｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱
quatre. — virgin!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The weeks continued to speed by as Mina adapted to her new way of life at Hogwarts. Autumn was dying slowly bleeding into winter as the trees shedded their auburn coats and became skeletal figures that haunted the castle grounds. Mina found that the winter cycle in England was much different than the one in France — the energy was at an opposite — despite the death and decay that winter promised it was always still beautiful at Beauxbatons, a light glisten of snow coating the grounds and the chateau, the dark of the night only illuminating the pale stars in the sky.

Hogwarts was darker, more rustic, the Forbidden Forest was not an appealing sight even at the height of spring — the trees far too close together at the opening to the woods, it made for a suffocating, claustrophobic sight. The trees in winter only appeared more menacing, their bare limbs seeming reaching out ready to pull you in to the forest and close any gap behind you. Whilst the castle itself was such a dark shade of grey that in the black shadow of night it almost disappeared into the skyline, the flaming torches in the castle appearing as bright burning stars in a blackened landscape.

Mina sighted wistfully resting her tired head upon her hand as she sat alone in the library, she had Professor Riddle's class in an hour and she was nowhere near done with the essay he had set them. It was completely unlike her to be this late on assignments — especially his. But Mina constantly found her mind bombarded by confusing visions ranging from sensual to horrific. In the last few weeks they had changed, they were less clear as the future rattled unstably flicking through her mind at such a speed that she hardly had a moment to analyse them before the next one came along.

These visions interrupted both her days and nights — leaving her tossing and turning within her emerald silken sheets, and unfocused in her classes. Mina was an outcast, the rest of the students too fearful to approach the mad girl, her sisters rumours about her solidifying her social death. Though a few students had tried to speak to her, if only to see if she could see into their futures.

Of course she could. It took a great amount of consternation to look into specific people's futures and the more complicated the person the harder it was. Lucky for Mina they were but simple people,

( SIMPLE PEOPLE WITH SIMPLE FUTURES, SIMPLE LIVES AND PAINFULLY SIMPLE DEATHS. )

They hadn't like it when Mina had told them that, quite aghast with her interpretations of their lives. But the truth was whilst the future could take many different paths, for simple people their futures were usually set in stone as they never took any bold decisions — only minuscule things may have changed. Mina found comfort in that, her own life and death were constantly changing, keeping her on her toes. That must have meant she was not simple.

Her headmistress had called her that once. Told her she was a simple girl, with a lying tongue and an overactive imagination. Funnily enough those were the same venous words her mother that once spat at her.

Mina finished writing her abomination of an essay with a groan — promptly earning her a glare from the librarian — yawning into her elbow Mina smiled as she thought of her only solace. Dance, ballet. Unfortunately Hogwarts offered no such dance classes as her old school had, but luckily for her she had stumbled across a room on the left corridor on the seventh floor — when she paced up and down three times a grand door would appear before her and when she walked in it was as though she had been transported back to her old studio. Floor length mirrors lining the room with a sturdy bar running along them. The floor a marble white. Her eyes had filled with disbelieving tears when she had found her music box inside, it was a simply brown box with golden designs on the outside, though once opened it emitted a soft tune, a mechanical ballerina with a blonde bun and rosy cheeks spinning around gracefully on her post.

It was an exact replica of the one she had bought one summer in Paris. She had cherished it with her entire soul, so of course a girl at Beauxbatons — Marie — would smash it to pieces before her watering eyes. There was no rhyme of reason for the girls unbridled cruelty, but Mina was a firm believer in retribution. Revenge should not have been mere tit for tat, it had to be personal, calculated.

So she waited.

A year later when the incident had been forgotten by everyone, Mina struck. Marie was a vapid girl with silky long blonde locks that reached her waist in a long waterfall. Coming from a wealthy family she was to be betrothed to an equally wealthy and vapid boy. The morning of his arrival, Marie woke up hair in her mouth and covering her pillow — all of her hair had mysteriously fallen out in her sleep. No spells or potions seemed to work and though Mina thought she was still outwardly beautiful — inside she was rotten — the man who had come to see her regarding marriage had immediately turned away once he had seen her.

