Pleasure | Tom Riddle & Theodore Nott 18+

23

The month of winter roamed around, the smell of peppermints and cinnamon lingered inside Madeline's house. The smell flared through her nose — alleviating the tension that ripped through her flesh.

Madeline stood by her window, watching the specks of snowflakes on it. The ground was cloaked in a white layer of pure snow — covering the grass that laid beneath it.

Her eyes gazed upon a white owl flying towards her direction. She'd never seen such a peculiar color of an owl like that — still, she thought that it was probably from her friend, wishing her a happy holidays.

Madeline traced her fingers along the red envelope, her brows knitting in confusion. She opened the flap, her eyes peering on the silver cursive font — she'd never seen this type of handwriting from anyone she knew.

She pulled the letter out of its envelope, placing the envelope neatly on her bed. Her heart abruptly twisted at the words imprinted on the top corner.

It was an invitation from Riddle,

An invitation for her Coronation.

Madeline gulped thickly, she tried to get her mind off Riddle and the mess she was confided into during this month, but, she couldn't — it always strived back, rotting her mind even more.

She rested the letter in between her fingers, thinking about how she should tell her father. Madeline shut her eyes in frustration — crumbling the letter that lingered in between her fingers.

It greatly annoyed her. Now, she couldn't enjoy the holidays with her family without thinking about the chaotic situation that persisted to stay on her mind.

She threw the invitation in the trash as she walked out of the room. The smell of peppermints grew stronger and sweeter the more she headed downstairs to the living room.

Madeline tugged her fingers at the white ribbon that laced around the waist of her red dress, she peered her eyes at her father sitting on the sofa, — reading the Daily Prophet.

"Good morning, Daddy." She softly smiled, slipping herself on the sofa besides him, earning a kiss from her father on her rosy cheeks.

"Good morning, darling," He shifted his gaze back to the newspaper, flipping through the pages of it, "Could you pass me my tea on the table."

Madeline rose from the sofa and strolled towards the dining table. She held the teacup by its handle, — stirring the teaspoon that lingered inside the sweet tea.

"Daddy," She said, trying to sought for his attention. She held the tea in her hands, placing it in front of her father, "Daddy, your tea—"

Mr Nott placed his newspaper aside, holding the tea from his daughter. She sat besides him, the wounding tension not once leaving her soul — she didn't know whether she should tell her father about this,

Her lips maintained its sealed possession, and her mouth was still sore from kneading Riddle's cock inside her mouth.

She didn't have much time left, her father was eventually going to receive the invitation and that painfully irritated her. Her heart was at the very pits of its own ignition — she needed to tell her father.