Chapter Text
The air had a serene stillness to it as Harry ate his breakfast. A gentle steam rose off his eggs as he stared at them. The meal he had been served was light and delicate. It had almost no seasoning.
The Grangers were having breakfast with him along with Riddle. It was an awkward affair. Mrs. Granger was visibly nervous as she shakily sipped her tea. Her gaze kept darting towards Harry, concerned as she watched him.
Mr. Granger kept glancing at Hermione with a caring look. His eyes softened slowly. He almost seemed to be pitying her.
In contrast, Hermione had begun to glare at Riddle. She had no tenderness in her gaze as she levelled the Alpha with an undignified sneer. She didn’t even glance at her father or return his kind looks.
Harry stabbed one of his eggs. The watery yolk oozed around his fork, yellow. It clung to the metal in sticky strands as he spun his fork mid-air.
It was better to stare at his eggs than to glance up. If he glanced away from his plate, then he’d be forced to endure the insufferable face of Riddle.
Harry let out an annoyed noise. He quickly scoffed the rest of his eggs down.
He could feel Riddle as the Alpha watched him. His presence was impossible to ignore. He had a darkness to him, a malevolency that slid along Harry’s skin. It caused his hairs to rise. It caused his heart to race.
Riddle was a predator, one that he refused to acknowledge.
“You have a wonderful dining room, Mr. Granger,” Riddle began politely. “It is a peaceful space,” he stroked his hand along the mahogany table. His lips quirked upwards. “Who cooks the food?”
Mr. Granger smiled brightly. “Ah, that would be our servant, Mrs. Weasley! She has been a part of our estate for many years now. We adore her cooking.”
Riddle smiled in response. “Yes, I’m sure you’ve come to fancy her food. It is delicate on one’s tongue.”
The Alpha then stabbed one of his eggs. His gaze met Harry’s, unblinking. “I’ve noticed that the food lacks seasoning. It is less flavourful than I am used to.”
The dining room was silent.
Harry dropped his fork. A curdling, vicious anger pulsed through his veins. It flooded his entire being. His fists clenched violently.
Riddle had insulted Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.
He had insulted the homemade meals that Harry had always desperately loved, the ones he had relied on.
He shakily stood to his feet.
His lips curled as he hissed, “You’ve never eaten anything that was prepared with love! You’ve never had a proper homemade meal!”
His gaze narrowed. “You’ll never be able to understand love and the ways it's shown.”
A wide, excited smirk twisted across Riddle’s face. His eyes gleamed as he regarded Harry. A flush rose into his cheeks.
“I’ve read that it is a wife’s duty to care for her husband. An Omega must cook for their Alpha,” Riddle whispered, leaning closer to Harry. His smile turned coy, almost teasing. “I’ll have plenty of homemade meals, prepared with love. I’ll enjoy an intimate, fulfilling marriage.”
Harry’s gaze darted towards Hermione. His heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze. Her eyebrows were knitted together in thought, her expression contemplative as she listened to their quiet hissing. She clung to their every sibilant breath, remaining silent. She was studying them.
Harry nervously bit his lip.
She’d never be able to fully understand what Riddle was capable of. She’d never be able to understand the insults he whispered in parseltongue.
The fear that Hermione would turn against him rose within Harry abruptly. It caused his stomach to squirm.
She’d been on Riddle’s side for most of his time at the estate. She could always return to the Alpha’s side. She could ignore Harry and his warnings—just like before.
He shook his head.
No, he’d never allow a marriage to occur between Hermione and Riddle. The Alpha would be returning to his estate empty-handed.
Harry wouldn’t allow Riddle to succeed in his plans, never.
He’d foil the wizard and his dastardly deeds at every turn.
The thoughtful look on Hermione’s face then transformed into one of hate, shifting as Riddle peered at Harry gleefully.
A small, pleased smile flickered across Harry’s lips.
Yes, he already had Hermione on his side. He just had to ensure that she stayed there.
Mr. Granger cleared his throat. “We've purposefully abstained from the heavy use of spices in our household.”
The air around Hermione soured as her scent shifted with discontent. It swirled around her, tense and aggressive, as she visibly shook in anger. Mrs. Granger sent her a scolding look. The woman then flashed Harry a disapproving glance as well.
A scoff almost broke past his lips.
He hadn’t even said anything yet.
The dining room was silent for one brief, charged moment. Then, slowly, Riddle’s lips split apart into a delighted smile. He laughed, his head tilting to one side. “Yes, it is important to protect one’s family from self-pollution. You’re a dedicated man, Mr. Granger.”
Mr. Granger shifted in his seat, clearly pleased with the praise. He beamed nervously.
Riddle’s gaze swept back towards Harry, intense. His lips curled into a smug smile.
The taunting look caused Harry to bristle. His grip on his knife tightened. He angrily leaned towards the wizard, his lips contorting into a snarl, parting—
He paused.
The Alpha wanted him to respond.
He wanted to rile Harry up.
Riddle was just playing with him.
A deep, furious blush burned across Harry’s cheeks. His hands shook.
The Grangers exchanged a knowing look, smiling.
Enraged, he stormed away from the dining table, knocking over his glassware. He ignored the Grangers as they called his name.
He had eaten enough of his breakfast.
***
The world around him blurred as he rushed towards the Duelling Hall. The sunlit morning had given way to a drowsy, golden afternoon. The manor and its hallways remained bright and inviting—yet, he couldn’t bring himself to take in its beauty.
His mind was stuck on Riddle.
The Alpha’s behaviour had gotten under his skin.
He couldn’t believe that Riddle had insulted Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. He couldn’t believe that the Alpha had teased him during breakfast.
It was an obvious attempt to provoke him. Riddle wanted to offend Harry. He wanted to irritate Harry, just as Harry had made a habit of irritating Riddle.
