Chapter 9: Chapter 8 – House on the Hill

"Right, everyone, we'll be off." Fred announced to the kitchen as we reached the back door. Everyone inside turned to look at us, and Mrs Weasley frowned. 

"Already? I thought we were all going to Diagon Alley together to get your school things." 

"Shit. True. We did promise them." I muttered to the boys. 

"I thought you were going back to the flat after we'd all been shopping?" Mrs Weasley said. "I didn't think you'd all want to abandon us so soon." 

"Ah, fine, enough with the guilt tripping, Mother." George said, then added to Fred, Terry, and I quietly, "We'll go after she's released us from her clutches." 

"Are you sure?" Terry said, sending a quick glance sideways at me. "Is it not urgent?" 

"He's been stalking me for the past month and a half, I'm sure I'll be fine for another few hours." I said. 

"Only if you're sure, baby. We can always tell her no." Fred said, and I raised an eyebrow. 

"There's no telling that woman no." 

The twins nodded thoughtfully, everyone looking back towards the rest of the family, who were all bustling around getting their bags and money. 

"C'mon." 

The Ministry had started simping for me after the Battle of Hogwarts, so we were provided with Ministry cars basically any time we requested them. Terry and I made use of this to a ridiculous degree, hitting them up any time we wanted a lift down the street or to Soho late at night. One of the benefits of living in London was that the best nightlife was nearby; Terry and I had the time of our lives the past several weeks, and the twins sometimes joined us - it was amusing to see how jealous and possessive they got if anybody tried to hit on me. 

And now the cars were giving us a lift to Diagon Alley. We all managed to squeeze into three cars, and I had to awkwardly stare in between Mr and Mrs Weasley's heads as they faced me, opposite to me and the twins, who were sitting on either side of me, pressed in very, very tight to me... 

"Thank Godric that's over." I said as we all stumbled out of the car. It was supposed to have been a nearly four-hour journey, but it was completed in one. I'd learned not to question magic, though. Especially not when it worked in my favour. 

"Yes, thank Godric indeed." Mr Weasley said, passing a hand over his forehead. 

"Naturally." Harry and I chorused. 

I felt Mrs Weasley's eyes on us the whole way down the street as Fred and George strode on either side of me, each holding one of my hands. I could hear her hushed voice behind us, clearly trying not to let us hear but failing. 

"I can't believe the little devils actually did that. Right after I'd just been in the room. And they'd left the door open, as well!" 

"Oh, come on, Molly, they're hormonal young adults. I'm sure they didn't do it on purpose." 

"Oh, they definitely did! I have no doubt! They made sure we could hear, all right." 

"Still. They're adults. They're allowed to... um... be intimate." 

"Not when I'm around to hear it! Those two little imps -" 

"They're not little any more, Molly! Besides, maybe if you hadn't meddled and teased -" 

"Don't you lecture me now on this!" 

I glanced between the twins, giggling at the wicked smirks on their faces. 

Halfway through the shopping, us Insurgents got bored; we'd been shopping down Diagon Alley too many times to count while living at the flat, and doing it for school supplies wasn't exactly the most exciting thing ever. We excused ourselves to go check on our shop, and as soon as we entered we received a warm welcome from our employees. 

"Hey, guys, how's it going?" Luke, one of my favourites, grinned at us. He was a few years older, but more laid-back and easygoing than his peers. "How was the award show?" 

"It was -" 

"- Well -" 

"- Eventful." 

"VERY eventful." Terry finished. 

We all exchanged glances. Luke frowned at us. 

"Ooookay. Anyway, Daze -" 

"That's Miss Potter to you, McVey." 

I giggled at Fred's low growl, the look on his face; he didn't like Luke as much as I did, partly due to his incredibly handsome face, his toned body, and his rather obvious attraction to me. Oh, who was I kidding - it's entirely due to that. 

"Oops, sorry - anyway, Miss Potter," Luke's dark eyes glinted at me (I seem to have a preference for dark eyes - look at my three most recent partners, smh) and he smirked slightly, "I've another joke." 

"Oh?" I grinned, moving closer. My breath caught as Luke deposited the last box on the shelf, his huge biceps bulging and straining against his WWW shirt sleeves, then descended the rungs on his stepladder, resting an arm casually on the shelf above me. "Lay it on me, then." 

