things I do. Fuck, I’m still not over the fact that I want those things in the first place. Guess we always want things we can’t have.

I’m so focused on my makeup and my thoughts that I don’t notice Thomus has paused combing his hair. He’s leaning against the doorway to my room, fingers running up and down the teeth of the comb. My eyes flicker back and forth, uneasy that he’s just watching me. I almost believe he’s just looking at my ass, given how I’m leaned over the sink, but no, he’s… watching me do my makeup. I want to groan. He’s probably got a problem with my outfit.

“What?” I ask.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. Then his eyebrows raise and his gaze travels along my body. Ugh, I can’t decide if it makes my skin crawl or tingle.

“Nothing,” he says, but he’s clearly lying.

“What?” I snap again, irritated. “Something wrong with my dress?”

He hesitates and doesn’t return my irritated tone. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yes,” I bite, finishing my mascara. I angrily toss it into the makeup bag before grabbing my toothbrush, squeezing the minty paste onto the bristles. “What’s wrong with it?”

I start brushing my teeth as I wait for his answer. He hesitates again, so I start spewing the worst I can think of. “Is it too much pink? Do I look…” I was gonna say fat, but of course I look fat, that’s a fucking given. “Bad?”

“Not at all,” he says quickly, then much slower, “I just wondered if you were going to be cold.”

I spit out some of the toothpaste/saliva mixture and snort. “Why? Planning on fucking me outside again?”

“No… not outside.”

My skin immediately prickles across my chest and my face burns. My eyes widen for a moment before I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how my heart thumping madly in my chest. When I look at him, he’s already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. Mostly I’m just remembering last time… and the several times I’ve fantasized about it since.

There are several witty responses I could say, but what actually comes out is a garbled, “Really?”

He doesn’t respond, instead turning and disappearing into my room. He returns a moment later to put the comb back.

“Once you’ve changed, I’ll be downstairs,” he says.

I resist the urge to sigh. Whatever it is, I’ll bet I have to redo my makeup.

~*~

The dress he wants me to wear is the one I wore to the Lot fights. I only adorn it with a belt, and leave the neckline as it should be, simply buttoned up to my chest. No tights this time, and he’s lucky I didn’t have to redo my makeup. I added wings on top of the pink eye shadow, so I wouldn’t look entirely like a clown.

He’s waiting for me by the front door and I have to pass him to step into my flats. Then I straighten and turn to him, expectantly waiting for the collar.

Thomus turns to me with his hand in his pocket, and I assume it’s to pull out the collar, but instead he asks, “Are you wearing panties?”

The question takes me by so much surprise that I’m momentarily speechless. When I do find my voice, it’s a jumbled mess of words. “I – um – mm – yes?” I say. “Why?”

He holds his hand out and says with all seriousness, “Hand them over.”

“Why?” I demand again, stepping back. My back hits the front door.

“You won’t be needing them,” he replies.

I snort. “Yes, I do need them. They’re my underwear.”

“Give them to me or I will take them off myself,” he warns.

I swallow hard and grit my teeth, glaring at him. There’s no humor in his expression, just calm expectation.

“Ugh, whatever,” I grumble. I stare pointedly around the room as I lift the sides of the dress, my hands finding purchase at my hips. I quickly slide them down, step out of them, and ball it up into one tight grip before chucking them onto the couch.

“Good,” he says, satisfied. He pulls out the collar and I turn around, already hating feeling exposed underneath my dress. “They’d just get in the way.”

I am both aggravated and intrigued. He said we weren’t fucking outside, so logically that means inside… somewhere. One of the private booths? A dark corner?

And then I’m just… confused. He’d said when he returned from Italy that he didn’t want me to kiss him. I’d assumed that meant he wanted things to go back to the way they were before. He’d said that night was a ‘terrible lack of judgement’.

Okay, maybe – maybe – I can understand. Thomus has to be in denial. He’s got a thing for fat chicks and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Plus, I’m not a pureblood, so let’s throw that into the mix, too. What’s so special about me? I’m everything that he hates, aren’t I?

Though I hardly doubt that me, some American witch who’s gotten herself mixed up in all of this, some girl who’s never had a boyfriend or a lover, could cause such turmoil in Thomus’ life. We’d interacted, what, twice before he just straight up bought me?

Why did he buy me?

I’m torn out of my thoughts when he reaches around me to twist the door handle and pull it open. He’s put the collar on me, and his cloak around his shoulders. We step into the night and I shiver when I feel a breeze ruffle the skirt, drifting up my thighs. I silently cast a warming charm.

He scoops up the leash and leads me down the path. At the barrier, he pulls out his wand, waving it slowly back and forth.

“Aperio Saltus,” he says. The iridescent cloudy shimmer I’d seen earlier today reappears, but fades to nothing where the wooden gate is. I pull up my sleeve and hold my arm out for him to take. He glances down to make sure his fingers touch the tattoo before pulling me through the barrier. He holds onto me when he turns back to the house. “Cludo Saltus.”

The protection spell reforms where we’d passed through and I only realize now that I can’t even see the cottage. It’s disappeared into the dark woods with no defining markers that a cottage exists here at all.  

~*~

“Nice one, Alder,” Will says as I sink a striped ball into a corner hole.

“You’ll tell me if we’re winning, right?” I mutter, resuming my stance next to him. This game has been long and I’m not exactly having fun. Will and I are partners, facing Astor and Thomus. There’s only a couple balls left on the table, the 8-ball, the white one, and two plain ones.

“Yes, you’re winning,” Thomus grumbles as he leans over the table, lining up his cue.

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” I say aloud, crossing my arms, and giving him a pointed look.

He narrows his eyes and gives me a sour look. “Hush – I’m trying to concentrate.”

Just as he turns his gaze away, I stick my tongue out at him. He pulls the stick back, aiming the white ball at one of the plain ones. He light taps the white ball and it shoots forward, bouncing off one of the felted walls to knock against one of the plain balls. It narrowly scoots its way into a hole.

Thomus makes a triumphant gesture and holds the cue stick out for Astor, who’s busy flirting with a lot sitting a drink before him at the small round standing table. Thomus has to poke Astor with the end of his stick before getting him to move. It’s their team’s turn again since they sunk the ball.

Thomus comes to stand next to me while Astor lines up their last shot. “I can think of a few other places for that tongue to go since you’re so willing to have it out.”

I don’t even look at him, but my heart skips and my ears get hot. My eyes flicker over to the sea of couches and chairs where I know we’re going at some point tonight. The whole time we’ve been playing I’ve been overly self-conscious of the way the dress slides between my ass cheeks, almost like it’s doing it on purpose, every time I have to lean over the table. I always hope no one notices, but the way Thomus looks at me… he definitely notices.

Astor sinks their last ball and looks to me and Will. “Better say your prayers now.”

“I know a way to make our game more interesting,” Will says, a mischievous glint to his smirk. “Losing team has to admit the craziest place they’ve ever had sex.”

My eyes widen. Maybe it’s the location, Edinburgh being the current sex capitol of the Death Eaters. Maybe sex is just on the brain for everyone here. It’s definitely on mine.

“You’re on,” Astor says immediately, a dumb goofy grin on his face. Seems like he’s eager to boast about his sex-capades.

Thomus sighs, shooting a glare at Will. “Take your turn so we can get this over with. I’d like to actually have sex rather than talk about it.”

“Touche,” Will chuckles, unbothered by Thomus’ mood. He takes the cue stick I hold out to him and leans over the table. He misses his shot because it was just a bad angle.

Thomus leaves my side, taking the cue from Astor and attempts to save the set up Will had left. He somehow manages to get the white ball lined up just perfectly for the next player… which happens to be me. Will has a big grin on his face because he already knows they lost.

Will passes me the cue stick and without fuss, I easily sink the 8-ball.

“Fantastic!” he beams at me, holding his hand up for a high-five. I give him a small smile and return his celebratory high-five. He turns to the other team. “Well?”

Astor is finishing chugging his drink, but he answers Will with a handsome grin. “Flying carriage, mid-flight.”

The Lot still standing by the small table gasps at his answer and he turns to her, murmuring something into her ear. I wonder where Isobel O’Quinn is tonight.

“Well?” Will asks Thomus, who’s busy setting up the next game.

Thomus hesitates, glancing up at me and then back down again. “Azkaban.”

I know I look shocked, and I peek at Will to make sure I’m not the only one.

“How?” Will asks.

Thomus gives him an exasperated look. “Do I need to explain to you how sex works?’

Will scoffs. “No. I only meant isn’t that place supposed to be full of dementors and like despair?”

“Yes, it is,” Thomus replies smoothly, without hesitation this time. “Astor, are you playing another round? I’d like to win this time.”

Thomus pulls the triangle rack off the set balls, the 8-ball in the middle. He places the white ball in between it and the edge of the table. I walk over to him and line up my shot to break the set.

“Don’t beat me this time or I’ll have to prove my masculinity in other ways,” he says. My quick glance around ensure only I heard that. Will is standing too far away and Astor is still wrapped up in conversation with the Lot.

I snort. “Mustn’t have been all that strong in the first place,” I tease. I push him back gently with my elbow. “Now get out of my way.”

He smirks and steps back. It feels so nice to just simply flirt with him. It makes this round pass a lot quicker than the last, and I wish we’d been doing it a lot sooner.

A few turns go by, and my eyes wander the room like they did before. Before this round, the Lounge had been kind of empty with everyone still gathered in the Main Hall. Now there are more people, more Death Eaters coupled with their Lots scattered around the room.

