Chapter Text
The paved alleyway was flanked with snow as the cold grew fiercer. The weather had cleared up after a brief stint with hailstones. Stars dotted through the sky as clouds swiftly made their way across the threshold while people continued to light up their establishments against the dark with Yule decorations unremoved. Additional banners of the coming of the New Year were being placed as cloaks and robes swayed swiftly, grazing through the snow.
Since it was the last night of the year, the crowd in and around restaurants and pubs had increased significantly. Many wixens were seen moving in and out of brightly coloured bars and lounges as Tom let out an exaggerated sigh.
He was already dressed in casual robes at Abraxas' insistence. He knew he gave the blond too much leverage over him but Abraxas was useful and in the years which had passed, he was a good acquaintance, at least good enough for him to trust his judgment thoroughly. But he did feel a bit of regret, the closer the clock drew itself to nine.
No sooner did the hour needle land on nine did the bell tinkle and the wooden door pushed itself open. Abraxas' hair was put into a loose bun and his robes were the most casual he had seen in his lifetime. Abraxas Malfoy did not do casual, he was prim and proper with his hair gelled into submission and his robes usually in velvet or satin highlighting his wealth. Today, however, he was wearing mocha brown slacks with a beige sweater and a deep brown satin robe over them. It was excessively casual. He almost looked like a normal wixen and that by itself was a cause of suspicion.
"I shall be leaving for the night, I have locked the inventory and finished my work for the day," He told the man who just guffawed in response as he made his way to Abraxas.
"Where are the others?"
"They will meet us directly at the location," Abraxas replied and led him out of the shop he worked at.
Abraxas had requested that his nineteenth birthday should be celebrated and Corvus being, well Corvus, had enthusiastically agreed to it. They did not want to go overboard by making it an overzealous celebration which he ardently despised but they wanted him to celebrate which confused Tom. Staying at his own apartment, no matter how small, with a warm meal he prepared and reading a book would be his version of a celebration. It was not much and none of his friends would understand it which was why he reluctantly relented.
"Abraxas, where are we going?" Tom questioned as he stepped out of the shop.
"The Amalfi Coast in Italy."
"Why?"
Abraxas studied him and he knew if Tom would not be given a straight answer he could probably curse him with infertility for the rest of his life.
"It's a club."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows and repeated, "A club?"
Abraxas reluctantly nodded his head and held his hands up, "Hear me out, it's a highly exclusive sex club. Its front is that of a normal bar but wixens get exclusive access to the said club."
Tom glared at him almost as if he heard the Malfoy heir wrong. He wanted Tom to waste his time on sex and alcohol and probably drugs with a bunch of sex workers when he could be doing, not that.
"What is so exclusive about this club?"
Abraxas moved closer and whispered, "They aren't sex workers, they are pleasure wixens."
Now Tom considered it. Pleasure wixens were dark creatures, almost slandered in British society and pushed into prostitution because of the bias against them. But the irony remained that most of these wixens had their respective careers and their indulgence in sex was a need of their nature but the respect given to them was less than that of nonhuman creatures. They were treated with disdain and labelled homewreckers because of the allure they possessed and the intense wash of magic that came over the people who indulged in sex with them and thus, getting addicted to it as well. Sex magic was a topic of taboo like most Dark Arts but pureblood families revered it. It was rare, incredibly powerful and highly addictive and pleasure wixens controlled such magic, their jurisdiction easily ran over such rituals and spells, their hold over wandless magic was commendable and overall pleasure wixens were incredibly powerful beings.
Of course, having sex with a pleasure wixen was way more expensive than an average sex worker and Tom, obviously, knew this because the wixen chose the person, not the other way around. Regardless, Tom was not very amused. It was still a waste of time.
"I promise you, you will enjoy the night," Abraxas told him, his best impression of convincing him. "It would be useful to sway a few of them to our cause as well."
Tom folded his hands before his chest, Abraxas did have a point, a valid one, "Might as well."
The blond looked content at convincing him as he handed him the portkey and activated it and the next moment they were in front of a bright red door. Placing a notice-me-not charm on their persons, Abraxas led the two of them inside. The blinding red lights seemed to overlook the entire club, a massive bar laid right before him with various muggle beverages, the massive red sofas remained scattered through the expanse of the expensive bar as Abraxas made his way to the corner of the room and stood before the woman in a red suit who sat at a counter with Mortmaster written in neon red behind her.
"Invite."
Abraxas handed the portkey to her as she quickly cast a spell on it which made the key melt onto a chunk of garnet crystal. The melted portkey easily became one with the crystal and he was momentarily stunned at the impressive piece of transfiguration. While Tom remained in awe, the curtain behind easily surrounded them and set itself as a wall.
"Wands, please."
Handing the wand over to her, Tom controlled the urge to check if the curtain had truly transformed into a wall.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle and Abraxas Armand Malfoy," she confirmed.
The aristocratic nod was gently given as she handed the two of them vials of potion. And that was when Tom's reservation grew. He took the vial and sniffed it to notice it was the antidote to the polyjuice potion. On seeing Abraxas drink it with ease, he cast a poison detecting spell and when it turned out negative, reluctantly gulped it down.
"Harry will like you," The woman grinned, all teeth against her bright red lips. "Congratulations, the two of you are not wanted criminals nor are you impersonating someone else!"
Tom did not comment on anything she said and waited until she commanded for the two of them to be taken to level five. A staircase dropped in beside Tom and he allowed Abraxas to walk it up first. As they moved further up, he almost thought they were stuck in a maze when they finally made it to the fifth floor. Scarcely did Tom step out, the staircase disappeared.
"Mister Malfoy," a purr steered away from the directions of his worry, as he noticed a scantily clad woman before him, "at the rate you keep returning I might believe you are in love with me."
Her blonde hair was streaked with red highlights and she had an aura of confidence to her. The magic which drifted off of her was faint, it was barely noticeable to Tom but Abraxas was clearly very taken by it. Her perfectly manicured nails handed them goblets of wine while she took some firewhiskey herself and led them through poles of women dancing around them; most of them throwing clothes to the crowd which gathered around the stage they danced on. The waves of magic that coursed through as one of them from the elevated floor leaned to lick a customer was phenomenal. Music drifted through the floor with ease as Aimee swayed with the notes almost naturally, Abraxas' gaze fixated on her.
Abraxas scoffed and turned to Tom, "I have an associate with me."
"I noticed," she smirked, twirling her hair, "he is rather adorable."
Tom would wring her neck for that comment but he digressed and gave her his most charming smile available and introduced himself which made the witch eye him down.
"Aimee Churchill," she grinned and beckoned them inside.
