Chapter Text
A/N: This is a fun little twoshot commissioned by leontina. Thank you.
Please do not repost, recreate or translate.
Summary: If you had told Harry Potter a year ago he'd end up serving a vampire for a living, he probably would've thought you were high on what those Muggles called 'shrooms'.
Warnings: Alternative universe (magical universe), vampire!Tom, sexual content; fingering, wet dream, biting, mild blood kink, dirty talk, spanking, anal, biting, voyeurism, somnophilia
Counting Stars
Chapter 1
The Beginning
'Lately I been, I been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be '
If you had told Harry Potter a year ago he'd end up serving a vampire for a living, he probably would've thought you were high on what those Muggles called 'shrooms'.
Harry was a young wizard with ordinary problems and a very bright future ahead of him. There was no way in hell Harry would end up becoming a housekeeper of all things because he was intelligent, had a lot of loving friends to support him in his goals, and a great father to back him up should he ever need financial aid.
A year ago, Harry Potter had every right to childishly assume that things would go his way and that he had seen the worst in this world already.
Back then James Potter's gambling addiction hadn't escalated so much. All of their furniture hadn't been gone, James' vault at Gringotts hadn't been empty and the money needed to pay for Harry's schooling hadn't all been spent either.
But Harry was shit out of luck.
This year, all of the above did happen.
It had started with expensive items having disappeared every time Harry'd come back home to his dad in Godric's Hollow. Looking back on it that had been an obvious sign things weren't right but Harry's mind had been too occupied with average teenage thoughts of sex, his future, friends and Quidditch to even notice much.
Harry had childishly assumed his dad had been redecorating.
Lily Potter had decorated most of the house prior to this, she had picked out most of the furniture, and the smell of her perfume still lingered in James' and Lily's closet. James had never gotten rid of her clothing or jewelry or wand, even - anything to preserve the memory of her no matter how it only seemed to make things worse and more painful.
The house had never really felt normal after Lily's death, furniture or not, and James Potter had been a mess ever since they had to put her body in the ground.
Oh, but he had put up a great show of pretending he was okay though. He had struggled but had learned how to cook, James Potter had taught himself how to smile again and he still worked hard to give Harry everything he asked for.
But there had always been that lingering sadness in his eyes.
Whenever Harry would leave after his schoolbreaks were over, James' face would fall, his mind would be filled with negativity and his heart would feel so very empty again. At first gambling had been a distraction.
That's how it always started.
James had tried so hard. He told himself, he'd win everything back. Of course he'd never had such luck and during the summer between Harry's 6thand 7thyear at Hogwarts, James had to sit Harry down and tell him the devastating news that after losing his mother, Harry would also lose his education.
Harry had been crushed and filled with disbelief and it took him a few days to be able to look James in the eye again. James didn't blame him – he honestly did feel like the worst father and had Lily been around, this never would've happened.
James was reminded of how much his boy resembled his beloved wife however, when Harry had finally recollected himself and had come downstairs with a determined look in his eyes (Lily's eyes) and in his hand a notebook. Harry had sat himself down next to James, obviously struggling to keep himself composed and still so very haunted by anger and frustration, and then he had looked at James for a few long seconds.
Harry told him that he forgave James and that he wanted James to go through therapy. Selflessly, Harry decided to find a job that would not only help pay for his Hogwarts tuition, but would help pay off the debts James had made as well.
Harry always had been stronger than anyone had ever given him credit for.
During the rest of that summer, Harry struggled to find a job with a decent pay and James worked overhours, but eventually Harry did it. He found a job as a housekeeper in a castle in Ireland. The fact that his boss would be a vampire, was not mentioned in the job description.
Harry's magical career had looked promising.
His grades had been great – before his mom had passed away three years ago, his parents had spent a lot of time tutoring Harry - and Harry's life had always involved magic. He'd been a born Auror and of course becoming a housekeeper was something no one expects or wants from life. Things like that just happen.
With his bags and suitcase packed by the end of summer, Harry wrote his dearest friends a letter to inform them he would not be boarding the Hogwarts Express this year. Instead he boarded a boat, that would lead him to a surprising alternative.
