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Chapter Text

“Kill the spare!” Harry hears being hissed from somewhere in Pettigrew’s arms, in a moment the whole graveyard becomes a blur, his brain fighting for purchase as it focuses on the word ‘kill’ said with perverse enjoyment. Something went terribly wrong for them to be here, but he knows who the target is. Voldemort wants to kill Harry Potter the boy who lived, needs him for his plans, and Harry can’t let anyone else die because of some deranged wizard. Before his brain can react to the rest of what’s happening there comes a moment of clarity, he throws himself in front of Cedric pushing the older champion to the ground, hoping- no, praying to save the Hufflepuffs life. Cedric was his friend, and the happenings of the third task only solidified that. He was so done with his own life, after all, so why not sacrifice it for someone? If not for his determination, he would have given up a long time ago, and with the rise of Voldemort? Harry rather not think what could happen. Not that there is time to think.

Someone yells, someone shrieks, his chest bursts with pain, his scar feels as if it's going to burst. How did he even manage to get to Cedric on time? Did he? There is a flash of a sickly green curse still behind his eyelids, and he absent-mindedly wishes it never came to this, but there is a chance he’ll see his parents at last. He regrets not saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, before everything goes black. 

“Harry!” Cedric cries, but he doesn’t have the energy to respond, his last breath finished before even a syllable gets out of his mouth. 

Dying feels somewhat like falling asleep, he thinks. It’s like falling for hours only to realize not a second has passed, like drowning being surrounded only by air, yet it is an awfully silent affair. Death is its own kind of unconsciousness, but where he believed should be nothing but darkness- he can make out two figures arguing animatedly, their heated words escaping him for a second more. There is no way around it, even as his head punishes him with numb pain, no feeling left in his body, paradoxically his exhaustion prevents him from falling asleep again, so he focuses on what he can see. This is no graveyard, and there are no rats or dark lords near. One of the people in this white corridor is more of a shadow  than a human, and the other looks to be woven from stars, but he doesn’t get a better look through his half closing eyes, details of his surroundings escaping him, with the vague feeling of etherealness in the air. Never in his life was he as imaginative as to make something of this calibre up, so why won’t they let him rest? Harry thinks he deserves it, but the creatures don’t acknowledge his silent pleas at all, and he doesn’t think they even notice him being awake.

“If you mess with my favourite human again, I swear you will be the first ever Immortal to die, Fate!” Harry doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have to get a quiet, relaxing afterlife, because he has always tried to be a good man and the unfairness of it all makes him want to sob, but his throat doesn’t make a sound, as if he can’t speak anymore. The argument goes on without interruption.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll let him fix things this time!” The sparkly woman, man- he couldn’t  be sure with his floaty state, but they looked stunningly regal, remaining so even as his vision blurred and unfocused around the edges, mind slipping back into a state of numbness. Didn’t he have his glasses on? Next thing he knew, he felt cold grass touching him all around, with distant sounds of children playing outside, once more waking him up from his temporary reprieve; the next dream was no better than the last. 

“What do you mean he can’t be human yet? He’s a wizard!” Said a distraught voice, Harry thought it was the same one from before, surely his mind decided to play stupid tricks on him the moment he died. Really, he could’ve at least got the usual flashback of his life like a normal person, but no. 

“The Horcrux must have interfered, but no matter, he’ll be back. Sometime…” 

“Fate?!?” The person yelled enraged, not that anyone seemed to notice anything amiss, which suggested a use of strong notice me not charms. Harry hardly suppressed a hiss. 

“Fine! He’ll bring him up to speed, now let’s go. He’s waking” In a blink of an eye, there was no soul left around him, as if it never actually happened, leaving Harry dumbfounded as to why he was left on the grass. That’s when his logical thinking came back full force, and the reason why he was on the grass didn’t escape his attention- he wasn’t in a body of a human, however weird that was to say. 

“Help!!” Harry screamed, knowing full well no one will help him, as they couldn’t understand, but maybe someone will take pity on him? Harry tried to walk, only to fail miserably, his body convulsing in the shade of a tree- sounds of children talking, and playing assaulting his senses, alongside the many thunderous steps he felt resonating through the ground. He didn’t feel any limbs, mostly because he didn’t have any now, so that didn’t leave many options- he was a snake. What did he do to deserve this?! 

Then again, he was cold, so staying in the shade was not a good idea for an animal that couldn’t heat themselves up very well. Searching his brain for a visualization of what a moving snake looked like, Harry tried mimicking it the best he could; the method was far from perfect, and he felt extremely clumsy, but it worked well enough, he was slowly moving towards a spot of sun. It was hard work, trying to make sense of every sense, every minuscule muscle, but after three tragic minutes he has reached a sandy, sunny spot, perfect for a nap. 

Maybe he should be more worried about things, but first comes survival; Harry had never heard of a suicidal snake, okay? He was about to fall asleep, trying to regain energy, his stomach painfully empty, but he was long used to the feeling; that’s when the kids took notice of him. A step, after an earthshaking step, came closer.

“A SNAKE!! A SNAKE” Some little girl cried, her old-fashioned dress the only thing Harry could identify, before some disgustingly dirty hands grabbed him, with too much force; he wasn’t used to being so small. Furthermore, he lacked coordination in this new body of his, so the attempt to wriggle free was shut down when a kid- presumably a boy, stretched him taught. 

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it for you, Daisy! I’ll kill the snake!” Bloody hell, wasn’t one death enough? This all looked too real for Harry’s taste, and he smelled danger in the air with his tongue, baring his fangs instinctually, with an evil hiss. Which, if it were in English, definitely shouldn’t be said near children.

“AAAH! Kill it! Kill it! It wants to bite me” The girl whined, as Harry tried to free himself, torturous pain coursing through his body where the boy’s hands squished him, when the small kid huffed and grabbed his head. There was a cacophony of voices at that, some crying, some shouting, where kids run up to watch the spectacle. This won’t end well, he thought. 

“Okay Daisy, anything for you” The boy announced happily, bringing Harry more pain by swinging him a bit; all the while laughing as if he wasn’t cruel to animals at all! Harry hated this kid with all his heart by now, all this just to impress someone? HE was dying here! Maybe he wasn’t human right now, but he could still feel things, a hiss akin to a blood hurdling scream escaped him involuntarily, as he was tossed around from one hand to the other. 

Against his better judgment he hissed “I dare you to snap my neck kid”, but surely, with no Parselmouth nearby his threat fell on ignorant ears, and this was not the heroic end he envisioned for himself. If this was what reincarnation felt like, he would just rather stay dead, he barely held on to his consciousness by now anyway- all of him raging, demanding revenge on the stupid kid.

“Leave the snake alone” Someone said in a familiar voice, though Harry struggled to pinpoint where he heard it previously, it wasn’t squeaky, so it might just be an older boy. A saviour? Please, let it be someone kind!

“Yes, yes. Leave me alone, you brats” He hissed in tandem, trying to make his point by hissing angrily, but hid his fangs, hoping for the older boy to save him from this torture; it wasn’t the case. All the kids fell into a frenzy, screaming, and crying, before running into the other direction, and Harry was tossed into the scorching sandy ground face first. Everything hurt by now, and with added animal senses, it was on the edge of being unbearable. 

“Oh, poor one. Did the humans hurt you?” The boy said, somehow different from before, as if he was expecting an answer now, Harry felt inclined to answer him, if only because of gratitude. 

“Obviously. Thanks for the help, though.” He said full of gratefulness, bringing his sore muscles to rise him up a bit, so he could see who helped him, in full disregard of the pain. To his horror he saw a face of one Tom Riddle, staring at him, more vivid than any memory in a diary could’ve been; he looked so alive, and weirdly concerned about him, with his dark neatly arranged hair, high cheekbones and piercing eyes. For all intents and purposes, Tom Riddle looked like a kind, young gentleman; someone from a film, perhaps.

Concerned was definitely not an expression he imagined the boy to make, but well, maybe the rising Dark Lord had a soft spot for snakes? He had a pet Basilisk for all that he knew of the man. Suddenly, the gravity of this hit him; it wasn’t that the kid's clothes were old-fashioned, and that this Tom Riddle was suddenly young or what not.

Harry didn’t exactly have the time to think about it, when right after waking up someone attacked him for no reason, but- This was the past. „I’ll let him fix things this time!’ The being said, its voice ringing in his ears, and it all hit Harry like a truck- he was fucking swinged back in time to witness Lord Voldemort rise to power! He wanted to scream, but he rather not scare his only means of turning into a human, he needed help. Desperately needed help, even if it came from Tom Riddle. Nonetheless, the snake was too stunned to speak, and he did a serpent equivalent of choking on his words. 

“No problem little one, though I am surprised you don’t call me a master like your brethren” Tom said conversationally, his eyes twinkled with interest as he assessed the damage kids inflicted upon him, being very courteous about it. Harry could hardly see this person killing his parents in cold blood, when he looked at him with a helpful gaze. What happened to this boy to make him insane? Harry wanted an explanation; just what happened to turn this young man into a horror of his nightmares. What happened to those deep brown eyes, which looked sincere to the bone? It was a weird sight, but he forced himself out of his stupor after a second or two.

“You’re no master of mine” He hissed furiously, showing he was no pet- searching for any bad sign to indicate Tom Riddle was about to turn vicious, nothing changed in his expression. Nonetheless, Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew this boy was his best chance to survive, to make him human again; he needed help from a wizard, and how would he find one as a tiny snake? Survival before all, Harry needed answers, even if they came from a murderer. 

“You know another speaker, then?” Riddle asked curiously, before gathering Harry in his arms gently, avoiding any sensitive spots with grace. To his surprise it felt nice, that didn’t stop him from stiffening like a log, the coils of his tail refusing to relax in this hold; when he finally regained some calm they were already walking somewhere. From this height Harry recognized this to be a garden, or a playground of sorts judging by the children and a sandpit in the corner, he came to a conclusion long before he read a plaque on a nearby door with ‘Wool’s Orphanage’ written in elegant lettering. An orphan… hm… 

“Yes” He didn’t exactly lie, being a speaker himself. “I am… eh, cursed to be a snake, I’m a wizard actually” It wasn’t good to get rid of his trap cards early, but he really, really needed help, and was desperate to come back to his own body; he isn’t ready to hunt and eat mice by any chance. His explanation was met with a hum of interest, and a nod from the boy, who Harry only noticed to be severely underfed, if his bony hands were anything to go by. Tom Riddle in his memory didn’t look this pathetic, but it may be that he used Glamours on himself.

“Who cursed you?” The other asked with a prolonged ‘sss’ sound, curiously. They were already walking through the entrance to the building, stepping into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Tom hurriedly took the stairs to the left, avoiding anyone on horizon- the boy was presumably walking to his bedroom. Harry scrambled what little he knew of magical history, and thought of when in time he was, because he definitely couldn’t just respond with ‘You’. He judged the clothes, and surroundings carefully, the dull walls proving not to be of much help, but adrenaline was making his thought process a bit faster; Harry had a guess, and he hoped it was correct. There was no second chance at this.