A couple stands behind us and I accidentally back into the Lot. While I make my apologies and put distance between us, I just so happen to look down and see a tiny scroll, no longer than an inch, on the floor. It’s where the couple had just been standing. They’d adjusted as well, stepping to the side.

When I look up at them, the Lot is looking at the scroll on the floor, too. Her face has paled and she tries to mask her sudden anxiety, but I see it before she does. Her eyes jump up to mine and we both look down at the paper before meeting eyes again.

Silently, I step to the scroll, putting my foot over it.

Relief washes her face, and her eyes start to frantically dart around the room. I look too, trying to see who she’s looking for.

Eventually her eyes land and stay on Charlotte, who’s making her way towards us with a tray full of drinks.

Okay, so I need to get the scroll into my hand and then somehow into Charlotte’s. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that this is some kind of note being passed around the Lots.

My eyes are darting around, trying to come up with a plan. Charlotte’s stopped by someone, she’s still a distance away.

Thomus is focused on the game, as is Will. He’d just taken the cue stick before his turn, so I have time. No one else seems to be paying me any attention either. Except for the girl who’d dropped the scroll, but that’s a given.

Trying to be as casual as possible, I crouch down, pretending to adjust the strap of my flats. I lift my foot enough to grab flattened scroll and tuck it into the palm of my hand. When I straighten, no one’s overtly staring, thank god. Not that they would. Me dropping to adjust an article of clothing isn’t weird human behavior. I’m just paranoid.

Next time I lay eyes on Charlotte, she’s about to make her way past me. Astor’s waving her down, needing another drink. The only plan that pops into my head is a stupid one, but I’m gonna have to give it a go.

As she passes, I pop my foot out in her path. Not to make her fall, just to make her stumble.

My hands jump out to the tray, holding it as she gets her bearings. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were walking by!”

She blinks at me, an uneasy expression on her pretty face. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”

“Oh good,” I say, my hands slide to hers still gripping the tray. I quickly slip the tiny paper into a gap between her palm and the edge of the metal.

The subtlest of realizations crosses her face and she simply smiles at me. “Would you like a drink?”

“Not if I’m already being clumsy,” I smile sheepishly.

She nods and continues to Astor. Thomus appears at my side not two seconds later.

“Save the day?” he questions, an eyebrow raised.

I haven’t even had time to quell the adrenaline rush that whole fucking thing just gave me. My hearts racing with joy at my success.

“From disaster? Yes.”

~*~

What feels like forever a time later, after Will and I had beaten them again, Thomus is finally dragging me over to a section of couches. There are a few couples scattered about, their attentions solely focused on each other. It gives me minimal relief knowing that we won’t have an attentive audience, but I’m still practically shaking with nerves. Last time I got carried away by the moment and focused on Thomus. Hopefully I can do that this time too.

Thomus picks a couch, a spot with plenty of room for my legs to spread on either side of him. He sits, his eyes dropping to follow my hands as they lift the hem of my dress so I’m not crawling on it as I straddle him. His thighs feel so strong underneath me as I settle in, a hand on the back of the couch to keeps me steady as I gently lower my weight onto them. As always, I test for his reaction, terrified that it’s too much for him.

He’s not looking at me, though. Well, not at my face. His gaze roams my torso like his hands roam my thighs and hips. The thin fabric of my dress snags on his hands and it feels extra enticing over the areas normally secured by my undies. His fingers slowly trace the curve of my ass and hip and it’s almost as if I were actually naked. They even trail up to the rolls on my waist, an area he’d gotten to know the night we were here last. When his hands explored and worshipped my body as they do now.

That’s how it feels, at least.

Thomus is bent forward, I feel his breath on my chest as his lips kiss around the forgotten leash. His hands move forward, caressing my stomach, moving up to palm my breasts. I shudder when I feel his tongue and teeth lick and nip at the base of my throat. I ache from his attention already, and my hips shift, searching for the right pressure, my bare core spread across his lap. The cool fabric of his pants brushes against my skin.

Some men across the room laugh, and I’m reminded we’re not alone whatsoever. The momentary clear in my aroused haze makes me realize his hands have left my breasts and are now slowly undoing the buttons on the front of my dress.

“Thomus,” I protest, my cheek pressing against his soft curls to speak in his ear. My hands push at his shoulders and he relents, sighing as he sits back against the cushions. My fingers and eyes immediately go to the buttons, assessing the damage.

His hand grabs mine, stalling the rebuttoning. “Don’t touch those.” His voice is husky and I’m surprised to see his pupils are blown out as he looks at me. It’s probably the dim lighting. “I won’t threaten your modesty any further.”

“It’s not modesty,” I correct, shaking my head as if that were ridiculous. Which it is. “I just don’t want to be on display for dozens of men who’re literally strangers.” My body isn’t something that all men want to see and I don’t want their harsh judgement.

“I don’t want you on display for them,” he scoffs. He moves his hands back to my thighs, restarting their journey up my sides. “I want you on display for me.”

“If that’s the case, then why don’t we do this from the privacy of our own home?”

He takes the time to drag his eyes up to meet mine. “Because I enjoy publicly staking claim on what belongs to me.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Okay, so the tattoo, the leash and collar, and the fact you fucked me in front of a crowd last time wasn’t enough for you?”

As if reminded of their existence, he grabs said leash and pulls on it tightly, yanking me forward so I’m leaning against him. My hands support my weight against the back of the couch, but the new angle adds the precise pressure to my clit that I’d been searching for. I somehow manage to keep the pleasure from being written all over my face. His lips brush my cheek as his free hand presses against the valley between my breasts, pillows against the shape of it.

“I’m insatiable,” Thomus murmurs, his mouth quickly resuming its work against my skin.

Boy oh boy, my monkey brain is quickly winning the battle against my sanity. I release a sigh that borders on a moan as my body embraces being pressed on him. My hips move, rocking and pressing my core against what’s clearly his erection wedged between my thighs. He quickly picks up on my movements, his hands move to my hips, gripping them tightly, encouraging their grinding.

“Does that poor little clit ache to be touched?” His deep voice sends shivers down my body and as if it heard his words, my clit starts to throb. He flexes his hips and I release a quiet little whimper, nodding my head.

“Then touch it for me,” he says and my breath catches in my throat, my body freezing. “I want you to rub that pretty pussy for me.” He pushes back at my hips and I reluctantly leave the safety of his embrace.

My brain scrambles for a reason to object. I know this is the general nature of what we’re here to do, but that? In his lap? Never mind all these people here. My eyes immediately jump to the crowd, looking for faces turned in our direction, gazes providing me with their unwanted attention.

“Remember you’re here for me,” he says darkly, a possessiveness in his eyes. “Not anyone else. You’re going to touch yourself because I want you to.”

“But why?” I ask, my expression full of vulnerability and disbelief.

“Because I want to watch you.” He grabs one of my hands and pushes it against the soft curve of my fupa.

God I wish I could use my Occlumency right now. But if I do, he’ll obviously notice from this close proximity. So I take a few deep controlled breaths to keep myself from freaking out. How did I ever do what I did the first time we came here? I hardly even knew him then.

As I begin to adjust my body – sliding back on his thighs, tilting my hips up, positioning the dress so it won’t be in my way – I run my mouth.

“So exhibitionism, voyeurism, bondage, spanking – what else are you into?” I attempt to make my voice nonchalant, as if what I’m doing isn’t as dirty as I think it is.

He ignores my question, his eyes zeroed in on my hand disappearing beneath the green fabric between my legs. The position is awkward, I feel I need to lean back more, so my hand can have full access, but I don’t want to lose my balance and fall. Talk about calling attention to myself.

I grab one of his hands and put it on the outside of my thigh, near the crook of my knee, and I put the other on the juncture of my hip and waist. He’s already looking at my face when I look at his.

“Don’t let me fall,” I plead, and his grip immediately tightens where I’d placed his hands.

“Never,” he says. His voice is so serious and somehow so reassuring.

I tilt my hips again and lean one hand back on his knee. My dominant hand disappears beneath the dress again. I don’t know what he wants to watch. It’s not like he can see down there.

“You never answered my question,” I state. My fingers find my slit, quickly delving between my lips – holy fuck I’m really wet. I move my arousal up to my clit, rubbing and circling it directly with the lubrication. My scent wafts up into the air between us.

“What question?” he asks, and I wonder if he’s this easily distracted all the time.

I sigh, but I’m not sure if it’s out of pleasure or trying patience. “What’re you into? Like sexually.”

He glances up at me briefly. “You’re asking this now?”

“Seems the perfect time.”

He swallows and his eyes absently drift up as he considers.

“I already know you have a fat fetish, so you don’t have to bring that one up.”

His eyes snap back to me. “A what?”

“Fat fetish,” I enunciate slowly. “Or maybe it’s a kink – I’m not really sure the difference.”

“I don’t have a –“

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t? What the hell am I then? You telling me that you have a history of being attracted to plus size ladies like myself that I don’t know about?”

I expect him to rebuff me again, but he surprises me with honesty. At least his tone makes it seem like he’s being honest.

“No,” he admits. “It’s a, um, recent development.”

“How recent?” I ask because I’m nosey as shit.

“Are you even touching yourself? You seem awfully distracted.”

It’s true, I am distracted, but I know my body’s subtle reaction to what my hand is administering. My thighs and ass have clenched, my hips slightly rock with every pleasurable jolt my clit sends throughout my body. I tilt my head and lick my lips.