Luke and I had a thing where he'd tell me a new joke or pickup line he'd learned every time he came in for a shift. And now he was leaning in close, towering above me, his soft sandy hair sticking up in places and the freckles spattered across his face having multiplied by the last time I'd seen him due to the sun. His smirk widened into a boyish grin, and he said, "I had a dream about you last night, Miss Potter. Your beauty was mind-blowing. But my mind wasn't the only thing you blew..." 

A loud growl came from beside me, and I took a step back in alarm. Terry and George were both chatting to other employees; Fred, however, was like a steaming kettle. Eyes flashing, jaw set, he grabbed my arm without breaking eye contact from Luke, who was now watching his boss fearfully. 

"You're fired." 

"No he isn't." I said, narrowing my eyes at Fred. 

"Don't test me right now, baby girl." Fred said roughly, his eyes not moving from Luke. "You might regret it." 

"Luke, ignore him and keep working." I told my employee, who turned back to his stock cage slowly, eyes wide. 

"Do I need to remind you who the boss is here, Miss Potter?" Fred's dangerous voice sent a shiver down my spine. 

"We're equal in this business." I said, tossing my hair back. Fred finally turned away from Luke, moving in closer, looking down his nose at me. Our chests were practically touching; he was so much taller than me, towering over me as his eyelids nearly shut, glowering down at me. 

"Not if I get a majority vote." Fred said. "Once I tell George about this... and I'm sure I could convince Terry with another game of Spin the Bottle..." 

"Jesus Christ, Freddie." 

"That's sir to you." Fred's voice was rough and gravelly, and I shuddered. "I think you need to be reminded who's really in charge here. Come. NOW." 

He kept a firm grip on my arm as he started tugging me along. I went with him, feeling the desire building up in between my legs. 

"Put in that top button and tuck your shirt in if you're going to keep working for my business!" Fred barked at Luke as we passed, and Luke jumped. 

"Yes, sir, right away, sir!" 

I pulled a face at Luke, and the sandy-haired man grinned as he reached for his collar. 

Fred pulled me through the throng of customers, through the curtain into the defence room, and into the warehouse. He slammed through the office door, tugging me through and shoving me into the desk. The door was slammed behind us, and a second later Fred was up against me, pinning my wrists to the wooden surface of the desk, glaring down at me. 

"I think you need reminding of who the boss is, Miss Potter." Fred's voice was dark. I squirmed. 

"Do I, now?" I panted, gazing up at him. I didn't know whether to feel annoyed that he was acting like this, or aroused. I was maybe feeling both. 

"Yeah." Fred breathed, nudging a thigh in between mine. "Yeah, you do. And when you speak to me, you're to refer to me as sir, got it?" 

I let out an involuntary moan as his jeans rubbed against my panty-less core under my skirt. 

"Got. It?" 

Fred's brown eyes were darkened so much that they'd nearly become black. The dominance in his voice was only turning me on more, and I breathed out in pleasure as I ground onto his thigh. 

"Yes, sir..." 

"That's right." Fred said lowly. "That's right, Miss Potter, you know who you answer to. You know who's above you..." 

He was moving his thigh up and down ever so slowly, the friction against my clit making me see stars. I was clutching onto the edge of the desk to hold myself up, afraid my knees would fail. His lips descended on mine, and we moved against each other passionately, me moaning into Fred's mouth as his tongue swept around mine. 

His hands moved down from my wrists to under my skirt, and he lifted me up onto the desk. I winced as a jolt of pain shot up from the position I was sitting in; I still hadn't recovered from taking George up my ass earlier. I felt Fred unbuckling his jeans, and I sighed breathily as he rubbed his tip against me, teasing around my entrance. His head slipped in then out again, and I whined. 

"Who do you answer to, baby girl?" 

I opened my eyes, glaring stubbornly straight into his. 

"No one." 

Fred smirked, moving back and clicking his tongue. "Tsk. Wrong answer." 

"No, no, please." I whimpered, spreading my legs wider and tugging him back by his shirt. "Fuck me, fuck me..." 

"Tell me who you answer to, then, Miss Potter." 