“Some lackey of Grindelwald. I’m a Parselmouth as well, and they wanted me to do something for them, obviously I declined” He said, trying hard to sound believable in his conviction, showing some genuine emotion, after all, he was fighting one Dark Lord's wishes before, he could imagine Grindelwald wasn’t exactly subtle with his demands as well. 

“Why? He wants to save our kind.” It was obvious even a young Tom Riddle had questionable political stances on things, but well, his guess of the time period was right. This was a success, and Harry did a snake equivalent of a relived sigh. “By turning me into a snake?” The other had nothing to say to that, fortunately dropping the topic. Strange, he never expected to actually win an argument against the ‘brilliant’ boy Voldemort was surely thought to be in his youth.

“How old, are you, then? Maybe I’ll find your family and help, I’ve got connections” Oh, for sure you do, you evil twat! Not that he could get angry at Tom now, not only did he save him from the kids for nothing in return, he also proposed him a way out of this mess. For all intents and purposes, he wasn’t lost to his deranged fantasies yet, and even offered help. It was strangely peaceful to think of it like that, like the war didn’t need to happen. Only that the help was of no use- Harry was not of this time, and he knew next to nothing about the current Potters, so it was out of the question. He had to be sneaky about this.

“I’m fifteen, and uh. As for family, there is no family. I’m an orphan.” Because of you! You stinky bastard, even if you probably aren’t a cold-blooded murderer yet. It wasn’t right to think of this boy as such, but Harry didn’t actually know anything about Riddle’s life before he went to be a blood supremacist maniac, so it was hard to tell if he was right.

“Oh! So, the same as me? Are you in Hogwarts? Which house are you in? I’ve never heard of you.” You didn’t hear of me yet, choosing your equal my arse; he was in pain, and on the verge of a mental breakdown if this paradox kept up, nonetheless Tom held him gently for all of it, as not to aggravate any injuries, and he was pleasantly warm. He felt protected in a way he didn’t for years, and definitely not this year, with the Triwizard Tournament looming over him.

“I was on the run before I knew how to talk, Muggles kept me in a closet under the stairs. Sadly I never got to Hogwarts, and after I learned some magic on my own, I was already sought out.” He lied swiftly, trying to conjure a realistic cover-up from bits and pieces of his actual life, trying not to be suspicious. “My knowledge of the magical is pretty lacking, as you can Imagine, so I don’t know which house I could be in” 

If Riddle was onto him, he didn’t show it, instead he smiled brightly like a kid who was handed out candy. “Nice to meet you then, I’m Tom”

“Harry” He hissed his name, before the boy walked into a grey room, not that different from the corridor and stairs, the furniture was old and sparse, and the space was tiny; not as tiny as his cupboard, but close enough, there was a window and a wobbly desk in the corner. It didn’t look lived in, as if Riddle was a ghost of a human, with no personality to speak of, but then again it was the war; not exactly the most bright time to be brought up in; the only sign of anyone living here was a medicine bottle near the bed. Tom let him down on his pillow, and he quickly tried to retain the warmness the boy gave him, coiling all around himself until he was a tangled mess of a snake. 

“I’ll search for something to eat for you, you look starved. Don’t go out anywhere, okay Harry?” Harry somehow sensed it was said in English now, as if Tom was testing his lies- animals weren’t able to understand human language, but he didn’t mind, mostly because of the promise of food. 

“Ssssure” He hissed, too tired to think of anything else, falling asleep as he waited for Tom to come back; Imagining how the boy before him became a monster everyone was scared of. 

Chapter Text

Tom looked at the curled up snake on his pillow and closed the door quietly, it looked like Harry was sleeping. There were multiple silencing charms spread throughout his bedroom, mostly not to hear any cruelty that may be happening outside; any deviation from normalcy wasn’t seen as good here. Thank Merlin that the Ministry didn’t track such simple spells in the midst of war, so he was free to go and do his things as unperturbed as possible. Well not exactly. 

When he stopped the usual animal cruelty of children in the yard, he didn’t think it would come to this- it wasn’t the ordinary nursing a pet back to health like he envisioned, some company during the upcoming hellish summer. The orphanage can truly be a nightmare, things he saw here were burned into the back of their eyelids, forever there to stay. A cursed wizard was no joke in it of itself, and he didn’t like bringing a target to his own back, he was usually smarter than that. Animals were safer, and kinder than people, and they won’t betray you and leave you to rot in the middle of a frequently bombed city in any case. Humans? Not so much. 

However, the boy’s story did charm him enough as to help; firstly, their lives were disturbingly similar, not even mentioning the Parseltounge, and he didn’t sense being told lies either. Coincidences don’t happen in the wizarding society, they may even be related in a way if both of them possess the ability to speak Parseltounge, and magic knows he longed for family all his life. Here or in Hogwarts, he was special, and as such disturbingly lonely without an equal to share his thoughts with. 

Still, there was no doubt in his mind that he was given measly half-truths, but it was to be expected from someone on the run, there was a war going on. Tom could sympathize with this, especially since the snake-boy did look calculating enough to take care of himself; how he could escape Grindelwald's care was to be seen. It was also wholly possible it wasn’t the Austrian who sought him out, but Dumbledore- that's as good reason as any to avoid Hogwarts. What’s more, the other was wary of him, and there weren’t many people to recognize him for the predator he was at first glance, the Slytherin in him liked the challenge.

Setting the tray with what little he got of food rations, and his thoughts aside, it must be an interesting thing to observe a cursed wizard trying to navigate his life; it came with a brand of helplessness Tom could practically taste on his tongue, and yet he could see hope in those piercing green eyes. Well, the whole snake was ridiculously green and pitiful, as sickly as a killing curse, but without the threat of the spell. The only blemish on its scales was the shape of a lightning bolt on top of his head. Tom suspected it had to do something with Harry’s human form, but there was no time to ask. 

He sat on the bed, and Harry yawned with his jaw dislocating as if to catch prey, showing off those threatening fangs- most likely he was venomous, his colouring definitely suggested it. What a good familiar he would make if that was the case… Tom had to do some research of his own on this, because he didn’t dare test it- not on children at least, however cruel they might be. To think that he would spend his summers at Hogwarts, if not for that old transfiguration teacher- Tom absolutely hated his guts, not only was Dumbledore a privileged old prick, he was also prolonging the war. 

“I brought you some meat, and cheese. Eat up. Though I can’t say for sure it won’t harm your snake form” He said, watching the emerald green scales settle and untangle a bit clumsily, moving on the pillow, as Harry wiggled free. 

“No problem. Ssorry for the trouble” The cursed wizard said, snaking up the bed, and onto the chair, before leaping for the desk. There was a muffed plop when Harry inevitably fell on the floor snout first, and Tom couldn’t help but find the situation funny. It was hilarious to see the boy try to navigate being what was essentially a noodle made from muscles, though it would not do good to worsen his injuries before they got to a place where Tom can heal him up. Sadly, healing charms were still monitored, and he tried more than once, to his dismay every instance outside a magical household had to be reported. 

“Great work” He laughed, a bit strained from the lack of use, but he patiently knelt down and helped Harry get on the tray, which he devoured in a matter of minutes, looking extremely satisfied. The boy never complained about being hungry like a ‘normal’ person, so he was probably used to it, he noted; this observation will be very fun indeed.

“Shut your trap, and try navigating a room when you have no limbs!” The other retorted angrily, but blinked as if he caught himself doing something that could get him killed on the spot. His newfound companion most definitely lived with interesting muggles then, which was all the more reason to hate their kind, of course. 

“I can assure you, I will never be in such an… unfortunate situation Harry” He smiled, laying down on the bed, simultaneously taking off his shoes to sit neatly at the bottom of it, just like his ‘care takers’ liked.

“Mister, I can take on the world” Harry hissed quietly, slowly bringing himself up to the windowsill before making a jump back onto the bed, falling right on his face. Tom couldn’t help, but sigh before the other muttered a sheepish “Sssorry” 

“You’ll get better at it eventually” He mumbled, “but first I’ll get you to see a magizoologist, have to see what the check you are, and we have to get some medical salve for those bruises of yours.” 

There was a deep silence before that, and Tom could practically feel Harry thinking where he made his way to the centre of his chest, basking in the warmth it provided. “Okay” was all he got in response. 

“You know what a magizoologist is? Right?” 

“If you think I’m that dumb I’ll bite you even if it kills me” Harry sighed, though his tail was stretched around the food given, and he looked quite toasty where he was. 

“I like snakes too much to kill them” He said, accioing spare parchment and a quill to write a letter to one Newt Scamander, hopefully the man will be interested enough as to see to this matter personally. It would be killing two birds with one stone, without a proper matter to discuss he hadn’t had the excuse to start a correspondence. 

“Good to know” Harry replied, eyeing his wand suspiciously, “Can i take a look?” The other asked nonchalantly, but there was a curiosity there that Tom didn’t miss- either way, a cursed wizard such as himself couldn’t possibly do anything to his wand, so he nodded in approval, before passing the yew handle to the snake. 

Harry grabbed the yew handle gently, swishing it a bit, it gave a few sparks, but it looked like his magic was too subdued to have any proper results. Curious, his wand was an unyielding one; made from yew, there was never an instance where it’s loyalty faulted. 

“Haha, nice one, though my magic is like- hidden behind a glass wall or something.” 

“… Too bad” Even this small spark of magic brought upon a weird kind of fear in his veins, met with an overwhelming amount of excitement as well. He finally met someone interesting to observe, this summer could truly prove to be fruitful. 

“What’s the core?” the other asked curiously, but Tom could see this was a bluff, and an awful one too- how could he know? No one besides him, Olivander and Dumbledore had an idea of it. Not that it was a secret, but still; just what kind of person was he now living with? 

“Phoenix feather” If Tom didn’t know better he would say the snake was smirking at him, then again it was a human-snake hybrid, so it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

 “What core did you have?” He asked, and yes, he was trying to hit a nerve there because it probably was snapped or forgotten in the duel. So what? But Harry only sighed, nudging the yew handle back to him as if he barely cared.

“Didn’t know. Stole it” The nerve of this cursed wizard was beyond what Tom thought to be the limit. He has always handled himself impeccably, yet here was also Harry so unapologetically himself it hurts to look at. 

“…” Okay, that was a bit too much even for his early life stealing shenanigans, now he used much more refined methods such as- manipulating someone to gift you things. Though, to steal your wand? What? What kind of dunderhead do you have to rob? 

“Don’t even ask” Harry said flatly, laying his head back on his tail to observe him write. He definitely needed to ask, but he bit his tongue, knowing full well prying won’t do much here. What an entertaining guest Harry was; Tom would like an ally like him in his ranks. Back on track, and to allies as well, he had a few interesting letters to write; and to an expert too, Tom shouldn’t half ass this. 