A number of trays floated through the air with what seemed like wine and firewhiskey while rays of golden light plurged through the atmosphere. There were maroon sofas scattered on the checkered floor, erotic paintings hung in gold frames. A bar remained stuck centrally as goblets and glasses were filled one after the other magically. The rest of the floor remained relatively empty as Tom continued to search for the exit.
"How do we exit from here?" Tom questioned her.
"Just tell that you want to exit and you will find yourself at the entrance," Aimee shrugged.
Tom nodded his head and turned to look at Abraxas whose gaze was practically fucking Aimee. He almost wanted to flirt with her just so that Abraxas remembers that he was much superior than the pureblood could ever hope to be.
"Where are Nott, Corvus and Edmund?" Tom questioned.
"Lestrange is fucking at least two people in the balcony and since that is under the exhibitionism and voyeur range, you can see it from there," Aimee pointed towards the balcony which hung before them. "The BDSM section is on the fourth floor and you cannot go there drunk or high, it's a safety risk."
As the woman went on to inform them that Nott was waiting for them in their private room, Tom felt a flush of magic rush through him. Unsurprisingly, he was not the only one who felt it, the flavour of Dark Magic was almost devourable to his tongue. It felt like the melodic call of a siren which seemed to lure through magic and temptation until she ate your heart out.
His eyes automatically drifted to the source as another male walked through the floor, all eyes on him. Magic practically oozed out of his person as he made his way across. As he moved closer, he felt clearer, the slow power he was emanating just through his mere presence. Tom's eyes slurped on his appearance, dark messy hair with a well-sculpted face, ivory skin that Tom wanted to slurp on and legs that went on for days. His dress was a mesh that went through his legs wrapped around his abdomen and layered across his chest.
He moved through as if he already knew the effect he had on everyone he passed by.
Funnily, he approached the trio and allowed Tom a closer look, "Aimes, you are needed downstairs, some guy named Carlos had a booking which you had authorised?"
Aimee's blue eyes darted from one corner to the other in contemplation and looked at the man, "Carlos Bianci?"
"That's the one."
"Is Eddy already in the suite then?"
"He is and so are both the Charlies," He nodded his head.
"Fuck, I need to get to that asap," She told him and then looked at him, "could you lead these two to suite number C-14?"
"Of course," The man beamed at her as she said her goodbyes without glancing at Abraxas twice and scurrying off.
The man focussed his attention to Tom and Abraxas and his eyes zeroed in on the pureblood before he questioned, "Abraxas is that you?"
The blond let out a restrained smile and nodded his head, "I am surprised you did not recognise me, Harry."
Harry's arms instinctively went around to embrace Abraxas and Tom felt the need to rip the Malfoy Heir's arms off. When they parted after inducing a relentless amount of pain in Tom, his eyes were still on Abraxas.
"The last time I saw you, you were this small," he gestured to his abdomen which made Abraxas blush and Tom saw red. "You have grown up into a fine young man, I am sure Armand is quite proud."
"I hope the same."
And finally, after longing for nearly an eternity, Harry's eyes shifted towards Tom, his vivid green eyes glaring into Tom's bright red, "And who is this gentleman?"
"Tom Riddle," he introduced himself.
Harry's eyebrow rose and kept his gaze steady on him, "Headboy, Prefect and Slughorn's favourite?"
Tom sent out the most charming smile he could twist his lips into and looked into Harry's eyes, "You're embarrassing me."
"Embarrassing?" Harry repeated, a touch of dramatics to his voice, "You have earnt it darling, your records are rather impressive, Slughorn doesn't shut up about it."
Tom let out a grin and followed Harry with Abraxas and his eyes remained fixed on his arse which had a string moving through it as the rest of him was covered in mesh. And Tom? He wanted. He wanted the wizard.
Harry's paused before C-14 and looked at the two of them giving out a smile. Abraxas was the one who initiated the conversation, "Do you not perform anymore?"
Harry let out a chuckle which reverberated through his bones, he turned to Abraxas, his messy hair framing his face, "You're too naive for me to perform for you and don't think I don't see your Slytherin subtlety."
"Grandfather says it differently," Abraxas mused and now Tom really wanted to crucio him for the sole reason that this was bordering disrespectful.
"And does your Grandfather also talk about the almost divorce he got dragged into or your ears are too young for that?"
Tom paused and turned to carefully assess Harry. He refused to take the blond at face value and was not willing to bow down to his attempt at embarrassing him; in fact, he backhanded his compliment to him. Tom was awed.
Abraxas let out a laugh to cover his embarrassment as Harry teasingly listed down the rules which remained for the safety of his wixens. They ranged from consent to reminding them that the wixens choose to do anything with them only then do they appear before you to do the said anything. Magical rush is common when someone slept with a pleasure witch or wizard and there is a snack bar for that exact reason. He also stressed their zero tolerance towards violence unless it was happening in the sphere of BDSM which was certainly not on this floor.
"Before I see you off, whose birthday is it on new years eve at that?" Harry asked and Tom did not want to volunteer information but Nott did, from the open room.
"It's Tom's," he yelled out.
Thank you, Cantekerous.
The minute Abraxas went in the door snapped shut and Tom definitely saw the twitch of Harry's finger as it closed. His notice shifted to Tom as he looked at him meaningfully, his expression, ridiculously soft.
"Don't let your shine be buried under his pretty galleons," He told him, "he is just a Malfoy, you can be much more."
Tom let out a faint chortle and shook his head derisively, "I am much more."
The smile which layered on Harry's face was that of a teacher content with his school work. Maintaining the same expression, he leaned closer and Tom felt what was left of his heart stop momentarily. Harry's hand moved around his waist for support while his other hand faintly held onto his own as his lips grazed the expanse of his cheek.
"Happy Birthday, Mister Riddle, I expect great things from you."
Before Tom could get a hold of what just happened he was gone with the wind.
* * *
Tom was bored. No, he wasn't bored, he was bored. His friends had scurried off. They were probably high out of their minds in various suites which were booked with a couple of pleasure wixens who had consented to be associated with them. And he was bored. These wixens, regardless of their power, were nothing compared to the enigma which was Harry. His mind was plagued by his thoughts and it seemed that everything after meeting him seemed lacklustre. The purple lights seemed to have dimmed down, the alcohol was tasting rancid and the wixens around him were seeming like tiny stars in comparison to the brilliant moon, Tom had met.
Some fine birthday this was turning out to be.
As the woman and man before him began to strip off more clothes, pushing themselves between the poles which remained fixed in their positions, he grew more bored. The woman was the first one to move down and saunter to the back of the room.
