Chapter Text
London. He has taken you to London. To your favourite restaurant to be exact, one that you have not visited ever since you moved to the wizarding world. Tom wasn’t the person to go to the muggle world, not if he didn’t have to at that. Too many bad memories have been made there, especially back in his orphanage days. So, for obvious reasons, you were surprised when he told you where you were headed to.
The clock strikes 9pm when he waves a waiter over and takes the courtesy to pay. Not that he would let you pay anyway, especially on your birthday, but you are still grateful. You feel people’s gaze on you as you both get up, your burgundy, crystal plated dress easily catching people’s attention as you stand out from the crowd on this seemingly so ordinary day. Ordinary for them, anyway.
Your eyes meet Tom’s, who is matching your attire with a black suit. The corner of his lips tugs up just the slightest bit at the attention you are receiving, and his arm wraps possessively around your waist. “Ready to leave?” he asks smoothly, and you nod, following him towards the exit.
However, he doesn’t take you back home like you had expected. No, instead, you are strolling through the city, finding your way through the crowd of people waiting to get home after another long Thursday. There are entire queues waiting for taxis, and suddenly you don’t miss your former, “normal” life in the slightest. London’s always been loud and busy, so when you received your letter for Hogwarts and got to know the most magical, hidden place in the Highlands of Scotland—you wish you could have lived there since your birth.
Being a muggle born isn’t easy. It’s come with its challenges, especially back in your first year at Hogwarts. It took time for you to find friends, to adjust to the change. And God, you missed your parents. Then, being exposed to all the hatred and bullying muggle borns had to endure definitely didn’t make it any better. Especially if you end up falling for your tormentor.
Being in love with Tom Riddle as a muggle born isn’t easy. But you two had somehow—after years of bickering and rivalry—made it work. It wasn’t until your seventh year that you got closer and essentially ended up being a couple. And no, you couldn’t believe it either. Not in your wildest dreams would you have thought the day would come that your strongest feeling for Tom would be love.
It’s always been hate, after all.
It was subtle at first, from stealing glances in classes to blatantly staring at each other, to—well. Him cornering you when you exited the girl's lavatory, whispering a soft “What are you doing to me?” as he leaned in. And before you could react, his lips were on yours, capturing you in a heartfelt kiss, pouring his feelings into it like he had to prove they really existed—firstly to you, but himself as well. Even when, in the end, of course you did love him too.
Tom’s love often is rough, distant. But you make it work, and when he does soften up—it’s like a plant sipping its first drop of water after an agonizingly long drought. You relish in it, your dynamics making you a perfect match for each other. And just like that, the boy you once hated with every cell in your body turned into your lover you wouldn’t even think about letting go.
That’s how you ended up spending your 20th birthday in London. Away from the wizarding world for once, back in your home city. You almost couldn’t believe when he apparated you both to the restaurant your parents used to take you to for birthdays. Tom Riddle, organizing a birthday dinner in the muggle world. A subtle smile brightens up your face at the thought. He leads you through the crowd, arms still around your waist. It’s not until he stops that you realize where you are headed.
One of the finest hotels in all of London, if you may. And he doesn’t just stop in front of it, no, you enter. Tom doesn’t respond when you ask him what you are doing here, instead withdraws a card from his pocket and leads you up the marble stairs. The setting feels special, too special to be true. It’s silent besides the clicking of your heels as you ascend the stairs, a chandelier dimly illuminating the hallway. There is no one around, no receptionist, no other guests. It seems as though you two are there alone, the property reserved for solely you two.
It’s not long until you arrive at door 464. As soon as he opens it, a smell of roses and lit candles floods your senses. The room, kept in an elegant vintage style, is illuminated by candles, the high ceilings decorated with baroque carvings. With you trying to take in the magic of the room, you don’t realize Tom stepping further into the room. Only when you hear muffled voices, followed by soft strains of classical music, your eyes flicker to where he is standing—adjusting a modern radio.
“Tom Riddle using a muggle device? This might be my best birthday present yet.” you snicker, walking towards the brunette. It’s then when he turns around, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.
“First and last time.” he answers, his voice low as his hands settle on your waist. Leaning in, he places a soft kiss on your lips. Without another word, Tom’s left hand intertwines with your right, the subtle notes of a violin and a piano resonating through the room as he guides you into a slow dance.
You can’t help but wonder how he’d learned to do that. At the two yule balls you experienced, he had never asked anyone for a dance. As you sway to the gentle tones, a memory plays in your head, taking you back four years to your 5th year at Hogwarts.
Being asked for a dance by one of the most popular boys in Gryffindor had its perks—you had been the center of attention the entire evening. Many people asked you for a dance, complimenting your looks as they took in your sapphire blue dress, adorned with tiny crystals.