I gazed up at him, pouting. He was jerking off slowly, cocking an eyebrow at me seductively. "Y-you..." 

"What was that?" Fred said, his smirk growing. "I don't think I heard you right." 

"Y-you, sir." I squeaked. 

"That's right, baby..." Fred moved closer again, and I gasped as he slid right into me, making me slump forward onto him and my eyes flutter closed. "Mmm... your pussy feels good, Miss Potter..." 

"Fuck me..." I moaned, trying to move my hips against him. "Please, sir..." 

"Who's in charge? Who's in charge, huh?" Fred didn't waste any time going slow; he immediately started hammering into me, making the desk rock underneath us. I squealed, tightening my legs around his waist. 

"You, sir!" 

"That's right, that's right... fuck, you're going to make me come in your perfect little hole, aren't you, you're gonna do as I say, follow my orders, you little slut..." 

His phrasing was disjointed, his thrusts hard and fast, his dick throbbing inside me. Clearly he was feeling as good as I was; he was stretching me out and sliding past my g-spot on every snap of his hips, rubbing against it so good as he rocked into me, making me weak and breathless with pleasure. Fred was groaning deep in my ear, his fingers digging into the bruises on my hips that he and George had left earlier. 

"Baby..." I moaned loud, throwing my head back. I was reaching my high; I was about to topple over the edge - 

"Who's above you, huh?" Fred purred into my neck, his thrusts slowing down slightly. "Who's above you, baby girl?" 

"Well..." Even though I was on the verge of orgasm, and I was having the life fucked out of me by one of the two hottest men alive, I still felt like being a smartass. "Currently, all t-the customers on the first f-f-floor, and the employees... ooh, maybe L-L-Luke'll have stock to d-do upstairs, too... so he'd be ab-above me -" 

I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Fred's eyes were blazing, and he slid out of me. 

"Turn around." He ordered, and I hopped off the desk obediently, not wanting to piss him off even more. I turned, shivering. "Now bend over." 

Fuck. Ever since we'd gotten this desk, that was all I'd wanted. I'd imagined it every time I dropped off paperwork in here. 

I bent down over the desk like I was told. Fred's hands lifted up my skirt, and I felt him slide deliciously into me again, making my back arch. 

"I'm above you now, you cheeky girl." Fred panted, slamming into me fast and hard again. "That's right... I'm above you... we both know George'll agree with me on hiring decisions, and we could get Terry on our side quite easily..." 

It was just incorrect, it was wrong, false; but I didn't care as long as Fred's dick was scraping against my g-spot this good. I held onto the edge of the desk as it moved underneath me, my knuckles going white as I tightened my hold, arching my back even more as one of Fred's hands found my hair and yanked it back. I moaned loudly, pushing my ass up against his hips. 

You are reading story Daisy Potter and the Wedding (Harry Potter ff, Book 8) at novel35.com

"I'm in charge in this relationship, too... you and George do everything I say, you both know who's the boss..." 

That, this time, was actually true. Fred was definitely at the top of the superiority ranks in our throuple. I couldn't argue with that. 

"Who's your superior, baby girl?" 

"You, sir..." I said, my voice coming out as a desperate mewl. 

"Good girl... that's right, good girl..." 

I clenched around Fred in response. 'Good girl...' fuck, did he know how much I liked being called that? He groaned in response to my tightening hole, and rolled his hips into me harder. 

"Who's the boss, Miss Potter...?" His groaned question was hot next to my ear. His pants were brushing past the sensitive skin of my neck, and I arched my back again as he yanked my hair back even more. "Who's your fucking boss?" 

"You, sir!" I whimpered. 

"Who's your boss?" 

"F-F-Freddie!" 

"Who's your boss?!" 

"YOU'RE MY BOSS, SIR! YOU'RE MY FUCKING BOSS - uhhhh..." 

I'd screamed it out, falling fast off the edge as Fred came inside me, squeezing around him so tight he was almost trapped inside me like a vice. I slumped against the desk as Fred steadied himself against me, both of us panting and dripping sweat. 

The sound of the door banging open made me whip my head around, still collapsed on the desk with Fred inside me. Luke dandered into the room, a stack of parchment in his hands, and stopped dead when he saw us. 