He didn’t have to wait long for a response, no matter how much he feared a firm denial- back in school he might have had the resources needed for research, but here he didn’t have a Knut to his name. Thankfully, Dumbledore must have overlooked telling this contact of his about Tom, which greatly improved his chances- Mister Scamander was an exceptionally kind, slightly timid man, and agreed to help Tom with his unusual snake. As far as facts go, well didn’t tell the man he saved a cursed wizard by mail, he’s no imbecile. 

In the meantime, him and Harry spent the week trying to build up a routine; which was weird, and overly complicated, full of arguments of a calibre he hadn’t known possible before. Every breach of ‘contract’ was met with a vengeance worth of a family feud, and snarky comments for the rest of his life, which were more annoying than retribution. The same things could be said about their unlikely alliance, they both have strong personalities that clashed as soon as they made eye contact, but both needed something so many things were left at an impasse. It was strangely challenging.

Though he lived his whole life with other people, it was with as much separation as he could; no touching, little to no communicating, and definitely no breaches of personal space. Yeah, he had fights and bullies, but those were so impersonal to him, it was laughable. Generally those rules applied nicely, and he didn’t feel the need to reach out for more, there was nothing outside of business and politics connecting him to Orion, Abraxas or Lestrange. But here he was having to navigate a life with an unlikely pet.

Harry had taken all of his rules and stuck them far up his arse, with a smile that said ‘what will you do about it’. It was both infuriating, and amusing to be in the middle of this. Not so much when the snake decided it was too cold to sit alone and promptly rushed on his lap seeking warmth… How shameless of a young man to do this to another, right? His roommate had no such qualms. Even if his companion liked too much physical contact, and loved talking about anything and everything, it was honestly bearable; he had an interest in this weird wizard, and magic knows he will do anything for his interests. 

“Where are we going exactly?” Harry hissed full of suspicion, like Tom would murder him in the nearest alley. The urge was there, but curiosity far outweighed it.

“To a magizoologist, Newt Scamander. He agreed to help you, since I found no other records of a species like yours nowhere” He replied tiredly, knowing full well he told this to the snake multiple times. One thing was certain, there was no one as draining as the snake curled up around his shoulders; his questions about the world stopped only when Tom let him read his textbooks. 

“We’ve gone over this”

“You never told me we are going to meet T-h-e magizoologist! Well, I must be fairly interesting, then. Special as always” The snake hissed proudly, showing off his head from under his jacket with a magical glint in his eyes. There was a certain air of disdain surrounding the last sentence, though it was hard to catch in Parseltounge. 

You are interesting Harry, I have known you for a whole week, and I have to yet to hear your last name, which is remarkable considering the fact you hardly shut up. He kept his mouth shut, though. 

His own voice chords weren’t dealing well with all the talking, and he didn’t like the idea of them giving out, so he only hummed in agreement. Walking down London was never as exciting as now, with Harry animatedly describing everything he found interesting- which frankly was everything from the ‘weird hats’ to pretty advertisements. How long had this wizard been away from society to marvel at the simplest things?

Maybe the first time Tom saw Diagon was as fun, full of naivety and wonder, when the street hadn’t yet been blemished by war. Now everything there looked like a circus compared to the ordinary life of a London-er, a cruel parody of his day to day; it was almost insulting. Thankfully, Mr. Scamander lived in a normal, respectable Muggle area, plus it wasn’t that far from the orphanage. Making Newt Scamander a solid contact, if anything required it; rare potion ingredients, previously unknown animal species? You name it. After a thirty-minute trip, they were standing on the doorstep to 9 Sherringford Square, a yellow bricked Victorian house with a distinctly Hufflepuff feel to it. 

“Is it here? Looks normal to me” Harry hissed in his ear, his tongue a ghost on Toms neck; a weird sensation, especially when it was basically another man causing it. Not unpleasant. 

“Yess” He promptly replied, before knocking on the door, his pristine good boy persona mask on. The quizzical look the snake sent after he applied it was strangely knowing. Suddenly he felt exposed- too vulnerable for his liking, and though his act was perfect, it felt like his face was cracking at the edges. Mr. Scamander finally opened the door, stopping the torture with a smile on his face, hands full of nifflers, his clothes in complete disarray.  “Welcome! You must be Tom, and this beauty right there is Harry, I presume? Come on in.” 

“Oh! Yes that’s us. Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Scamander. I was just so curious as to what to do with Harry! I want to take good care of him, though there are matters I couldn’t possibly disclose over letter.” Tom did as he was told, stepping into a homely scene with admittedly nothing notable to look at. Meanwhile, assessing the expert with a critical eye; Mr. Scamander was a tall wizard, though his posture lacked a confidence most of his status exuded, otherwise he was rather good-looking with brown hair, hazel eyes and muscles to show off if the bare forearms were anything to go by. 

“Of course, of course, I understand. Let’s talk this out over tea, beware of nifflers though. They like-“

“Shiny things, or so I’ve read” He smiled, with his best charming look, which promptly made the magizoologist red with embarrassment, and Tom watched as the man ran away to make tea, leaving him and Harry in the living room. Winning this guy over was child’s play, you only need to show the tiniest bit of interest, while the man gave you valuable information for free. 

“He’s so-“ Harry hissed when he thought the master of the house was out of earshot, preparing the tea with the nuisance of a niffler on his arm from what Tom could see from the couch he decided to sit on. The creature really did stash teaspoons…

“Gullible? Yess.” 

“That’s totally not what I was going to say, Riddle” Oh? Oh. Harry shouldn’t know what his last name is, and it made his blood pump in both the best and worst of ways- no wonder he didn’t notice Mr. Scamander weak presence as he walked into the room once more.

“Lie to yourself then” He responded half jokingly, before he heard the most excited squeal from the full on adult man to his right.

“A Parselmouth! Helgas cakes, this is truly getting interesting. Was this the confidential matter you couldn’t write to me about?” The wizard asked, almost sending the tea flying as he set the tray down with flourish; Harry looked, so smug, Tom wanted to swat him with a newspaper. 

“Not exactly. Ah, I suggest we start this from the very beginning, I found Harry-

“So he is not only a new species entirely, he’s also a cursed Parselmouth running away from a Dark Lord?” Mr. Scamander, or rather Newt, as he told Tom his preferred way of address, asked, confusion in his voice barely concealed.

“Pretty much, I would naturally turn to my teachers, but you know what their political stances look like. I was worried anything would happen to poor Harry, he’s a pretty nice guy, and a good snake.” No matter if he was laying it on thick, Newt gobbled everything right up, concern painting his features. Tom promptly ignored sighs of exasperation from the green serpent between them.

“You’re a dirty arse liar Tom” Harry hissed angrily, making his way to the magizoologist for an examination they all agreed upon.

“What did he say?” The older wizard asked with raised eyebrows, not used to the creatures actually talking back. No one was really ready for Harry’s snark. 

“He said he was very grateful for your help, and that he hoped this would remain secret. I think he’s scared of being hunted again.” He responded, plainly ignoring Harry’s comments for the sake of the believability- having such a ‘light’ wizard on Toms side would be invaluable, and he wasn’t above a teary story to help ease the way of a new alliance.

“Oh! Don’t worry, Harry, I think I can fix this with enough research.” Well, that was good to hear, his object of examination will be even more interesting when interacting with others their age. If Harry thought Tom would let him escape Hogwarts- he was gravely mistaken, his observation matter won’t slip out of his hands so easily… 

Newt did some charms he didn’t recognize over the green serpent, blissfully unaware of the intrigued noises he made- the men looked like a child with its newest toy, though Tom could see the gentleness with which he handled Harry. “Is he alright?”

“Yes, yes. There are some minor injuries here and there, but I’ll give you a medicinal salve for it.” Mr. Scamander said, not wasting any time to summon it, before going on and on about how he never saw a venomous green snake, and that they were native to North America and thing. After that some bell rang and the owner of the house rushed to help some animal in the basement, inviting them in for a look like they were the best guest he has had the pleasure to have; in a way Tom suspected the man had little friends to talk about his interest with, sadly they had to part after three hours. This was already a prolonged stay, and Tom didn’t want to anger the orphanage staff, they already didn’t like him because of his otherness.

Tom didn’t know which was weirder; Harry being quiet the whole way, or that he actually enjoyed the eccentric Hufflepuffs presence enough to stay there so long.

Orion once told him that when you pick a pretty rose, you have to expect the thorns; nothing was ever as good as it looked, and his small trip to Mr. Scamander was no different. A High leap, comes with a crushing fall- everything has consequences. When they inevitably reached the orphanage doors, it was already about a half hour after the agreed upon time, and Tom wanted to curse so bad- but he couldn’t. Defiance would make things worse, he knew, the place may have the potential to be okay to easily mouldable children, but never to him. His spine was much too hard for being bent to a will of someone that never showed him a bit of… anything besides hatred really.

“Don’t show yourself” He commanded, not waiting for a response as Harry carefully tucked himself out of view; probably noticing his seriousness. It was too bad he had to stay here if he wanted to finish Hogwarts, the first of many ridiculous rules Dumbledore put on him, just because. Inwardly, he despised the fact no one wanted to adopt him when he was younger; they didn’t even want him for work. Muggle or not, he wouldn’t be stuck here.

Why was he bitter over it now? Wasn’t he over worse scenarios many times already? Then again, he might’ve forgotten to take his calming draught today, but despite it, he walked into the building with his head held high. Mrs. Cole was already standing there, staring him down with her skinny and harassed-looking, sharp-featured face. He was already taller than her, but she didn’t seem bothered; her expression authoritative as always. 

“Where have you been, Tom? It's unusual for you to be late” The matron was suspicious, her keen eyes searching for any cruel signs, or perhaps blood, expecting something truly horrid. He knew what she thought of him, as limited as his legillemency was at the moment- a freak. They never liked each other, she thought he was abnormal, he thought she was a bitch- a mutual hatred born out of many misunderstandings, the rabbit, the cave, his early attempts at stealing out of jealousy. He was sure she would throw him into an asylum if she had a chance, her discipline rules so strict they could choke.

“Visiting a friend from boarding school. I have told you before, our talk took longer than expected, ma’am.” Lying came easy to him, his carefully woven falsehoods building a safe cocoon around him, enough to escape reality; regrettably not enough to forget about it. Okay, his lack of daily medicine really began to show.

“Pockets” The woman commanded, and he showed her all of their contents obediently; a muggle lighter (just in case), a spare piece of paper for note-taking, and a pencil. His wand was tucked away under his trousers, held still with the help of his shoe. “Did you cause trouble?” 

“Not at all, I just had too much fun” He could see when the sigh Mrs. Cole was about to let out began forming, her face contorting when she had nothing to blame him for. 

“We both know you don’t feel such a thing, Tom, I basically raised you. It’s like your emotions are lacking, but if a friend helps you with… managing them, it’s okay” Tom could swear he heard this half-hearted attempt at guilting him at least two times this week already, but he held his pleasant smile without wavering. It was hard considering Harry was now coiling increasingly tighter around his chest, constricting his breathing a fair amount.