Cursing, Harry flew down the winding hallway, twisting around a sharp corner. He hated the vile git. He hated Riddle’s perfectly curled hair.
Luckily, Harry would only have to suffer through Riddle’s behaviour for one more day.
The dark wizard would leave the Granger’s estate. He’d return to his role as the Minister for Magic. Harry would never have to see Riddle again.
A content, smug smile curled across his face. Yes, he’d never have to endure the Alpha’s presence again. Harry would finally be free.
His feet abruptly skidded to a halt. Scowling, he glared at the large chest he had nearly collided with.
“You,” Harry growled, his voice lowering. “I thought you had a meeting with Mr. Granger.”
Riddle appeared delighted as he glanced down at Harry. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I did have a meeting with Mr. Granger. It ended early.”
Riddle’s lips stretched into a pleased smile. “Mr. Granger and I agreed on nearly every point. The man is desperate to please me.” His smug expression deepened. “Mr. Granger let slip that the absence of spices in the household is a recent change.”
Harry raised his eyebrow. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? I never took you for a food critic. Seems like an odd career choice, given your terrible taste in everything.”
“You’ve never heard about the dangerous effects of spice?” Riddle said teasingly. A playful smirk tugged at his lips. Laughing, he leaned closer to Harry. “It is widely believed that spice can arouse feelings of an amorous nature.”
Harry blinked.
What.
“The youth are particularly vulnerable against such spices,” Riddle whispered, his eyes brightening. “The Grangers wouldn’t want their children to become sex-craved fools.”
The hallway was silent for one brief moment.
An amused smile tugged at Riddle’s lips. He gazed down at Harry, waiting.
A small, quiet snicker left Harry’s lips. His shoulders quivered as a blush crept up his cheeks. He could feel his lips twitching, betraying him with ease.
Riddle’s smile widened.
A loud laugh then burst past Harry’s lips. He doubled over towards the Alpha as his laughter echoed. Smiling, he grabbed onto Riddle’s shirt, clutching the smooth fabric.
The world he was trapped in was ridiculous.
Riddle shifted towards him. The wizard ducked his head, his nose gliding across Harry’s cheek. “Are you implying,” Riddle whispered warmly, “that you don’t believe me? I’ll have you know that lots of people abstain from spice. No one wants to lose their cognitive abilities to sexual desire.”
A warm breath slid across Harry’s cheek. The familiar scent of amber swam around his head. It caused him to feel dizzy. Dazed, he swayed closer to Riddle. “Are you one of those people, Duke Riddle?” Harry teased mercilessly, his eyes bright.
His voice lowered to a suggestive, whispered hush. “Do you believe that spice can elicit… sexual desire?”
A flash of maroon glinted in Riddle’s eyes. “I’ve never refrained from seasoning my food because of such superstitions.”
The two of them broke off into quiet laughter again.
“Your father seems to believe I would follow such a custom,” Riddle remarked dryly. “He had all the recipes altered for my arrival. The food served to me has been… unseasoned.”
“It must have been a terrible shock for you,” Harry snorted. “An unthinkable tragedy—the Minister for Magic, condemned to plain food.”
“Quite.”
A breathless laugh left Harry. His grip on Riddle’s shirt tightened.
The entire situation was hilarious. The thought of Riddle politely tolerating plain, unseasoned food was simply perfect.
Harry’s last laugh was gentle, almost wispy.
A smug smile rested on Riddle’s face. The wizard looked far too pleased with himself.
The warmth in Harry’s cheeks deepened. His gaze dropped, shifting away from Riddle’s face. His ears now felt embarrassingly warm.
He blinked.
“I see you’ve picked up some books,” he said, gesturing to the ones tucked under Riddle’s arm. “Did Mr. Granger assign you some readings on the safe consumption of sugar?”
A fervent intensity suddenly entered Riddle’s eyes. His scent sharpened. “I’ve decided to conduct some personal research.”
A jolt of alarm went through Harry. His gaze instantly narrowed. “What would you consider personal research?”
The Riddle of his world definitely considered horcruxes an area of personal research. Harry’s chest tightened with determination.
Yes, he would destroy any horcruxes that Riddle would go on to make. He’d annihilate them all.
A polished shoe slid over Harry’s, pressing down on him firmly. “I would consider marriage to be a personal topic.”
His mind went blank.
“Y-You what?” Harry stuttered, confused.
“I’ve been researching the best ways to achieve a successful marriage,” Riddle said bluntly. “I’ve never needed to delve into the intricacies of interpersonal relationships. Now that I've decided to get married, I must.”
“You’re not going to marry Hermione!” Harry shouted angrily. “You're never going to be with her!”
Riddle shrugged his shoulders. The casual look on his face sent Harry spiralling. His rage bubbled through his veins.
Snarling, he tore at the wizard’s shirt, pulling Riddle violently closer. Their faces were inches apart.
Riddle smiled down at him pleasantly. “Do you want to read it?”
“You think I’d waste my time on such—”
Harry paused.
A book on marriage would discuss gender expectations. Surely, the text would elaborate on what was expected of Omegas and Alphas in the current culture.
Riddle then dangled the book in front of him teasingly. The cover was a dark green.
Excited, he yanked the book away from Riddle. His breath hitched as he whispered its title, “The Married Lady’s Companion.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He felt as his ears flooded with heat.
Yes, he’d finally found a relevant text, a way to study the world around him.
He was certain that the book would discuss Omegas and Alphas. At the very least, it’d discuss married life and what it entailed. He’d get a glimpse into this world’s perception of relationships.
He flipped the book open to a random page.
“It is much better to dwell on your own faults, than on those of your husband,” he said gently. The text and its meaning rushed quickly into his mind. His heart shuddered with horror.
The world became eerily silent.