“Yeah, I’m touching myself,” I breathe quietly. “I’m really wet.”

His hips flex beneath me and he lets out a heavy huff through his nose. “Yeah?”

My horny monkey brain is taking the lead on this one. “You wanna taste?”

He lets out the quietest whimper, like he was trying to suppress it. His lips are already parted when he nods.

I sink two fingers inside my core and make sure I give an appropriate gasp as I press them against my g-spot before pulling them out. Thomus’ gaze is full of hunger and want, eager for the middle and ring finger I slip into his mouth. His eyes close as his lips seal around them and his tongue laps at my juices. I let my fingers linger in his mouth, enjoying the hot wet suction.

When I pull them out, my hand goes to the back of his neck and I pull him forward to kiss him. Our lips smash together, tongue and teeth clashing in the fight for dominance. My hand slips down to his belt, quickly freeing him of the confines of his pants. He gasps when I start to stroke him against my palm.

The hand that had been behind my knee easily slips under the dress, his fingers prodding between my legs. I feel his chest shudder and his mouth becomes distracted when he feels just how wet I am. My hips jerk when he presses in on my clit, a little too hard, and I bite his bottom lip. This doesn’t deter him because he sinks two long fingers inside me. It’s my turn to gasp as his thumb presses against my clit and his fingers curl onto my g-spot.

“How’s that feel, my darling?” he murmurs against my lips. I rock my hips and the added pressure of my weight onto his hand makes me crazy.

I grip the base of his cock and drag my hand up it, twisting my palm against his head, smearing a bead of pre-cum. My lips leave his as I kiss my way to his ear. “How’d that feel?”

A light breathy laugh escapes him. “Trying to distract me won’t prevent me from taking an orgasm from you.”

I repeat the strokes of his cock, my tone light and curious. “I thought one is supposed to give someone orgasms. Not take them.”

“You give them to me and I take them from you,” he murmurs. As if to prove his point, his hand pulses, fingers flexing against me. “It’s not complicated – come on, darling.”

His hand on my hip encourages the enticing rocking they’re already starting to do. My cunt is throbbing with need and pleasure begs to be released. I whimper and give into his movements. I don’t go as wild as my instincts are telling me to, but I move just enough to push my orgasm higher and higher until it’s threatening to spill like water over the edge of a tub.

My body stiffens and by some miracle I’m able to orgasm in silence. His hand is rubbing my back as I come down from this high, trying to keep my panting to a minimum.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs into my ear.

Once recovered enough, I push myself away from him, sitting in his lap. He’s got the most irritating, smug grin on his face, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Without realizing it, I glare at him, and his response is to flex his fingers that’re still inside me.

I gasp and quickly grapple for his wrist, lifting my hips to pull his hand away. His hand is practically dripping with me and I put it the best place I can think of. I steer his hand down to his still-stiff cock, wrapping his fingers around it. My hand encloses over his as he shamelessly strokes himself, his breathing hard and his eyes on me. Soon my hand replaces his and I lean forward to kiss him again.  

“I need – inside you,” he breathes heavily between kisses. I quickly nod my head, hazy with anticipation. “Rise up for me a little bit?” he asks and I comply while he shimmies further down in his seat. I crawl forward a little bit more, and when I feel him pushing my thigh down, I lower myself until I feel his cock sliding up and down my cunt.

The tip of his head finds my entrance and I slowly start to sink down. When I’m fully seated, his cock stretching me out and pushing deeper than he ever has before, he lets out a long breath.

“Fuck,” he groans. He’s farther away from me now. He’s not lying down, but he might as well be. If I lean forward, I know he’s going to slip out.

I test how much I can move. This is a new position for me, one I’m definitely not comfortable with if I really think about it. My thighs burn when I lift myself up and sink back down on him. I circle my hips, focusing on how he feels moving in me. It feels amazing, but unless I have a finger on my clit, I don’t I could finish. And I already have, which makes the small noises coming from him all the more interesting.

His hands are on me, one behind my knee again, and the other sliding up and down my waist. His hand takes in my body just as his eyes are. I circle my hips again and he looks ready to combust.

I have one hand on the back of the couch to stabilize me, and I bring the other one to his jaw, cupping it. His lust-filled eyes go to my face.

“I got some questions for you,” I say, my voice sounding just as breathless as I feel. “And you’re gonna answer them.”

His jaw locks and he frowns. “Or what?”

“Or…” I lift my hips until only the very head of him is in. “I stop this ride.”

“That’s what you think,” he smirks. His hands are suddenly at my hips, pulling down on them while he pushes his hips up. He sinks all the way back into me and maybe even further, gyrating his hips, and I barely stop myself from crying out. This won’t fucking do.

“No,” I pant. I clamp my legs around him and really let my weight settle on his lap. He lets out a strangled gasp, and I try to tell myself I’m not hurting him, even as the negative thought takes root. “No,” I say again, my voice firmer. “I want answers.”

“What could you possibly want to know?” he grinds out, clearly irritated at being cock-blocked.

I lean forward, as close as I can be to his face. I keep my voice low. “Did you take a potion to do this?”

His eyes, which had fallen to the cleavage bursting out of the dress at this angle, snap to my face. He opens his mouth to speak and I just ignore him. “Or is it like what you said before? This place just makes you horny.”

He closes his mouth, long silent moments passing. I sit back up and grind down on him, squeezing him with those internal muscles. He groans and his hips flex beneath me.

“Answer me,” I breathe. “I’m tired of the back and forth. I just want the truth. I –“

“Yes,” he groans. “Of course it was a bloody lie.” He pushes his hips up again, thighs jostling me. “What does this fucking feel like to you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I hiss. To regain control, I rise and then lower myself a few times, watching his strained, annoyed face. “It feels like you’ve got a big hard cock for me.”

His hand smartly (and rather loudly) smacks me on my ass. “Ten points for Thunderbird.”

“What does that even mean?”

I circle my hips again and he hisses. “I’ll explain it later.”

“Why lie in the first place?” I demand. “Why say all of those awful fucking things to me right after we –“

“Because I’m not supposed to –“

“Right, you’re not supposed to find me attractive, but you do, right?” I grind down on him again on impulse.

“If that wasn’t fucking obvious,” he groans.

“But if that’s the case then – then why – do you – do you hate me?” I ask. I know our words won’t be overheard because of how softly we’re speaking, but my hearts pounding with nerves. I shouldn’t be having this conversation here. I shouldn’t be having it at all. My words aren’t indicative of the type of relationship we’re supposed to have. Master and servant, master and slave, Death Eater and sex slave. I speak as if we’re already equals.

Narcissa said to ignore what he says, and if I do that, then his actions imply that he… that he doesn’t hate me.

And I really want him to not hate me.

I’m lost in my thoughts, my eyes focused on his chest and not his face. I’m too terrified of what I’ll see there.

“Lift up,” he simply says, and I finally look at him. His expression is concentrated, intense focus. I raise my hips, pulling off of him, and he shoves himself back up in his seat. He doesn’t settle though, instead he pushes at me so forcefully, I’m lying on my back along the couch.

I don’t have time to see if anyone’s watching because he’s on me in the next instant. He settles between my legs, pushing my dress up enough for him to slide into me again. He plants a head next to my head and the other on the edge, keeping me trapped.

Thomus lowers his head and lips are on mine in the next second, taking taking taking. Taking the air from my lungs, the soul from my body, any sense I’d had left. He pumps his hips against me, his cock rolling deep and sure inside me. I moan into his kiss.

He finally pulls his mouth away, his lips finding my ear. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps. He slams into me again, this time so hard my whole body jolts. It feels so fucking good.

“This fucking body – I wanna sink my teeth into every glorious inch,” he’s starting to sound like a man possessed as he whispers in my ear, but my god I’m not gonna fucking stop him. He rocks into me, his pelvis angled just right – how the fuck does he get it right every time? “And your hair. This bloody beautiful color that makes your eyes so fucking green. Did you know I found strands of it wrapped around my cock in Italy? Couldn’t even escape you there.”

His breath is hot and fast against my neck as his pace starts to pick up. He’s close to losing it and so am I. This is a wild, feral version of Thomus that I haven’t seen before. Experiencing him like this is beyond what I’d hoped for.

Because my brain likes to remind me of things at the most inconvenient times, my eyes open to double check we’re not being watched, and the air in my lungs freezes when I see fucking Rodolphus sitting in an armchair a few feet away. Our eyes meet and he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

My hands – they’d been clutching at Thomus’ side and arm – release their grip and pat him to get his attention.

“Thomus,” I gasp when he doesn’t acknowledge me.

He only fucks me harder. “Say it again, darling.”

“Thomus,” I moan, my eyes closing. The orgasm that had been rising suddenly crests, the pleasure crashing over my body in a quick flush. Like I’d been dumped with hot bath water.

Thomus’ teeth sink into my shoulder as he finishes. I open my eyes and Rodolphus is gone. Thankfully, Thomus’ brain returns and he pulls out. He quickly sits up, pulling my dress over my legs. He takes my hand and pulls me up, too.

Then his hands are cupping my face and he’s kissing me. It’s tender, gentle, unlike the absolute wild fucking I just received. But that’s okay. I’m okay with both.

Thank you for reading and sticking a long with me this far! A reblog and comment will go along way, thank you 💕

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the spare // chapter fifty-eight // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5.3k warnings for this chapter: blood, knives, torture

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Eight:

We go to the Malfoy’s manor first. I don’t ask him why.