In a brief moment of solitude, your eyes swayed around the hall, just for you to lock eyes with Tom. Merely a split second later, he averted his gaze, though the intensity of his eyes on yours lingered—and for the rest of the night, no one else asked you to dance again.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks you, and you are forced out of your thoughts, returning to the present. The dim candlelight casts a shadow on his sharp features, and you once again get lost in his eyes.
“Was it you? Back then, at the ball?” you murmur, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips at the question, and it’s almost as if you could see the memory replaying in his eyes.
“Nobody touches what is mine, darling.” Tom replies, and there is this familiar possessiveness in his voice, the one that you have grown to love. Another kiss later and he is tugging at your zipper as he leans in, his hot breath on the tender skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me take care of you now, just like you deserve.”
You don’t complain as he is leading you towards the bed, dress long discarded on the floor. Tom’s hand wanders, slipping under the waistband of your lace underwear as he settles down beside you. Finding your swollen bundle of nerves, the pad of his thumb rubs tight circles on it, having you take a sharp inhale at the sensation.
His other hand frees your breasts, pushing the dainty material of your bra to the side. His eyes wander up and down your almost entirely exposed form, muttering praises under his breath before he lowers his head to trail gentle kisses from your collarbone to your breast, gently wrapping his lips around the hardened peak.
“Oh— oh Merlin, Tom—“
His tongue flicks over the sensitive skin, drawing small whimpers and moans from you as your fingers thread through his silky brunette hair. You tug on it slightly, massaging his scalp as he continues his ministrations, nibbling and kissing your skin.
Your fingers dig into the sheets, firmly clenching around the fabric as two of his digits slip inside of your tight heat. “So wet for me,” he groans lowly, moving at an agonizingly slow pace as the heel of his hand rubs on your clit with every thrust of his hand. The sensations he is providing you with, fingertips massaging the one spot inside of you that has you grow dizzy with pleasure, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter, and you are just there on the edge when—
“No, no please! I want to— want you to—“ you gasp, hand closing around his wrist, attempting to still his movements. His dark eyes lock with yours then, and he stops. “Use your words, sweetheart. What is it that you want?”
“Want you inside of me, please.” you murmur, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk at your words, shaking his head just slightly. He withdraws his fingers then, a small whimper falling over your lips at the loss. It doesn’t take long until he has undressed himself, parting your thighs before he positions himself between them, hovering over you.
“I really wanted to be nice to you today, darling.” he remarks, though his tip nudging at your entrance has all sane thoughts leave your mind at an instant.
“Merlin— you know I don’t want you to be. Please don’t be nice.”
Tom’s hand snakes around your throat at your response, mumbling something inaudible under his breath as he presses down on the sides of your throat, slowly splitting you apart on his hard length as you both groan. “This better? Want to be fucked like a whore even on your birthday?”
All you manage is a nod before he buries himself inside of you completely, not letting you adjust before he sets a harsh rhythm, his eyes darting down to his cock disappearing in your heat. Tom’s lips part slightly at the sight, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat.
The classical music playing in the background is a stark contrast to how he is fucking you, hips snapping into yours from an angle that has you see stars, your nails digging into his toned shoulders, sure to leave behind crescent marks.
“So— good!” you cry out, hands holding onto his biceps as he thrusts into you from above, the sound of your combined moans echoing around the hotel room. It’s not long until your pleasure is building again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his tip brushes against your sensitive cervix.
“Eyes on me, darling. Let me see how good I am making you feel. Let me see you come,” he demands, hand squeezing down tighter on your throat. You do as he says, eyes fluttering open just for you to meet his stern expression, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his brunette curls stick to his damp forehead. His gaze burns into yours, the limited blood flow making you feel just slightly lightheaded, intensifying the feeling of his length slipping in and out of your sensitive walls.
You’re right at the edge, your cunt greedily clenching down on his thick cock. Tom seems to notice, his free hand reaching between you two, softly swiping over your needy clit with the pad of his thumb. “Tom— please!” you cry out, and he lowers his head, resting it in the crook of your neck. “Go on. Come for me,” he groans, and that is all you need to finally tumble over the edge, the intense feeling in your lower stomach leaving you a trembling and whimpering mess beneath him. Tom follows soon after, emptying himself deep inside of your warm, welcoming walls with a low grunt.
He collapses on top of you to catch his breath, though soon after pulling out of you, getting up to fetch a warm, damp towel to clean you up. It’s not long until he scoops you up in his arms, entering the bathroom where an already filled bathtub awaits you, lowering your spent body into the pleasantly warm water. He soon gets in as well, massaging circles into your shoulders as your head rests on his chest. It’s mostly quiet between you two, savouring the moment of intimacy you only rarely get to experience with him.
Before you drift off to sleep, he places a tender kiss on your head.
“Happy Birthday, love.”