She had lit a cigarette and came over to pop herself on the sofa. Her purple eyes, no doubt they were charmed, looked at him with something which you'd call amusement.
"You are wasting our time and yours," She briefed him, as she flicked her fingers to tie her curls up. "Why don't you tell me about the person who is on your mind and maybe I don't know, we could relieve a fantasy or something."
Tom straight up rolled his eyes at that.
"You are cocky, Mister," the man told him as he sat down beside the woman.
"Am I?" Tom returned, "Especially if I know what I want?
"If you know what you want, shouldn't you be chasing it, dumbass?" The man told him.
"You would make a lovely therapist," Tom bit out sarcastically.
"Funnily," the man grinned, "I am studying to be one."
Tom surveyed the redhead, his hair was tied up while his ivory skin had perspiration sparkling on his skin. Before he could comment on it, the door flung open and Harry's head bobbed in.
"Weiss, Celia?" His voice called out after which he spoke something in a completely foreign language, that certainly did not sound like any of the languages he recognised. The two of them nodded their heads and waved to Tom before exiting the room.
"Which language was that?"
"Malay."
Tom nodded his head as the man stepped through the door. "Weiss and Cece had something to attend to, you wouldn't mind if I replaced them, right?"
Tom would certainly not mind that. He wanted this to happen and before Harry intervened he was cooking up a method to accidentally bump into the man. Maybe he would charm him into his bed but he digressed and kept his emotions at bay. He needed his most confident self if he wanted Harry.
"I wouldn't mind."
A flick of his fingers and the lights shut down only to allow the pole to be illuminated. Harry's shoes had disappeared as he climbed up the stage. Tom's eyes were glued, his attention hooked, the man untied the knot which held his dress on top and attached it to the nail on top of the pole as he slid around the stick. The mesh seemed to unravel as he slithered around the pole like a viper, his legs twirled around the pole as his hips twisted through making Tom's desire to touch him burn through his chest. Harry was built in a very intriguing way, he wasn't someone Tom would consider frail for that matter, he was built well, his legs were toned but there was this aura of submissiveness that lurked around him even though his magical prowess was undoubtedly the opposite. His collarbones were frail, hollow and Tom, he wanted to hold Harry underneath him and worship him, run his tongue across the expanse of his body as he squirmed in ecstasy.
By the time he devoured every part which covered him, Harry did not have his mesh covering any part of him and his underwear was practically nonexistent, he even noticed his cock peeking out at one point. But the lack of clothing certainly did not mean that he would be willing to solicit with Tom.
Harry's green eyes remained fixed on his own, they flickered but they always returned to his person. His hand curled around the pole and easily rolled around it only to squat eventually and lean out in Tom's direction. Just like that, Tom felt his eyes grow heavy due to the desire he possessed to reach out to Harry when he noticed the smirk laying its hints on his lips.
"What do you want to do?"
Kiss you. Hold you against the wall and pound you into oblivion.
"Whatever you want."
"That's a new one."
"You'll remember it."
The laugh which came from Harry reminded him of bells jingling in the Great Hall during Yule, "Kiss me then, birthday boy."
With that he leaned forward and easily lifted Harry and pulled him onto his lap, allowing him to straddle his torso and smashed his lips against Harry's. He slipped his tongue in between Harry's lips and the raw magic which shredded off of him was provocative enough for Tom to hold him down and take him then and there. He wanted to mark him as his. Running the tips of fingers around his torso, he easily began to draw circles on the stretch of his back. Harry's fingers were slow as they caressed his chest and drew his robes open and when they did successfully open his shirt, he deepened the kiss and sunk his hands behind his nape as Harry began to grind against his hips.
Momentarily, Harry pulled himself away and allowed the two of them to gasp for the air they were missing out on. As Harry panted, his fingers remained coiled around his shoulder, "You want to come home with me?"
Tom wasn't an idiot. Tom wasn't an idiot. Tom wasn't a motherfucking idiot.
"Why not?"
"Hold onto me, I shall apparate us there," Harry directed him and the familiar black came before his eyes while ear-drums thrummed through the second long journey. When clear vision returned to him, he was seated on a ridiculously soft bedspread, he did not take in his surroundings because they are kissing one another with a pang of uncontrollable hunger.
Harry's tongue slipped into his mouth but Tom refused to secede control. He permitted his tongue to push through as he bit down on his lips emanating a moan from Harry's mouth. His fingers traversed down to his arse and gave it a firm squeeze, digging into his skin. His other hand keeps him steady, buried in Harry's mane as he begins to feel heady.
Tom's lips feel like they are tingling when Harry pulls back and darts him a smile between his panting. He snaps his fingers and Tom's clothes have been thrown away. Harry slipped down his body and moved down his pubic trail; eyes refusing to break contact with his own until he reached his cock. Harry licked a stripe across his dick which made him want to scream in delight. He lowered his lips down to his balls and easily pushed them into his mouth.
Tom groaned. Embarrassingly and loudly. He felt the rush of pleasure down his veins like electricity and Harry had barely begun. As he sucked on Tom's balls, he slowly nibbled on them and let them go to focus on his cock. Slurping on the cum which was leaking, Harry looked back at him.
"Let me know when you're close?"
Tom nodded his head numbly.
His cock is then slammed down Harry's throat without any warning and Tom could barely see right. He regains control rather quickly and his fingers waddle through Harry's mane. For a moment Harry is surprised as he throws him a look but his surprise escalates when Tom pushes himself down his throat. His cock is past the flat tongue of his and nestled into the heat of his mouth as Harry enthusiastically grunts and begins to bob his head up and down. Harry's eyes seem to flutter as he continues to allow his cock to keep hitting his throat which makes Harry moan loudly. The grip on his hair makes him look beautiful, his green eyes gleaming with tears as he allows drool to push down on the side of his lips. Tom enjoys it, immensely and from what he can see so does Harry.
"I might come," his strangled breath garbles out and Harry immediately withdraws.
He then comes closer to straddle him, legs thrown on his side as he sits down on his cock. It doesn't take Tom more than a moment to wrap his arm around his waist and turn him to cage him underneath his own body. Tom taunts his entrance a little before pushing his cock into his hearth with no reservations. His lips dip down to layer a kiss on top of Harry's, their tongues languidly sliding against one another as their mouths tried to devour each other. Tom's hands are holding Harry in place as he falls apart underneath him, his moans intervening their zealous kissing. Withdrawing, Tom's lips find a new home as he bites into his neck while allowing himself to push himself further inside which makes Harry roll his eyes to the back of his head as he panted. Tom refused to reduce the pace of his cock, he thrusts through, Harry's insides pulsing their warmth, hauling him in.