“Of course” He raised himself, thank you very much, how could she even liken herself to a parent! She had never showed an ounce of compassion for him compared to other children; because what? He had never cried as a toddler? 

“Whatever you say, ma’am” He replied earnestly, waiting for her dismissal. 

“I’ll leave you in charge of checking curfew today then, and don’t do anything irresponsible, or I’ll know” He nodded, though his jaw clenched considerably. Tom wanted to punch something, or rather, someone in the face. Really? “Dismissed” He didn’t respond, taking the stairs to the left.

His feet took him to his room on their own accord, his brain barely making any input, a haze of rage making him see red. Tom was glad the kids were too stupid, and too scared, to put everything on him nowadays, but he still didn’t want to see the things happening in other rooms. He had put a two-way silencing charm on his private space for a reason. Not everyone had a single bedroom like him, you see, and an orphanage could easily become a breeding ground for filth. 

Wandlessly, he slammed the door to his room shut, eyes darting to the bottle near the bed; his calming draught, special order from Professor Slughorn. It helped him soothe his frenzied mind, and he took a generous sip of it, feeling the thick liquid make its way through his throat. “What isss it?” 

He had almost flinched at the hiss behind his ear, before remembering that Harry didn’t see him take his medicine yet. The boy had a tendency to fall asleep before him, making it the first time he saw the occurrence, and in such a humiliating way too. Tom hit the bed with force, making it creak under his hand; the action was sure to leave a bruise- he ignored the warning hiss sent his way, as if Harry thought he’ll be next.

“Calming draught” He replied simply, though it revealed more than he liked to the other, but Harry had access to the room, so he would find out eventually with how strangely perceptive he was. “I usually take it before sleeping” 

“But you couldn’t stand that woman?” Harry guess, finally emerging from behind his coat, making his way down his arm onto the bed so that they were on eye level with him sitting in the floor without thinking about it. Tom never had wanted to wail before now, he hated being seen through like this, and he had to endure it until the potion took effect- too much was happening at once in his head for him to be calm and collected as always. 

“Yes” He croaked, getting rid of his cloak and shoes roughly, tossing them somewhere so that they didn’t itch where they touched his skin.

“The one thing you'll never hear them call us is ‘human.’ They all seem to agree that we’re fundamentally... different from them, don’t they?” The green serpent asked rhetorically, a sadness in his eyes mixing with compassion so honest that it managed to touch even his cold shrivelled heart; there was a brief click of something he didn’t dare name, and a connection was thus born. Not that he had time to dwell on it, as the potion took effect, and his breathing steadily came back alongside his rational thinking- he sneered at the weakness he showed to the other, and took out his wand to fix the mess he made of his clothing. One thing was sure, he hated summer, and to distract himself he took the nearest book in hand to sink into its calming world of ink.

Chapter Text

The past few weeks have been absolutely torturous to Harry, not only because Mr. Scamander’s research was taking way too long, but also because no one said living with a to-be-murderer of your parents would be easy. There were many things he expected to come from this weird rooming situation, especially when he was a small, weak animal; first on the list were death threats, but strangely they didn’t come, not serious ones at least. It was almost like they were both starved for some kind of closeness, wherever it came from; Tom Riddle was far away from a detached, insane Lord Voldemort- most of his free time the boy spent reading, or writing letters, sometimes bickering with Harry. It was pitiful watching, both of them trapped inside the grey building, even if Tom stepped a foot outside their door the most feeling that met him was unfounded disgust.

No one else bothered with him, even the staff ignored him where they could- it was clear they didn’t consider him normal, and Mrs. Cole was just the most outspoken of them all. Harry had preferred the anger and maliciousness of the Dursley’s to this, he wasn’t equipped to deal with such obvious show of fear- especially since, Tom was just a normal boy. Yeah, he was a sarcastic, slimy, slytherin git, but he was every bit as human as anyone- he even had a sense of humour. 

Needless to say, Harry didn’t expect to feel sympathy for the other, when the staff was rude to him, neither did he expect Lord Voldemort to be so pitiful, and scared anytime sirens went off in the city, but it was an undeniable fact; now he understood why their wand cores were the same. Somehow they were two sides of the same coin, one growing compassionate because of his situation, the other turning slowly emotionless to the outside observer. It was hard to think of him as an enemy by now, not when they shared food, a room and their time together. Idly, he wondered what brought such a bright kid over the edge of evil the first time around, what made him commit his future irredeemable sins.

Though from what he observed, struggling to maintain a routine peaceful enough for the both of them- as Harry tested the limits of his companion's patience, Tom was a compassionate wizard- he wasn’t especially warm to people, because he seemed too detached from them, but when with Harry and animals magical or not, his eyes were sparkling happily to no end. It always stopped the moment he took his medicine, but the pure joy was hard to miss on the usually cold face. He suspected Tom had a pretty hard time expressing his emotions naturally, but he wasn’t incapable of it like some had led him to believe. 

Harry couldn’t make sense of the whispers around the place of people thinking he was cruel, he wasn’t, not yet. His touch was gentle, and Tom held respect for anything magical, even his books were handled with utmost care. Hermione would have loved to meet this kind of student, no doubt. Suddenly it wasn’t so weird that the Basilisk kept loyal to a ghost of this boy, he must have been a good master to it. The infamous Nagini, a presumed familiar of the man’s wasn’t that surprising either, he thought; previously he would find the notion laughable. 

Harry couldn’t help his mind from wandering, coming back to that evening when they returned from Mr. Scamander's house for the first time- how frantic the other's breathing had become, how his scar began hurting with warning the first time since coming here, how the usually calm and collected wizard fell to his knees in search of the medicine hands shaken by tremors. The medicine he seemed to severely overdose, even to Harry’s eyes, but it was hard to admit he cared even a little for this budding Dark Lord- so he kept his mouth shut, though there was a small voice in his heart that told him to do otherwise. He even forgot Harry was there for a moment… And he was extremely conscious of his surroundings otherwise. 

Of course, Tom had the tendency to overlook people's rights and emotions when voicing his opinions, which was a problem in it of itself, but Harry didn’t think he was beyond salvation yet.  He was yet to see that blood supremacy of his too, not a peak of it for a month he shared every hour of every day with the darkest wizard of all time- Harry was starting to think he has been slapped into an alternate reality or something. 

Now, June 1942 was coming to an end before his eyes, and he was turning fifteen in the past. Wondering if it even counted? Somehow his situation was both better and worse now. There was a world war happening just outside the window, and he was cuddling with a cold-blooded murderer, feeling inadequately safe. Harry’s heart tugged with misery when he thought of Ron and Hermione, something he didn’t really let himself do, but he wasn’t sure they would fill the void he was feeling now. It was much too deep, and primal in a sense, to be entirely honest with himself, they didn’t exactly stick with him through thick and thin. 

Through trials and tribulations of the tournament they had drifted apart quite a bit, and he didn’t take it well, leaving him aching with betrayal, still he loved them. Harry didn’t have anyone else, and their friendship was forged in the midst of troubles like this, but since he died so young then, the only way of helping his friends would be to change the future. At least that’s what he told himself, because could he even come back? He was sure a killing curse hit him square in the chest.

The brunette stirred in his sleep, his hand almost crushing the tip of his tail, he hissed in annoyance and manoeuvred himself on top of the hand that started rubbing his scales absent-mindedly. It wasn’t unpleasant, and he long since stopped trying to get away, it was rare he got this much physical contact from anyone. Something stopped him from falling into a peaceful, lazy sleep.

There was a loud banging on their window, and it had no intention of stopping anytime soon, even as Harry ignored it. His head turned to look at the offender, his fangs on full display. It was an owl, and obviously it didn’t care for his threats of impending doom, the loud banging didn’t stop, and he looked up with more clarity, to see Mr. Scamander owl desperately trying to get in. This was important, the man was much too shy to write in the middle of the night.

“Happy Birthday to me, I guess” His tail swished high into the air before falling right on Tom’s left cheek with a loud slap, more sound than force, but it got the job done. For all he was growing accustomed, and comfortable here, Harry was still human and wanted to have his body back; and there was only one thing urgent enough for Mr Scamander to send like this. Oh, he could feel excitement as it started coursing through his veins again, he was one step closer to having the normal life he dreamed of! Bloody hell, he even wanted to do his OWL’s in peace like a normal wizard for a change, he wasn’t famous here, and it made all the difference. If this worked out, he could do it without being the boy who lived.

“Tom wake up! You sleeping beauty looking arsehole” He said sharply, once again swatting the other on the face, which earned him an annoyed groggy groan. It was cathartic being able to annoy the other like this, not that it amounted to much. 

“What the check Harry-“ The other cursed, before carefully catching his tail to prevent any further slapping, which was a very wise move o Tom’s part. “I feed you too well” The other sighed finally, like a resigned dog owner. Yes, in fact, Harry wondered why didn’t Tom lower his portions, but he wasn’t one to complain about such things.

The banging on the window ultimately caught Tom’s attention, and he habitually placed Harry on his shoulders before opening the window, as he slotted himself to see the letter. The offending owl hooted happily, watching Harry with growing attention, and he hissed, deep and alarming. This was a warning you feather covered arrogant- okay he was getting worked up over an owl now. 

“Don’t eat him” Riddle commanded the (disappointed) bird, quickly taking the massage from Mr. Scamander in hand; reading it so quickly, Harry had no chance to even skim it. Really, the speed of it was inhuman, what the hell, Riddle. “It seems like Mr. Scamander found a remedy to your troubles, snakey. He says here it’ll take him about two weeks to make the potion” 

Tom announced it with pride, pure excitement painting his features making him look like a kid on Christmas day- when he swirled them around the room a couple of times in nothing but his pyjamas. Harry was rapidly becoming dizzy because of him, and he voiced it, only for Tom to giggle. “We’ll see what you’re made of, Harry. Get ready for Hogwarts!” 

It was concerning that Tom didn’t even ask whether he wanted to go to the school or not, especially since his cover-up made it clear it was inadvisable, but he let it be. Maybe it was just loneliness talking through the boy? He was really growing too soft, this was a murderer he was talking about! They were still children though... Whatever it was, Harry’s plans changed for the time being, and he should keep an eye for Tom either way, plus he needed to find out more about time travel- Hogwarts had a lot of resources. Now that he didn’t have Hermione to think for him, Harry had to do it himself. Surely there was a time traveller dos and don'ts book somewhere.

“Sure, make bets on what house I’ll be in” The responding smile was dazzling, turning the usually deep brown eyes into crescents under the force of it. Harry found hr liked the look on Tom, much more than the distanced ‘I’m better than you lot’ one. Falling asleep was a hard battle after that, though the now usual warmness of another person near him definitely helped.