I haven’t asked him much of anything since Bellatrix’s visit. It’s easier to avoid him than to confront the thousand pound weight in my chest.

It shouldn’t bother me that he slept with her. I know he says he didn’t, but I have no reason to believe him. Maybe he didn’t sleep with her this time, but I have no idea where he goes when he leaves. That hickey I saw on him all those months ago couldn’t have come from just anyone.

I have a million questions I know I don’t have a right to the answers to. We’re not equals. I don’t have a right to demand anything from him.

But, still, it bothers me.

Lucius and Draco are standing nearby when we enter through the fireplace. I pull out of Thomus’ grasp as soon as I’m able. Hermione is descending the stairs while Lucius and Draco look as if they’d just finished having a hushed conversation. Hermione and I are dressed similarly; plain, simple dresses with flats.

Lucius turns an eye to Hermione as she joins us. “Miss Granger” – then eyes me – “Miss Alder.”

Hermione nods in response, her eyes on Draco, but his are on the fireplace. I pretend I wasn’t acknowledged. Thomus gave me a suppression potion right before we left and it’s going to take every ounce of concentration to not freak out tonight. I can only hope that I’m imagining things to be worse than they are.

The men don’t bother with a greeting between them as the clicking of heels announces Narcissa’s approach. The stern expression on her face relaxes briefly to smile at me, then returns a fierce look to her husband.

“We’re leaving after an hour,” she states. “We’ve survived worse.”

I feel a modicum of relief that I’m not the only one dreading this stupid dinner. If it was Voldemort’s idea to get the Malfoys to relax, this is farthest from relaxed I’ve seen any person ever. I’m glad dealing with shitty relatives seems to be a universal experience.

An elf pops into the room behind Lucius. “Master!” a tiny voice squeaks. “An urgent letter from Madam Lestrange!”

Lucius snatches the letter and the sneer already present on his face turns into a faint snarl as he reads it. “A change of plans,” he announces. “Your sister’s manor is ‘inhospitable’ at the moment. She’s asked us to meet her at Rabastan’s estate for dinner.”

Narcissa swipes the parchment, her eyes narrowing. “Absolutely ridiculous,” she hisses. “If that’s how she’s going to play it –“ she stops.

An unspoken look passes between her and Hermione. Concern written all over Narcissa’s face, Hermione gives a nervous nod, then closes her eyes as if mentally preparing herself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Hermione’s gotten way better at Occlumency.

Of course this sends my heart rate spiking. If they’re worried about Hermione’s mind being penetrated, then why has Thomus left me without the same defenses? He knows I have secrets to hide. How much can he really protect me when we’re walking into a den of vipers?

When the grandfather clock chimes seven, Lucius tosses some Floo powder and calls out for Rabastan’s estate. Narcissa and Lucius step through, I turn to Thomus as he readies the Floo powder. I hold my arm out to him, trying my best to keep it together, but the rapid heaving of my chest betrays me.

Instead of grabbing my arm, he grabs my hand first, and I look up at him. We make eye contact for the first time in days and I know I can’t hide the fear in my gaze. His expression remains neutral during this exchange, but he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. He tosses the Floo powder into the fire and soon we’re stepping into a dark foyer.

The place looks like something out of a horror movie. High ceilings, walls so dark I can’t tell if they’re black or just really dirty. Despite the fire behind us, it’s cold and smells damp. The portraits on the wall make themselves known the moment I step through by hissing insults and I almost wanna laugh at my how accurate my snake comparison was.

After Draco and Hermione arrive, the fire vanishes, and we hear the small pitter-patter of footsteps. We turn to see an elf limping towards us.

“Jik takes you now. Dinner this way.”

The elf hobbles on his feet, heavily relying on his left side. He doesn’t hide the wince of pain as he moves his right leg, steering us down the dark hallway he came from. Blood trickles behind his ear.

“Focus, Granger,” Draco murmurs to Hermione as we follow the elf down the hall to a pair of large doors. His voice trails like they’ve stopped and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Hermione’s expression clear, mirroring the coolness in Draco’s.

The doors creak open, Jik stepping aside to let the party through, but no one enters. My eyes stare holes into the back of Narcissa’s dress as my heart pounds heavily in my chest. The short stubs of my nails push into my fingers harshly – a desperate attempt to curb my anxiety. Lucius and Narcissa move into the room, followed by the sound of chairs scraping across the floor. The very dirty floor my eyes are now drawn to.

“Ah,” a familiar voice sings off key from the head of the table. “The Malfoys, ladies and gents.”

When my feet won’t budge, Thomus grabs my wrist and pulls me into the room. Everyone is standing to welcome the new arrivals. I stay behind Thomus’ shoulder, trying to avoid attention.

“Good evening, Bella,” Narcissa says smoothly. “My. But it seems we are under dressed.”

At her comment, my eyes scan the bodies in the room. Men dressed in dark formal attire, Bellatrix in a fancy puffy-sleeved black ball gown. Her wild curls are pinned back, revealing more of her face than I’ve ever seen at once. Hm. I see she healed Caelan’s attack fairly well.

She’s smiling, forced and calculating. Her eyes lock on Thomus briefly before returning to her sister. “Only full evening dress for a dinner with the Malfoys.”

“Dear me,” Lucius drolls. “Is this your evening’s best? I didn’t realize how much Twilfitt and Tattings is suffering.”

My lips pull in between my teeth to bite back the sudden urge to giggle. The sarcasm strangely puts me at ease and I let my eyes wander to the rest of the people around the table. Rabastan is at the opposite end of Bellatrix, Rodolphus to his right. He’s as far as I get because when his grey eyes meet mine, I instantly focus back on the floor, stepping further behind Thomus.

“Mind your manners, brother,” Bellatrix says. “We have a special guest tonight.”

“Ah,” Lucius responds. “How curious that you described this as a ‘family affair’.”

“Things change, Lucius,” Bellatrix snaps, then her tone changes as she continues. “Apologies for the change of location. Thankfully, Rabastan was happy to oblige.”

“Marcus,” Draco says sharply. “What brings you here?”

It’s only when Marcus Flint speaks that I recognize his voice and realize who the special guest must be. “Business with Rabs. Your aunt was generous enough to invite me to stay for dinner.”

Narcissa’s tempered tone interrupts the stand-off. “Shall we sit?”

Then everyone moves – those who already have their seats lowering into them, the new arrivals moving to the empty spots.

“Draco, darling,” Bellatrix sings, patting the place setting to her left. “Come sit next to your dear aunt.”

Draco slowly pivots away from the seat he was about to take, to the new one across from his mother, next to Bellatrix. Lucius sits next to Narcissa and Flint is on Rabastan’s other side. I follow Thomus as he takes the only remaining seat between Draco and Rodolphus. I stand next to Hermione against the wall behind Draco and Thomus. Two others remain standing, a young Lot behind Rabastan and Penelope Clearwater behind Flint.

My eyes are down, but standing above everyone else they’re all in my peripheral.

I don’t have the full brunt of Rodolphus’ stare, and can’t escape Bellatrix’s cold eyes as they sweep across Hermione and I.

The first course appears on the formally set table. It’s some kind of grey soup that makes Lucius curl his upper lip in disgust.

“Mudblood!” Bellatrix calls. “Fetch the bread basket.”

Hermione and I both jump at the calling. Our eyes meet briefly, unsure who she’s referring to. Resigned, I swallow hard, turning to do as she says.

“Not the dog,” she says, rolling her eyes. She turns her nose up and away, waving her hand towards Hermione in a ‘move along’ gesture.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione scurries around the table to the sideboard, where the bread basket and bottles of wine sit. My eyes drift to the grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, dripping candle wax. A surprised yelp brings my attention back to Hermione. She’s standing next to Bellatrix with the giant bread basket, shaking her free hand like it’d just been burned.

Bellatrix bursts out in a cackle. “I forgot about the curses on the silver to keep dirty little thieves away.” Then she turns to Draco, whispering, “Can’t have a Mudblood mucking up our things, can we?”

I watch Hermione take deep breaths as she turns back to the sideboard. She grabs a cloth napkin and wraps it around the handle of the serving tongs. She swiftly moves back to Bellatrix, already holding a piece of bread with the tongs.

But Bellatrix gasps dramatically, making everyone at the table freeze before turning to stare at her.

"You dare serve a guest before the lord of the manor?" Bellatrix breaths, placing her hand over her chest. “Where are your manners, Mudblood?”

Flint and Rabastan giggle behind their napkins, clearly enjoying watching Hermione struggle. She bows her head and takes a step backward.

“Let Alder replace her,” Thomus clips coldly. “They prefer house elves as table servants.”

“Nonsense,” Bellatrix dismisses. “She’ll learn quickly with proper motivation.”

Hermione walks the length of the table to Rabastan, who has an amused grin plastered to his face. He isn’t subtle as his eyes slither down her body as she serves him, quickly turning to Rodolphus.

“I will discipline her as I see fit, Bella,” Narcissa says.

Bellatrix ignores her, eyes seeking Flint’s with an apologetic pout. “Unfortunately, my sister and I have always disagreed on the topic of ‘discipline’.” She sighs. “It’s the same with my dear brothers-in-law, I’m afraid.”

“Few can afford your methods of ‘discipline,’ Bellatrix,” says Lucius. “What elf are you on now? The eighth?”

“Ninth,” Rodolphus replies smoothly, the corner of his mouth turning up as he smirks down the table. Bellatrix glares at him, but he keeps his cool smile.