A smirk stretched across Riddle’s face. Quietly, the Alpha began to walk away, his steps slow and deliberate.
Harry turned to a different page.
“It will be important to acquaint yourself with your husband’s temper. You must render your disposition quite agreeable to him.”
He flipped to another page.
“Nature has given man superiority over his wife.”
Harry closed the book with a quiet thud. His gaze returned to Riddle. The wizard had travelled further down the hallway.
A snarl broke past his lips.
“You,” he hissed. “Get back here! We’re going to duel again! You’re not going to slink away, Riddle. You’re not going to dump your stupid prejudices on me then leave!”
Riddle turned towards him. His gaze was bright with something—an emotion that sparkled like victory.
“I thought you’d never ask,” the Alpha purred.
***
A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin as he dodged a purple curse. It crackled past him, scorching the floor and its marble surface.
Harry flung an Expelliarmus at Riddle that the git easily dodged. He stalked closer to Riddle.
Harry needed to get closer to the man. He had always relied on being unpredictable, and nothing was more unpredictable to a wizard than a physical attack.
He eyed his surroundings quickly. He could drop the chandelier above them on Riddle’s head. It would likely cause him a lot of damage.
A ball of fire suddenly burned towards Harry. Shakily, he hurled himself aside. Yet, as he dodged the Incendio, the flames twisted midair and blazed after him. It was chasing him.
His grip on his wand tightened.
“Aguamenti!” he shouted, an aggressive jet of water dousing the flames. He then flung a violent torrent of water towards Riddle. It flew through the air quickly, striking Riddle in his shoulder.
Riddle winced.
Moving quickly, he raced towards Riddle, his boots clicking against the floor.
The Alpha slashed his wand violently. A powerful gust of wind barreled into Harry. It threw him backwards.
He recovered quickly and dodged Riddle’s next attack, an Incarcerous.
Cursing, he threw an Expulso at Riddle. The wizard manoeuvred out of its way. The spell caused an explosion of blue light to burst behind Riddle. The Alpha’s dark curls swayed slightly, stirring as a gentle breeze hit them.
Riddle then suddenly smirked. A thick, swirling smoke poured from the tip of his wand, spreading rapidly through the Duelling Hall.
“Shite,” he whispered, taking a step back. He couldn’t see anything clearly anymore. Riddle was using the smoke as coverage.
Quickly, he spun around, surveying his surroundings. He only needed to catch a single glimpse of Riddle—that was all. Then, he’d tackle the git and wrestle him.
A sudden burst of yellow shot towards him. Gasping, Harry threw himself away from the spell, his boots squeaking as he skidded across the floor. Acting quickly, he flung an Expelliarmus into the smoke.
The Duelling Hall remained eerily silent.
Harry cursed.
Another spell then shot towards him, coming from an entirely different angle. Harry leapt out of the way. The spell glided across the edge of his sleeve, tearing the fabric.
“Shite,” he hissed, gritting his teeth.
The Alpha was circling him.
Harry breathed in slowly. He was an ex-Auror. He knew how to fight.
He could win this duel.
Harry exhaled sharply. He eyed his surroundings. Then, as his gaze swept through the thick smoke, he caught sight of a shadowy figure.
Harry flung himself into the smoke. He charged towards the silhouette, colliding with a warm body. His hands scrambled across Riddle’s chest, desperate.
It was the start of a new fight.
The two of them clung onto one another, vicious as they fought. He scraped his nails across Riddle’s skin. He clawed until there was blood.
The excitement in his chest grew stronger.
A breathless laugh left his lips.
Riddle smiled down at him.
In that moment, the entire world disappeared. The only thing that existed was them, the fire between them.
A swell of heat rushed into Harry’s cheeks. His gaze fell to the floor. The excitement in his chest then threatened to burst.
The floor beneath them was wet.
It was wet from Harry’s previous Aguamenti.
He grinned.
“Glacius,” he whispered, watching as the puddle froze. He then shoved Riddle as hard as he could. The Alpha fell down onto the ground, slipping on the ice.
Harry threw himself on top of the Alpha. He straddled Riddle, squeezing him with his thighs. His hands wrapped around the Alpha’s throat.
Riddle made a strained noise.
“I’ve got you,” Harry whispered warmly. Teasingly, he stroked the sides of Riddle’s neck. He squeezed the delicate flesh.
He could strangle Riddle.
It would be the perfect accident.
The surrounding smoke would hide his actions, and the patch of ice—well, it would make it seem as though Riddle had lost his footing, falling and hitting his head.
Harry’s next breath was shaky and uneven. He tentatively squeezed Riddle’s throat again. The flesh was warm against him. The Alpha’s scent was unbearably strong.
Curious, he leaned closer to Riddle.
A warbled, weak gasp left him. His lips parted. Mindlessly, he stroked the Alpha’s neck, his thumbs sliding rhythmically.
It was Riddle’s neck.
His scent was coming from his neck.
Harry then noticed something else that was strange.
A small area of the skin on Riddle’s neck was slightly enlarged. It was barely noticeable. The skin was only slightly raised.
Harry swiped his thumb along the small patch. He gave the flesh a gentle nudge.
Riddle grunted, his hips bucking against Harry's. He arched off the ground.
The sudden movement jostled Harry. His grip around Riddle’s throat instinctively tightened. Confused, he glanced down at the Alpha.
Heavy, labored breaths left Riddle as the Alpha stared at him, his pupils dilating. His cheeks were flushed a fierce red.
Harry shifted on top of Riddle, uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to asphyxiate the man yet. His gaze fell to the strange patch of skin again.
Huh.
It would seem that Alphas really did have bizarre anatomy.
His eyebrows furrowed together, confused. He wasn’t sure he wanted to choke Riddle to death, anymore. The wizard’s current reaction to getting strangled was—well, concerning.
