I was a bit confused and disoriented when I made my way back down to Tom’s quarters. I could remember showing the first years to their dormitories, but after that it was blank. 

I knocked on the door, stepping back and straightening my tie. It opened not more than a second after, revealing Tom with his black shirt unbuttoned, a glass of red wine in his hand. 

“Come in, Miss Potter.” He said smoothly, and stepped back. I moved past the doorway and made for the bedroom, sliding the cloak off my shoulders and kicking my shoes off, stretching and yawning. I laid the cloak on the bed, taking off my badges and fixing them to my school cardigan instead; it was still too warm to wear the school robes over the top of the uniform. There was a strange, unfamiliar twisting sensation in my stomach, kind of like burning, but I tried to ignore it. 

I padded in my socks back into the drawing room, beaming at Tom. He was lounging lazily in an armchair by the fire, one arm resting casually, the other raising the glass to his lips. His eyes zoned in on me, roaming up and down my body. 

Tom slowly lowered the glass from his mouth. “Come over here, Daisy.” 

The pink clouds stirred as I padded over to him. The heat of the fire made my cheeks flush, and Tom’s eyes on my legs didn’t help. He held his glass away from his body, glanced up at me, and beckoned me closer. 

“Why don’t you give me a lap dance, Miss Potter?” Tom purred quietly. “Give me a little show…” 

I shivered in delight. Sliding my cardigan off my shoulders, I stepped up to him, swaying my hips. Lowering myself into his lap, I braced myself on the arms of the chair, swinging my hips from side to side, making my skirt ride up. Tom’s eyes were fixated on me, the hand that had been casually hanging off the arm of the chair now rising to my waist, resting on it, guiding me down further into his lap as he took another long, slow sip of his wine. 

I circled my hips in his lap, grinding down slightly on him; Tom’s eyes closed briefly before he reached up, setting his glass on the mantelpiece. He brought his hands back down, grabbing onto my love handles, and tugged me harshly down onto him. I grinded against his bulge, which was now straining against his fitted dress trousers. Tom’s eyes darkened, and he let out a low groan. 

I reached up to undo my Gryffindor tie, but Tom reached up, stopping me. 

“Don’t. Leave the uniform on.” He panted slightly, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Take off your pants.” 

I reached a hand up under my skirt, pulling my panties off. Tom tugged me back down onto his lap, unbuckling himself, and I sank down onto him, gasping breathily. 

The pink clouds vibrated in my brain as I rode him, rocking back and forth on his hips as he lounged back, lazily resting an arm on the edge of the chair, his other hand on my hips guiding me, gazing up at me with eyes full of lust and dark desire. 

“Tom…” 

My eyes fluttered shut as he hit spots inside me that made my toes curl. I rolled my hips against his, and I heard him hiss; opening my eyes again, I saw that he had raised his free hand to his face, trailing a finger along the curve of his lips absentmindedly as he watched me, looking up at me through hooded eyes. 

“Mmpfh!” I made a surprised noise as the burning sensation in my stomach that I’d been ignoring suddenly increased; a rush of liquid wettened Tom’s lap. I looked down, gasping; bright red blood was soaking along his skin, and I staggered off him, staring down at myself in horror. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Tom pointed, eyes flashing. I scurried into the room, wincing as I felt the blood trickle down my legs. 

I turned to face Tom as he directed his wand at me, ripping my shirt open with his other hand; he placed the tip of his wand onto the skin of my belly and moved it slowly up and down, his red eyes focused on my stomach. Then he stepped back, his wand hand shaking in fury. 

“You miscarried.” Tom said softly. “You were carrying my child, and you miscarried.” 

I didn’t know what to say. I stood in front of him and the bed, shivering. The pink clouds were floating cautiously in my head. 

Tom’s eyes moved over me. “Take off your uniform. I’m going to teach your weak, pathetic body a lesson…” 

I hurried to remove my clothes, dropping my tie, shirt, and skirt in a pile in the corner, careful not to get any blood on them. It was still streaming down my legs at a slow but steady pace, and I whimpered as my lower abdomen burned in pain. 

“On the bed.” Tom ordered. 

“But - the blood - don’t you want -?” 

“No.” Tom’s eyes glinted. “I’m not cleaning up your blood. You’re going to bleed out on my bed, and I’m going to watch… I’m going to HELP, Miss Potter.” 

