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Day 23 - Tyrant | Words 1,097

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   “I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with him,” Hermione said as soon as the food appeared on the table. “He’s a tyrant.”

   “Not so loud,” Ron hissed through his teeth, and they fell into a tense silence. 

   Harry doubted they’d be heard; they were far from the high table and their fellow Gryffindors were loud as they caught up with each other. 

   Quick eyes glanced up to the high table anyway while Harry created a small pile of food on his plate. 

   He didn’t turn to look. As his back was to the table doing so would only draw attention and he didn’t need to look.

   He knew what he’d find there. 

   The Dark Lord was visiting Hogwarts and Harry knew he wasn’t paying their table any attention. He’d feel that piercing gaze if he was.

   “He’s not a tyrant,” Harry protested quietly but with conviction when Hermione turned back to him, and Harry wasn’t obsessed with him.

   “Harry,” she started in that patient tone of hers that conveyed she thought him stupid. “You have books, multiple, filled with newspaper clippings and reports detailing his whole life. And that’s not even accounting whatever it is you’ve written in those books about him. It’s not healthy, it’s obsessive, and that man is—“

   “The Dark Lord,” Ron interrupted harshly before she could say something that would get her killed.

   And well, perhaps she had a point about the tyrant part. 

   “He’s hot though,” Ginny piped up from his side. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at Harry causing him to scowl.

   “Do you think me so shallow?” he asked. He thought she knew him better than that. “He’s not just a pretty face. He’s a genius, he’s—“

   “Yes, yes, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s intelligent and powerful and the most amazing man alive, we know, you’ve only told us about a hundred times.”

   She rolled her eyes as he flushed. And okay, maybe they were right about the obsessive part too. 

   He just couldn’t understand how someone could learn about the Dark Lord and not become… interested in knowing more.

   The man was an enigma. Coldly intelligent, fiercely powerful and only cruel when the situation demanded it.

   “He’s done a lot of good for Britain, you have to admit that,” he said to Hermione.

   “Well, yes, I’m not denying it,” she replied primly as she speared a potato with her fork. “It’s his methods that I disagree with.”

   Harry scoffed and pushed his meat around his plate. “Ruling with love is certainly a nice dream Hermione, but do you think Britain would be as prosperous now if he hadn’t terrified everyone?”

   He was a Dark Lord. They weren’t exactly known for being all fluffy and cute. Fear was a natural weapon that dark lords utilised, and Lord Voldemort incited plenty of love too, despite his cruelty.

   Hermione opened her mouth to argue, brown eyes flashing with righteous anger, but Ginny interrupted her again.

   “Give it up Hermione, you know there’s no convincing him.”

   Her mouth snapped shut and she sighed, shaking her head at Harry’s obstinance.

   Ron, who preferred to keep out of these discussions, perked up.

   “When was the last time he took an apprentice?” he asked the group but kept his eyes on Harry as he was the one most likely to know. 

   “He hasn’t, at least, not officially.” There had been many rumours of him taking an invested interest in his followers training. 

   In fact, Harry knew it to be more than rumour because his mum’s friend Snape had been tutored in the Dark Arts by the Dark Lord.

   This year however, the man had decided he wanted to take an apprentice. Someone to share all his knowledge and skills with. 

   It was something Harry had never expected the man to do, and something he so desperately wanted. 

   To spend time with the man, to get the chance to pick a part his brain and learn from him… his heart sped up at the thought. 

   “He’ll probably choose Malfoy anyway,” Harry continued. Malfoy was Britain's golden boy—and saying it out loud meant Harry wouldn’t get his hopes up.

   “Why would he go through the farce of choosing an apprentice if he’d already decided on Malfoy?” Ginny countered.

   “Well, it has to look fair don’t it?” Ron said.

   Hermione snorted quietly, “as if he cares about fairness.”

   Harry frowned at her tone, even if he agreed with her words.

   “He’s the Dark Lord, he doesn’t have to be fair at all,” he interjected sharply before he shrugged his shoulders unhappily. “Either way, I’m not going to be chosen.”

   Hermione and Ginny shared a look as Ron sent him a sympathetic grimace. 

   “Don’t be so sure Harry,” Ginny said kindly. “You’ve got as much chance as anyone else.”

   “That’s nice of you to say, but I doubt I’m even in the running. The Dark Lord won’t apprentice an idiot, and my academic record isn’t exactly impressive.” Harry smiled ruefully. “Hermione has a better chance than I do.”

   Hermione snorted again, and he knew she was thinking of her blood status. It mattered not how intelligent she was, Hermione would have to claw her way up the chain to make a name for herself. 