The fact that Lord Riddle was a vampire would of course not be a huge shock to Harry later on - being a wizard, Harry's met stranger creatures before. As long as he'd be able to control his thirst for blood Harry'd be okay with it, actually.
He'd become more than okay.
Harry was made to wear a suit and briefly got informed that the third floor was his to keep clean. He was told by one of the other housekeepers what his tasks were and Harry had never felt this lonely before when he was finally left to himself in a dark room with dust covering the beautiful artifacts littered across the place. As Harry went down on his hands and knees to scrub a coffee stain off the white rug in front of a fireplace, he tried to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes, and told himself that this was just a temporary thing, that his dreams could still come true.
That's what they all said.
The first time Harry met Tom was a few days after this.
Harry had just dropped his rag and had taken off his plastic gloves (he was not allowed to use magic) and had stepped out on the balcony to enjoy the sunset. The room connected to the balcony was beautiful and Harry had done a great job cleaning it today, but no one seemed to care or use it either way and that was a shame. If Harry had owned these estates, he would've put up all these rooms for rent... Within a month, he'd probably make so much money he'd never have to work again.
Harry leaned his elbows on the edge of the balcony and watched the sky be painted in shades of purple and dark blue and found himself falling in love with the sight of it. Yes, he could definitely bear living here, so very far away from his normal life, away from his friends, problems... The small smile on Harry's face fell.
He should've been sitting at the dinner table with his fellow Gryffindors now, talking over what they had learned at school today... As Harry felt that painful thing in his chest again, the fleeting feeling of relaxation slipped through his fingertips like running water. Harry wondered how his father was doing. He was expecting to receive word of him soon enough - although Harry had wanted to help pay off his debts, Harry was not going to send him money. He'd have to keep an eye on James carefully.
Harry felt more like a father himself and he missed his mother dearly. Lily had always been strong, caring, loving... His mom had been everything Harry would want in his own partner and secretly, she'd been an example of everything Harry wanted to be himself as well.
He wondered what she would've said about this situation and shamefully Harry wondered how different things would've been if it had been his father instead, who had died that night.
'You must be new,' a voice from behind Harry said and Harry's musings were cut short as he turned around to see a man he had not seen before – but he had heard the whispers among the housekeepers to know his name regardless.
This was Lord Riddle, the owner of the estates, in all his handsome glory. The stories had not been untrue like Harry had expected them to be - he truly was divine, a sight for Harry's sore eyes yet it was also intimidating. Harry normally didn't like being around beautiful people because it made him feel bad about himself. Especially now, since he was covered in dust and grime and his clothes were downright filthy...
Harry nodded curtly and patted his trouser legs in an attempt to look presentable. The man was absolutely flawless, without a doubt – his features looked like they were carved out of the finest marble and his eyes had a blood red tone to them, his hair a chocolate brown. Harry felt like such a child compared to him and he felt himself blush, wondering why this was affecting him so much.
Lord Riddle took Harry in and as the sunlight died out and as a small chill ran down Harry's spine, Riddle stepped forwards out of the shadows, his eyes studying Harry as if sizing up a prey. Harry rubbed his neck and tried his best to look casual but it was no use. Riddle was going to see right through him without even trying hard.
'You're a rather young one,' he observed, his teeth glimmering in the weak light. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. He supposed Riddle was right – most of the other housekeepers were middle aged, people whose dreams had died a long time ago, and somehow they never seemed to stick around too long. They always left without saying goodbye.
'It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Riddle,' Harry said politely and he held out his hand for Riddle to shake. Riddle circled him, took him up from head down to his toes, and then he hummed. When he took Harry's hand, he kissed the back of it as though Harry was some girl.
Offended by this, Harry pulled his hand away but not before Riddle inhaled whatever smell was on his wrist. Riddle's eyes slid shut briefly, savoring whatever he had smelt, and when he opened his eyes again his pupils were dilated.
Creep.
