The Patronus of Tom Riddle

They sat at the very top of the pyramid, on the final step, watching the sun slowly slide behind the horizon. Tom had never seen it so bright and hot. The sky grew blue, infinitely deep and clear, with only large cumulus clouds gathering at the edge to the southeast, promising rain by night. Below, at the base of the pyramid, Aola’s pavilion stood out in color, and beyond, as far as the eye could see, stretched the greenery of impenetrable jungles. They were alone in this wild land, completely alone, and it felt as if everything around — the jungle, the pyramid, and the sky itself — belonged only to them. And they belonged only to each other. Aola had changed into her light, translucent attire and taken off her shoes. Tom followed her example — unbuttoning his shirt, removing his boots, and now enjoying the feeling of the ancient structure’s warmth and energy against his bare feet. Beneath them, within the belly of the stone sarcophagus, some power lay hidden; he could feel it but did not understand what kind it was. “What is inside?” he asked. “I do not know yet; we did not manage to open it. We had only reached the entrance when the war began, and we had to shut down the excavations and return to Europe. I hope this madness ends soon so we can continue our work. It is very exciting, Tom — uncovering the secrets of the past.” “Will you take me with you?!” the teenager asked fervently. “I want to go so much! I will do whatever is needed; I will learn quickly!” The prospect of spending several months here in milady’s company seemed magnificent to Tom. Doing things together: studying, discovering… being near her… it was stunning. She smiled and lightly squeezed his fingers. “During the holidays or when you finish school — certainly.” “I could leave Hogwarts in a month… the senior years are not mandatory.” Aola frowned. “Get that out of your head, young man! You are incredibly gifted and must wring everything you can from that institution. I insist.” Tom sighed. Fine… if she insisted. Taking possession of her hand under the cover of the moment, he placed it on his lap and quietly stroked the delicate skin with his fingertips. “Who built it, how long ago, and for what purpose? It was wizards, right?” To Tom, it was obvious magic was involved. He could not imagine that such massive stone blocks were moved by weak, technically undeveloped Muggles of that era. “No one knows for sure — it was too long ago. Only legends remain in the memory of the local peoples. Their sorcerers carefully guard their history and secrets from outsiders and would never share their knowledge with a white man. Kukulkan, or Quetzalcoatl according to their traditions, is a god of the elements: fire, water, air, and earth. He descended from the heavens and taught people fishing and agriculture, gave them writing, the calendar, and a code of laws. Semi-savage people could take anyone for a deity. Later, human sacrifices were made to him. Over there, on that altar,” Aola turned and pointed to a stone table deep within the temple, “hearts were torn from chests, and the bodies were thrown down.” “Brrr… I hope there are no ghosts here? After a death like that, one could only become a very foul ghost with a terrible temper, like our Baron,” Tom remarked. “I have not met any ghosts, more is the pity… they could have told many interesting things. But a jaguar did prowl around the tents, frightening our Muggle guides and porters. But it did not attack; it sensed power.” “An Animagus?” Tom guessed. “All the local sorcerers are Animagi; such is the tradition. They do not hide from people as we do, but occupy an honorable position in the tribe. And they love flashy tricks to frighten their naive tribesmen. The jaguar is precisely the incarnation of Kukulkan.” Aola suddenly smiled and touched Tom’s cheek with her palm. “Is my chatter even interesting to you? Do you like it here? I dragged you to the end of the earth without asking…” The rays of the setting sun gilded her curls, her skin, and her amber eyes. She looked impossibly alluring. “Of course! I am happy anywhere with you…” Tom smiled shyly. “I adore it when you smile. You have a wonderful smile,” the girl said, looking affectionately at her young admirer, then caught herself. “Open the wine, let us celebrate! You certainly gave that old aggressor what for.” The boy released her hand with regret and reached for the bottle in the picnic basket. “He should be glad he stayed alive… he said something foul about you.” “Foul?” milady was surprised. “Well… he said he would not eat you like the others… because he had not had a woman in a long time,” Tom said, carefully twisting the corkscrew into the cork, biting his lip. “What?! Ah-ha-ha! That old scoundrel!” Aola was sincerely amused. “He wants a Peri, does he? He can wish on… we are not for such boors.” The girl winked playfully and held out her glass for the wine, which was golden like her eyes. “I will not let anyone hurt you,” Tom said firmly. “Thank you, my dear… To you and your successes?” The glasses touched with a soft clink. The wine tasted light and slightly tart, very pleasant. But milady’s lips were sweeter than ripe wild strawberries. From a long kiss, Tom’s breath hitched, and his head spun. He was on top of the world… and felt like its master. They were alone… and a whole night lay ahead. After drinking some wine, they inspected the temple. The sacrificial stone was smooth, with a groove in the middle, dark with time and once-spilled blood. The faces of the Feathered Serpent looked out from the columns and statues decorating the altar. Who were you, that entire nations worshiped you? The sun had almost vanished behind the horizon when Aola decided it was time to descend. Twilight in the tropics is very short, and it would be dark immediately after sunset. Thick shadows already lay between the trees entwined with vines; awakening nocturnal animals tested their voices, sometimes quite harsh and unpleasant. Tom was not worried — the pavilion was reliably protected by a spell against all uninvited guests. Inside, the lamps glowed invitingly and cozily. The setting was the same as last time, only the table was set — fresh fruit, Aola’s favorite sweets, and sherbet in a pitcher. Milady told him to make himself at home and vanished behind a screen. She brought him water to wash and disappeared again. Tom sat on the ottoman, rinsing his face and hands. A sweet anticipation and excitement suddenly took hold of him, sending a light tremor to his