I shivered, though I wasn’t sure whether it was due to fear or arousal. It was probably a bit of both. 

I crawled onto the bed, aware that my blood was now staining the sheets. Tom was on top of me in one second, inside me the next, sliding in and out of me made easier by the slick blood pooling out of me. Tom’s face was more alive than I’d ever seen it, his eyes bright and full of a wild hunger. He grabbed at one of my legs, hoisting it up around his waist; he sank deeper in me, and I whined in pain as he stretched me out and made the burning worse. 

“Mm… please, not so rough -“ 

My soft plead was cut off by Tom’s rough growl, and his wand was suddenly out at me again. I cringed, anticipating the Cruciatus Curse, but instead, “Incarcerous!” was groaned into my neck, and I felt ropes binding my wrists. Tom grabbed them, hoisting my wrists above my head, and resumed slamming into me. His free hand crept up to my throat, his fingers circling around it, and I gasped as he tightened his grip on me, cutting off my airway slightly. 

“You’re mine.” Tom said, his voice thick with lust. “You’re all mine.” 

His eyes were boring into mine. All I could feel was his hand around my neck and him inside me, and I wriggled in his grip, wheezing. 

“Choke me, Master.” I breathed out, my body betraying me as I brought my bound wrists down, scrabbling hopelessly at his back. 

Tom’s fingers tightened even further around my throat, and there was an almost primal look on his face now. 

“I’m better than that Weasley blood traitor.” Tom growled into my ear. “He may think he’s god’s gift to earth, but who is the one fucking his girl now? Who is the one on top of her?” 

“Y-you!” I forced out, starting to see black spots in my vision. The pink clouds were dancing excitedly around the spots, contrasting to the fact that I was literally going to die if he didn’t let go. “You, p-please… I c-c-can’t breathe…” 

Tom’s hand was suddenly gone. I blinked the black spots away, watching with weak, shallow breaths as he pulled out of me, reaching over to his nightstand. He turned back to me, his eyes gleaming in excitement, and I shivered again as I watched the metal blade flashing under the candlelight. 

“You know, kitten,” Tom trailed the blade down my cheek, a smirk slowly unfolding on his lips as he watched my eyes widen in terror, “maybe your pretty little face needs something to roughen it up a bit. To make sure no one else but me wants you…” 

My heart pounded as the tip of the blade pressed down gently on my jawline. Tom considered it for a second, before moving on along my other cheek, twirling the knife in his hands, making the tip dig into my skin. My breathing was catching, fear pulsing through me in anticipation; but arousal was also throbbing in me, the scariness of the situation just what was turning me on. 

Tom’s knife trailed along my cheek and over my nose, eventually resting on my forehead, tracing my lightning bolt-shaped scar. Tom licked his lips, eyes darkening; then he pressed down, making me squeal in pain. He dragged his knife along my scar, keeping in the lines, and I felt the blood spill down my face into my hair. I noticed that his other hand was moving over his length, which was slicked with my blood. 

“Mmm… you might have got the best of me that night, Daisy… but I got the best of you now.” Tom purred, moving his knife down. I shuddered as I felt the sharp blade tracing along my neck, pressing down lightly in places as Tom bit his lip. He paused at my jugular vein, and his expression darkened as the blade sank into my skin slightly… then he moved on, past the now-fading scars on my chest, and to a fresh patch of skin. 

Tom pressed down, his eyes lighting up as he carved another heart into my chest, the blood blossoming out of the cuts and pouring down my skin. The stinging made me arch my back into him, and the sight of his hand moving furiously up and down his blood-slickened length made the pink clouds whirl. 

“Fuck me, please…” I breathed out, unhooking my bound wrists from around his back and letting them fall behind my head, arching myself towards him. 

Tom smirked down at me. “You’re going to have to beg for it.” 

I shuddered. Tom’s knife pressed into my breast, and I whined. “Please, Master… please fuck me…” 

“I am going to need more than that.” Tom purred seductively into my ear, and goosebumps danced along my skin. His knife sank into my breast, and I cried out. 

“Please! Please screw me, please have your way with me…” 

“Mmm.” Tom groaned into my ear, taking it in his teeth and biting down harshly. “Say it again.” 