'What is your name, lovely?' Riddle purred and Harry frowned. No one had ever come onto him like that, and it kind of freaked Harry out and frustrated him too. Riddle must've thought Harry had blushed because he was attracted to him (which he secretly was but hush, Riddle needn't know that)... And he must've tried to take advantage of that. Harry's eyes narrowed at that thought. What did he possibly have that Riddle could want? Riddle had said it himself - Harry was young and a mere housekeeper. He was worthless.
'I'm Harry,' Harry stated, resisting the urge to say, and I am a proud owner of a penis, thank you very much.
Riddle's eyes regarded him a bit longer, and then he hummed.
'You may call me Tom,' he replied silkily. Harry wordlessly nodded again. What he had liked about this job (there wasn't much to like, to be honest) was that no one had to see him while he worked, and that he could take breaks whenever he wanted to as long as he got the job done. It was a lonely job that was severely looked down upon for the wrong reasons, but it was a job Harry didn't mind doing.
Still, to see Riddle like this, so beautiful and dressed in an expensive suit, Harry felt rather inadequate. Harry was clad in torn Muggle jeans and a dirty t shirt. It was like two different worlds colliding.
'What brings you here?' Harry asked lamely because he did not know what else to say. This floor was unused – if Riddle ever had any guests then they never stayed there, and Harry was the only one who had probably walked these floors in years. He didn't even understand why he had to clean this place to begin with. Was Riddle preparing to renovate the castle?
'The view,' Tom stated simply, 'it appears that I am not the only one who discovered it.'
There was a small smirk playing on his features and Harry huffed, feeling flustered. 'I was just on a break, I'll get back to cleaning in a bi-'
'You are allowed to take breaks, Harry, I believe that was in the job description too.'
At this, Harry did not reply, somehow feeling like Tom had been watching him longer than Harry had noticed. Harry glanced at Tom once more as if seeking permission and then he turned his eyes back on the sky which was almost completely dark blue now. There were still stripes of purple and red at the horizon and he could still see the lake and the lush green lawns stretching on almost endlessly ahead of him.
This place looked like the kind of scenery from one of those Muggle movies – enchanting on its own, without added magic. Harry could feel his shoulders relax again and he closed his eyes and inhaled the clean air.
While Harry did this, Tom stared at Harry. He studied Harry's nose, the shape of his lips and the long, pale stretch that was his neck. He could just hear the blood rushing through Harry's veins, feel Harry's heart pumping as though it was his own.
This could be fun.
That night, after a quick dinner and a hot bath, Harry sat at the small writing desk in the corner of his room, writing a reply to the letter his father had indeed sent him today.
He wrote about the rooms he had to clean and the artworks displayed on the walls (Mom would have loved them, dad)and he wrote about his colleagues who always had the habit of disappearing. Harry wrote about the bedroom he was assigned to and the amount of work he did a day, and about the great pay he was going to receive. If Harry would work here for a year and would save up everything and if his dad would save too, Harry would be able to go back to Hogwarts and most of the debts could be gone.
Harry's quill lingered above the parchment when he was about to describe his boss – he had worked there a week now, but today had been their first encounter. He was a very peculiar man and although Harry wasn't a fearful person, he had to keep an eye on Tom. Something was odd about him.
In the end, not wanting to worry his father, Harry just wrote down that he missed him and that he'd try to visit him as soon as possible.
Harry never had a true relationship before – he had gotten his first real kiss from a girl in Hufflepuff but after that things had died out before they could grow and he had never kissed anyone after that.
The thought of going all the way did not frighten Harry per se. He was an average teenage boy underneath it all and sure, the thought made him nervous, but in a way it thrilled him too. If Harry would be a blushing virgin with cock/pussy fright, then he wouldn't be a true Gryffindor.
Harry was comfortable being bisexual even if he had never tried kissing a man before. He usually preferred girls, thought and became aroused of their curves and soft lips and lush hair but that night he dreamed of Tom Riddle.
It was a dream he would remember for the rest of his life.
Harry didn't know that vampires could influence dreams, and as his body started moving like a puppet underneath Tom's mindful gaze, in his dream, Harry shivered as Tom Riddle licked a long stripe over his neck. Harry dreamed that he was pushed on his back, with his legs spread and Tom's long body on top of his. Tom's lips pressed persistently against his as this fingers trailed down, down,down, to Harry's virgin hole.