“A terrible waste, if you ask me,” Narcissa says with a superior uptilt to her chin as she picks up her spoon. “Servants thrive under order and a certain degree of respect. Such draconian measures are unnecessary. Don’t you agree Thomus?”

“Thomus’ Lot is a bit of an exception, surely,” Rodolphus cuts in. Thomus’s head pivots sharply to face him. Rodolphus adjusts his torso so he can cast a knowing glance at me. “Dogs are bred to serve their master. Hardly any discipline was necessary I’ve heard.”

“Alder has received the appropriate discipline,” Thomus replies sharply.

Bellatrix scoffs at him. “Marcus, dear. Tell me, how do you discipline your whore when she forgets her place?”

Flint chuckles. “An excellent question, Mrs. Lestrange. But she doesn’t forget. Not anymore.”

Hermione maneuvers past me, placing bread at Thomus before getting around to Draco.

“And tell me,” Bellatrix says, “does your whore sleep in the dungeon? Perhaps your closet, like Rabastan’s?”

“Well, she sleeps in my bed now. But in the beginning, when she misbehaved, she had a cage down the hall.” He smirks. “Close enough for convenience, but too far to hear her rattling it.”

“Of course,” Bellatrix coos. “And does she have her own room?”

My heart races. Hermione’s not the only one with her own room.

Flint grins. “Not yet, but I’ve heard some inspiring stories about Draco’s ‘dungeon’.”

Rabastan chuckles.

“I meant somewhere safe and warm,” Bellatrix says, really trying to drive her point across. “Does your little Mudblood have her own four-poster and en-bathroom suite?”

Hermione stumbles as she approaches Bellatrix’s left side. Bellatrix snaps her fingers and points at her bread plate.

Flint laughs. “She’s a slave, not a house guest.”

As Hermione serves her a piece of bread, Bellatrix cackles and seizes Hermione’s wrist. Hermione gasps and the tongs clatter onto the table.

“Such pretty scars, Mudblood,” Bellatrix says, yanking her closer to run her fingers over Hermione’s arm. Her lips curl wistfully. “Much lovelier than the dog’s, but I blame the tools and canvas for that. But you, we could make a work of art.”

Her words trail like ice over my skin and involuntarily my eyes slide to Rodolphus. His eyebrow raises as he gives me a knowing look.

“I, too, would like some bread,” Narcissa says icily. “Whenever you’re done playing with the help, Bella.”

With a scowl, Bellatrix releases Hermione, who quickly grabs the tongs and flees.

“Who’re you fooling? You never ate bread in your life,” Bellatrix remarks, fully and unknowingly embodying Regina George as she tears into her roll and dips it into her soup. She brings it to her mouth and chews slowly, pointedly staring at her sister.

“Unfortunately, the bread is the only edible thing on the table,” Lucius cuts in, turning to Flint before Bellatrix can reply. “So, looking forward to the ceremony next week?”

“I am, sir,” Flint replies. “It’s a great honor.”

This grabs Draco’s attention. “What’s this?”

“I’m receiving the mark next week.” Flints chin lifts. “Along with Theo and Greg.”

“Congratulations,” Draco says coolly before turning back to his soup.

Flints eyes widen with mock innocence. “I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he says. “Theo and Greg are such close friends of yours.”

“I’ve been a bit preoccupied with the efforts in France and Italy,” Draco says, swirling his spoon in the soup. “And there’s no newsletter between us all, as you’ll come to find out.”

Hermione finishes serving the bread and returns the basket to the sideboard.

“Mudblood!” Bellatrix calls, barely looking at her. “Refill the wine.”

Hermione picks up the wine bottle and begins making her rounds, heading for the LoRd oF ThE mAnoR first.

“I think it’s high time,” remarks Bellatrix. “You’ll make an excellent addition to the Dark Lord’s elite, Marcus. As for the Goyle whelp, well, that remains to be seen. I suppose he can’t be worse than his father. I heard Gringotts finally declared him dead.”

“Finally,” Rodolphus grunts in agreement.

Bellatrix rolls her eyes and sips long from her cup. “And I know Ted is anxious to see Theodore take the Mark. He thinks offering up a capable son might help the Dark Lord be more… patient with some of his own shortcomings. But apparently his heart isn’t in it at all.” She snickers, looking pointedly at Lucius. “There’s nothing quite like your only heir disgracing the family name. Isn’t that right?”

Hermione reaches Rabastan at the head of the table and fills his cup.

“It would be devastating, indeed,” Lucius steadily replies, lazily reaching for his wine. “Not that you or Rodolphus would know anything about heirs.”

“Of course not,” she chides, smiling wide. “My family knows nothing about the struggle to have heirs – or spares.” She side-eyes Thomus. “Choosing power over children is infinitely more satisfying.”

Hermione trails around to Rodolphus, moving quickly, soon putting Thomus between them.

“We seem to have differing views on ‘power’, Bella,” Narcissa says. “The last time I checked, you still answer to a man.”

Bellatrix’s eyes flash to Narcissa’s. “The second you push a man’s child out of you, you’re his slave.” She nods at us, the Lots along the wall. “No better than them. My only master is the Dark Lord.”

A man. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. God, there’s so much to unpack.

Bellatrix drains her glass and slams it on the table. She’s next on Hermione’s round, and her hesitation to move closer is obvious.

“Speaking of brats –“ Bellatrix grabs a fistful of Hermione’s hair, tugging her down to her level. The bottle clashes to the floor, red wine splattering like blood.

Draco shifts once, his eyes staring bullet holes into his aunt, and his wand has appeared in his lap. Even Thomus has his full attention on her.

Narcissa releases a quick stern voice to her sister. “Bella -”

“You can’t serve like an elf, you can’t cook like an elf. But surely you’re useful for some things,” Bellatrix hisses in Hermione’s face. “Looking forward to a long life on your back, darling?”

I stare wide-eyed when Hermione’s body stiffens as Bellatrix penetrates her mind. It’s quick, giving Hermione enough time to whimper before Bellatrix releases her hold. Hermione drops to the ground as Bellatrix cackles at the sight.

Nobody moves until she rolls her eyes. “Oh, Draco, go clean up your pet.”

He doesn’t move, just looks down at her.

“What’re you waiting for?” she hisses.

Finally he rises to his feet, and I turn my eyes away to give them privacy as he fixes her up. He steadies her against the wall behind his chair, leaving only when she stays firm against it.

“Speaking of pets,” Bellatrix sings as Draco takes his seat. “Rabastan, Marcus, why don’t you go check on yours? We need to have a little family chat.”

“I think I’ll join them, my love,” Rodolphus says as the other two rise from their seats. “You and I are of the same opinion on this matter, so I doubt I’ll have anything of substance to add to the topic.”

“Very well,” Bellatrix says, waving him off. “Take the whores with you. I’m sure the Mudblood would delight in seeing her old boyfriend again.”

Wait – old boyfriend? My questioning eyes turn to Hermione’s. Her gaze is empty, deep in her Occlumency, but I see a spark of worry in the downturn of her mouth.

“She stays,” Narcissa demands, glaring at her sister. “She goes nowhere without Draco.”

Bellatrix sneers, turning to Lucius. “Go on, then. But be sure to let the ginger know who our dinner guests are.”

Oh, fuck. Ron.

A strong, firm hand clasps around my elbow, yanking me towards the door. I glance up, realizing it’s Rodolphus and clamp my hand down on Thomus’ shoulder. Startled, he looks at me, but quickly regains his blank look. He looks up at Rodolphus’ challenging gaze, then back at me. He sighs and pulls my hand off of him, his own falling back into fists in his lap.

Thomus turns his face away dismissively as he speaks. “Yes, you can take the dog on a walk. You only had to ask politely.”

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. The words chant in my head as Rodolphus drags me away. My eyes frantically bounce across the table, meeting Narcissa’s equally shocked eyes. I see them narrow at Thomus before a strong jerk from Rodolphus finally captures my attention as the doors to the dining room close.

It’s suddenly dark, the burnt out sconces on the walls barely shine as bright as the chandelier. Rodolphus puts both hands on my shoulders, steering me down the hallway after the others. They’re not far because Rabastan stops to pull out his wand, lighting the end with the illumination charm. We’re directly in front of a dark doorway, the white-blue light casting shadows over what look to be stairs leading down.

“Are you sure this will work?” Rabastan asks, looking to Rodolphus behind me.

“Ah,” Flint says knowingly, unable to hide his excitement. “Is there a plan afoot?”

“Trust me it’ll work.” Rodolphus turns me towards the darkness. “After you, pet.”

He nudges me towards it, but I put my hands up on the doorway to stop, locking my elbows to prevent me from going further. “Are you going to light the way?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Or do you expect me to see in the dark?”

Rodolphus’ mouth is at my ear, his deep voice smooth. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” he placates. “You’re of no use to me dead.”

“How reassuring,” I reply flatly, but peel my fingers off the doorframe.

I take a hesitant step forward, fingers feeling along the middle trim of the wall. Without light, I go as fast as I’m able. My eyes eventually adjust to its only source of light shining from several people behind me. The corridor is narrower than upstairs and another flight down the trim on the wall gives way to cold stone. It’s much colder down here, our footsteps echoing.

Rodolphus puts a hand on the back of my neck, stopping me and pushing me through another dark doorway. It’s not a door we pass, but a gate of metal bars. After we all huddle into the room, Rabastan shoots light to a single torch on the wall, dimming the light on his wand.