   Though considering that the Dark Lord was a half-blood, and he’d changed his stance on the integration of muggleborns—due to the research into bloodlines Harry’s mum had brought to the man’s attention—he thought she had a better chance than she imagined.

   “No one knows how the Dark Lord will pick his student,” Ron reminded him. “You’re the best of us in Defence and the Dark Arts, that’s got to count for something.”

   “I suppose so,” Harry said doubtfully. 

   Silence fell as they focused on eating, but it didn’t last for long. Harry stayed out of the ensuing conversation that turned to discussing a new band that was making waves through the wizarding youth.

   As he ate slowly, stamping down the hope that bloomed at Ron’s words, the hair on the back of his neck raised. 

   His breath caught as a heavy gaze burned against his skin. He twisted in his seat slightly and glanced up to the head table through his fringe.

   The Dark Lord was staring at him. A keen interest swam in red eyes and blood rushed to Harry’s cheeks at the intensity of it.

   He lowered his head, ever aware of the Dark Lord’s regard, and wondered if he had a chance after all.

Death's Bitesize Bits and Bobs

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I'm going to post my art over here too

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Tom Marvolo Riddle — Lord Voldemort.

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reminder that digital libraries aren’t owned, also why pirating digital content is a necessity

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Additional Tags: Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, No Angst, seriously no angst whatsoever, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Writer Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Magical Tattoos, Memory Magic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Wizarding History (Harry Potter), Friends to Lovers Summary:

When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos?

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SOULSEEKER ¦ the cat chasing the mouse - they can never have enough of each other

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When Harry found himself flung into the past, courtesy of tripping some bit of malfunctioning magic while repairing Hogwarts after the battle, he’d considered many possibilities resulting from his temporal displacement. He took into account his odd luck, his so-called hero complex, and the warnings about time magic he’d been given over the years. Given the givens, it was likely he couldn’t prevent his presence from having an effect on the timeline. But hopefully his awareness would help keep it from being anything world-ending.

At no point had he ever considered being on the receiving end of a terrifyingly earnest love confession from a twenty-two year old Tom Riddle.

“You can’t love me,” Harry insists, feeling a little desperate. “You don’t even know me.”

“Perhaps not, but you know me,” Riddle replies, gaze intent and hungry. “Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He snorts. “Plenty of people know you–”

“They don’t. They know parts of me, or see what they want to see, or believe the performances I put on. But you,” Riddle says, tone hushed and reverent. “You know more than anyone else – the worst parts of me, and what I could become – and you’re still here. You haven’t left. You don’t even seem to dislike me.” 

Harry gives an ugly laugh. “Narcissist.”

“Don’t dismiss this,” Riddle says, a little anger finally starting to show. “I had resigned myself to being alone, because it was infinitely better than being with someone whose interest was so shallow and conditional.”

He can’t believe he's about to say this, but, “There are– will be others who, er, appreciate you.”

“Appreciate,” Tom hisses, voice dripping with contempt. “Would they still appreciate me if they knew the circumstances of my birth? That I was once Tom Marvolo Riddle, Borgin and Burkes’ sales clerk?”

And Harry finds it hard to imagine a Bellatrix that isn’t entirely, disturbingly infatuated with Voldemort, but aside from that and the violent insanity, her defining personality trait was being a blood purity bigot. It’s enough to make him hesitate, which Riddle seizes on as a victory.

“That's what I thought."

“I feel like you’re ignoring the most important point here, which is that I don't love you,” Harry shouts the last bit, hoping it’ll break through the other’s hardheadedness.

Riddle quiets for a moment, staring at Harry intently. “But you could.”

Harry deflates with a sad wheeze. “What?”

“You could,” Riddle repeats, voice growing firmer, more certain. “And you will.”

“You’re completely cracked,” Harry says in disbelief.

“I am persistent, and you are lonely and isolated by your circumstances,” Riddle says, walking towards the exit behind Harry, who tenses at the proximity. He pauses once he’s level with Harry, leaning in, breath brushing Harry’s neck as he speaks. “Eventually, I will win you over, Harry.”

Harry holds his shudder back until Riddle leaves, and locks the door behind him. Leaning his head against the door, Harry despondently wonders how things got to this point.

The worst part is he’s not sure Riddle’s wrong.

Promptober 2024: Persuasion, ominous, time travel AU

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FAKE bl0od

driving with my darling 🗡️🩸

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im only [checks calendar] a week late but hbd draco, love u, bitch

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Bug lady

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"comfort, a friend, and a voice in the world" — as internalised by one very dramatic toddler

FROM CHAPTER 8 OF SOULSTICE

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Harry as the sleeping beauty🥺

«If my kiss can’t bring you back, then you were never meant to return»