Harry jerks with every thrust, he wants and his magic grows intense, wilder, draping Tom in its melody.
"Merlin, help me," Harry pleads as he sees the result of his thrusts, the bulge on his abdomen. "Oh God, Tom!"
That serves as an incentive while drills into Harry and spills his seed into him.
And Harry, he screams. If Tom was a lesser man, he would have joined him in his scream. His head feels light and his body goes numb, at this point, both their cocks are spilling and all he feels is pure, unadulterated magic. The heat which overcomes both of them lulls them. His skin is crawling with power and he feels magic making him utterly incoherent in his ability to breathe.
A quiet shake broke him out of his feeling of sinking, pushing him to the side. Opening his eyes, he looked at the source and saw Harry beside him, "You need to eat."
"I need to have a bath," he corrected him.
"Shall I ask my elf to run the two of us a bath?"
"I would appreciate that."
Before he could summon his elf, he turned to Tom and questioned, "Do you want to go back to Mortmaster?"
Tom wanted to snort. He did not want to go to the insipid club filled with weak-willed wixens when he had what he wanted here. His eyes still shut as he proposed, "If you are willing, I want to do this again after a bath."
Harry's face did not conceal the surprise which took over him, "You aren't magically overwhelmed or exhausted?"
Tom stretched his neck as he turned to look at Harry, "Please, don't insult me."
Harry let out a smirk and leaned towards Tom, kissing his nose, "You're very impressive."
Tom's hand instinctively looped around Harry's waist as he hovered on top of his person. His messy hair framed his face while his skin flushed pink to testify what they had just done. In a quick second, Tom twisted them; allowing his person to be on top as he intertwined his fingers with Harry's.
"All right, Tiger," Harry muttered, the grin on his face exuberantly present as he tried to get up, "you truly need to eat something."
"I could eat you," Tom replied, which made Harry look at him sceptically.
"After a bath."
Harry called for his house-elf who looked surprised when he noticed Tom and ran the two of them a bath. When the bath was ready Tom easily lifted Harry and lodged him into the tub as he sunk into it next. The tub overlooked a massive lake and noticed that this place was at least a hundred years old if not a thousand. The blocks of stones which were cemented together gave it a rather archaic look, the marble bathtub with the silver handles fit right into the theme of the decor, the curtains were deep black velvet and devoid of any subtle monogrammed coat of arms but all he found was random triangles. His gaze shifted to scrutinize the rest of the room, everything seemed singular. The conclusion was that Harry did not have a partner and he was not too surprised by that.
"You think too much," Harry commented as he caught Tom surveying the room.
"So I do," Tom replied, as he paid attention to the food tray which was levitating before him but Harry was quick to push them higher in the air with barely just his hand and moved towards Tom side of the bathtub. He situated himself between his legs to allow his back to hit Tom's chest and pulled the tray of food down.
Tom was awed by the massive control Harry possessed over his magic. Wandless magic came easy to pleasure wixens but that did not mean that extending control over it was easy or doable. The most he had read was gaining easy control over summoning objects but honing that skill to the point of levitating with the flick of a wrist was rare.
"You really need to eat," Harry snapped him back into the present. Only when Harry took a bite did he begin to consider eating but noticed the cheese which layered the pasta.
"That's a staggering amount of parmesan cheese."
Harry turned his head, his hair tickling his exposed shoulder as he glared at him, "It is no such thing!"
Tom let out a huff of laughter and took a bite as Harry's gaze remained fixed on him, "That is a lot of cheese."
"Tom, cheese is emotion," Harry explained it to him, "you can never have too much of emotions, okay?"
"I would agree with you but then we would both be wrong."
Harry pinched the side of his thigh, "You are mean."
"And you are petty."
"Of course, I'm pretty."
Tom gave him an amused smirk, "I said petty."
"I can't hear you over the compliment." Harry declared and turned to his food which made Tom grumble with warmth.
"So except for being hot and intelligent, what do you do?" Harry initiated after Tom took a bite of the chicken, "Now that you have graduated Hogwarts?"
Tom considered giving a long-winded answer of how he ended up in Borgin and Burke. He thought of straight-up lying as well to maintain the respect Harry had for him but regardless opted for the truth, "I work in Borgin and Burke in Knockturn Alley."
"Burke hasn't kicked the bucket yet?" Harry asked, amused which made Tom chuckle as he shook his head. "Why Borgin and Burke, that seems like a massive waste of your potential."
Regardless of how stunning Harry was and how firm Tom's own intentions were to woo the man to his side, he could not exactly go around claiming that he was a Dark Lord who tortured for sport and had a structured itinerary for his entire life. So he settled for something more plebeian.
"I have not figured out what to do yet," Tom confessed, which was half the truth, "and besides you might know that I don't have anybody in the wizarding world to rely on until I figure it out."
"Rubbish, with your grades and magical prowess, you could at least directly get into any department you would want."
Tom preened at that but suppressed it, "I know but I am unsure if the ministry is the path I desire."
Harry weighed in on the statement and nodded his head, "I get what you mean, I was unsure as well when I turned seventeen but I always knew I wanted to run a business and I wanted a safe space for Pleasure Wixens."
Tom took a bite of the creamy chicken and raised an eyebrow, "So you combined the two?"
Harry looked at him smugly, "I am rather intelligent if I say so myself."
"A severe misunderstanding from your end, I am sure," Tom remarked, sipping on the wine which made Harry elbow his ribs in retaliation. "Ravenclaw or Slytherin?
Silence suddenly pushed through their surroundings. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him as if he had said something wrong, "I did not attend Hogwarts."
"Durmstrang then?"
"I was homeschooled actually," He admitted and then took a bite of his food and Tom knew he was lurking uncharted territory, "I wanted to attend Hogwarts in particular, my grandfather and I had all the arrangements done, the glamour for the allure and regular potions after I hit fifteen but when we went to talk to Dippet and the staff, they did not agree."
"Why?"
"The nurse, in particular, did not want the school's reputation to be tarnished by associating with a future sex worker," Harry replied as if he was unbothered but Tom knew prejudice. He knew how much those unkind comments came to prick you in the worst moment and then eventually you were made numb to it not because you chose to do so but you didn't have any choice left but to do it.
"Linda Chapman?" Tom questioned.
"I guess? Blonde hair, really tall."
"That's her," Tom affirmed, "she always was a spiteful bitch."
Harry snickered and sipped on his wine as he turned his attention back to Tom, "So I remained here in this big castle with a number of tutors at my beck and call."