With one hesitant, shaky squeeze, Harry rose to his feet. He stood over Riddle awkwardly.
Riddle had an intense, wild gleam in his eyes. His fangs peeked past his lips threateningly. He almost looked hungry.
Harry shifted again. “I’ll see you around.”
He walked hastily away from the Alpha. Turning around, he shouted, “Your book is mine now!”
In one final, quick stride, he left the Duelling Hall.
***
A few butterflies were dancing through the air. They weaved about elegantly in an elaborate display.
The grass was slightly damp as he sat on its lush blades. A delicate, airy sweetness hung around him, emanating from various flowers.
The Grangers’ garden remained lively and beautiful. All of the flowers were ready to be plucked.
A loud rip then tore through the peaceful garden.
His fingers clawed at the book, tearing out its useless pages.
The book hadn’t discussed any meaningful topics. It droned on and on about how women were meant to be subservient to their husbands.
Omegas were meant to care for their Alphas. It was their duty to provide love and comfort for those in their household.
An Alpha didn’t have to provide their partner with care. It was their duty to manage other tasks, such as the finances.
Harry scoffed.
The entire book was rubbish.
It seemed Hermione shouldn’t marry anyone at all. No one in this world was safe for her. The entire Wizarding World—and its education—was steeped in sexism.
His thoughts slowly drifted to Fleur Delacour.
It had been difficult for her as a part-veela in the Wizarding World. He could still remember the comments made about her. She had been treated poorly by everyone.
He knew that Mrs. Weasley had disliked Fleur at first. Hermione as well.
It had taken them months to accept the girl as a respectable partner for Bill.
Harry wondered what Fleur would think of everything he had gone through. Would she find the sexism repulsive, a stark intensification of what she had endured in their world? Or, more horrifically, would she claim it was no different from what she had already faced?
The only real change between the sexism of their world and this one was that, for the first time, Harry was experiencing it himself.
Furious, he tore another page out of the book.
He would do anything to protect his family. He would fight anyone to reshape the world.
(Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled as he offered Harry a fistful of Cockroach Clusters. He shook the candy enticingly.
“I’m alright, sir,” Harry said with a grin. “I’ve already had a bag of Fizzing Whizbees today.”
“Ah,” Dumbledore sighed, looking forlorn. “It seems I’ve been beaten to the punch, presumably by Mr. Weasley?”
Harry nodded his head.
“Well, I’ll make sure to get you next time,” Dumbledore smiled, his voice softening. “It’s always nice to indulge in a sugary treat. It becomes especially important to enjoy life the darker it becomes.”
“You should learn a few peculiar, ridiculous spells, Harry,” Dumbledore winked. “They will remind you that life is magical when you start to feel lost.”
“I’ll remember that, sir,” Harry said, a thoughtful smile on his face.)
Concentrating, he focused on transfiguring the paper, reshaping its delicate folds into a bird. Then, as his fists clenched together, the parchment soared into the air, alive as a fragile songbird.
The paper bird flew around the garden merrily. Eventually, the bird returned to Harry to settle on his head. Its beak combed through his curls, chirping sleepily.
An abrupt, excited laugh left him.
He had finally found a purpose for his crow’s nest.
Harry smiled as he transfigured a few more birds. The graceful creatures flew around him, their wings beating softly.
Now that he thought back on it, there had been one other person who hadn’t been a fan of Fleur—
“Wotcha, Harry!” Ginny shouted as she stumbled towards him. A playful smirk stretched across her face. She pointed at him accusingly. “You’re supposed to be at the picnic!”
Harry tilted his head. “What picnic?”
Delighted, he watched as Ginny sashayed closer to him. Her fists were propped on her hips. The long strands of her hair were radiant, golden as the sunlight washed against them.
The teasing gleam in her eyes brightened. “What’s with the birds? Did you decide you’d rather keep their company than Duke Riddle’s?”
“Of course, I’d rather keep their company than Riddle’s,” Harry snorted. He gave Ginny a meaningful look. “What did you say about a picnic?”
Sighing, the girl collapsed onto the ground. She shook her shoulders dramatically, nudging Harry. “I’d counter and say that Duke Riddle is an attractive bloke—”
“Gross.”
“—And, notably, that the Grangers have decided to host a picnic. Yet, you’ve mysteriously vanished, Harry,” she winked. “The picnic cannot go on without your presence!”
“I think they’ll be fine without me,” Harry droned, unimpressed. Coughing, he shifted closer to Ginny, pressing their shoulders together. He flashed her a teasing grin. “D’you think you’d be able to stay here?”
“You’d ask me to sit in a bush with you?”
“I’d say we’re hidden in an exceptionally decent bush,” Harry whispered, smiling. “I’d say it’s good enough for the both of us. We should mysteriously vanish together.”
Ginny smiled back at him. “I think I’d like that.”
A hand brushed against his. Her skin felt incredibly soft. Blushing, he twitched as her scent wafted towards him. Ginny had a flowery scent. It was sweet and delicate.
Nervous, he sat still as Ginny crept closer to him. She stroked her thumb along the back of his hand. The movement was repetitive. Comforting. Smiling, she slipped her hand into his.
Her head tilted to one side. “D’you want to kiss at all?”
An inferno exploded within his body. “Y-You’d want to kiss me?” he asked, shifting nervously.
It was a stupid question.
Ginny snorted. “You dolt! Of course, I’d like to kiss you,” she said, her gaze softening. The corners of her lips lifted. “You’re so sweet, Harry.”
The blush on his face darkened. He shifted again, nervous.
He couldn’t understand what she saw in him. The bird on his head gave him an annoyed peck.
Ginny suddenly reached towards him, her hand landing on his thigh. She stroked him reassuringly. Smiling, she whispered, “You shouldn’t be so nervous, Harry. I got you.”