The next two weeks and a half took longer than Aunt Petunia in the bath; it was an excruciatingly slow affair, like honey dripping from a spoon onto a tiled floor. Every minute stretched on and on, turning him into an irritated mess for Tom to deal with, who was admittedly strangely patient and good at cuddling. Harry wasn’t the least bit sorry for being an absolute nuisance, usually he would be too ashamed to demand being spoiled- but there was something freeing in being an animal. Even if he rather be his short, bony self by now. But facts were facts, and the boy gave very good pets and scratches. Furthermore, since Harry was growing in a fast pace as a snake his scales itched terribly, it was basic pet care. Okay, maybe he knew why Padfoot liked to be a dog so much now, it was strangely relaxing. 

Adding to his obvious problems was the fact that he was more often than not closed in a very boring, bland room, with company of a near mute, because hell would freeze over if Tom instigated a conversation with him for once- and then you can paint the picture. Didn’t the scheming villain know what boredom was?

For better or worse, Tom had many books kept hidden, so Harry could still do something productive as a snake, all in all it was probably better than his normal summer with the Dursley’s where he had to hide his books from them. At least he got food every day, so how bad could Riddle actually be, if Harry’s so called ‘family’ was already worse than him? Though that was just food for thought at this point. How many people actually cared for him enough as to keep him safe, when not knowing who he was? The timeline he was currently stuck in surely was weird… 

On one long awaited Wednesday morning they were finally ready to go out into the world again, and they didn’t expect to come back early either. If all went according to plan, they would need a trip to Diagon Alley for some supplies; even if logically Harry knew his accounts shouldn’t exist yet, Hogwarts should cover the expenses when they inevitably accept him, and he half expected Mr. Scamander got Dumbledore here to deliver the letter. 

“Are you excited?” Tom asked, staring into the distance, stepping out of the orphanage grounds with a bounce to his step.

Who was excited here, hm? Shouldn’t you be heartless, Riddle? No one shouldn’t really, but that was besides the point. “Very. I haven’t felt my legs for so long! And I have to find myself a new wand.” There was no need to lie here.

“No more wand stealing” Tom said hurriedly, clutching his own yew handle anxiously, and Harry let out a laugh. Who knew that little lie left such a strong impression, but it was amusing watching the tall boy so uncomfortable.

“Okay, whatever you say” He giggled, as if he didn’t consider just stealing Toms wand before; the core was the same as his one, so there was a possibility it would work. Why would he check it if not for that? Sadly, the plan was abandoned the second he discovered his magic was suppressed in this body. The other quickened his step with an outraged face as soon as they were out of view of the orphanage, when the staff had no way of spying on them- a pet peeve of Tom’s. Who knew what they did to him for it to happen, but Harry didn’t comment, he knew he had his quirks too; for example stuffing his face full as soon as he got food before him. Besides, Mrs. Cole wouldn’t like the idea of Riddle keeping a pet, she would think the boy was strangling him or something. 

“I’m serious” Tom said, jaw clenched in a warning when he didn’t respond, and Harry rolled his eyes. Their playing field would be even soon, not like in Harry’s time; here they were the same age, no power gap to speak of besides their brains. Unsurprisingly, after rooming with the boy for a month he didn’t give two shits for the cold tone, Voldemort wasn’t scary at all at this point in time, his image turned into a rosy cheeked boy rather quickly.

“No. You’re Tom”

“What?” The wizard asked, blinking, brow furrowed on his void of expression face, and Harry couldn’t suppress the urge to snort- or a snake equivalent of.

“Just something my friend would have a laugh at.” He giggled, thinking of Sirius, a thorn nestling in his heart. There were people he missed, and those he desperately wished to see, and Sirius was the latter. His godfather would surely be proud that he made this joke, even if he wasn’t alive yet. Thinking of it, shouldn’t his father be at Hogwarts now? Orion, or what was his name.

“You have other friends?” Tom asked suspiciously, something dark and foreign in his voice telling Harry to drop the topic, after all it wasn’t necessary. He just got too comfortable here. Actually, in hindsight he has felt way too comfortable with Lord Voldemort of all people this whole time, it’s just that he didn’t feel like the threat back in the future. He wasn’t even as insulting as Draco had been…

“Not alive” He responded flatly, letting a huff of air on the other's neck to watch him shiver uncontrollably. It was fun to watch the other squirm, a small type of retribution Harry could allow himself, even if the wizard didn’t actually deserve it yet. 

Not even brilliant Tom Riddle had a response to that, only passing oncoming streets and people in silence after that, not noticing the hungry gazes of women trailing after him. Eye candy truly brought upon a hefty amount of unwanted attention, so Harry quickly hid his head under the other's coat. It was too hot under it in the middle of summer, but he had to hide somehow, and concealment charms were out of the question. The ministry would localize them quicker than he could say Quidditch. After twenty-ish minutes they arrived at the now familiar feeling doorstep of Mr. Scamander, in its full Victorian Hufflepuff glory; Tom didn’t even have the time to knock before the wizard opened the door hastily, his shirt pulled back on his arms and a bowtruckle in his hair. 

“Finally, you’re here. Welcome back” The man said cheerfully, awkwardly shuffling out of their way to gesture for them to come in, finally freeing him from the trouble of hiding; and he made quick work of that, leisurely draping his tail on Toms shoulders, scales shuffling on the fabric of his shirt.

“Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Scamander”

Harry hissed in tandem with Tom’s voice, not that the sound meant anything, but the magizoologist didn’t know that. Anyway, it sufficed until he got to properly speak again. Oh, how he missed the feeling of it! Tom was a good conversationalist, but Harry ached for more company- he was a social teen to begin with. 

"Just call me Newt"

“Right, my mistake, Newt. Is it okay if we start right away? Harry can’t wait, he has been insufferable these past weeks” Tom giggled, a polite mask in place where his usually impassive face was- it looked forced once you knew the real deal, but to anyone else? An act with no cracks to speak of, it left Harry wondering why did atom need it. Probably not even the boy realized just how much he let his guard down just because Harry was in a form of a snake who couldn’t communicate with anyone else… 

“Yes! Yes! I’ll just run a check on Harry and I’ll give him the potion. Though, it is built upon the original animagus one, and I think it could hurt a bit. Nothing long term, though.”  Tom stiffened at the words, the line of his shoulders rigid, but Harry escaped before the brunette could stop him. He wasn’t scared of a bit of pain, so he encouragingly shot himself into Mr. Scamander’s arms, who caught him with practice ease.

Tom had no time to make an excuse as to stop his decision, thank Merlin. If there was an expert on the topic of animal related things it was Newt Scamander, and Harry wanted to be human again no matter the pain.

 “Don’t even try to interrupt” He had long since forgone thinking of the other as a sadist, but it was strange for him to be concerned about somebody so instinctively. Whatever the reason was, Harry did not need pity.

“I’ll take that as a yes” It probably wasn’t too late to go to St. Mungos for this, but he had no documents, and from what he saw Riddle would definitely not let him do it again, so it was now or never.

“Yes…” Tom managed, no doubt, shooting a virile glare his way, but Harry was not backing off now. Not when his goal was practically before his eyes, with Mr. Scamander’s blue twinkling spells checking his vitals. It took way longer than the first time around, which was strange, because Harry for sure wasn’t injured now. Fear began gnawing at him slowly, making his chest collapse with the lack of breath. Please don’t say it isn’t possible. 

No backing off now, he thought morbidly. He has already died once in the future, what was once more? It all seemed like hallucinations of a madman now- in the haze of the homely month with Tom, but he felt it was true. He had a chance to make things right this time, and he needed his body back. Preferably, right now.

“When did you?” The man mumbled a question, looking between them with furrowed brows, repeating an incarnation from before. 

“Is something wrong?” Riddle asked, as if he didn’t want to stop Harry from going with this a moment ago, and had any reason to be worried. If he only could, he would outright scoff, but annoying enough he was still a snake, so a hiss it was.

“No! Merlin, no. It’s just, I wasn’t aware you formed a familiar bond in the meantime. It’s pretty rare these days.” The Magizoologist explained simply, not that Harry understood at all, his world view collapsing on him in a pile of rubble.

“WHAT?” They both hissed at the same time, before Tom changed into English, eyes sparkling with an emotion Harry wasn’t able to discern. It should be impossible.

“What? We didn’t, when could we even-“ He began, looking at Harry as if it was him who murdered Toms parents in cold blood, not the other way around. By now Harry knew it was all a lie, the bastard knew all about when, and he was so smug about it too. Lying to Mr. Scamander are we now? He bared his fangs just thinking of it. Familiar bonds were no joke! 

When did they become codependent, exactly? Was there a moment to signify it he overlooked? Harry wasn’t sure how the whole caring and protecting typical of familiars applied to their situation now, it’s true he didn’t want Tom in harms way, but it all benefited Harry in the end, didn’t it? Anyway, it should go both ways, and he definitely didn’t think Riddle cared for him like that; that kind of bond born out of mutual respect and desire to help? Impossible, this was a prank, surely! They both had ulterior motives, Harry definitely had his. 

“Look, boys, I don’t know how it happened, but to have this kind of bond with another wizard is a good thing. It’s born out of mutual need to help and protect, plus your magic must be extremely compatible for it to form; it can only help you both out. Especially with what we wanted today….” Harry tuned out the rest of the rambling- He was mother fucking magically bonded to Tom Riddle without his knowledge or consent, and supposedly they wanted to protect and help each other?  

Tom would kill his parents if given a few years! They should despise each other, though that notion was long past. No, this had to be some prank, if not then… What is this mess!? He hissed in distress, looking between the two tall wizards in the room. Now he definitely can’t deal with things as a mere snake, no offence to serpents, of course, but he wanted his hands back.

“There wasn’t a bond like this in a long time, and for it to happen between two magical folk without creature inheritance? Never heard of before. I think it’s a good sign, boys” Him and Tom certainly weren’t as keen on the idea as Newt was. Their relationship wasn’t born out of pure intentions, but of a deep ingrained need to survive, Harry had. Either way, they were not looking for dependency, and it looked like nothing could be done for now; they had so much research to do in the near future. This shouldn’t be possible between two wizards anyway, but Mr. Scamander didn’t seem to notice their apprehension, already summoning the potion they were originally here for. Okay, he was doing this.

Harry gulped, he wasn’t nearly as suspicious of Riddle as he should- and now he knew why; his magic, the essence of his very being, betrayed him! When was it exactly? There must have been a moment when it snapped into place, it wasn’t an overnight thing, hopefully. He didn’t have time to think about it before Mr. Scamander grabbed the red, glistening potion, and poured it on a plate. At least it didn’t look as disgusting as poly juice, but its smell wasn’t all that better. Now that Harry thought of it, the familiar bond should snap the moment he was back into a human form- it just got confused. Surely… He was no ordinary magical snake, he was a wizard. 

“Ready?” Newt asked, eyes full of worry.