The wet dreams Harry had before had never been this real, but then again – this was Tom's creation and not his own.
Harry moaned, both in real life and in his dream – fantasy? - as Tom's finger entered him slowly, drawn out and just right, the stretch not even hurting at all. It felt foreign but it was a touch Harry could grow used to and could enjoy and as Tom slowly added another one, both dream Harry and real Harry whimpered. It felt good to have something inside of him but it was not enough and he begged Tom for more, and watched as Tom pulled out his cock and gave it a few firm strokes. He wanted it inside of him.
Harry wanted to get fucked.
Spreading his legs wider, Harry reached between his legs and fisted his own cock, not at all ashamed. A naughty part of him felt sexy and slutty, and he was okay with that. Tom's lips curled in a smirk and he leaned over Harry again and kissed him while he slowly pushed the entire length of his cock into Harry's greedy hole. In Harry's dream there was no pain, only pleasure, and the way Tom fucked him was animalistic and delicious. He could feel the rough pumps of Tom's hips sway his body and the hot slide of Tom's cock and Harry keened, his hole clenching and helplessly being forced to take the rough pounding.
In real life, Tom watched from a dark corner of the room as Harry Potter writhed in his sheets with a thin layer of sweat beading up on his forehead, his own cock hard at the rather arousing sight.
The second time Harry saw Tom, he couldn't look Tom in the eye without becoming flustered.
Harry had just passed him in the hallway and Tom had nodded in Harry's direction with a stoic expression on his face. They hadn't even exchanged words but Harry felt like he was a dirty person for having dreamed about Tom like that.
He had acknowledged to himself that Tom was attractive – he could learn to live with that. But never had he had actual sex dreams about a real person... Harry licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder, shivering when he realized Tom had been looking at him all along.
This could mean trouble.
The dreams did not stop after that one night.
The more Harry slept, the filthier his dreams and fantasies became and the more Harry masturbated, the more frustrated he became.
His body was in need of something it did not know and after another week of torture Harry found himself face down in his sheets, his own fingers desperately fucking his hole, and his other hand pumping his cock roughly. It was an awkward position that strained Harry's shoulders and made his back arch in a way that made it burn, but it was close to what Harry wanted and needed, and quickly Harry found out that the only way to make himself come was to stuff his own little hole full with as many fingers as possible.
Harry did not worry about how much noise he was making – he was supposed to be the only one on this floor, and it was a large castle. He very much doubted anyone would want to take a midnight stroll in the moonlight past Harry's room, of all places.
But every night, someone did linger in Harry's doorway out of Harry's blurry sight, hidden by the shadows and that someone listened to Harry's noises carefully, studying them as a science project.
Tom Riddle found himself becoming obsessed with the noises he could make Harry Potter utter with mere dreams, and he found himself wondering what a touch could do.
All housekeepers and servants ate together every evening at the dining room in the east tower at 6 pm sharp – it was the only time the House Elves would take over.
Today would mark the third week Harry's been there and if there was one thing he had learned then it was that he shouldn't bother remembering faces or names. No one ever stayed around long enough for Harry to bond with them and Harry felt awfully lonely. His friends still wrote but Harry felt left out whenever they described what they did in class and what Hagrid had done this time, and he couldn't bring himself to write back without feeling so very... Ashamed.
He just hoped his dad kept true to his word and went through with the counseling.
Poking around at his food, Harry glanced at the little House Elves who were walking around with their heads down, shoulders slumped, and then he looked at the people he was surrounded with. House Elves did not ask for payment but all of these people, including Harry, did.
Why did Lord Riddle have people serving him and more importantly – why did they keep disappearing?
Harry's face flushed as he thought of the man, of his long, pale fingers and those lips of his. He felt his mouth becoming dry and he quickly took a large sip of his pumpkin juice, hoping to himself that no one would notice.
Before coming here, Harry had never been this... needy. Now, he just had the constant need to touch himself, especially there, where he wanted to be filled.
Harry blinked at his own musings, wondering how things could've escalated so quickly. It could be a crush at most, that which Harry felt for Tom – something completely normal for his age and perfectly fine since Harry knew that those feelings would not be returned anyway. It must be teenage hormones... That would explain it all.