She had known it was a cruel thing to do, but she also knew she could have been much crueler.

Packing her things up she trudged her way down to the DADA classroom with a heavy heart, for a brief moment the thought of slipping crossed her mind, the thought immediately banished when she envisioned the disappointed look on her Professors face. That disappointed look that everybody she had ever known wore when they gazed upon her, everyone but him. He looked at her as though he understood her — Mina didn't want that look to change.

It was a torturous hour in which they were subjected to a surprise test on all of the topics they had learnt so far that term. This meant that while they were doing their tests in silence he was sat silently marking their homework's at his desk. He muttered under his breath disappointedly at two, before picking up the next which she recognised by the distinctive ink stain on the back of the parchment. Trying to focus on her test was hard as she noticed his eyebrows pinching — he lifted his eyes to meet her own she she prepared herself for that familiar look of distain and disappointment, but all she could find in this depths was confusion and perhaps concern?

Mina almost laughed at her own thoughts, maybe she truly was delusional.

Not even bothering to rise from her seat when the class ended, Professor Riddle simply raising an eyebrow at her when she made a move to leave ( AN UNSPOKEN COMMAND ) so she stayed seated as the last student left her head tilted towards the old desk with many words and names carved into it. She didn't see him lock the door, but heard it slide into place as her heart pounded inside her chest, "Is everything okay, Miss Black?" He strode over to her desk, placing her paper in front of her the letter D clear and bold, "You're usually a straight O student, one of the best in my class if I do say so myself."

"I'm sorry, sir," she continued to hand her head, eyes glaring at the paper that caused her so much irritation and heartache, "I haven't been sleeping well, I suppose I was a tad distracted when writing this."

His full lips let out a tsk as he pulled out another seat and sat beside her. For the next forty minutes he made corrections to her essay and showed her the different ways she could have gone about it. It was useful but by the thirty five minute mark he was leaned so close to her that she could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his shirt, it was intoxicating. At some point he had to lean over and place his hand her thigh to balance himself, his hand was large and cold, even through the fabric of her dress.

Tilting her head to face him, Mina had found him already gazing at her — his face a mask so she could not tell what he was thinking. The next few moments passed by with a blur and she was unsure who had initiated it, but suddenly his lips were upon her own, the feeling unlike anything she had ever felt before. His lips were as cold as his hands, unusually so, they were soft in texture but rough in uses as they crashed against her own — his large hands tangling in her mass of dark curls.

He stood picking her up in his arms as they refused to disconnect from their ravenous kiss, her legs wrapped firmly around his hips as he led them into his bedroom that was through a average sized door on the other side of the room. It was an oval shaped chamber, a bed supported on massive silver pillars, hung with curtains of a deep emerald stood out in the centre of the room. There was no windows, a soft green light illuminating from the flames of the fire and an array of candles scattered around. The stone floor must have been as cold as him, whilst the table at the foot of the bed was covered by a verdant cloth; the colour of the walls unknown in the low light. Other than that the only other pieces of furniture was a tall bookcase that ran along the entirety of one wall, and an ample cushioned chair near the end of the bed, emerald in colour with a silver footstool before it, reminding the girl scarcity of a throne.

Professor Riddle— or she supposed Tom. Tossed her onto the bed, hunger alight in his eyes as he loosened his tie. The breath that she had regained in that moment was promptly stolen again when he crawled between her legs and resumed kissing her swollen lips, neck, chest, anywhere his sinful lips could reach. There was no time for worries and insecurities to fill her body as she was laid bare before him, time seemingly endless and moving too fast at the same time.

Her blood stained his sheets, her soft cries of pain and ecstasy intermingled filling the air. Only soothed by the soft murmuring voice telling her what a good girl she had been.

( IT WAS THE FIRST BUT NOT THE LAST TIME HE WOULD SPILL HER BLOOD. )

AUTHORS NOTE!
alexa play virgin by flower face.

that's the closest any of my books are getting to smut lmaoo, as an almost twenty yr old virgin i just can't write that shit oops—

remember to vote, comment and or share please lovelies!

unedited
-summer