"I'll just - uh - leave these here." He dumped the parchment on top of a filing cabinet near the door, his eyes wide and glued on me. I felt Fred twitch against me. 

"Get." My boyfriend growled, his voice rising. "OUT!" 

"Yes, sir!" Luke immediately backed out of the room, considerately closing the door tight behind him. 

~~~ 

"Well, we've long past established that Softpaw's a screamer." Terry commented casually as we approached the graveyard, shovels in hand. "But damn, guys, the whole shop heard that." 

"Yeah, why wasn't I invited?" George grumbled. 

"C'mon, bro, we've agreed that both of us are allowed to have one-on-one time with her." Fred said, strutting with the same self-satisfaction he showed after every time he fucked me. "Plus, I was here first, so I'm automatically entitled to more." 

"Don't be childish." I told the twins, who rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Freaky." I muttered, and Terry nodded, his eyebrows raised. 

"Besides, it was personal." Fred informed George, sending me a quick glance. 

"Yeah, yeah, we all know how much you hate Lukey. No need to rub it in." 

"Lukey? You're calling him nicknames now?" Fred said incredulously. 

"Shut up." 

"I will not - you -" 

"No, shut up, we're here." 

The four of us stared down at the heap of soil at our feet. It hadn't been there long enough for the grass to grow over the top of it. The headstone was simple rough grey stone, nothing extravagant, only marking 'Tom Riddle Jr. 1926 - 1998.' 

"Wow. He was fuckin' old." Fred said. 

"Dude was like, over seventy." George said, grimacing. 

"But with the body and half a mind of a twenty year old." Terry said. "It's so weird." 

"Right, well." I said. "Time's ticking. Let's dig." 

And so we lowered our shovels and started digging. We couldn't use our wands or my Grace as the grave had been charmed to repel magic, so as to avoid tampering. If the body wasn't here, it would have had to be removed by hand. 

I glanced around the graveyard as I sunk my shovel into the dirt over and over again, the darkness settling in around us as time went on; the sounds of Terry and the twins grunting in effort and the dirt dropping onto our growing pile the only noises in the still air. I remembered this graveyard well; Little Hangleton didn't seem to have changed from when I was kidnapped by Jerk and taken here to resurrect Riddle. 

And as insult added to injury, Riddle had been buried next to his Muggle father, with his boring, normal, ordinary name on his headstone. Exactly the opposite of what he'd want. Even if he did ever prepare for his death. 

Night had fallen by the time our shovels thudded against the wooden coffin, and I wiped my brow with the back of my hand, panting. All four of us were scuffed with dirt, our skin and clothes carrying the evidence of what we'd been doing. Our wands all sat at each corner of the grave, lit by Lumos, giving us light. 

Fred jumped down into the grave, glancing up at us apprehensively before resting his hands on the edge of the coffin lid. We all watched with bated breath as he tugged upwards - 

"No..." I whispered, my eyes wide and unmoving. "No... there's no way..." 

"Daisy." Terry's voice was beside me, but to me it sounded as if it was coming from a mile away. "Daisy, it's okay -" 

"No, no, no." I started to shake my head. "No... it can't be..." 

"Princess -" 

"No." I backed away from Terry and George, shaking my head more vigorously. "No, no, NO!" 

I turned and ran. What I'd just seen a moment before was burned into my retinas - Tom Riddle's empty coffin, VERY empty coffin - and I didn't have a clue where I was going, only that I had to get away from it. Away from the proof that Tom Riddle was up and walking around as if I'd never hit him with a blast of my Grace so powerful that he'd died. 

"Daisy - DAISY - where are you GOING?" 

I stumbled over gravestone after gravestone, tripping over flowers and blocks and little marble angels, hurrying up the hill away from the boys and the empty grave. I brushed my hands against the dirt marks on my skirt and top desperately, trembling as the panic set in; he was really alive, he was really here, he'd been watching me - could he be here now? Watching me right now? 

I stopped, holding my breath. I moved quietly behind a large gravestone, whipping my head around, trying to get a visual on anything that might be moving. Apart from the three searching for me down the hill, running about between the headstones, I couldn't detect anything. Up here, the air was stiller. It was quieter. 

