melody [tom r.] - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

~Habibi by Tamino
He was leading her back to his office and she didn't protest, the student's dead body left behind in the chamber. There was a constant ringing in her ears after all the mudblood's relentless screaming, especially while they trudged the silent halls warily.
He held the door for her, a grin slowly stretching on his irresistible face. Her eyes flitted to his lips when he licked them, but Melody only raised a questioning eyebrow and purposely brushed against him as she walked in.
"You can look around, I don't mind."
She nodded, her gaze moving towards the skulls on the shelves, her fingers tracing the bone to feel the edges and the holes. They looked eerily real.
She stepped closer towards another shelf, where a small photograph resided. A photograph of the sea. Melody was about to ask him about it when she heard glass clinking, and turned around to see him pouring a drink –which she suspected was firewhiskey– into two glasses. The amber liquid sloshed in the cups when he handed one to her, his fingers grazing hers and she was sure the contact was made on purpose.
She thanked him quietly nonetheless, her eyes wandering around his office once more, but he seemed intent on staring at her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You don't get to complain. You've been giving me bedroom eyes all day long," he smirked, leaning against a bookshelf with the glass hovering by his lips.
"Bedroom eyes?! What even is that?"
Tom bit his lip, his gaze suddenly turning sultry, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that pierced through her skin. "That's what bedroom eyes look like."
"I have not been looking at you like that!" She protested, raising her glass to her mouth in an attempt to hide her flaming blush, and perhaps calm her raging nerves. He chuckled breathily, a sound that soaked her knickers even more.
"Sure," he taunted, moving towards a phonograph by a collection of various records. She watched his hands as he placed the disc beneath the pin gracefully, melodies coming to life with the movement of his fingers.
Tom took a gulp of his firewhiskey, alcohol drizzling down his chin and neck when he emptied the glass with one swig.
Shit. She almost said it out loud.
Music played in the background, the classical kind that sounded eerie like the music of the dead. The rhythm clashed and fluctuated, much similar to a haunting phantom ringing in her ears, chasing her.
"This is Requiem, by Mozart," Tom broke the silence, and she came to the conclusion that he had the most beautiful voice. "In D minor."
Melody didn't say anything in return, only observed the enormous bookshelf filled to the brim with dark topics in an attempt to ignore his gaze. Her forefinger traced the spine of a leather book, one that seemed to particularly stand out.
"Do you dance?"
His question took her aback, immediately catching her unalloyed attention. "Only when asked properly."
He had an evocative twinkle in his eyes as he placed one arm behind his back and offered her the other one. "Would you like to join me for a dance, Miss Malfoy?"
Her heart hammered in her chest like a violent drum, the drink in her hand completely forgotten when she placed it on the shelf. She gave him her hand and he pulled her closer, his touch on her waist feeling strangely overwhelming.
They swayed softly, her head resting in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, absorbing all that he was. She hoped he couldn't feel her heartbeat, because her heart was throbbing against her ribs, threatening to jump out and rest in his palm where he could easily destroy it.
"This is all wrong, isn't it?"
Tom stiffened, his hand subconsciously squeezing hers tighter. "Define wrong to me, Melody. What is wrong?"
"I-it's doing something that is not morally right," she hesitated, her eyes finally meeting his stormy ones. His gaze was hard and unfaltering, but he still danced with her rhythmically.
"And what's considered morally right?"
"Virtues."
"Yes. And who decides those virtues, Melody? Who decides what is right and wrong?"
She gulped, desperately searching for an answer that did not sound foolish. "People."
"People, humans, mortals. They agree on something and label it, whether it is right, virtuous, moral, or wrong and unethical. And why should we abide by their fallible rules? Why should we simply agree with what consensus decides?"
She sighed, resting her forehead against his chest tiredly. "You're right."
"I am, and I'm mad about you, Melody," Tom cooed against her ear, his cheek pressed against her pale hair. It smelled like pomegranates. "Absolutely crazy for you. No one could change that."
His breath was hot on her skin, sending her mind in a frenzy until she wasn't able to form a coherent sentence anymore. So she did what she was best at: she kissed him. Melody kissed him hard, her hands tracing his neck then holding his jaw, bringing him closer to her.
She could feel his body burn against hers despite the fabric of their clothes, and he pulled her close, his hand squeezing her waist before sneaking under her skirt and tightening around her bare thigh. He hardened against her when sweet noises left her swollen lips, the sound echoing inside his mouth and he took it gratefully.
Tom wrapped her legs around his torso, walking her to the desk just across from them. With a hasty wave of his hand everything vanished, and he placed her softly on the bureau, standing between her legs.
His eyes were hungry when they roamed her body, slowly moving downwards. She kissed him again, her teeth grazing his lower lip lustfully and her hands pulling at his curls. A groan left his throat and vibrated against her body, the sound an epitome of divinity to her ears.
Tom pushed harder against her, his lips sucking her neck down to her collarbones. "Fuck, Tom!"
He stopped, "Lay on your back."
She did as told, breathing heavily as he undressed her tenderly, allowing her to unbutton his shirt with shaky fingers. She would never get used to seeing him naked, in his most vulnerable state, completely bare. He was exquisite, a beauty that was hard to grasp.
The moon was their only audience while they whispered profanities, smiling wickedly at the sight of their love. The moon hushed, the stars around her straining to take a glance of the bright celestial bodies that collided and wrung themselves together: Tom and Melody.
He was a god to her and she worshipped, with her knees pressed to the ground. She worshipped, between sweat and filthy confessions, murmured prayers and short breaths. And every feeling was absolutely divine as they built their altar right there.
"You look much better with my hand around your throat," he would usually say, then tell her how much he liked the sight of her all marked up by him. But this time, he said something different.
"I want to taste you, Melody."
And he did, his tongue exploring the sensitive crevices of her core. His eyes never left hers when she clutched the wooden table tightly, seraphic sounds leaving her inflamed lips in sweet submission.
His lips planted petunias and lilies beneath her skin, tulips around her neck and cherry blossoms on her cheeks. His mouth tasted like the sweetness of honey and the bitterness of coffee, a poisonous concoction she'd grown to adore.
Her skin was red. Red like the blood of lesions he seared through her heart, leaving permanent scars that seemed to be obscured. His fingers were dipped in honey and ichor and they left a residue on her body that carved his name over and over again into her skin.
"I love you."
It had been a murmur, but her voice echoed and screamed in his head. The syllables dissected his mind and seeped through the open spaces until he could hear the words like a chant: I love you, I love you, I love you.
His finger pressed to her lips and he hushed her. Melody could taste the saline wetness on his fingers and it brought her to tears, her throat swallowing everything else she wanted to say to him. Tom buried his face in the curve of her neck while thrusted inside her, his breath hot on her skin when he sighed.
She cried as she climaxed beneath him, the tears cascading on either side of her face but she managed to wipe them away.
You shouldn't have fallen in love with him, you fool!
She was an angel, because she loved the devil, and only someone so pure could love the damned.