Three walls of the cell are stone, the fourth is barred barrier, splitting the room into two cells.

Rabastan drags his wand over the bars. “Weasley! Get up! We have guests.”

There’s a cot on the other side, a lump of fabric curled on it. At Rabastan’s words, the red-headed figure shifts until his bare feet are on the floor. There must’ve been a fight recently. I can’t make out any major injuries, but from just the set of Ron’s shoulders, I can tell he’s exhausted. He looks thinner, too.

Rabastan leans a casual elbow against the bars, curling a finger towards Ron. “Oi, come closer. I got something to tell ya’.”

Ron doesn’t move, only looks blankly at the floor.

“Your girlfriend’s come for a visit. Granger’s, her name, isn’t it?” Rabastan continues, and this time his words attract Ron’s gaze. He nudges Flint. “She was all cozied up to Draco wasn’t she? She’s taken quite well to being his whore, if you ask me.”

Ron’s lips thin. “Shut up.” His voice is dry, but it doesn’t crack.

Rabastan ignores him. “We told her you were here, but she refused to see you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” Flint mocks. “It was kind of hard to understand her with her mouth full of –“

Ron leaps at the bars, his fist just barely missing Flints face as everyone backs off. Flint’s laughing hysterically and Rabastan gets an eager look in his eye. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“You know the rules, Weasley – Crucio,” Rabastan says all in the same breath. Ron crumples to the floor, his head bouncing off the edge of the cot.

Ron screams, the sound so torturous and cruel I close my eyes and flinch. He stops when he runs out of breath, but even the lung fulls of new air sound tremendously painful. Rabastan stops the spell briefly, only to whip it back at him as he chokes on another round of screaming.

Rabastan is laughing, and Rodolphus has pulled me against him, his arm over my chest and hand on my waist. Penelope has curled into Flint’s shoulder and he seems to be distracted by that fact. Rabastan’s Lot is facing the wall closest to the exit, shoulders up to her ears.

Once Rabastan has caught his breath, he stops Ron’s torture, a scream ending on a wild, garbled pitch.

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – that spell is one of wizardkinds’ greatest achievements,” Rabastan remarks, gushing about it like it’s his favorite play. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Flint says, kissing ass.

Rodolphus would reply, but he’s too busy grinding his erection against my backside and breathing heavily into my hair. My hands are balled into fists at my side.

“Why don’t you go play with your house elf, brother?” Rodolphus says. “I’m not done with Thomus’ dog yet. I need some time before we return.”

Rabastan snickers. “No problem.” He turns to Flint and the Lots, pulling the cell door open and the room empties. “Let’s get out of here. I want to show you my real play room. Been working on it for months.” His voice trails off down the hall.

Rodolphus reaches around me and shoves the cell door closed, and I hear an unmistakable click as it locks. I gasp when he turns me and shoves my back to the far wall. We’re right next to the torch, so I can see his face clearly.

“Hm,” he hums casually, his eyes raking my body as he finds one arm and presses it against the wall, quickly doing the same to the other. “I see he didn’t rid you of that mark I left on you, pet. Good thing you were standing behind me or I wouldn’t have been able to take my eyes off it.”

His eyes go right to the words on my arm, they’re on full display with my dress’ short sleeves. “However, I have to disagree with my wife.” He brings his face closer to my arm, his lips trailing down the haggard scars. “I think you would make the much better art project.”

The most upsetting thing about Rodolphus is that while I know he’s talking about hacking at me with a knife, his smooth deep voice and squared jaw make him and his words sound ultra-hot. My body isn’t reacting to him like it does to Thomus, but I can still recognize the tragedy. What a waste for him to be an irredeemable bad guy.

I take a deep breath, willing my voice not to tremble as I speak. “If I were you, I wouldn’t keep me down here for very long. Thomus will come looking for me sooner or later.”

He pulls his lips away from my arm to smirk at me. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

I glance down at Ron. He’s still slumped on the floor, not moving. At least he doesn’t have to witness this.

Rodolphus’ gaze follows mine and he presses his hips against me, his still-hard erection digging into me. He lets out a satisfied groan. “Have you ever seen someone be Crucio’d before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I reply flatly. There’s something about the way his grip slips on my wrists that make me continue speaking. “I’ve only been on the receiving end.”

He stands with both feet on the outside of mine. A shift in his hips gives me more room to breathe, and I roll my body against his, testing just how much wiggle room I have.

“I remember the first time quite vividl – ow!”

He howls in pain when my knee connects to his balls, temporarily distracting him enough for me to grab his shoulders and keep him steady so I can knee him for a second time. An angry grunt puffs out of him as he sinks to his knees, clutching his crotch. I shove him away and leap for the cell door.

Only to remember it’s locked.

Frantic, I whip around in search of Rodolphus’ wand. I know I don’t have my magic, so maybe a wand will be the jump start I need.

I spot his wand on the ground by his knee, but he recovers quickly and snatches it faster than I can dive for it. Panting, he keeps the end of it pointing at me as he gets to his feet. My eyes bounce from him to the torch on the wall and I wonder if I can manage to shove his scary handsome face into it.

I also catch Ron’s eyes glistening in the torchlight, blankly staring.

Rodolphus rushes forward, back handing me across my face so hard for a split second I’m not sure it happened. Then he grabs me by the hair and tosses me to the floor. As I scramble to sit up, fingers grappling for anything on the cobbled stone floor, he straddles my legs. My fingers only find straw, but I still chuck it at him.

This doesn’t faze him in the slightest. He grabs a wrist and pins it to the floor with a sticking charm. With my free hand I make a go for his hair, wanting to yank it from his scalp until he effortlessly maneuvers that hand to the ground with just his wand.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” I blurt out in a desperate whisper.

He trails his wand down my chest. “Not today, pet. Not today.” His head tilts and his eyes roam my face as he seems to consider. Then he sighs. “Sadly I’ve realized that hurting you would be a waste of time and effort. I could send you back to Thomus missing your spine, puking up your intestines, and I’m sure he’d find a way to patch you up.”

Rodolphus sits back, lifting up a side of his suit jacket, revealing a knife hidden in the waistband of his pants. He pulls it out, unsheathing it and twirling it against the torchlight.

How the hell do he and Bellatrix have marriage problems? They seem fucking perfect for each other.

An involuntary gulp tightens my throat when he dips the sharp tip along my neck. “But I can’t kill you, either, because then I’ll have nothing to torture him with.”

“This is a waste of your time,” I plead, my voice dry and gravelly. “He doesn’t care about me. He never has.”

He chuckles. “You are the only one who believes that lie, pet.” He brings the knife up to my cheek, gently pressing the cold blade my flushed skin. “So I can’t kill you, can’t maim you. One would think there’s not much left is there?” He pauses with a broad, sinister smile. “You’d be wrong of course.”

I whimper when the blade slices through the skin on my cheek. I somehow manage to get my feet flat on the ground and shove my hips up, jostling him. Luckily the blade doesn’t do any further damage from my frantic, desperate actions, because he pulls it away, swiping his forefinger down the blade’s edge. Then he presses the tip into the pad of his finger, drawing his own blood to mix with mine.

With a wicked, excited grin he begins tracing his finger on my neck, my collarbone, yanking down my dress to have access to my chest. The cold room quickly chills the exposed blood on my cheek and I can feel where it drips down the side of my face. It does the same to the patterns he’s tracing on my skin. It’s not a continuous line. He often lifts his finger to start somewhere else or to mix more of our blood together.

He smears his finger over my lips. Then touches both of my eyelids and traces the shell of my ears, leaving blood in its wake.  I’m so stunned, I can hardly think of a way out of this.

Finally, Rodolphus straightens his back, his wand hovering over me. He starts chanting in Latin and holy fuck if only the last Latin class I’d taken wasn’t six fucking years ago. The tip of his wand begins to glow red and is mirrored by a similar red glow emitting from myself.

A swirling, sinking, dizzying feeling swells in my chest and I close my eyes to damper its effects, but it only makes it worse. In my terror and helplessness I finally call out for Thomus. I start to thrash against the stone floor and its magical hold and scream and scream –

Only to realize I can’t hear my voice.

I open my eyes, but only see darkness.

#tom hiddleston #writing #the auction #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort wins au #slowburn #enemies to lovers #the spare #dramione #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #plus size oc #hurt/comfort #deatheater!tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fan fiction #harry potter au #bellatrix lestrange #lucius malfoy #rodolphus lestrange

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the spare // chapter fifty-five // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 4.3k warnings for this chapter: shoulder dislocation, idk what else

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Five:

It’s not long until my sobs turn into whimpers of pain. Thomus is holding me so tightly it’s making the pain in my shoulder worse. I still can’t move my arm.

I sniffle. “Thomus, there’s something wrong with my shoulder.”

He pulls back immediately, eyes and hands scanning my body. He brushes over a particularly tender spot and I hiss.

“Ow,” I whine.

“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing me and casting a diagnostic charm. “Your shoulders been dislocated.” He sounds angry, his face tense, but I know he’s not upset with me.

“Can you fix it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’ll have to take you to St. Mungo’s.”

“Ugh, fine,” I huff, making a face. “Let me put on some pants.”

He nods. “Let me just – “ He casts the same numbing charm he’d used on my arm to fix Bellatrix’s scars. I sigh with relief when the pain eases. Now my shoulder and arm just feel heavy.

Thomus turns to the door. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a moment. Reparo.”