Tom was beyond appalled. Pleasure wixens weren't fucking prostitutes and even if someone was that did not mean you could choose not to educate them on the basis of their life choices. Pleasure wixens did not choose to indulge in sex magic, it wasn't like they could turn it off. Biases in the wizarding world were so ridiculous and he knew most of them were propagated by muggle-borns.
He knew that purebloods hoped that their children were pleasure wixens because that would imply the amount of power they yielded would be immeasurable. Purebloods, usually did not have issues with such rubbish prejudices except for the one prominent one they prepossessed towards muggleborns who came from a different world and intended to change this one.
Linda Chapman was a muggle-born as well.
"Why not the other schools?"
"Ilvermony is worse, I did not appreciate Beauxbatons and Durmstrang was out due to personal reasons which proved to be very fitting in the current political climate."
Tom was going to give a fitting response when Harry fired a question in his direction, "And your story?"
Tom would not have easily given up the information he just did but something in him probed him to tell Harry, "I was an orphan, they picked me up from there and then I got sorted into Slytherin and I worked my way up."
"So you are a muggle-born?" Harry questioned and he was quick to follow that up with an equally diplomatic explanation, "I have nothing against them but your associates are Lestrange and Malfoy, they aren't only blood purists but also blood supremacists."
"I'm a half-blood," Tom clarified with a smile, he almost wanted to admit to the truth of his ancestry but before he did this, he wanted to know about Harry. "You're a pureblood, obviously."
Harry allowed the dishes to be taken away and waited for the desert to appear, "You're the first person who questioned that everyone just assumes I am because of the last name I use."
"Half-blood then?" Tom probed, taking note of the fact that the surname he gave everyone wasn't authentic.
"Yes, my mother was a half-blood from a pure-blood line."
Tom took a bite of the tart before him. The velvet texture wrapped his mouth in the thrums of sweetness, "Your ability is inherited?"
Harry knew that Tom was referring to his ability as a pleasure wixen. Tom also knew that most of the time, the ability was inherited but there were a few muggleborns here and there which was an anomaly on it's own.
"My mum's family is familiar with it, her brother had it and then I got it," Harry went on to elaborate, "both of them weren't happy with it because of the bias which prevailed in Britain and we lived in Italy during my formative years."
"They are still alive?" Tom pursued.
"They passed when I was nine, Grindelwald's movement was gaining momentum and they were collateral damage," Harry told Tom, "I've lived in Cumbria since then with my grandfather."
"And your grandfather?"
"Passed when he needed to," Harry sighed and peeked out of the window.
Tom found the wording highly suspicious but refused to drop a comment on it.
"And did you ever get to find your birth family?"
Tom shifted his attention by latching his lips to Harry's neck, his arm slithering around his torso as the man giggled, "You are very forward."
"Sometimes," Tom muttered and let a breath tickle his nape.
Tom sunk his teeth into Harry's neck, making him gasp gently, leaning onto his chest. He easily flipped him to allow Harry to straddle his torso as the man gyrated their hips together. The room reverberated fast and loudly, emitting murmurs and gasps. The two of them clutched each other with ferocious intensity, sensing the burning sensation on his flesh. When Tom entered his cock into Harry for the second time that night, he cried his name out loud and Tom felt a deep rumble of pride in his chest. As Harry continued to bounce on his cock and let out strings of lewd moans, Tom's lips were dedicated to leaving a necklace of markings around his neck. And it seemed Harry loved being marked as much as Tom desired to leave the said marks. The next few minutes sped past them in a haze, Tom pounded into Harry with a ferocity and hit the exact spot which made him screech in pleasure and pushed him to the pinnacle of an orgasm while he spilt into the man himself.
Harry layered his head on his shoulder, breathless. His hands were clutching onto Tom's sides, the imprudent amount of magic that was thrumming between them made Tom incredibly complacent. He felt content, he felt calm. This magic wasn't the Dark Arts he practised so often in school, it did not make him yearn for more, it made him feel satiated, fulfilled and Harry in his arms quietened the rage which was constantly picking on his mind.
"I don't think I can walk."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Tom chuckled.
"No, it's supposed to be a point of concern, you wanker," Harry responded, the mirth in his voice evident, "I have been part of threesomes which have been less intoxicating and intense than what just happened."
"Are you saying I am the best you have had?"
"Aren't you a beacon for modesty?" Harry chuckled, the water pushing in, flickering itself over the two of them
Tom playfully pinched his side, "You didn't answer."
"You aren't gonna get a confession from me."
"I'll get it, Harry. I'm very determined."
"I can see that."
Tom lifted Harry from the bathtub and moved into the shower. The water fell over their skin easily as Harry kept his legs wrapped around Tom's torso, his mane nestled on his shoulder. The warmth which drifted through the water easily blended in the magic which was burrowed between them. On feeling clean enough Tom carried Harry into the bedroom and summoned a towel, draping the wizard into it as he sported a giddy smile.
Tom got another towel for himself and brushed the water off when Harry called for his elf and asked the elf to wash their clothes and bring Tom an extra pair of pyjamas.
Slipping into the clothes, Tom slithered into the bed and posed a question to Harry, "Are you sure you don't want to eat now?"
Harry's chest heaved as he laughed, "I'll ask for some champagne, would you like some?"
"I would."
After pouring a glass and handing it to Tom, Harry directly drank from the bottle which froze Tom momentarily at his lack of manners. On placing the bottle back in his hand he let out a laugh at Tom's mildly horrified expression.
"What? I thought you wouldn't mind!"
"I don't," Tom defended himself, "I just assumed that pureblood lines-"
"-have more decorum?"
Tom shrugged in agreement as Harry took another sip of the bottle.
"I would agree but I feel that it's okay to let loose once in a while," Harry retaliated, "I feel most purebloods just have a massive stick up their fucking arses, spouting rubbish just because they have pretty coins to throw."
And wasn't that the most accurate description he had ever heard of a pureblood?
"I thought you held the Malfoys in favour."
Harry rolled his eyes at that, brazenly, "They probably have the biggest sticks up their arses."
Tom let out a smirk in response. Harry was not wrong, Abraxas was the most pretentious piece of shit he had seen. Almost behaved like he was royalty and Tom for a very long time he assumed he was until Corvus clarified that the Malfoys were wealthy beyond reason and that brought a lot of power but they weren't royalty. Eventually, he saw the blond for what he was, he was witty, intelligent and highly self-serving; Tom deeply appreciated those qualities and found a middle ground with him. Many people would point out that Corvus and Abraxas were very close to him and he would suppose they were. He trusted them more than most but that did not mean he trusted them with his secrets. He was too paranoid for such a thing.