Harry shook his head to himself and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, deciding to just head to his room. Hermione had been kind enough to send him her notes of all their classes, so maybe he could try to learn something from them and get a head start for next year.
All these worries were making his mind hazy – of this, Harry was certain.
Rising from his seat, Harry walked out of the dining room and walked the stairs, nibbling on a chocolate cookie he had snatched off the table absentmindedly. It was silent, almost eerily so, and it somehow reminded Harry of Hogwarts at night. Before being forced to drop out Harry had been Head Boy.
To be honest, the décor in this castle did not feel cold at all – there was a massive display of wealth but the candles in the chandeliers cast a soft glow on the harsh faces of the beautiful paintings, which eyes literally followed Harry. Harry found himself sliding his fingers over the walls as he passed them and glanced down at the carpet underneath his feet.
Harry had never really wandered the halls like this before – it hadn't been where he was assigned to work, and Harry wasn't one to pry.
'Is there any reason why you're wandering all by yourself, pretty thing?'
The sudden sound of Tom's voice caught Harry by surprise again and he jumped, spinning around to see Tom was standing behind him, his heart skipping a beat and his stomach filled with that funny feeling.
'L-Lord Riddle,' Harry stammered dumbly, and then once he gathered himself again he added, 'Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?'
Tom chuckled, taking a step closer to Harry, whose hand fell limply to his side. Harry licked his lips and tried his best not to look nervous – it was just that when he looked at Tom like this from up close, he was so very painfully reminded of what they had done in Harry's dreams.
And it had felt so real, too...
The dreams felt more like memories above anything else - he could still remember so very clearly how good it had felt to have Tom inside of him, his lips pressed on Harry's, his hands on Harry's body... His cock filling him up...
'It is rude to answer a question with another question,' Tom simply said and Harry licked his lips again while Tom took another step closer and Harry could feel himself pressing his back against the wall to put some distance between them. It just wasn't helping very much when Tom leaned a hand above Harry's head on the wall and gazed down on Harry.
'Sir?' Harry prompted him, needing an explanation in the very least. First the dream, and now this? Harry must've taken crazy pills, there's no way possible his life could just keep on taking these weird turns... Tom leaned close and first Harry thought he was going to kiss him but to his surprise, Tom just nosed along his jawline and somehow the act was mindblowingly intimate. It was like Harry's skin tingled with yearning and desire, his body hungry for something that it had never truly experienced before.
'I could dance to the beat of your little fickle heart,' Tom whispered and Harry blinked, his hands reaching out and resting on Tom's shoulders. Harry shamefully thought of how good it had felt to let Tom get close to him in his dream, and a part of him wanted it to become true. 'The sound of your blood rushing through your veins sounds like the ocean, to me.'
And how odd was it, that Tom always had this strange feeling for timing? First he had come when Harry had been upset and he had kept Harry company though they hadn't exchanged many words, then he had showed up right when Harry had been trying to drown himself in his own thoughts... If Harry had been a fickle teenage girl he would've swooned, but he knew better than that.
Harry could feel something sharp dragging over his neck – not sharp enough to break his skin but if applied a bit more pressure, it surely would. Were those really just Tom's teeth?
'Did you have a good dream last night?' Tom whispered and Harry blushed furiously but didn't reply. They hadn't discussed vampires yet in Defense Against the Dark Arts, so Harry had no way of knowing that vampires could influence dreams, but Harry was convinced that Tom somehow must've heard him.
Had he really been that loud?
'Did you dream about me fucking you?' Harry closed his eyes tightly when Tom's fingers ran down his sides, resting momentarily on his hips, before cupping Harry's half hard cock through his slacks and softly squeezing and massaging him there.
'No,' Harry tried to lie, failing miserably. He couldn't really believe this was happening to him of all people, in all places. Tom's nose brushed over his cheek and Harry wondered what they'd think, if anyone were to walk in on them like this.
'No?' Tom parrotted with an amused tone in his voice, 'Then what did you dream of?'