fingers. Here, on this ottoman, she had treated his bruises… and there, among the colorful pillows and covers, that very thing he dreamed of had almost happened… He truly did not know if she would allow something like that today or keep her distance. Tom wanted it all to happen and, at the same time, was terrified of it. A light, silvery chime pulled him from his nervous thoughts — milady fluttered from behind the screen, wrapped in a thin veil. “I promised you a dance… behold,” she said in a tone that sent waves of goosebumps over Tom at the mere sound of her voice. A simple melody began to flow from nowhere, and the female figure swayed in time with it, playing with the veil, now revealing her beautiful face, now hiding it. The girl spun, nimbly stepping with her bare feet. Gold bracelets on her ankles and wrists sang in rhythm with the melody; her short skirt, just below the knees and made of strips of translucent fabric, flew out, revealing her beautiful thighs. Aola approached, soft as a cat, and looked into her stunned admirer’s eyes. She smiled, threw the sweet-smelling veil at him, and began to dance, performing incredible things with her beautiful body. Tom had no idea it could be so flexible and supple. Her arms moved smoothly, her rounded belly pulled in and fell like waves, and her hips and shoulders seemed to live their own separate lives. The belt of the skirt and the bodice, embroidered with tiny coins, jingled and shimmered in time with the dance. The dazed teenager was simply struck down. He probably even opened his mouth in delight. It was so beautiful, so thrilling… Her skillfully lined eyes smiled, beckoning and daring at the same time. The melody gained pace; the girl moved faster, the fabric flew up, her thin waist arched, her hips trembled… The music reached a climax, and Aola landed at the feet of the stunned descendant of the Gaunts like a downed bird, her graceful arms and dark curls spread across the carpet. Then she raised herself, touched his foot with her hand, and whispered, breathing heavily: “Did you like it, my lord?” At that, Tom’s mind completely gave way… He mumbled something indistinctly ecstatic in response, and Aola knelt and demanded that he kiss her. Tom slid off the ottoman and immediately complied, not even noticing how quickly he had turned from a lord into a submissive slave. His heart thudded in his chest like a smith’s hammer; his ears rang… They fell onto the bed, feverishly caressing each other. The kisses became deep, ragged, and passionate. All foolish fears evaporated. No thoughts remained in his head, no desires except one — to love her with all his strength. Tom found the ties of her bodice, freed her flawlessly beautiful breasts, and showered them with kisses, along with her belly, which trembled gently under his lips, and her thighs, smooth as silk. This time he did not close his eyes, enjoying the beauty of his beloved. Fortunately, he was already somewhat used to her proximity and did not risk fainting or finishing from a single touch. Aola pulled off his shirt and pushed him onto his back. She wanted to be on top? All the better… he was all for it. Her curls flowed onto his chest like a silken stream as the girl bit his earlobe and slid her tongue inside, making him groan from the insanely pleasant sensation. A sweet current pierced his body to his fingertips, while her lips already kissed his chest, and her fingers found the button on his trousers, freeing the lad from the rest of his clothes. Before Tom could catch his breath, her tongue slid down his belly. When her lips touched him there, he gasped and gripped the coverlet with his fingers. An impossibly pleasant feeling… If she continued, he would not last long! But Aola did not overindulge in that wonderful caress. She straddled him and slowly lowered herself onto his tension-stiffened thighs, never taking her eyes, gleaming with excitement, from his face. Tom groaned, reaching up to meet her, feeling with ecstasy as the hot, tight womb took him in. She bit her lip, adjusting to the sensation, and then moved cautiously, unhurriedly, watching his reaction, slowly rising and falling, resting her palms on his chest, where his poor heart beat against his ribs from happiness and desire. If Aola had been worried, it was for nothing. It was unlikely that anything in the world felt more pleasant than the sensations she was giving him now. It was better than all the magic in the world combined! And it was not just physical pleasure, but a sense of merging with his beloved with every movement — that was the true miracle. “Kiss me… please…” Tom pleaded, and she leaned forward, letting him embrace her and giving him a bit more freedom. Their lips merged in kiss after kiss; he caressed her back, her magnificent thighs, quickly catching a rhythm pleasant to them both, penetrating deeper into her adored body with every thrust, holding her tighter… Light, ragged breaths turned into tender moans, and this drove Tom completely out of his mind. Hot lava, boiling in his blood, flowed to his lower abdomen, demanding release. He feared he would not hold out and would finish too quickly, but she seemed to feel when he was on the edge and paused, letting him catch his breath and slightly roll back the wave of excitement. The pace increased… the girl no longer held back, moving faster and faster. Space and time ceased to exist; she became everything he strived for — the center, the meaning, the universe with which he wanted to fuse into one. Her moans and the scent of her slightly perspiring body ruled his disconnected mind. He could no longer feel where he ended and she began — everything there pulsed sweetly, filling with leaden weight, giving incredible bliss. The movements became so sharp and deep that Tom involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut, almost deaf, feeling only the moist, even tighter womb. She hid her face on his shoulder, ceasing even to moan. God, this was so good! He could not take any more… And then she cried out, her whole body trembling, and he felt that sweet pulsation inside her, and immediately a bomb seemed to explode in his belly, echoing as a colorful firework behind his tightly shut eyelids, and he groaned hoarsely, shuddering and pressing into her as far as he could. For a few seconds, he seemed to cease existing altogether, merging with his woman and with all the space around them into something incorporeal, free, and boundless. There was no name for this feeling in the English language. It was a miracle.