"The Malfoys and my mother's families have always been good friends and pureblood lines usually respect pleasure wixens more than the general public," Harry told him and then poured him some more champagne, "which is why they asked me a favour when I was fourteen."
Tom's ears perked up.
"I can't tell you the details, of course, but it was a ritual only a pleasure wixen could lead it for reasons specified and Armand was infatuated with me," Harry told him, "and I was just fourteen, it was consensual from my end but that did not change the fact I was severely underage."
"Grandfather was furious, rightfully so and his wife called me a homewrecker and we haven't talked to the Malfoys since then," Harry concluded. "I don't associate with them either because Armand has the mindset that you throw some money to people and they are yours for the taking."
Abraxas was surprisingly nothing like that even though he knew money could buy you things but he could take a guess why he turned out the way he did. He was undoubtedly spoilt rotten but the similarities between him and his grandfather seemed blurry. His grandfather deserved a smack in the fucking face because of the audacity to sleep with a child.
"Abraxas mentioned you performed for his grandfather."
"His grandfather wishes," Harry muttered, condescension laced in his tone. "I don't perform for anyone, I have enough money to sustain myself, I have sex because my magic needs it not due to financial constraints."
That was not what he heard. Did he not charge the clients he slept with?
Tom looked at him, frowning, "But don't you charge people for the night?"
Harry scoffed, "They think they should pay me so they give it out even if I insist not to but that is the point," he elaborated and looked at Tom, "the general wixen population believes that we would never deign to sleep with them until money is involved so it's more about insecurity here."
"But you run a sex club," Tom pointed out, understanding his explanation but unable to grasp what was being told, they did indulge in sex work.
Harry raised both his eyebrows, "It depends on the wixens choice honestly, my club is just a conduit for them to find people and some of them are interested in sex work so those I do pay, the rest I just protect."
Tom knew his face betrayed confusion.
"I don't run a brothel, Thomas," Harry scowled at his perplexity, "it seems like one, it isn't, I'm a capitalist and a businessman, I take a commission from the sex wixens in exchange for protection and a verified source of sex and I make the ones who want to solicit with our kind pay as well."
"But there are strippers and pole dancers," Tom argued.
"No," Harry corrected him with his lips pursed as he laid on the bed, "there are sex wixens who like pole dancing and stripping. It is a form of magical release to us."
Tom took a moment to understand that most of the general population including Abraxas himself was confused by the working of the club. They truly did believe that Harry ran a brothel. He remembered Nott and Corvus talking about Mortmaster and how it was a glorified brothel and a lot of legal sex work which had the approval of the government.
"So basically you are the only person who is getting the money," Tom realised.
"That's how businesses work," Harry told him.
"What about pleasure wixens who can't pay you?"
Harry looked at him with intrigue, almost the same expression as his teachers gave him when he asked a very pertinent question and were impressed with his thought process.
"Tom, I don't charge my wixens the exorbitant amount you friend has paid," Harry told him with a smile, "a patron pays fifteen thousand galleons a night and two thousand an hour depending on the services. My wixens, however, it depends on their income, I charge them anything between nothing to five hundred galleons for membership."
"It is my community and I do my best to help them," he shrugged.
"So there are a few wixens who pay nothing?" Tom probed.
Harry nodded his head, "I give them a loan such that they can start something substantial on their own and then pay me back."
"That is not very philanthropic."
"The notion of giving to a community without making any profit on the side is ridiculously stupid," Harry replied, nonchalantly.
"That is an extremely Slytherin sentiment."
Harry let out a huff of air and turned to him, leaning further into Tom's space, "Do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend?"
"I do not," Tom informed him, "do you?"
"Neither do I."
Good. Tom would make sure that he never had them lest they wanted to acquaint themselves with the afterlife quicker.
"No past boyfriends or girlfriends?" Tom asked.
Harry scrunched his nose and bit his lip, "Most of them are in it only for the sex and usually I get attached and they don't so I try to stay away."
"But you want companionship."
"Doesn't everyone?" Harry asked, his green eyes trying their best to keep his disappointment undisclosed.
No. He certainly did not. He would not want to touch the possibility of companionship with a ten-foot pole. He would prefer to remain alone, he was stronger and definitely more powerful that way.
"Debatable," Tom commented and turned to him, "why the interest?"
"It is a dangerous thing, having your complete attention," Harry told him, which made Tom suppress his smirk with a tremendous amount of effort, "I wondered if anybody was able to stay under it and survive."
Tom stomped on his urge to preen and diverted the topic of attention as he re-focused on Harry but the man beat him to the question, "Did you ever find your birth family?"
Tom wasn't sure how he could divert the topic. It was the second time he was initiating this topic and it would seem suspicious to do it again. He could not tell Harry the truth of the matter because it would certainly be hard to woo him after he explained how he murdered three people and tricked the fourth into serving a sentence for him so he had to weasel his way through the playground he had.
"My mother was a Gaunt, she died giving birth to me," Tom confessed quietly, "and my father did not want to be associated with me."
Harry frowned and Tom knew he piqued his interest, "Was your father non-magical?"
This was something he generally did not answer especially because of the implications it bought when purebloods were concerned.
"He was," Tom settled, "my mother doused him in potions and raped him."
"Amorentia?"
"I believe so."
Harry looked at him, really looked at him, as if he was calculating various things on his mind quietly, "You don't believe that you can't love because of it, do you?"
Tom glared at him. The same glare which was given before tossing a crucio out to whoever dared asked him a question that mildly enraged him and this question made him furious. It was not the fact that he wanted to be disassociated with the concept of love itself but he was annoyed that people assumed there was something he could not do by the nature of his existence. It vexed him.
"Because if that was the case, many pureblood lines would not have continued," Harry advocated, "it's a felony offence but the child is almost unaffected all the time and if there are reservations, the child is fed the antidote."
Tom did not know this and the reason he did not was because he found the information absolutely useless. Love was irrelevant to him and his ambition did not need to be devoured by a weak emotion such as it.
"I'm a healer, Tom," He goes on detailing, "my thesis was on Love Potions."
Tom awarded himself a point for extracting additional information on Harry but just nodded his head at the revelation. Although he wanted to probe more on Harry's life, the man cut them short and requested to call it a night because he had work on New Year's Day.
When Tom woke up the following day, he noticed the lack of Harry on the bed almost immediately. The curtains were shut tight while candles floated through the room, the warming charms refusing to die and the fire crackling under the mantel place. The quiet which persisted almost made him forget what happened the night before, the magic, the passion, the warm water which washed over his skin as he took Harry repeatedly. He almost did not want to return to his mundane life.