The touch of her lips was delicate. It was a gentle glide, an act of love. She slid her tongue across his bottom lip. The request was polite. Nice. She wanted his permission.
A soft moan left him. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened his mouth. Her tongue met his.
The kiss soon became heated.
Ginny’s hands crawled across his body. She gripped his thighs, squeezing them firmly. Her touch was like lava—spilling over him, searing and unrelenting. Gasping, he shuddered as she stroked his chest.
An old, familiar guilt steadily crept in.
She didn’t have the scar on her cheek that his Ginny did. She wasn’t touching him like his Ginny would.
Harry shook his head.
No, he needed to focus on the present. He shouldn’t compare them.
(He should.)
He reached down to squeeze her hips. Ginny groaned harshly into his ear. The sound caused his insides to swelter with heat. Panting, he rested his head on her shoulder. He felt dizzy. His hand trailed up to her chest.
He felt far too dizzy.
A breathless, content noise left Ginny’s lips. Her knees bumped against his. Each of her touches were electric—firm, teasing caresses that ignited his very being. She pressed a warm kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering.
Harry shuddered.
The rich scent of jasmine surrounded him, sensual and sharp. The fragrance emanated off Ginny in gentle waves. It harmonized with the garden and its various sweet-smelling flowers.
A hint of leather clung to the floral aroma, blending her scent into something deeply alluring. Ginny was gentle yet warm.
His eyes darted across her body, drifting down to her cleavage, then lower still, until—
He froze.
Hesitantly, he eyed the front of her pants, the way the fabric had begun to strain. A prominent bulge was visible and slightly wet.
Ginny grinned at him confidently. Amused, she whispered, “D’you want to touch me there? It’ll feel good, Harry,” she purred. “I promise.”
It took him one painful, staggering moment to realize what Ginny meant—the weight of her words. His eyes widened quickly. Blushing, he glanced down at her erection again.
It was an exciting idea. He had never done anything like that with Ginny before. He wouldn’t mind touching her there, stroking her cock until she came on him, shiny and wet. His mouth watered.
A horrifying thought then came to him.
She might want to touch him back.
She might want to dip her fingers, curling them inside him. She might want to watch as he gushed around her desperately.
She would touch his pussy.
He backed away from Ginny. Nervous, he stuttered, “I-I’ll be alright!”
Ginny gave him a slightly confused smile. “Alright, Harry.”
He didn’t want to be touched.
His new anatomy was too confusing. He didn’t want to think about his pussy. He didn’t want to acknowledge its existence. He didn’t want Ginny to look at his—
It was simply too much.
A hand gently caressed his cheek. Ginny smiled at him tenderly. “D’you want to kiss some more?” Her thumb swiped along lightly, pressing under his eye.
Harry grinned. “Y-Yeah, that’d be brilliant!”
“Brilliant,” Ginny said quietly. A confident, teasing smile twitched across her face. The birds flew around them, chirping freely.
Their lips met once more.
***
A soothing warmth pulsed through his body. Pleased, he weaved through the garden and its tidy bushes.
His insides felt tingly and soft. He couldn’t stop touching his lips. The lips that Ginny had been kissing.
Ginny.
He wanted to crawl back into Ginny’s arms. He wanted to kiss her until the sun vanished. Sadly, the Alpha had chores she had needed to complete. She couldn’t kiss Harry forever.
Dazed, he stumbled over a small rock, a giggle escaping him as he righted himself. He couldn’t wait to be alone with her again. He couldn't wait to kiss her. A gentle hum left him.
He wondered if she’d like to duel him—to battle and spar like they used to. If not, he could take her out on Prongs and gallop through the nearby forest.
The world tilted as he staggered into a clearing. The murmur of various voices reached his ears, trickling in softly.
He could barely focus on the sight before him. He felt as though he was made of static.
Hermione and Ron were curled close to one another. The two of them were on an orange blanket, an array of food spread out before them.
Harry blinked slowly, his steps unsteady.
He had accidentally stumbled onto the Grangers’ picnic event.
Riddle wore a courteous smile as he sat with Mr. Granger. The two men appeared deep in thought, a few papers spread between them, scattered among the food.
Riddle levitated a quill into the air, unhurried. He smirked charmingly at Mr. Granger.
Harry felt a lazy smile stretch across his face. He was actually quite hungry—he wouldn’t mind a few quick bites.
With a sigh, he collapsed onto the ground beside Hermione and Ron, grinning stupidly. “What’re you two doin’ together?” he slurred, his words tumbling out messily. His tongue felt heavy.
Hermione gave him a concerned look. “Are you feeling alright, Harry? You seem rather flushed.” Her nose quickly wrinkled, twitching with confusion. “Your scent is really strange. You smell like—” she paused.
“B-Blimey,” Ron gasped, his eyes wide. “You’ve been with Ginny? What were you doing with her?” His eyes suddenly narrowed, a calculative gleam flickering within them. “She didn’t try anything, right? She’s an Alpha. She knows better,” he said quietly, his voice frustrated.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. Smiling, he curled his fingers into his hair. “We had a good time. Ginny didn’t do anything bad to me, I promise.”
Hermione and Ron shared a sigh of relief; satisfaction gleamed in their eyes.
Harry’s lips then tilted into another sparkling, lopsided smile. “It was nice to kiss her, though. It was really nice. Man, I need a sandwich.”
Hermione spat out her tea, while Ron choked on his biscuit, crumbs spilling down his chin.
“Harry, no!” Hermione gasped. “You’re not supposed to… do those things—well, at all! She can’t provide for you—”
A wounded look flitted across Ron’s face.
“—You need to be with a considerate, responsible Alpha. You need a partner that can provide you with land, an estate,” her voice grew more urgent. “You need an Alpha that is well-off, n-not Duke Riddle, though!”