That he was about a week ago. Now? Harry was beyond ready, impatient to the point of bursting, he’s crawling out of his skin both figuratively and literally, being a snake and all. Harry wanted to feel a wand in his hand, legs holding him up again… It was weird, missing the ability to talk. All it took was one, sip and the world swirled around him, his gut burning the feeling of limbs growing back excruciating.  And he had thought that the bone growing monstrosity was bad, now he missed the feeling of it dearly. Is that how Professor Lupin felt every month while transforming? Sweet Salazar, it’s like someone was burning his skin with a barrel of acid. He felt rather than heard himself scream, but a minute passed, and he felt his limbs back. It was done, the pain was gone, leaving him heaving. Then he hit the floor with a thud, pain bursting in his knees, disorientation making him vomit, and it reeked, but he couldn’t help the disgusting reaction. He was finally back.

Someone draped a blanket around his shoulders, because he was naked, he noted. He turned his head toward a shocked Tom, who shook with something Harry didn’t dare name. It definitely wasn’t concern, he refused to acknowledge it. 

“Hello everyone” He croaked and slurred finally, because fangs made it hard to speak clearly. It looked like the potion didn’t work one hundred percent, but for all he cared he was human once again. 

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life Tom had felt a rush of cold, stiffening concern; forced to watch Harry's pained body form, limb one after another, screams of agony scraping the boy's throat raw. He had wanted to help, to assist the first time in his life, and yet he couldn’t. Mr. Scamander anticipated it, and used a strong immobilizing spell on him as soon as Harry started to transform. Tom realizing it  after the fact, only when screeches turned to whines as Newt draped a blanket over the wizard carefully, he was released. The Magizoologist was probably worried he would do something stupid before, but it didn’t stop anger from bubbling in his throat. How dare he? 

After a minute that felt like millions of years a boy fell to the floor, injuring his knees, and promptly puked on a carpet, hand coming up to clean his face; Tom barely had the time to notice Harry still had his fangs. His head couldn’t quite wrap itself around the concept, how did the boy's anatomy even work right now? Next thing he knew there were unmistakable green eyes staring at him, the exact same colour Harry’s snake form was, though now it was even more unusual. Tom didn’t know people could even manage such a bright colour, it was like magic swirling in those irises m- he couldn’t look away. When did his throat turn into parchment again? Why was his heart beating so rapidly for no reason at all? 

His silence was telling, and now the gaze turned more firm, downright offended- holding him still with only a glance. It was exhilarating, and unknown. He has never felt so alive.

“Hello Everyone” The boy said, his words barely understandable, and Tom couldn’t shake the feeling that his first friend was someone he didn’t know, talking in an unknown voice, with a face of a stranger- a puppeteer pulling the strings of his heart as he pleased. Unacceptable, yet intriguing, and he was always weak to his curiosity. 

“Hi Harry, I’ll give you some clothes, just wait a second” Mr. Scamander declared, scurrying away to prepare things without looking back. Good, this moment was somehow too intimate for him to be in it. Not knowing what to do with himself, Tom vanished the filth from the carpet and knelt close to Harry, his brain void of things to say. Actually, his higher brain functions all started to turn off because he couldn’t stop staring, his self-control non-existent at this point. 

It was strange, looking at a face of someone he lived with for a month and not recognizing it.   For someone with so much arrogance and sheer force of will, Harry looked malnourished, their height difference obvious even while kneeling on the floor, and his ribs poking out where the blanket didn’t cover him. All he knew of the boy made less sense. “Surprised?” The teen smirked, a playful quirk of his lips a bit lopsided, with charming dimples.

“Didn’t know you were brown” He blurted stupidly, mind scrambling for anything in resemblance of wit, in the face of this handsome youth before him. Was he gay? Did it matter? Tom had no idea, but there was more than a mere familiar bond pushing him to do things to the other right now; the youth was quite a bit shorter than him, with raven black curly hair, honey coloured skin, square jaw and a strength to him despite the lack of weight. It looked like Harry did some good training in his free time, he noted. Overall, it was a very attractive picture. 

“Have a problem with it?!” Harry yelled angrily, shoving him toward the floor, his body immediately going into a defensive position. Tom felt himself fall back on his ass immediately, eyes blown wide. “No!” 

Really, Harry didn’t look like someone with this much strength, but then again he was caught by surprise. His scrutinizing expression was not much better. 

“I mean, no, not at all. We’re wizards, it doesn’t matter. I just thought you were British.” Tom having a problem with other people’s looks? Why? Besides, the boy looked like a Greek statue, perfect  if not for the scars marring his beautifully sculpted face, though there was still a leftover childlike softness to his cheeks. It would go away in no time.

“I don’t need your racist comments Riddle. It’s my skin” 

“I didn’t mean it like that. You-“ He bit back his shame, unusually clear, to admit his raging turmoil of emotion. It was like Harry kickstarted something inside his brain that had never worked before, and he was still kicking it with every word he spoke- like a broken machine. “You look very handsome, you know?” 

There was a blush spreading all throughout the other's face, despite the darker skin. “You’re not getting out of being racist with a few compliments” He was jot racist, that’s such a muggle thing to do, it disgusted him; but Harry was a stubborn man.

His thoughts changed course to his friend's eyes once again, and he felt himself grin with no real input from his brain. Who was sleeping beauty now? Okay- his thoughts surely took a weird turn, did he take his medicine today? Tom didn’t actually remember, but it didn’t matter when his throat felt this dry. His weirdness could definitely be blamed on the lack of proper medication. 

“I’m watching you, Riddle. No more toes out of line” Harry said finally, as if it was a threat. Now that he mentioned it, Tom wasn’t aware of the other's magical capabilities, so it possibly could be one. He was more excited than scared, however, the prospect of duelling igniting something in him- this is going to be a very interesting year. No one dared to fight with him for some time now, his spot in Slytherin hierarchy way too high for anyone to try. Orion and the rest too stuck up to try, or already acknowledging his status as their Lord, but now there was competition.

Harry didn’t care for positions, though, and what’s more- Tom knew he was oblivious to them at best. The caramel skinned boy was all  ‘try me, and get burned’ with his knowledge of the wizarding world limited to the bare minimum; like an elephant in a teacup. Not exactly subtle. Tom just hoped Harry won’t be placed in Gryffindor, of all places- walking up to that tower would get tiring after a while. Not that they could stop him from dragging his familiar all the way to the dungeons…

“You’re welcome to watch Shortie.” He laughed, nervousness leaving his body when Harry relaxed at the tease, mirroring his mirth with an unconscious smile of his own.

“You’re a prat” As eloquent as ever, not to mention the slurring of the word prat; Tom barely contained the urge to point it out.

“And you’re a real boy” came from his lips before he could strangle the childish comment at the root of it, but it was well worth the surprised face of the other wizard. His face wasn’t anything if not expressive, so different from Tom’s own that felt like an iron mask. 

“You know of Pinocchio??” Harry asked incredulously, emerald eyes widening by a good margin, making him look like a doll with eyes too big for its face. It was a bit funny, how ignorant the boy was sometimes, despite lecturing Tom on multiple stories by now. Of course, he looked them up not to feel dumb; the topic was actually quite fascinating, the weird ways Muggles described magic and such.

“I literally live in a muggle orphanage Harry” His voice was flat, and impassive as could be, but inwardly he was stifling laughter. Did the other really think he was so ignorant as not to know children stories? Well, he was wrong. What was so weird about it? No reference would go over his head now with his extensive reading material, it was a wonder that Harry didn’t notice him reading it just a week before.

“WE live in a muggle orphanage.” Came from the boy, when a pile of levitating clothes promptly fell on his lap. Only then did Tom realize Harry still had scraped knees, and came even closer to the boy, from where he landed on his ass- wand pointed in Harry’s general direction. The boy looked ready to snap.

“Fair point” There really was no need for scratches or imperfections on what was undeniably his- his friend, his familiar, his little boy toy. He wondered if Harry even knew when the bonding took place, but judging on his upcoming reaction, he doubted it; his magic must have been strongly suppressed at the time.

“What are you doing?” Harry bit out, eyes darting to the point of his wand, as his arms reached to disarm him instinctively, clutching the yew wood until his knuckles whitened. “Episkey” He whispered, holding the wand still, like Harry wasn’t being a nuisance, their bond wouldn’t even allow him to hurt Harry too badly, and definitely not on purpose. All the small bruises and cuts were gone in a second, and Harry’s mouth went agape. Newt cleared his throat, uncomfortable with whatever they had going on his carpet.

“…” At least he had the decency to clean the room before his mind decided to malfunction, he really valued this contact.

“…” Tom decided not to comment on the weirdly conscious reaction of the boy; he was on the run most of his life, it was understandable a wand pointed at him made him feel more frightened than comforted. Tom knew his expressions lacked a warmth in them needed for delicate actions like this. It shouldn’t be surprising at all, but it was, and it left a bitter tinge in his mouth. Really, now was time as good as any for a cup of tea. 

“I see you’re doing well! I think it’s high time I brew some tea, and we can go to Diagon Alley after. Harry, please put some clothes on now” Newt said without stutter, though was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. Tom felt his cheeks instantly burn at the closeness between him and the still very much naked boy- he cleared his throat, trying to hide his face. 

“All thanks to you Mr. Scamander” Harry replied cheerfully, grabbing the pile of clothing before him without hesitation. Perhaps this kind of closeness wasn’t unusual when the other participant was a snake, but with Harry as an actual, breathing human being it was strange, intimate, unknown; too intimidating for Tom to dwell on it for too long. He left for the table, leaving the boy alone on the floor. 

The tea didn’t actually take too long like he feared; both Newt and the younger wizard were enthusiastic about finally talking with each other, but the magizoologist was a tad overwhelmed with Harry’s sunny presence. There was no way to keep up for a cooped up scientist like him, not to mention the boy’s strange speech patterns. Newton Scamander wasn’t a social butterfly to begin with, and the caramel skinned wizard rarely shut up. Tom observed their conversation with barely hidden amusement, himself indulging in the cookies Newt laid out on the table- saying something about having his friend prepare them. Jacob or whatever, frankly it didn’t matter to Tom, but he was set on keeping good terms with Mr. Scamander, so he ate without complaining. Especially after the whole carpet situation, him and Harry mere centime away from each other- what a scene.

It helped that the cookies were the best thing Tom had ever tasted. Besides, his awkward, yet fascinating company was rather nice for him- he didn’t actually like doing that much talking in the first place, and now he could just indulge and learn from an expert with as low effort as possible. Well, maybe not today. His snake turned human roommate had many things to talk about every second of the day, and he animatedly stared telling stories to Newt as soon as he could, completely overpowering the conversation. It didn’t look like he noticed. Now he was saying about how he rode a hippogriff once, a story that Tom would deem fake if anyone else told it. He had to ask about it later. 

What’s more, the boy was gesturing wildly, and overcame his ‘speech impediment’ in the form of very much nit human fangs that both him and Newt looked at. The wizard didn’t mind his earlier pain at all, and the transformation left any discomfort he didn’t show it, neither did he comment about his teeth situation, though Tom doubted he was born with them. Whatever it was endurance or self-preservation in the end- Harry seemed accustomed; both to covering up his discomfort, and to clothes that were at least three sizes too big for him, his hands reaching automatically to adjust them. It didn’t miss Tom’s attention that he was constantly reaching for his face, as if adjusting glasses- he filed the information under ‘important’. Now they were getting ready to go out, standing idly in the foyer as Newt fumbled with his shoelaces like a five-year-old. However, he was concerned over something entirely different; mainly, Harry’s appearance.