“Please, Master, have your way with me, please, pretty please…” 

Tom growled; next second, he was inside me again, rolling his hips into mine hard. Deep down I knew this was fucked up, everyone I knew would say that this was so fucked up, the person who’s killed hundreds and possibly thousands fucking me while I’m bleeding out, using my blood as lubricant, getting off on hurting me and causing me pain… but I did not care, and the pink clouds loved it. It was the darkest thing I’d ever done, so why was I enjoying it so much? 

“What’s my name?” Tom slammed into me, making me squeal. “What’s my name, you little slut?” 

“M-Master.” I stammered, getting lost in the feeling of him moving inside me so deep. 

“No.” Tom panted, his voice low. “My - my name. What’s my name, whore?” 

And as I gazed up into his crimson eyes, darkened with desire, I realised with a jolt of joy, that he wanted me to use his real name. Why did he want me to use it? He hated it, surely? 

“Tom…” I moaned, spreading my legs wider around him. “Tommy…” 

Tom throbbed inside me; I felt it clearly, and I whimpered, bringing my bound wrists back down to hook around the back of Tom’s neck, bringing his lips down to mine. Our lips smashed together sloppily, Tom groaning into my mouth as his thrusts got sloppy too, bracing himself against me; with one last breathy moan of, “Tommy…” he was coming in me, collapsing on top of me and sinking in as deep as he could to ride out his high. I followed suit, my hole squeezing tight around him as the pleasure consumed me. 

We lay there, panting and recovering, for several minutes. Eventually Tom rolled off me, splaying out on his side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. I wriggled around, facing him. 

“Can I cuddle you tonight?” I asked, batting my eyelashes up at him. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

And he drew me into his side, slinging an arm around me as I lay my head on his chest, snuggling in closer to him. I fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating, and the slow rise and fall of his chest… 

~~~ 

I limped up to the Great Hall the next morning, the blood siphoned out of me from Tom’s use of Tergeo, and scrubbed off my skin by an extensive shower. However, the heart-shaped cut on my chest was being temperamental, and kept opening. I tugged my shirt tighter around me, tucking it further into my skirt, and entered the hall. 

I sat down beside Kylie at the Gryffindor table, drawing a plate of toast towards me. Across from me, Louis and Ginny stared at me then exchanged a glance. Kylie’s eyes went wide as she took in my appearance. 

“What?” I said. 

Terry shuffled onto the bench beside me, humming casually. Many years of hiding the blue on his school uniform from the teachers (which was pointless, as they all knew who he was, they just didn’t care about him sitting at a different table) had been to his advantage; he blended in with the Gryffindors seamlessly. Draco joined him a moment later, ducking down behind a rather tall fifth year. 

“Here, c’mon, Softpaw, drink up.” Terry said lightly, passing me a goblet of pumpkin juice. I shrugged, taking a huge swig, and I was confused as Terry watched me eagerly. 

I set the goblet down on the table and took another bite of my toast. I raised an eyebrow quizzically at Terry’s now triumphant expression. 

“What is going on with you lot today?” I questioned, crunching. I watched as Kylie mouthed something at Terry and Draco, and the two boys turned to look down at my body. 

“Yikes.” Draco said anxiously. 

Terry’s eyes widened, and his face paled. His eyes lingered on my lightning scar, my neck, and somewhere on my chest; I looked down. There was a heart-shaped bloodstain on my shirt. Oh. And there were finger-shaped bruises on my neck as well that I’d seen in the mirror this morning. Oops. 

“Daisy…” Terry said softly, his eyes full of panic. 

We were interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who was handing each of us our timetables, her face pale and lined. 

“I have yours here too, Boot, Malfoy; I expected you’d be at this table.” Professor McGonagall said crisply, handing the two boys theirs, but I could hear the slight tremble in her voice. “Miss Potter…” 

Her eyes met mine, and I saw that they were too bright. I took my timetable, and said quietly, “Thanks.” 

“Right, what have we got first?“ Kylie turned to her timetable, eyes moving across it. 

“Dark Arts.” Terry said grimly. 

I looked up from my timetable. The memory of Tom saying that professors were allowed to punish me, beginning at the start of the school term, floated to the front of my mind. Why did I feel like Dark Arts would be the class I was most likely to get hurt in? 

As everyone got up and started moving resignedly to the double doors, Terry took my hand and squeezed it, hard. I glanced to the side and saw his worried, pale face; I smiled at him, and he sent me a small smile back, before he turned to fight our way through the crowd for us.