Harry scoffed.
Yeah, he’d never be with Riddle.
The wizard would never be his Alpha, whatever that implied.
Hermione gave him another strange look. “Are you not concerned about becoming a spinster?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to get into breakdancing, you see,” Harry shrugged, smirking.
It was as Hermione choked, spluttering on her tea, that Riddle rose to his feet. The Alpha began to walk towards them, his hands tucked against his pockets. His eyes were trained on Harry.
Harry stood shakily to his feet.
“Harry!” Hermione whispered, desperate. “You should get out of here! You shouldn’t talk to Duke Riddle while you smell like Ginny!”
“Seriously, mate, you should leave!” Ron said, agreeing with Hermione.
Harry ignored their pleas. His friends had earned a peaceful picnic, and he wasn’t about to let Riddle ruin it. Hermione and Ron deserved only the best.
Besides, he wasn’t afraid of Riddle. He had no intention of running from the Alpha.
If anything, he’d tell Riddle to bugger off.
“C-Come on, mate!” Ron implored, his voice cracking.
Harry moved away from his friends.
“You’ve been gone for far too long,” Riddle smiled, his voice teasingly low. His eyebrow twitched upwards, amused. “Did you not receive the Grangers’ invitation? You were supposed to be—” he paused.
The entire world came to a halt as they stood together. Their scents coalesced into the air.
Riddle’s nostrils flared. A dangerous spark entered his eyes. His pupils contracted into terrifying, snake-like slits. His fangs shone threateningly as he hissed, “You've been with that servant again, that girl.”
The afternoon sunlight fell upon them in harsh rays.
Harry snarled back at the Alpha, “Yes, I’ve been with Ginny! She’s my friend. She’ll always be my friend.” He stepped closer to Riddle. His finger jabbed into the Alpha’s chest. “You wouldn't understand anything about friendship. You’ve never had a single friend.”
Riddle was eerily still. His cold eyes bore into Harry’s—a frightening blankness in them. “Is she only a friend to you?” The question was asked quietly. It almost seemed to echo in the silent space.
Riddle then gently touched his face. His fingers slid across his skin, gliding delicately. The wizard tugged on the skin under Harry’s eye. “Your pupils are dilated, dearest,” he whispered softly.
Harry scoffed. “You shouldn’t be concerned about my love life. It doesn't involve you.”
A brief smile flickered across Riddle’s face before vanishing. His eyes shifted purposefully towards Mr. Granger. “I’ve just finished some very important paperwork,” he whispered ominously. “D’you want to ask me about that paperwork, Harry?”
Harry shook his head quickly. Even he could recognize that statement as a trap.
A loud laugh left the Alpha. His hands fell onto Harry’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Your life does concern me now.”
The delighted look on Riddle’s face then vanished. His gaze grew cold. “I will not tolerate her disrespect. She had no right to touch you. She is an insolent, lowbrow servant. She is beneath me.”
“How dare you!” Harry hissed angrily. “She is my friend—”
“—I’ve seen the way you look at her. You would’ve kissed her on that day, if you hadn’t seen me!”
“You were the one watching us from the window!”
The angry blush on Riddle’s face threatened to explode. The Alpha almost appeared feral as he inched closer to Harry.
A cruel sneer came onto his face. “I’ll make you understand. You’ll see me as I see you. You’ll feel the same way as me.”
With another cold, calculative glance, the Alpha stormed away. His magic whirled around him darkly, an ominous swirl of power.
Harry was then left alone, his mind in shambles.
He didn’t understand Riddle, not one bit.
***
The world was quiet and still. Streaks of moonlight streamed into his bedroom, casting a pearly sheen over his surroundings. A weary breath left him as he shifted in his bed. He couldn’t fall asleep. His mind kept racing, tangled in restless thoughts.
He felt bad about touching Ginny. He felt bad about their shared kiss.
An exhausted groan escaped past his lips. Tired, he shuffled across the bed, stretching his legs.
He wasn’t her Harry. He wasn’t the Harry that Ginny had fallen in love with. He didn’t know the life her Harry had lived. He didn’t have that Harry’s memories.
His stomach writhed uncomfortably, clenching with guilt. He held back a shudder.
Shifting, he stumbled off the bed. The floor was cold beneath his feet, chilling him as he shuffled towards the door.
An unwelcome thought, one he had been desperately ignoring, rose unbidden in his mind.
She wasn’t his Ginny, either.
Quietly, he slipped out of the bedroom. The manor was deathly silent as he crept through its hallways. The estate felt different at night. The floor appeared ghostly pale as moonlight washed over its panelling. The air held a certain chill in its grasp.
Harry buried his face into his hands.
He didn’t know what to do. He missed his world—missed his friends, his home. But he couldn’t abandon the world to Riddle and his machinations. He was the only one who knew the truth about the man. The only one who knew that, given time, Riddle would become a dark lord.
It was his duty to stop Riddle. It had always been the two of them—two prophesied equals, forever circling one another. It had always been the two of them until Riddle died.
Harry groaned.
He couldn’t abandon this world. He couldn’t sit back and do nothing while Riddle schemed and plotted.
Restless, he turned around a corner. His feet came to an abrupt stop.
“Riddle,” he whispered, his eyes widening. The Alpha was at the other end of the hallway. He had a surprised yet pleased look on his face. His eyes swept over Harry quickly.
“Harry,” the wizard replied, breathless. “I see that you’ve decided to take a midnight stroll. We should walk together.”
Riddle then let out a low, pleased purr. He had an unusual gleam in his eyes. “It is unwise for an Omega to be alone at night,” he whispered.
Harry’s eyes widened quickly. The emotion flashing in Riddle’s eyes was hunger.
His heart skipped a beat. Startled, he jolted backwards.