Shutting his eyes, he allowed his mind to ground itself. Pushing the bricks of safety around his thoughts and reign the emotions associated with it when he heard footsteps move in his direction. Tom's hand discreetly slid underneath his pillow wrapping his hand around his wand when the body lid closer to him and kissed the side of his head.
"I really really like you," Harry's arms enveloped him, "but I know you won't return the sentiment."
Letting out a sigh, he retrieved his person and stood back on the floor as he shook Tom to wake him up. Harry waited for Tom to wake up and continued rousing him. When he did wake up, the second time, Harry smiled at him.
"Good Morning, Tom," He greeted him.
"Morning," Tom repeated and pretended to wake up as if he did not just hear what Harry just said.
"My shift starts in an hour, would you be willing to join me for breakfast?"
"Of course."
Tom had always been quick during the mornings, Mrs Cole always reminded them that they did not have enough resources and wasting the ones they possessed would be dealt with punishment. When he finished his shower, his clothes were already present for him, cleaned and crisp.
Putting them on, Tom styled his hair and made sure that he was shaved appropriately and exited the bathroom. As soon as he left, Harry's voice requested him to come to the balcony.
On stepping into the balcony all he could see was a blanket of snow. The trees branched out in their glory overlooking a massive lake that remained frozen and was located at a healthy distance from a massive wall which ran itself meticulously through the expanse of the snow and Tom recognised wards formed near the wall.
"Are those wards?" He questioned.
"You have a keen eye," Harry commented, folding the newspaper and gesturing him to sit. "How do you like your tea?"
"Two sugars with a dash of milk while you wax poetry about my intelligence."
"You are intelligent? How come I haven't met that part of you yet?" Harry drawled out which made him smile fondly at the reply.
Tom took a seat and twisted his gaze back to the wall as Harry poured him tea and began to talk, "It's called Hadrian's Wall, it was built by Emperor Caesar Hadrainus in order to fortify the Roman province of Britannia."
"Rumour is that Emperor Hadrianus was actually Hadrian Peverell, the first wixen to lay feet in England," Harry told him.
And much to Tom's delight educated him more on the Peverells who he knew very little about. There was a distinct lack of subject matter on the first rulers of Britain. He knew the folklore which existed about the Master of Death and he was greatly intrigued by it but chasing after the Hallows would be a colossal waste of time so he digressed. Harry had told him about how the Peverells would certainly be modern-day royalty but what they would also be were necromancers. Regardless of how the story went and the anti-climatic end of the first two brothers, they were formidable wixens who dabbled very close to death, close enough for death to be merciful to the three of them and bless their lines in unique ways.
"What could possibly be a unique blessing?" Tom wondered.
"Maybe they can see people who dabble in death?" Harry laughed, "Or maybe necromancy comes easily?"
"Maybe." Tom shrugged without sparing a thought and finishing the last of his breakfast. Turning back at him, he smiled, "I guess this would be goodbye then."
Harry gave him a restrained smile. He wanted to say more or more appropriately, he wanted to stay more. "I guess it is."
"I enjoyed last night, our conversation and the sex," he admitted which made Harry forcefully nod his head in understanding when Tom knew he was hurting but Harry had been right, he knew he wouldn't be able to afford what he desired.
"I did as well," Harry admitted and then added thoughtfully, "I'll see you out."
"How do I reach you by an owl?" Tom asked.
"Harry Zabini would get the owl to me."
Tom made a quick note of that and stepped into the room with Harry to make his way towards the floo when Harry moved closer and told him, "Quit that job, it is a waste of your massive potential and go into politics or something, you would do well as Minister."
With that, he pecked his cheek and let him go.
* * *
The books lined up beside one another on the top more shelf as skulls layered themselves at the root of the said shelves holding coloured potions in their mouths. Jewellery pinned itself in display over the walls as a skeletal hand placed on a cushion with blood smeared on it in the far right-hand corner while several artefacts easily concealed underneath the glass showcases.
Patrons were few but they took their time in making rounds of the shop, careful to not touch anything. A laugh resonated through the shop as Tom's mind snapped from the haze he was in.
"It would," he confirmed with a forced smile towards Mrs Smith.
Mrs Smith turned to Tom and gave him a jovial smile, "You have been quite absent-minded, Tom. Is everything all right?"
Nothing was all right. It was the eighth of January and his mind was plagued with thoughts of Harry. It would have been convenient if it was just the sex. He recalled every single moment, the way Harry's mane felt when he nestled himself into his neck to the mundane conversations they had, the stupid way Harry had snuggled into him while they remained in the bathtub.
It was terrifying how much he thought of him and to put the cherry on top of this fucked up situation, he was dreaming of him since yesterday as well. Tom knew he wasn't drugged with Amortentia which only made matters worse because he was plagued with Harry out of his own fucking violation. The wixen remained in his thoughts and his words and every tiny activity, he attempted to do.
"It is," he forced out of his mouth.
"Are you finally going to introduce me to a significant other?" Mrs Smith teased as she put another piece of jewellery into the basket of things she wanted.
"There isn't one," Tom responded and then turned towards her, "what do you know about pleasure wixens and their allure?"
Mrs Smith's demeanour smoothened itself out. She suddenly grew very quiet as she looked at him, "Why do you want to know?"
"I was researching the topic," He smiled innocently.
He was aware she knew about the topic if Borgin's words and Smith's prancing in school was something to be believed.
"My daughter was one and so was my sister," She informed him, lips pursed, "both of them died by suicide."
Tom discreetly touched the bark of his wand and uttered legilimens. He paid attention to what she narrated and slid through her memories, a flaming red-haired woman with the same features as Mrs Smith came into his notice. He noticed the ostracism she faced by her peers in Hogwarts and her death. She was in love with a Stella Pucey and the woman accused her daughter of enchanting her when the truth was she did love her as well. Her daughter on the other hand was accused of wrecking a family when the Pucey woman was the one who initiated the advances.
"Their enchantments don't remain?" Tom inquired.
"They do," Mrs Smith confirmed and Tom had a brief moment of victory, "for the next eight hours and then you are back to normal unless they have drugged you."
And then she frowned immediately, upset by his demeanour, "Do you feel drugged?"
Tom wanted to scowl but gently let out, "I'm not drugged, Mrs Smith. Thank you for your concern."
"Then is it love?"
Tom felt himself freeze. That was not possible. He wouldn't fall victim to such a plebian emotion, the notion on its own was ridiculous.
"I don't think so."
"You are too young to recognise it," Mrs Smith told him lethargically as she paid for the jewellery, "but I think it is love."