I could see the decrepit old building further up. The top of the hill was in between Little Hangleton and a group of abandoned buildings that Terry and I used to explore when I'd stayed at his house in Great Hangleton during the summer holidays; I distinctly remembered making out with him in that very house once, on the grand staircase. Despite myself, I snorted into my hand. That boy was in so much denial. 

But my brief moment of amusement came with a price. I'd let my guard down, and now the hairs at the back of my neck and all along my arms were prickling, standing on end; I felt a sudden wave of nausea come over me, and I doubled over, preparing to retch. My head was spinning - shit, he must be close. 

I glanced back down at the boys below, darting between gravestones looking for me. It was me Riddle was after. I needed to draw him away from my friends. 

I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the gravestone beside me for a second, then lurched towards the big house. I hurried over the unkempt grass, leaping over headstones as I increased my speed out of desperation. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, getting closer and closer with unnatural speeds, but I didn't dare look back; I leapt over the little fence and into the garden of the big house, storming through thicket and tall weeds, reaching the badly-boarded-up back door and wriggling through. 

I crashed onto the dusty wooden floor on the other side, staggering up and rubbing my elbow where I'd whacked it. I glanced around nervously; the darkness was even heavier in here, and I cursed myself for forgetting my wand. I lifted a hand, willing it to glow; a warm orange light blossomed from my palm and floated up above my head, like a mini sun hovering in mid-air. 

I was in a corridor of some sorts, which had been trashed by youths. Graffiti covered the ancient wallpaper, and furniture had been smashed to pieces and scattered all over the floor. I picked my way across the splinters carefully as my small sun followed overhead. I looked in through each doorway as I passed; a kitchen, with a leak dripping from the corner of the ceiling; a sunroom, the large windows covered with a thick layer of grime; a staircase leading down into pitch black, the sort of black that even my sun light couldn't penetrate... I shuddered, stepping away. 

Then I heard it. A small creak from the end of the corridor, where I'd entered, then what sounded suspiciously like a footstep. I turned slowly, fear almost paralysing me. My sun light didn't reach that far. Darkness faced me past the boundaries of the light. I thought I heard the sound of breathing. 

I backed away slowly, feeling behind me. I almost tripped over a plank of wood, and I knew I was making noise. Another creak came from in front of me, but it was a lot closer now. I whimpered, moving backwards faster, reaching out desperately for a weapon, a doorway behind me, anything - 

My fingers stopped trailing along the wall and felt out into open space. Surprised, I glanced around momentarily; I'd arrived into the entrance hall, the grand staircase where I'd made out with Terry at the age of thirteen sweeping up to the first floor; but this brief distraction had consequences. Rushing footsteps came up behind me, and I shrieked, making a break for the stairs. 

I could have fashioned a weapon myself or used my Grace to fight off my attacker, but that would mean dropping my sun light - I wasn't experienced at multitasking with my Grace yet - and I wasn't prepared to be in the dark with my enemy. My light bobbed along the hall after me, lighting the way for me, and I took the stairs two steps at a time, my heart pounding like never before. 

But something sharp grabbed the back of my top, and I was yanked down the stairs that I'd climbed. I screamed, free-falling, my arms waving in the air comically; I landed hard at the foot of the stairs, the wind knocked out of me. 

My sun light had vanished, leaving me in darkness. I lay on the ground for a moment, my body in too much pain to move right away - I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head slowly, horrified. 

Through the gloom, I saw Tom Riddle's face lowering towards my own, grinning widely. My eyes widened and my chest seized up, terror and panic rising inside me. 

"Hello again, Potter." He purred, an evil glint in his red eyes. "Why don't I take you up to one of those bedrooms and do you all night, how does that sound?" 

"Sounds fucking awful, mate!" I squeaked, pushing myself up and staggering onto my feet. I teetered away from him, stumbling over old carpet and torn-up books that were strewn across the ground, backing away as Riddle advanced, still grinning. 

"That's not what you used to say." He said, his voice low, clearly in an attempt to be seductive. "I know that you used to beg for me." 

"You 'know'..." I muttered, confused over the choice of phrasing. "What? Well, it doesn't matter, because you sh-should be dead, and even if you weren't, I'm not interested anymore!" 