The Alpha then began to stalk towards him, deliberate as he moved. His lips quirked into an unsettling grin. “I’ll escort you back to your room, dearest.”
Harry let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll be alright, actually! We can continue to have separate walks. We don’t need to spend any time together! In fact, we can remain apart—far apart.”
The two of them then began an awkward dance. Riddle crept closer to Harry while Harry continuously backed away.
His feet squeaked along the floor, irritatingly loud. His breaths came out as wispy, uneven puffs.
Riddle then lunged towards him. His movements were quick, serpentine. Instinctively, Harry leapt away.
A silence fell over them. Quietly, he stared into Riddle’s eyes, unblinking as the Alpha stared back at him.
A warm, electric energy, soothing like honey, then pulsed beneath his skin. Smiling, he darted away from Riddle, slipping just beyond the man’s grasp. He raced down the hallway.
A loud bark of laughter reached Harry’s ears. It was warm and deep, the rich baritone of Riddle’s voice. He could hear the Alpha and his footsteps as the man chased him.
His heart raced wildly.
He wanted to run away from Riddle.
He wanted to see what the Alpha would do.
Excited, he raced further down the hallway, laughing breathlessly. He peeked over his shoulder, curious. He wanted to see what Riddle looked like. He wanted to see his anger.
Harry’s lips twitched, shifting into a frown.
Riddle had an eager grin on his face. An energetic, restless light gleamed in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed an intense red.
Harry’s step faltered. He slowed for one brief moment, one moment that left him vulnerable.
A large weight barreled into his body. It swept him off his feet, tackling him into a console table. The distinct sound of glass shattering echoed loudly.
Harry gasped.
The mirror behind them had broken. He could feel as tiny shards of glass pricked against his flesh. The finer pieces had fallen across his pajamas, fragmented like snow.
The console then let out an unpromising groan. Harry flashed Riddle a terrified look before a sickening crack split through the air. He hastily buried his face into Riddle’s chest.
The console beneath him shook as it broke. He held onto Riddle for one tense minute.
He slowly glanced up at Riddle.
Of course, the prat would have an arrogant, smug look on his face.
“You,” Harry said quietly. “You’ve broken the console!”
Detached, the Alpha glanced briefly at the broken piece of furniture. His gaze returned to Harry's. “I’ll reimburse the Grangers.”
A firm weight settled across Harry’s throat. It squeezed him experimentally.
The Alpha’s hands were warm, a comfort against the evening chill.
A small noise left Harry. Curious, he peered up at Riddle, watching him through his lashes. “What are you doing? Are you going to choke me?” he whispered.
Riddle gave his neck an inquisitive squeeze. “You choked me earlier today. Don’t you remember?” Riddle’s voice was tight, laced with something. Harry couldn’t figure out what that something was. His eyebrows scrunched deeply together.
“You’re a lunatic, though. You deserved it,” he quipped, his voice serious.
Riddle let out a delighted laugh. “I’ve never met anyone as wild as you, Harry. You’re completely unpredictable.”
The Alpha’s head then tilted to one side. He gave Harry a considerate smile.
“I think I’ll return the favour now,” Riddle hissed, his lips trembling, taut with anticipation. His pupils were blown wide, dark and fevered. Riddle’s fingers then trailed downwards, teasingly stroking the sides of Harry’s neck.
A flicker of heat ignited within Harry. It settled low in his gut, burning. A weak, desperate splutter left his lips. His entire body twitched.
Harry then realised, horrified as he squirmed, that he had an area of raised skin on his neck—the same as Riddle. It was a physical feature that he had never noticed before. It was a feature that he and Riddle shared.
The smirk on Riddle’s face widened. He purposefully swiped his thumb, lingering along the small patch of skin.
The world around Harry exploded. His skin became feverish as an inescapable heat rushed through him. It boiled his blood into nothing but vapour. It charred his bones, singing them into ashes. A blissful haziness descended over his mind.
Gasping, he shuddered as Riddle’s fingers danced teasingly along his skin. It was incredible. It was the best thing he had ever felt.
A noise that sounded worryingly like a mewl slipped past his lips. His hips canted into the air, desperately seeking friction. The pressure against his throat was everything—everything he had ever needed.
He moaned as black spots flickered across his vision. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t inhale any air, not with Riddle’s firm grip locked around his throat.
A warm breath ghosted along his ear. “You shouldn’t touch another person’s throat, Harry,” the Alpha purred. “It is considered improper etiquette. You shouldn’t have choked me during our duel.”
A deep, throaty chuckle left Riddle’s lips. His nose glided across Harry’s cheek. “Your pheromones are everywhere,” he said hoarsely. Riddle then inhaled sharply.
Harry’s thoughts came to him sluggishly.
“W-What in the name of Merlin are pheromones?” he asked, gasping. A wanton moan quickly left him. Delirious, he tilted his neck towards Riddle.
An encouraging purr vibrated against his cheek. The Alpha was purring.
The grip around his throat briefly tightened. Gasping for air, Harry lurched towards Riddle, squirming.
Riddle then did something unexpected. He swiped his wrist across Harry’s throat, purposefully rubbing their flesh together. The action was quick, barely noticeable. But the Alpha’s scent had already begun to stick to Harry.
It was the warmth that met one by a fireplace. Riddle emanated the scent of smoke. Harry shuddered.
Riddle had scented him on his neck.
An embarrassed flush crept into his cheeks. Shivering, he writhed against the shattered mirror, dazed. The broken glass sliced into his pajamas. He could barely feel the piercing pain. It was only pleasure that burned through his veins.
He sighed, breathless. His insides felt blissfully warm.
Then, as he shifted, he noticed a faint stickiness on the insides of his thighs.
His pussy was warm. An unfamiliar wetness was sliding down his thighs.
A deep sense of dread swept over him.
No.