Harry swallowed thickly and briefly glanced Tom in the eye, before he looked down again, to Tom's spidery fingers on his trousers. The pressure was delicious on his aching cock, and Harry wished he could come already.
'That's none of your business,' Harry lamely stated. Tom's movements halted, his eyebrows went up and his dilated red eyes bored into Harry's green eyes.
'None of my business,' he parroted, as though those words were foreign to him. Then, he licked his lips slowly and an animalistic grin appeared on his handsome features. 'What if I make you my business?'
'What makes you think I would let you?' Harry instantly argued and Tom purred.
'What makes you think you have a choice?' To this, Harry had no reply. Indeed, why did Harry think he could stand a chance against something so charming, so... Otherworldly? 'Turn around for me.'
That wasn't a question, that was an order. A part of Harry wanted to say no, say that Tom was being a creep – but a part of Harry felt a thrill go through him at doing something so naughty, where they'd could be caught at any moment.
The fact that he didn't know Tom too well and that Tom had an air of danger around himself, didn't make Harry want it any less either. His dreams had played with his mind for too long and a part of himself was oddly convinced that this must be a dream too.
Harry turned around, his forehead pressed against the wall and his hands dangling uselessly by his sides. He twitched when the length of Tom's entire body rocked against his – Tom's cock was hard, and it was pressing against the small of Harry's back.
'I have seen your heart, and it is mine,' Tom whispered. Something within that statement triggered Harry and he nodded as Tom's fingers slid over his hips once more, unbuckling Harry's belt for him, the slow drag of Harry's zipper almost deafening. Harry felt the fabric of his trousers slide over his sensitive skin as they were pushed down, to rest around Harry's ankles. 'And whatever naughty dreams you had will bleaken compared to what I am going to do to you.'
The blush on Harry's face would never go away. Of this, Harry was certain.
Harry was also sure that if he'd try to run away now, Tom would never let him go.
He didn't understand why he was allowing Tom to see him vulnerable like this, and he didn't understand why Tom favored doing this above getting himself a better lover, someone not as inadequate as Harry.
But Harry was not one to complain.
'You're a virgin,' Tom whispered and Harry nodded again, sucking on his bottom lip as Tom pushed down Harry's underwear. Tom's hand dragged over his ass, feeling the curve of it, and Harry yelped when his hand connected harshly with his skin.
Tom chuckled.
'You wouldn't want anyone to hear you again, now do you?' Harry shook his head and bit his lip hard when Tom slapped his bum again, the sound of it as sharp as the sting that followed. 'Good boy... Very good...'
Harry's cock was straining against his belly as he turned his head to look at Tom, and Tom paused briefly, before kissing Harry hungrily. The angle made it awkward so Harry turned a bit, moaning in the kiss and reaching up a hand to run through Tom's hair.
In a way it was funny – they were kissing like they had known each other for years, like they had yearned for each others touch for so very long. Tom's tongue slid into Harry's mouth with practised ease that made Harry weak in the knees and he breathed in sharpy through his nose when Tom's free hand slid in between his cheeks, rubbing his greedy little hole.
'You dirty boy,' Tom breathed and Harry shuddered. 'You truly have just been cravingthis, haven't you?'
Tom retreated his hand from Harry's ass and spat on it, and then he shoved a finger inside of Harry without warning. Harry choked back a gasp and let his forehead fall back against the wall, his cock twitching.
Tom fingered Harry roughly, in a way that made Harry's hole burn but in the rightway. Harry could feel the sting when Tom added another finger without warning, so very unlike his dream, but real in a way that made Harry's head spin.
His brain couldn't seem to process that this was real, and as he moaned like a little whore, Tom sank his teeth in Harry's neck as his long fingers hit something inside of Harry that was entirely pleasurable.
Harry came so easily, it shocked himself.
He came in hot spurts all over the fancy wallpaper, his hips stuttering forwards and his eyes wide, the very blood sucked from his neck and the mixture of pain and pleasure dizzying.
Tom groaned into his neck and Harry was starting to see stars, his hands slamming on the wall and helplessly trying to push Tom off, but Tom wasn't letting go.
Black dots started appearing into Harry's vision and he could just barely feel his body slump.