After she left, Burke ordered Tom to lock up in an hour and he meekly nodded. His mind was plagued with what Smith had said. The possibility of him falling in love was next to nil and to do it in one night was ridiculously shallow and Tom was not a shallow person. If he would take a partner —which was on its own a paradox of a statement— he would be an equal, a partner who stood up to him, who was learned and intelligent and someone who would be so devoted to him that it consumed his existence and force Tom to question himself.
The irony of all the aforementioned things being accomplished by Harry unknowingly was not lost on Tom. In fact, it began to give him a headache.
* * *
Tom let out a sigh as he leaned back on the beige sofa.
He had spent his entire weekend at Lestrange Manor researching pleasure wixens voraciously. He had requested Corvus to let him remain undisturbed and allow his food to be delivered through an elf. He found nothing noteworthy, he learned new and intriguing information but nothing about pleasure wixens possessing enchanting powers which lasted for over a day even the most powerful ones would desist after seventy-seven hours which would be a little over three days. It had been fourteen days. And this was getting fucking embarrassing. He was reading through other enchantments and love potions. The Siren's call was the closest to fit all his symptoms but for it to work, Harry would need to spend thirty-three hours with him consistently, in his orbit. Tom was sure that he barely even spent twenty-four hours with Harry never mind thirty-three hours.
He turned to the clock which was suspended in the centre of the library.
It was half-past three in the afternoon and he suspected both Corvus and Abraxas to arrive momentarily.
And they did. Bickering, like the way they did, the first time they stepped into the common room.
"If you both don't shut up, Merlin help me, I will strangle you both," Tom declared, rubbing his temples.
That shut them both up as they moved towards him and took the seats before him. Corvus was in his deep blue robes which were trimmed with beige satin while Abraxas remained in classic green silk with black.
"What's the matter, My Lord?"
"How far does a pleasure wixen's enchantment retain?"
"Depends," Abraxas was the first one to answer, "if you frequent them then-"
"-I don't."
"A day," Corvus affirmed, "two if you are weak-willed which you aren't."
Tom hummed and then turned to the blond, "And if the wixen is extremely powerful, say Harry."
Abraxas' eyes widened as he snapped his neck in Tom's direction, "Harry slept with you?!"
Tom wanted to enjoy the look of sheer upset and shock on Abraxas' face, it was thrilling to snatch the things others wanted away but it was outright phenomenal to do it with Abraxas.
"Was that my question?"
"No," Corvus averted, running his fingers through his dark mane, "I have met him but even that sort of power, I would incline to five days maybe."
Abraxas' had found his voice as he added to the conversation, "Five days would be stretching it too far."
Tom shut his eyes in disappointment. Every solution seemed like a dead end.
"What's bothering you?" Corvus questioned.
"I can't get Harry out of my fucking mind," He cursed, words rancid in his mouth, "he is all I fucking think about and I fucking wish it was the sex because it's not."
"How do you know it's not?" Corvus pointed out.
"Because I slept with someone else."
"Fair enough," He remarked and then told him, "Want me to draw up a star chart and check if there are astrological pointers for attraction?"
Tom scowled at him, his eyes filled with contempt. A star chart? Is this what he had lowered his standards to? Corvus was brimming with excitement to draw their charts up, he knew. He was shaking his leg with too much force to let this go.
"I don't want a chart drawn up, Corvus."
Corvus clicked his tongue, foretelling the long session of convincing which was in the periphery, "Tom, it's a verified form of magic."
"It is divination," he deadpanned.
"Which is a form of magic!"
Tom rolled his eyes and glared in his direction as Corvus went on talking, "You could be having a soulmate connection with him and ignoring this could be possibly losing him if you take this the Tom way."
"If I do lose him then isn't it meant to be," Tom mocked him, his voice laced with condescension and turned to him indignantly, "and the Tom way is the best way."
Corvus scoffed, his dark eyes looking with disbelief at the comment, "Come on, there might be a legitimate reason."
"Divined by stars?" Tom repeated, his voice barely masking the scepticism he held.
"I will have you know if half the purebloods I knew listened to astrology before setting a match they would not be having affairs," Corvus huffed which made Tom and Abraxas glare at him, "that is why the Lestranges don't have affairs or divorces as often as the others."
Now Tom was aware that most pureblood matches did not survive the test of time as opposed to the Lestranges who were funnily lucky with this problem. It was revolting how besotted Corvus' parents were with one another.
"You can't blame your family's few stints with luck on astrology," Abraxas drawled lethargically.
"Yes, I can especially because your parents survived on the basis of it too," Corvus retorted, "every proper astrological match survives, the universe is stronger than most magics and enchantments."
"Fine, do it," Tom admitted defeat just to get Corvus off his back as the man jumped to his feet and levitated a massive slab covered with a velvet cloth. He summoned his house-elf to fetch his box of crystals and pushed out a massive parchment held on its corners by mundane pins. Corvus placed pink crystals near the corners and removed his wand to spell the parchment.
Tom noticed his name appear on the left-most part while Harry's name appeared at the other end. Tapping his name, he cast another spell which made a circle with a number of symbols appear on it.
Tom paused. He knew enough about divination to know you could not get an accurate chart without an accurate birth time and birth times weren't public information.
"How did you know my birth time?" Tom enquired which made Corvus cough.
"Magic."
Abraxas joined him in glaring at the man as he continued to do his work, "You invented a spell to pry on people's birth time?"
"Abraxas that's my prerogative," Corvus scowled which made the blond ignore him and turn his attention towards Tom.
Abraxas' attention was fixed on Tom. His sultry words drifted off his lips in an attempt to dig more information on how Tom seduced Harry into his bed. His comments were clipped but his dissuasion could easily be identified by him. Abraxas was jealous, rightfully so, Harry was an extremely powerful and magnetic individual, it was natural to do so. And to sleep with him was apparently very much of an accomplishment in the blond's eyes.
While Abraxas continued talking, Corvus intervened and informed him that there was something way more interesting than the charts.
He demonstrated how he invented such an invasive charm to retrieve someone's birth details, he would need their exact name and how they looked. Initially, his charm was not problematic enough so Corvus tweaked it such that he could visualise a person and their name and time would appear.
On the far right-hand corner, Hadrian James Peverell remained etched and Tom felt his heart in his mouth.
"Are you sure you haven't made an error in your incantation?" Abraxas questioned, his eyebrows furrowing, "I would know if this was the truth."
The tint of madness in Corvus' eyes glowed as he glowered at him, "Don't make me punch you Abraxas."
Tom's eyes remained fixed upon the parchment which remained and his eyes shifted to Corvus, "Anything else?"
His eyes drifted to the charts made as he looked at Tom, "You both would make a perfect match."