“You can’t go out like that” He said looking down on the boy, pointing at the sad state of Harry’s clothing, to which the dark-coloured teen scrunched his nose, and grabbed his too big jumper while rising eyebrows. Some people were utterly shameless, not minding going out looking like a homeless person. His familiar had to be presentable, even if he had to get that through his thick skull with a wand.

“Eh? Why not? I used to go out like this all the time” Even the shoes were too big, and Tom couldn’t help a pathetic sigh leaving him. What was he, a nanny now? Harry was truly as interesting as he was helpless. 

“Sweet Salazar” With a swish of his wand, and a couple of shrinking charms he turned the messy haired wizard into a presentable young gentleman. Granted, Tom would rather have him wear a crisp green shirt, and if Harry put his hair back, but this would suffice for now. 

“You really thought government given clothes fit me so well? Are you even a wizard?” He asked, pointing at himself, with his immaculate white shirt and trousers. Happy that he could finally go without his coat in the blazing August heat, and that he could show off his great transfiguration work. 

“I just don’t have my wand yet.” 

“…” Harry’s face told him all he needed to know- the boy hadn’t even considered this up until this point, as if people wouldn’t judge him because of his clothing choices. His sigh was as deep as Gringotts oldest vault. “Ignorance is bliss”

Mr. Scamander cleared his throat, already done with his shoes, and possibly with their shenanigans. “Can we please apparate now?”

They nodded, grabbing the older wizard by the arm, which immediately took them to their desired destination. With a swirl of their surroundings, and a pulling sensation akin to being squeezed in a small tube, they were ready to explore Diagon Alley in all of its clownish, too loud, and too bright glory. First on their list? Olivanders. Tom was practically dragging his companions there, ignoring their snickers. He ignored them, not willing to wait any longer, it was already bad with two clumsy idiots on his sides. 

They stepped into the shop, relived that there weren’t many young witches and wizards getting their wands here yet, with it being a bit before the usual hottest time of the year. This whole affair didn’t need crowds, Tom reasoned, and he would get annoyed at the kids way too easily anyhow, he had enough of them on the daily for the past fifteen years. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. the shop looked the same way Tom remembered it from five years ago, when he got here with Dumbledore. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner with its owner on it. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the small shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it. A definition of ancient looking. 

“Hello, Hello!” The shopkeeper said happily, watching them attentively, his eyes knowingly passing over him and Mister Scamander. They both got their wands from him, and obviously remembered them- the man took weird pride from knowing every client of his. “Apple wood and kelpie hair, ah, one of my most daring projects yet. I see it serves you well, Newton?”

“Of course, it’s as good as the first day.” Newt replied sheepishly, his shoulders hunched as if to make him appear smaller, not that it was achievable when being so tall. Despite his achievements the man did not carry himself with enough confidence in Tom’s not so humble opinion, he was a respectable wizard and should carry himself as such. Ollivander didn’t seem surprised, however, already locking eyes with himself. 

“Yes, yes. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. A rare core indeed, a Phoenix feather gives the greatest power range and allegiance hard won. You can do such great things with it” the man cooed, a dazed sort of quality to his eyes. Tom nodded idly at the praise, showing off his possession to the maker of it, who gave the tool a warm, fond smile. 

“It truly is amazing, never failed me before, but we have another matter for today, sir.” He said politely, trying to introduce Harry. Before being rudely ignored when the shopkeeper locked eyes with the said boy, Newt pat him on the shoulder, probably to communicate it wasn’t a thing to get angry over. Putting on a smile, he nodded at the man, quickly going back to his observation. 

It was a whole different speech with a new client, when the insane man watched them as if searching their soul, but the teen wasn’t surprised at all. Almost as if it wasn’t his first time here. Suspicious. 

“Oh? Who do we have here? You look like a Potter” It was his first time? But? Wasn’t Olivander eccentric to most people? Shouldn’t the other have a reaction besides a small polite smile? Harry couldn’t possibly be a Potter though, and Tom suppressed an urge to roll his eyes; they were a very rich, sophisticated pureblood family, a bit on the light side. Not at all like Harry; with his sarcasm and tales of stealing his first wand, or other daring things- he still wasn’t sold on the whole racing with a Dragon on a broom story. More importantly, Euphemia and Fleamont were alive, and had no children, their struggles known in the upper class circles. Olivander, though usually brilliant, was really pushing it with this, to think he wanted some new information out of this…

“That is in fact my name” 

“…” Both him and Newt were speechless, glued to the floor, staring at the back of Harry’s messy hair and then at each other. It was possible Newt knew the Potter’s too… But, wait a minute- 

Actually, when he thought about it, he was played by Harry yet again, and he wanted to slap himself so hard for it. How did Tom forget he didn’t actually get to hear Harry’s last name until now? What a rookie mistake this was!? Ugh, he suppressed an urge to groan, before making the wheels in his head turn again. Was Harry a long-lost relative of the Potters, perhaps? A bastard or a cousin? 

Ollivander knew his way around family trees, it wasn’t a mere coincidence, things like this didn’t happen. Tom didn’t believe in coincidences, and this absolutely stunk of fishy. But he kept his face calm, though his mind was going faster than a prototype broom near a snitch; Newt didn’t fare as well, his mouth agape. Tom reached out a hand to close it for him, mimicking the man’s way of sheepish smiling, mirroring always worked when in need of sympathy.

“No relation to Fleamont? Are you sure?” Ollivander asked again.

“I don’t think so, sir. I’m an orphan, and it’s a popular last name.” Harry replied politely, before shrugging- waiting for the man to grab a wand he thought most suitable for him, only for the wand maker to look at him from head to toe again. Again, he looked like he has done this before, and Tom couldn’t shake the feeling of it not being right. 

“Sure, sure. I have a feeling I have just the right wand for you here, young man.” The man said with confidence, disappearing amongst tall shelves the second any of them blinked,”. How could such a small shop be a labyrinth was still a mystery to Tom, even with knowledge of enlargement charms.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Harry. It always takes ages” Newt said a tad too honestly, before conjuring them stools to patiently sit on, as the madman wandmaker did his thing. Subsequently, giving Tom time to think of Harry’s possible heritage; It was good time to write to Orion anyway, he would do it as soon as he reached a quill. If he noticed Harry watching him with an expression that said ‘I can hear you thinking’ he ignored it. 

The process of choosing one’s wand was always an ardours one, long and intricate- and honestly, totally annoying. Inconvenient at best. The more special the wizard, the worse the whole spiel with Ollivander was, despite him being not so much older than them. At least from what he heard and experienced. The first wand came in, and Tom was properly curious and enthusiastic about what kind of special tool Harry would get, but his enthusiasm died down after the first dozen. He started rocking back and forth on his conjured stool (one leg was noticeably shorter), watching dust fall onto the floor of the stuffy room. The others… technique didn’t help either. 

Most of the wands caused disasters of all kinds in Harry’s hands- from shattering lamps to flying boxes, they obviously weren’t the one.  Tom’s curiosity and boredom spiked interchangeably, his eyes darting to the overly colourful street outside; brimming with happiness and abundance in the face of a horrific war. Ignorants, all of them here. The second dozen of wands already passed, and he was getting sleepy by now, sounds of chatter on the street lulling him to a fake feeling of comfort. Not unlike a common room. He could swear on his magic Mr. Scamander was snoring from time to time too, despite denying the fact when he was woken up by another dangerous wand choice- not that it deterred the owner of this place. Not at all; on the contrary he seemed to get more into it as time went on, and Harry indulgently waited for him; not speaking a word while testing the given wands- it looked like he was waiting for something, but every time the weird wizard came back with another set of wands the hope disappeared time and time again. Wrong. It was all subtly wrong; and Tom Riddle was no fool, he knew Harry well enough by now.

Trying desperately not to fall asleep like an idiot, he tuned into what was going on around the dusty shop. “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere! Hm, I wonder, now” The man mumbled to himself, throwing boxes left and right as he searched for what looked like a prize of a lifetime. Thankfully, all the boxes had woven in cushion charms, so there won’t be a faulty wand in someone’s hands later on.

The gibberish didn’t stop, all the while Tom struggled with keeping himself conscious. “Yes, why not, unusual combination. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." His ears immediately perked up, and his back straightened with interest, his mind sharp enough to see the feral grin on Harry’s scarred face. It made the boy look absolutely wild, predator like, and Tom found it made his stomach do a flip. 

“Oh! Yes, we can try that” It was the first verbal confirmation of interest, and Tom could basically taste the lie in the words spoken. Harry took the wand without hesitation, it’s box pristine but disgustingly dusty. Tom felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as if he was handling the wand; it must be the familiar bond of their magic speaking. It felt exhilarating, just right, as magic flooded the space. Harry raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. 

Mr. Scamander whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious” Tom had his suspicions of what was so curious about this, and barely held in his urge to shake Harry by the shoulders and demand an explanation- somehow the boy knew exactly what wand would choose him, and the core left barely anything to the imagination. Just what was Harry playing at? What did he know?

“Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember? I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter, the same as Mr. Riddle” The shopkeeper laughed, looking at them not hiding a smile.

“Brother wands you two have. Protection and Death, really symbolic” Mr. Scamander almost fell off his stool when he heard this declaration, his nervous giggle filling the room.  Of course, Newt knew just why they could have similar wands, he was the one who made them aware of their bond. Well, the one who made Harry aware.

 It was hard not to shut the wizard's mouth with a hex or a glare, but Tom managed- instead looking at Harry. Just what was the boy playing at, and how did he know this wand would choose him? Tom had no idea, and it made Harry so much more mysterious than before, which he didn’t think possible.  Brother cores… An equal at last, someone as special as him, a small voice in the back of his head said.

Who are you, Harry? He wanted to ask, but couldn’t, it wouldn’t give him an answer he desired- Tom had to dig deeper into this, deeper than ‘an orphan’ explanation his companion was ready to give.

“I’ll write to Albus, tell him his Phoenix feather found a match” Harry smiled happily at the mention, though it looked strained at the edges, and Tom couldn’t help but grimace. He hated that disgusting old pig. Thankfully it escaped notice of everyone in the room, and he was free to finally stand back up, just behind Harry nonetheless, with the excuse of little space.

“Great! Tell him he will get a brand new brilliant student. Harry here is great with magical creatures” Newt said, happily paying for the wand, all the seven galleons provided by him. Tom liked generous people and as such started thanking him profusely, Mr. Scamander was easy to please. 

“No! You don’t need to pay Mister Scamander! You already helped me and Tom so much.” Harry cried, but it was as if the older wizard turned deaf in an instant. 