I backed past the door to the drawing room - where the man advancing upon me had murdered his own father and grandparents. My decision to look away had been a shitty one - in the split second my eyes had moved from his, he'd advanced, appearing right in front of me. Riddle's hands landed on me and I screamed, trying to get away from the face that was grinning unnaturally widely, the creepy grin taking up half of his face and making my heart pound in terror. I'd never seen him look like that before. 

My Grace acted, blasting him off me in a flash of white light. Riddle staggered backwards, his creepy wide grin still on his face but the upper half no longer amused - his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes narrowed, making the contrast between the top and bottom halves of his face that much more terrifying. I raised my hands again, the glowing white light pulsing in my palms. 

"You're not going to make this easy, are you, Potter?" Riddle chuckled menacingly. He was inching closer, his hands raised also; I cocked my head, bewildered - shouldn't he have sourced a wand so that he was able to do magic? He didn't have my Grace anymore; that had left his body and went back to me when he'd died. What could he do with just his hands? 

My question was answered a second later when a dark mass shot from Riddle's hands, hitting me square in the chest. I flew backwards with the force of it, all the air leaving my lungs for a second time, and I felt myself falling again. I screamed as I realised I was falling down into that pitch black I'd seen earlier, the doorway into the cellar. 

I tumbled down the steps, my body battered and bruised by the time I finally dropped to a stop at the bottom. I felt around weakly; I was on a stone floor; I glanced around me, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness - I could see mountains of clutter to either side of me, small pathways between the towering blocks of random furniture and assorted items. I felt so unsafe; the hairs on the back of my neck wouldn't stop prickling uncomfortably. It was weirdly silent down here, like all noise above had been blocked out. 

Above. I stumbled up, bracing my hands on the stairs; I looked up and blanched as I saw the outline of Riddle standing at the top of the stairs. 

And then I screamed again as he raised his hand and I was thrown back against the wall behind me by some invisible force. I was pinned against it, my legs kicking out as I continued to scream, my wrists restrained as if by invisible clamps. I tried to focus on my Grace, but the white light would simply fizzle out the second it came out of my palms. 

Riddle descended the stairs slowly, and my eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that I could see his face. His creepy grin had faded into a sadistic smirk, and his eyes were gleaming at me. 

"Riddle... Riddle..." I panted, struggling. "Please... don't..." 

He raised another hand, his head tilted curiously, and I was suddenly in so much pain that I screamed at the top of my lungs, writhing against the wall. I arched and yelled and sobbed, white-hot shocks striking across my body, my bones flaming, my innards ripped from my flesh... 

And it was gone as soon as it had arrived. I hung limp in my invisible restraints, my head spinning. What the fuck? He was doing the Cruciatus Curse without a wand, now? 

Riddle was watching me with a dark enjoyment in his eyes. I winced as I saw the tent in his trousers. He raised his hand again. 

"No - no - FRED!" I screamed, thrashing against my invisible bonds. "FRED! FRED!" 

"There's no use screaming." Riddle smirked. "They're not coming." 

"FRED! FRED! GEORGE! TERRY!" 

He was laughing now, the sound chilling me, but my terror was increasing as he stepped closer, one hand down his trousers, the other raised to me. The pain hit me again, making me yell and kick out, shuddering as several thousand bolts of electricity rocked through me. 

"FRE-E-E-ED!" I screamed hysterically, struggling more than ever. "FRE-E-E-E-ED! GEORGE! GEORGIE! FRED!" 

"Shut up." Riddle said suddenly, and the pain vanished. 

Obviously, I didn't listen. "TERRY! GEORGE! FRED! HELP, PLEASE HELP ME!" 

"Shut UP, whore." Riddle moved his hand, glancing up at the ceiling, and I felt something like an invisible cloth cover my mouth. I moaned against it, my muffled shouts almost inaudible; but then my hands glowed white again and the invisible gag was off. 

"FREDDIE! GEORGIE! FRE-E-E-E-E-EDDIE!" 

"I said, SHUT UP!" 

And my screams reverberated around the cellar as what he did next caused me more pain than anything else he'd done that whole night.

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