He jerked his fist back, horrified. He had to get away from Riddle.
A maelstrom of rage ignited within him. He snarled.
He had to hurt Riddle.
His fist slammed into Riddle’s stomach, hard.
The man groaned at the sudden impact. He curled in on himself, panting.
Harry ripped himself away from the Alpha. He threw a wordless stinging hex at Riddle, sneering as he fled.
He retreated back to his bedroom, not followed by Riddle.
***
A dizzying wave of heat rolled through him, suffocating his thoughts. He crawled across his bed, panting. His hips jutted against the mattress.
It felt as though he was made of embers.
His insides were evaporating into steam. He was on the verge of vanishing.
A needy gasp left him. His fingers slid down towards his underwear.
“Ah,” he whispered, his eyelashes fluttering. He slowly stroked himself through his underwear. His touch was delicate, unsure as he touched himself.
It felt good.
It felt really good
A warbled noise escaped his lips. His hips canted desperately. “Ah,” he whined, his lips parting, bitten and swollen pink. He could feel the plush warmth of his pussy, searing even through his underwear. It was pulsing with need, wet.
His lips spasmed, twisting with pleasure. Harry threw his head back. The nervous touches he kept lavishing onto his slit were electric.
His underwear was soaked.
“Mhmn!” he moaned, trembling. His finger had found something. Curious, he nudged the small nub, circling its width with his thumb.
It was incredible.
A hiccuping sob left him. Embarrassed, he buried his face into his mattress. His insides felt so warm . His pussy was clenching around nothing, desperate.
His hands shook as he fumbled with his underwear. He tugged it slightly down his thighs. A faint wetness clung to his skin, trailing from the soaked fabric.
Trembling, he gently touched his slit, poking tentatively. Harry moaned again.
His thoughts slid towards Ginny. He thought of her auburn hair, its fiery strands. The freckles that adorned her skin, speckled and scattered like stars.
The blush on his face darkened. His cheeks were red, burning like hot balls of charcoal.
It wasn’t enough.
His lips wobbled as he fought back a cry. He stroked his clitoris, tapping the sensitive nub.
Harry could still smell Riddle. His scent was all around him. It clung to his neck, insistent. It invaded his mind.
A finger slipped inside him. It thrusted slowly, devastatingly hesitant. It almost felt like torture. It would be better if it were Riddle’s firm, skilled fingers stretching him open.
A slow, sinking horror washed over Harry as he realized he couldn’t properly pleasure himself. His fingers weren’t long enough. They couldn’t reach the deepest parts inside him.
A cry finally broke past his lips. He needed something—something to fill him inside.
He thought of Riddle. He thought of the man, his devilish, cruel smirk.
He wouldn't be nice to Harry. He’d hurt him. He’d split Harry open on his cock. His dick would slam into him, unrelenting in its pace. He’d spill inside him, coating his insides with a sticky, slick heat.
Flustered, Harry glanced down at his pussy. His folds were flushed an adorable pink, slick with arousal. It dripped down his thighs, shamelessly wet.
No.
He didn’t want to touch himself. He didn’t want to acknowledge his new anatomy, the changes that felt so foreign.
He couldn’t bear to imagine what his friends would think of him now. They would be sickened, revolted. He could already see their judgemental stares, the disdainful curl of their lips, and Dumbledore’s piercing, criticising gaze—
He hastily pulled his underwear up over his thighs. A violent tremor wracked through his body.
Harry would be alright.
He didn’t need to touch himself. He didn’t need to do anything. He could wait out his arousal.
He had spent countless hours locked in his cupboard before. He knew how to whittle away the time, how to pretend he was somewhere—anywhere—else.
Panting, Harry shifted across his mattress, burying his face into his pillow.
He’d be perfectly alright.
Steeling himself, he braced for the long night ahead.
***
“You look terrible,” Ron said quietly. His entire face spasmed, twitching as he fought through an internal battle. He looked as though he was about to be sick. Worried, he asked, “Are you alright, Harry? You don’t smell like yourself.”
Harry ignored the concerned look on Ron’s face. He continued to storm through the garden, kicking various small stones.
Ron nervously wetted his lips. “I know I’d usually tell you that we should go and play Quidditch. We should lounge around and eat Pepper Imps, stuffing ourselves with them until we vomit. I’m sure that’s what you want me to say,” he trailed off anxiously.
Awkwardly, he scratched his cheek. “But I care about you, Harry. I know I’d usually tell Hermione to lay off you if she started pestering you about feelings. But you should be able to talk to us.”
Ron bumped their shoulders together, a tense smile on his face. “What do you need from me, mate?”
A weary sigh left Harry. He knew that his face was ghostly pale. He had dark, purple bags under his eyes, born from his lack of sleep. His hair was more dishevelled than usual. His clothes were rumpled. He felt completely exhausted.
Annoyed, he punted another small pebble. “I’ll be alright, Ron. I just had a rough night.”
A furious hiss then tore out of him. Riddle was across the garden, admiring the begonias.
Harry’s shoulders shook as he fought to contain his hatred. He wanted to deck the Alpha across his face. He needed to draw his blood. He needed to make him hurt. He’d gladly choke Riddle to death now!
He’d never, ever allow Riddle to get close to him again.
The bush beside Harry suddenly caught on fire.
“B-Blimey, mate!” Ron shouted, bewildered as he stared at the flaming bush. The redhead struggled to pull his wand from his robes. Fumbling desperately, he jerked out his wand and shouted, “Aguamenti!”
The flames died down.
Ron shot him an exasperated look. “You had a rough night, huh?”
“A very rough night.”
Ron sighed. “Listen, mate. We’re here for you. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Harry knew he had his friends by his side, ready to fight for him and his happiness. But he didn’t need their help.
A smile drifted across his face.
After all, it was Riddle’s last day.