I don’t stay to watch the front door fix itself. Upstairs, my shorts come off easily, but when it comes to the pants, I struggle. They’re lopsided and halfway up my legs when Thomus comes in.

“I, um, brought you this,” he half-laughs. I pause my struggling and see he’s brought a sling. He comes up to me and gently places it around my neck, settling my arm into it.

“Am I gonna get high off the drops again?” I ask to distract myself from my embarrassment as he grips the waistband of my pants and hikes them up.

“No, I gave you the correct dosage this time – did you have to pick the tightest trousers the wardrobe could offer?”

“They’re leggings,” I huff, feeling my face heat as he uses some real umph to get it over my fupa and ass. “I hate baggy pants. Anything that swishes around my ankles makes me feel fat.” I step away from him when he’s gotten them close enough. Using my good hand, I jump and wiggle my hips to get them into place. I go to the wardrobe to find socks and glance at myself in the mirror.

I do a double-take.

I’ve got a fucking black eye. It’s on the left side, the side Rodolphus had shoved into the ground, along with a couple of shallow scrapes along my temple and cheek. My tears had made paths through the dirt. I feel disgusting.

I rush into the bathroom, yanking off my glasses to splash water on my face. My breaths turn shallow and I feel a sob rise in my throat, more tears threatening to spill. The water makes the cuts sting as it flushes out the dirt.

I feel Thomus’ hand on my back, his other pulling my hair out of my face.

“The Healers aren’t going to care what you look like,” he murmurs.

“I care,” I reply firmly, shaking my head. I run damp fingers through my hair, watching a few leaves fall to the floor. “Fuck, my shirt’s dirty too. I’m totally taking a bath as soon as we get back.”

He murmurs an agreement as I pat my face dry with a towel. He heads back into my room and opens the wardrobe. I sit on the bed to put on my socks. It’s a fucking struggle to do with one hand.

Thomus lays a dark green mass of fabric next to me and kneels at my feet. “Here, let me.” He takes the socks from my hand and slips them up to my ankle with ease. Then he shuffles back to the wardrobe. “I’m assuming you want the trainers?”

“Yeah, the black and white ones.”

He comes back over and starts getting them on my feet.

“Okay, this is weird,” I say. “I can’t remember the last time anyone put my shoes on for me.” He glances up at me, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Okay, not weird, but definitely embarrassing.”

“Not weird and not embarrassing,” he says, shifting to the other foot. “Just a bit of a role reversal. I’m accustomed to taking your clothes off, not putting them on.”

I let out a faint laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.”

He stands and grabs the lump of fabric he’d laid next to me. I realize it’s a cloak when he opens it by the shoulders and holds it out for me. I stand and step into it.

“Thinking green again?” I tease as he secures the clasp.

“It’s a good color on you,” he remarks casually.

My face falls and I look down. “I probably shouldn’t be making jokes… after what just happened.”

Thomus sighs, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I believe you called it a coping mechanism once or twice.” He steps back to summon his own cloak. “There’s no wrong or right way to react to something like this. You cry and make jokes, while I practice anger management and self-control.” He gestures for me to leave first.

“Anger management?” I question as we descend to the living room.

Thomus steps up to the fireplace, summoning the bag of Floo powder. He looks me dead in the eyes, a dark and murderous expression marring his lovely handsome face. Then it’s gone, replaced by his literal Death Eater mask materializing onto his face with a wave of his wand.  

It’s enough to strike a spark of fear and unease in my chest and make me not ask about it again.

He pulls up his hood and slips his hand into the sling so he can touch the tattoo. He calls out for the Leaky Cauldron and we step through the fireplace, emerging into the dimly lit pub.

Few heads turn in our direction, none too surprised to see a Death Eater. The few that do stare, stare at me.

“Master Malfoy!” the old innkeeper calls from behind the bar. “Come for a drink?”

“Just passing through.” Thomus’ voice isn’t muffled by the mask. Must be part of the magic.

He takes my good hand and guides me through the pub, out onto the streets of No-Maj London. Dark blue clouds cover the sky, pink light peaking through the gaps casts a soft glow. We remain in the shadows of alleys and back passageways, small dark courtyards not yet lit with lamp posts.

I’m a little taken aback when I realize he seems to trust me not to run away. The simple act of holding hands wouldn’t do much if I really wanted to escape. Still, even with the option presented to me once again, I don’t feel inclined to leave. The hustle and bustle of the city noises just make me want to return to the peaceful quiet of the cottage.

There aren’t many we pass that look our way. Being in the middle of the city like this, everyone’s minding their own business. It gives me some relief, because that’s just how things were before. No one’s shying away from Thomus’ scary masked appearance, which makes me believe it’s either a sight they’re used to or it’s got an anti-No-Maj charm on it.

Eventually we turn a corner onto a main street and the large red-bricked building of St. Mungo’s is at our feet. We ignore the department store’s front doors and instead step straight through the large display window next to it and into a waiting area. It’s full of old wooden chairs that look like they’d snap under my weight and lit with blue and green crystal bubbles filled with candles floating towards the ceiling. I do a quick glance at the half-dozen waiting patients, but my gaze doesn’t linger for fear of being caught staring.

Thomus releases my hand, but I stay close by his side as he walks up to the reception desk. The lady is short with broad shoulders and seems to shrink further into her seat when she gets a look at Thomus’ mask. The fear I see in her round blue eyes doesn’t surprise me. Even before Voldemort won, the Death Eaters reputation wasn’t exactly a secret.

“How can I help you?” she squeaks.

“I have a witch with a dislocated shoulder,” he says. “I need her seen immediately.”

She blinks, her eyes flickering to me, then she nervously clears her throat. “I need the name and status of –“

“You don’t need a name or her status,” Thomus cuts in.

She closes her mouth and visibly swallows. “If you’d take a seat, I shall see who is available –“

“I said immediately.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and the receptionist’s pained expression implies she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. I frown and bite my tongue. I don’t need special treatment, but I have a feeling I shouldn’t argue with the man wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Sir, please take a –“

“I’ll take them, Mathilda,” a male voice says. We turn to see a short balding wizard with a briefcase approach from behind us. He’s tucking a pocket watch into his waist coat and stops at a pair of double doors leading to some stairs. “Barely 7 o’clock – you couldn’t have waited until I’ve had my coffee, could you Mr. Malfoy?”

Thomus takes my elbow and we follow the man. “I shall send an owl next time there’s an emergency.”

The man scoffs. “I believe merpeople will grow legs and walk on land before that happens.”

We follow the man up the stairs to the first floor, which is labeled CREATURE INDUCED INJURIES. We pass a few doors down a wide corridor before entering a small office. A brass card-holder on the door read: Healer-in-Charge Hippocrates Smethwyck.

The room has a desk, a small window, and two chairs that line one wall. A cluster of the blue floating crystals light the room. The Healer, whom I assume is Hippocrates Smethwyck, pulls out his wand and changes one of the chairs into an exam table.

He closes the door behind us and smiles at me. “Please have a seat.”

As I settle in on the table, the Healer puts down his briefcase and takes off his overcoat and jacket. “So what ails you, my dear?” he says as he rolls up his sleeves.

I clear my throat to answer, but Thomus does it for me.

“Dislocated shoulder.” Thomus is standing near the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“Merlin, Thomus, take a seat – and have that mask off, would you? There aren’t any muggles for you to scare in here,” the Healer says, using his wand to move the remaining chair closer to Thomus. It nudges him until Thomus begrudgingly sits, pulling his mask off and resting it on his knee.

“Alright, let’s have a look at you.” The Healer casts the familiar diagnostic charms I’d seen Thomus use. He nods after a moment of careful peering at the colors. “Dislocated shoulder indeed. As well as a cracked clavicle.”

I notice Thomus shift in his seat before the diagnostic lights fade. A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“If I may,” the Healer says, his hand reaching for my glasses. I nod and he pulls them off, setting them aside before saddling closer to examine my face. His eyes scan my face and he frowns before meeting my eyes. “My, my – have a nasty fall, did we?”

“I was… attacked,” I reply slowly. Then quickly clarify. “Not by him.”

“I would assume nothing less of our mutual friend,” the Healer replies. He steps back and signs. “You should consider yourself lucky. Normally the others don’t even summon a Healer for them.”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look at Thomus, whose arms are crossed again saddled with a solemn expression.

When I look back at the Healer, my expression mirrors my words. “That’s really sad.”

“Simply put,” he agrees.

“Let’s get on with it,” Thomus snaps.

I glare at him. “You’re managing very poorly.”

He gets my meaning and scoffs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Please remove your cloak,” the Healer instructs, ignoring Thomus. I can easily unclasp the cloak with one hand and the fabric falls from my shoulders, pooling on the table. He helps me remove the sling. “I will not lie to you, the procedure will be quick, but it will also hurt. Especially with an injured clavicle.”

“I’ve given her Lenios drops,” Thomus says, straightening his posture.

“The banned drops?” the Healer questions, raising an eyebrow.

Thomus shrugs. “Surely me not following rules doesn’t shock you.”

“Good point – alright, dear, now lie back.”

I do as he says, trying not to let my fear of the potential pain take over. He holds my dislocated arm out straight, casting another diagnostic charm over my shoulder. My eyes seek out Thomus and with one pleading look, he stands and comes to my side. His warm fingers find mine and I squeeze them.

“Are you ready?” the Healer asks gently and I nod, squeezing my eyes shut.

With a tap of his wand on my shoulder, the joint pops loudly back into place. I don’t scream, but I let out a painful whimper. The pain doesn’t last long and I can breathe soon after.

Thomus helps me sit up and the Healer places the sling back around my neck. He pulls my hair out of the way and he pauses.

“What’s this?” he asks, gently pushing at my chin with his wand to turn my face away. He touches something on my neck and it stings, making me wince. “A bite mark?”

I sense rather than feel Thomus stiffen next to me. His hand still holding mine turns rigid with anger.

The Healer can see Thomus’ change. “It’s a simple healing spell, Thomus. I can –“

“Don’t,” Thomus bites out. “I’ll take care of it.”

There’s a pause to see if Thomus means now, but he only pulls at my hand, getting me to stand. I keep my eyes down as he puts on my cloak. I only get a glimpse at his face before he puts on his mask again. It’s that same expression from before – dark and murderous and, honestly, a little scary.

The Healer gives Thomus a bottle of Skelegrow for my clavicle and sends us on our way.

~*~

As soon as we step through the fireplace of the cottage I start stripping. It’s a slow and awkward process to do one handed, but I manage to get to the bathroom clad in just my dirty t-shirt to start filling the tub. I pull my arm out of the sling long enough to get my shirt over my head and down my arm.

Thomus had disappeared into the kitchen upon our arrival and I think I heard him come up the stairs to his room. The door to it from the bathroom is closed, so I don’t know for sure.

The bath is hot and feels luxurious after the day I’ve had. I spend several moments just leaning back with my eyes closed, sorely tempted to nap, before reaching for a wash cloth.

The door to Thomus’ room opens and he slides in carrying two empty whiskey glasses and the bottle of Dragon brandy. He sets them on the floor next to the tub and retreats back to his room, returning with a wooden stool. He places it next to the tub and sits heavily, sighing.

“Rough day?” I ask dryly.

He sighs again, nodding, and turns to pour some brandy into a glass, then downs it in one go. Then he straightens his back and begins rolling up his sleeves high up his arm.

My mind scatters with dirty thoughts watching him expose his slutty forearms, but I still manage to find my voice. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I figured you might need some help.” He tries to take the soapy wash cloth from my hand, but I pull it down, making it disappear beneath the water.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know you’re not.” He rests his hand on my knee peeking out from the surface and gives me a pleading look. “I just… I just want to.”

“Okay,” I reply softly. “Can you pour me a drink before you start?”

“Of course,” he says, turning to fill the other glass and hand it to me. I trade it for the soapy wash cloth.

When I’m settled with my glass, he plunges his hand into the water, feeling around my legs until he grabs an ankle and pulls it up out of the water. First he washes my foot, then my ankle and slowly works my calf, minding the scrapes on my knees. It feels nice and I release a contented sigh.

“Will there be any other surprises?” he asks as he moves on to the other leg.

I tilt my head. “Surprises?”

He doesn’t answer and I take two long sips of my drink, making a face at the taste. I haven’t eaten since lunch, so the alcohol hits my empty stomach with a warm tingle.

“Do you think I’m hiding a third leg down there or something?” I press.

There’s a subtle disgruntled shake to his head. “You should’ve told me he bit you.”

“Honestly, I forgot about it,” I say, my voice quiet.

With my feet propped on the edge of the tub, Thomus focuses on my thighs. The soapy water ripples to my chin as I sink further into it. I take another long sip before leaning my head back and closing my eyes. Unwanted images from the day flash across my mind and I focus on Thomus’ hand brushing near my core as he makes laps across my thigh.

After a while, I notice the movements become repetitive and robotic. I take a peek at him to see him just staring at my scuffed up knees, his free hand moving suds over the marks.

“Tell me about what happened,” he murmurs into the silence. “Don’t spare me any details.”

I swallow hard around nothing. “Even the gory ones?”

“Even the gory ones.”

I take another drink and lean back again, staring at the ceiling. “He came knocking. I kept locking the door, so he busted it open. I’m pretty sure I fell on my arm wrong which is how my shoulder got dislocated. Then I ran and he chased. Pretty standard stuff.” I pause to take another drink. He’s getting the short version and I’m doing my best not to fully relive it in my head any more than my mind is already forcing me to.

“You… ran outside?” he prompts.

I nod. “Yup. Ran to the creek to look for a good rock to throw at him. He finds me, tells me to run, and blah blah blah.” My tone is apathetic as I’m relaying the details, because I’m trying really hard not to get all worked up again. “He tackles me, shoves my head into the ground, continues monologuing. I throw dirt in his face and kick him and run into the house to hide in the attic. The end.”

I open my eyes and look at him, taking in his handsome profile still staring pensively at my thighs.

“When did he bite you?”

I shrug my good shoulder. “Does it matter?”

He blinks and finally looks away from my legs. He doesn’t answer, but has me sit forward so he can scrub my back and lord, I nearly moan at how good it feels. His free hand lifts the band of the sling so he can get under it, and I can feel him pause at the sight of the bite.

“Look, if it bothers you so much, why don’t you just heal it and forget about it?” I snap, a bit irritated.

“That’s not the point,” he fires back.

I glare at him over my shoulder. “Then what is?”

He meets my glare with a dirty look of his own, but seems to be struggling with his explanation. “He – he…”             “He what? He marked me? Claimed me as his? Is that the bullshit you’re struggling with?” I turn towards him more, unwittingly pushing my face closer to his. “Newsflash, you’ve already claimed me – or have you forgotten your name’s tattooed on my arm?”

“That’s different,” he sputters.

“How?”

“It just is.”

We glare at each other until an idea pops into my head. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it as I finish the rest of my glass and put it on the floor.

“Well, you know what the solution to this is?” I ask.

“What?” he snaps.

I slip the strap of the sling over my head and pull my hair to the side. Then I look him dead in the eyes and say with all seriousness, “Bite me.”

His eyes pop into circles for a moment before he blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” I cup water in my palm and splash it against the spot to rinse the soap. I turn my face away, exposing my neck to him. “Have at it.”

I might be grumpy and headstrong on the outside, but as I sit and wait for him to touch me, I realize how much I need this, too. Rodolphus biting me was primitive and inherently sexual in nature and I’m sick to my stomach at the thought that it was him. Yeah, I called it bullshit, but I won’t admit to Thomus that I really want him to… reclaim me.

I’m nearly panting with anticipation when I feel his lips brush over the curve of my ear.

“You want me to bite you?” he whispers.

“Do I need to shout it from the rooftop? Get a microphone?”

Thomus chuckles and I nearly melt with how the sound sends shivers down my spine. He lets the wash cloth sink and threads his damp fingers into my roots at the base of my skull. He balls his fist with my hair and angles my head just how he wants it.

My core clenches when his teeth scrape over the old bite. I gasp and moan when they sink into my skin. He bites hard, sucking at the flesh between his teeth. His tongue laps at my skin as if to soothe the irritation, the intrusion.

My chest shudders with the unbridled relief flooding my veins. Relief that I’m fully his again.

He relinquishes his hold, unlocking his jaw, peppering kissing up my neck to my cheek.

With a grip still in my hair, he turns my head until our lips meet and I sink back into the water with a sigh. His other hand runs down my chest, cupping and kneading my breasts before dipping his hand directly to the junction between my legs. His fingers slip through my folds where he encounters slipperiness of another kind.

I whimper when he removes his hands from me, one of them feeling around for the wash cloth. He finds it and brings it up to my chest, gliding along my skin.

“I think I want you to bite me again,” I sigh. “A lot. Everywhere.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he reassures me with a kiss to my crown. “But in the meantime, just relax.”

And oh boy, do I relax. He makes sure to get every nook and cranny on my body. From armpits to navel and even behind my ears. I dip my head into the water so he can lather shampoo in, massaging my scalp and I nearly fall asleep with how relaxed I am.

Nearly.

Almost. Not quite.

Not nearly enough to keep certain questions at bay.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe I just feel safe. Maybe I feel he’ll answer me honestly if I ask him now.

“Thomus, why did you buy me?”

His hands in my hair freeze and I’m afraid to open my eyes to see the effect my question had on him.

The room is so quiet I can hear an owl hoot from outside. I’m scarcely daring to breathe.

“I… don’t know,” comes his soft voice in the silence.

Okay, now that makes me straighten and turn to look at him. Because of anything he could have said, that was not on my list of possibilities. He doesn’t seem angry at my question at least. His eyebrows are pinched together and he looks… lost for words.

“You don’t know?” I ask.

He looks down. “I was merely at the auction to support Draco.”

My eyes widen and I gape at him. “So… there wasn’t like a plan or anything?”

“Of course I didn’t have a plan,” he hisses. He quickly dips his hands into the water and pulls them back out to pat them dry on the nearby hand towel. “I didn’t give a single fucking thought to you until you walked out on that fucking stage alive.” He whips the cap of the bottle off and pours three shots worth into his glass, a sneer curling his lips. “And then Goyle put his fucking hands on you and the next thing I knew, I’d placed a bid.” He gulps down the amber liquid in one go.

My mind whirls, traveling faster than the speed of light, jumping from one conclusion to the next. My mouth, however, does not travel that fast. “So… you bought me on a whim… because you were jealous?”

He scoffs. “Are you trying to point out how ridiculous and irrational that was? Believe me, I’m well aware none of my thoughts about you are bloody rational.” He pours another unmeasured dose into his glass and chugs it.

He stands, wobbly on his feet now. “Can you finish up yourself? I – I need to –“ he doesn’t finish his sentence and leaves.

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