“No need Harry, no need at all” 

“Yes, don’t be so rude, Harry. Newt gave you a gift, you should be more grateful” He argued, feeling joy at the resulting frown of displeasure Harry downed, the magizoologist laughed heartily and shook his head.

“Were all your talks in parseltounge like this?” He asked, making his way to the door, stretching his back a bit, mirth in his voice evident. In fact, all of their conversations in parseltounge were all so much worse. 

“No” He said with full composure. There is an image he wants to upkeep, and childlike bickering is not a part of it.

“Exactly like that” Harry agreed, not caring at all about decorum, which Tom should know by now. But it still made him rub his face in his hands. Harry Potter and his carefree look on life will be the death of him… Two of his companions erupted in laughter, and he shook his head, taking them to Flourish and Blotts without looking back- they had things to do after all, and he rather not be late to prison (orphanage) this time. Though last time it gifted him a thing even more powerful than a blood pact or an unbreakable vow- familiar magic, just when he deemed himself incapable of such strong light magic, it fell right into his hands willingly. 

He has never been good with those spells requiring feelings, such as a Patronus- his emotions were no more than murky sensations at the back of his skull; it was easier to ignore them than dissect them, like and dislike mushed together into incoherence. So much said for more intricate ones. Since his magic connected to Harry’s though? That’s a whole different thing he needs unholy amounts of calming draught for. Tom can just feel the power rolling off of them in waves, like they’re both synced up, he just knows media will swoon at their story. 

A familiar is such an old branch of magic… one of the purest kinds, that no one dares to look down upon, not even old Dumbledore. With his supremacists views on Dark families, as if all of them are his enemy- and not Grindelwald, he actively chooses not to fight. That hypocrite who made a blood pact with the man, yes t had noticed, but how he managed to destroy it was a thing of its own. He has seen the duels, none of the wizards actually trying to harm each other, besides Grindelwald looked more excited than anything. He and Harry won’t be like those fools, he’ll make sure they’ll be unstoppable together, he thinks. The moment when me turned into us unclear. 

Chapter Text

After half a day spent shopping around in Diagon Alley with Tom and Newt, most annoying of which were the clothes. Outrageously elegant, and chosen by Riddle specifically to ‘accent his eyes’ or some other bullshite of the kind, because it would be a crime against humankind if he bought a red one like he was used to wearing. Why did a budding evil blood supremacist care so much about clothing was beyond his understanding of the world? It didn’t help that Newt couldn’t stop giggling all the while, making him feel bad for having the man spend so much on himself. Was it fun to watch as he changed from one suit into a robe and then again? He supposed Newt had money to throw around, just like he himself had previously, but he didn’t feel worthy of such kindness. Tom had no such qualms, pushing onto him everything he found adequate with twinkling eyes- Harry almost felt spoiled by him. A strange thought indeed. 

They were finally going back to the orphanage, being dropped off at Mr. Scamander’s house of course; packages neatly shrunk to fit into his pockets, careful not to cause suspicion. They already had much explaining, or smuggling to do, solely dependent on Mrs. Cole’s mood. There was a handsome brunette on his right, and if not for the fact his name was Tom Riddle, it would have been an amazing day spent away from the harsh reality of London. As it was, the boy was a bit grumpy, in a way cats were when petted too long, and he mulled over the whole familiar bond thing he knew next to nothing about. Harry supposed it was too much stimulation for the taller wizard, who stubbornly refused to state the fact; honestly there were things from today he was still unsure about, but it wasn’t all bad and stress inducing, for example his eyesight was good as new now. Most of it had been good actually, more fun than Hogsmead with Hermione and Ron actually… He was really deeming Tom Riddle to be good company now. Shit, he had to rethink his life choices.

The shopping was a fun activity, and it felt good to spend time with the two introverts- that didn’t mean his feelings toward the whole familiar bond were settled, but it was a start. Okay, maybe he felt himself melt a bit when Tom noticed and healed his scraped knees, but he wouldn’t let the boy off the hook just like that. There was a small voice in his head that told him no one bothered to check on such small things before, and Harry shut it in a metaphorical cupboard; he really wasn’t ready to face that whole liking the murderer of his parents thing. He knew he had to come to terms with it, at some point, but definitely not now- he would rather drown himself in a spoonful of poly juice potion. 

When he was inevitably done panicking about having fucking fangs in his very human mouth, and feeling someone else’s magic in his body (extremely anxiety inducing if not for its calming effect) he realized their shared magic may even be beneficial in a way; Tom can’t really hurt him, or it will affect them both, as per nature of familiar bonds. At least he thought it’s what they were, with no recent known bond of the kind in his timeline he released couldn’t be sure- he never really listened to Professor Binns. All that he knew, they were born out of need to care and protect, simultaneously blocking the parties from any serious fighting; usually it was used to enhance magical ability, a relationship beneficial for a witch and a magical creature, but- well, yeah, but- Harry really didn’t know how it was supposed to work here. 

They were both wizards, and shared many abilities already, maybe they could share magic as well? The feeling of Tom’s ice-cold one surely felt like it, not that it was unpleasant. Weird, since he didn’t really like the cold, he has had enough of it by the second task.

From his little understanding of the term, though, it meant his annoying scars won’t even come into being. Tom Riddle, his familiar, will never murder anyone if Harry’s enough of a nuisance, problem solved- only it meant devoting his whole life to the cause, and honestly Harry just wanted a semi normal life this time. Just when he thought he could finally have it… It was his dream since he was young, and he didn’t feel the need to throw it away just yet, he deserved the peace. He had a leverage over a dark lord, wasn’t that enough? Apparently not.

How and when did it happen, tough? Harry hasn’t got a single clue. Their past month and a half living together was mostly comfortable companionship, with nothing worthy of noting, other than him actively stealing Lord Voldemorts noodles. It was almost comical how homely his stay as a snake was… That form was strangely comfortable sometimes, and as he thought countless times already, it was amazing for cuddling. Dropping that line of intrusive thoughts though, he could just ask, the other looked too tired to oppose him either way, and Tom had no reason to lie on this particular thing. It was fun making him appease Harry’s whims, he could see why Draco bossed his lackey’s around now. 

“When did it happen?” He hummed, almost like an afterthought, his eyes all but consuming the vintage road, savouring the feeling of summer sunshine on his skin. It was good to be human again, and to have his wand with him too, it felt safe, like he could face his ‘new’ life without it having terrible consequences later on. 

“Hm?” Tom mumbled incoherently, clearly being taken out of his dark brooding thoughts by force, and Harry felt no remorse. The wizard in question was almost always brooding anyway.

“The bond. When did it snap into place?” He asked, not leaving room for argument- because there was this flicker of knowledge in those deep brown eyes, something he almost distinctly linked with Hermione at this point. Who knew all intelligent people had one, even this blood supremacist in the making, maybe he ought to stop thinking of Tom that way. 

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Was aimed at him in a teasing tone, but Harry had no patience for this game right now- his imaginary self took the previous thought and threw it into a rubbish bin forcefully. He shot a jelly leg jinx at Tom when they reached a more secluded street, and thank Merlin surveillance wasn’t around yet. No status of secrecy breach here. Sadly, the teen jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the hex, and smiled. 

“You know, the evening we came back from Newts house for the first time?” Tom asked rhetorically, taking a sharp turn to the left, their destination just at the end of the corner. Harry didn’t expect it, not really having memorized it yet, and admittedly- he was a bit out of touch with human limbs at the moment, so he promptly bumped into Tom’s back with an umpf sound, rubbing his pained nose automatically. It didn’t help he also bot his tongue with the ridiculous fangs, he looked and felt like a freak Uncle Vernon always told him he was. 

“Sorry” He sighed r’s turning into l’s because of his tragic teeth situation, his companion standing statue still- the prick had a nerve to act offended! “Don’t go sulky on me now, Tom, It’s not like I did it on purpose.” Harry said, despite himself, not quite ready for dealing with an angry Riddle for the rest of August. There was no response, only a hand coming to feel his shoulder in a strangely protective gesture. 

In hindsight, he should have known who came to visit them, and apparated to this particular street. Mr. Ollivander, though young, explicitly said he would write to the man. Despite it, Albus Dumbledore never failed to surprise him,  and the knowledge only dawned on his pea brain when he stepped to Tom’s side. 

“Greetings, Professor, I didn’t think I’ll meet you here.” Tom said tersely, unlike anything Harry has heard from him these past weeks; this tone was much more ruthless, and it sent nightmarish shivers down his spine. He hated it, hated knowing what his current companion (friend?) could become. 

“Sorry for appearing unannounced, Tom. I was just informed of a new, unusual addition to Hogwarts this year, and then I heard my Phoenix’s feather imbedded wand found an owner.” There were many political moves going on here, with full hostility between a teacher and a minor, but all his brain could make of this situation was ‘Dumbledore has red hair’. He didn’t know why it was so shocking himself, but then again, the whole situation was weird. This Dumbledore didn’t know him.

“You can imagine my surprise when I checked on the address of the new student, and it was your room, Tom.” Dumbledore announced, picture-perfect grandfather worry written all over his face, not that it covered his dislike for Tom. Harry, could understand it in his time, but not now, not at all; Dumbledore was always the biggest supporter of strays like them. Or was he just the biggest supporter of Harry’s? 

He could feel anger pouring out of Tom by now, the steel control the boy had on his own magical core enviable. Since Harry kind of liked both participants of this strange power play, he decided on de-escalating this as fast as possible. “Nice to finally meet you, sir! You must be Albus Dumbledore?” 

For all his wisdom, and calmness, Dumbledore looked thrown off the rails. It was clear he didn’t expect an enthusiastic welcome nor did he expect him to talk at all, but Harry held no grudge against him; did the man already think Tom was beyond repair at this time? That was outright cruel, and he left the teen to rot away in the orphanage, just like he left Harry at the Dursley’s… There was a theme here.

“Yes that’s me. And you, my boy, must be Harry?” Like you didn’t know that when you checked my address almost slipped out of him, but still there was no need to be as sassy as Tom was, so he placed a placating hand on the other’s palm that was placed on his shoulder. 

“Yup, that’s me” He was really overdoing it with the naive act, but he didn’t actually know how to act like he didn’t know the man; Dumbledore was like his uncle or something, it wasn’t easy pretending to be total strangers. Acting like he didn’t see the hostility in those blue, twinkling eyes.

“And will you explain to me, Harry, how you suddenly enrolled into Hogwarts? With no documentation? And the fact that you conveniently live with one of our most talented students?” And he thought he was prepared for the onslaught of questions. What’s worse than the investigation, however, was the way it was worded- accusatory. Like he already did something bad, by knowing Riddle. 

“Why so much questions, Professor?” Was all but punched out of the boy beside him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tom clench his fist in a very Muggle manner, snow storm of fury that his magic turned into begging to be let loose. He was ready to punch someone, and Harry instinctively covered his hand with his more and squeezed- he shook his head at the boy, it would do them no good. 

“Curiosity Tom. As I said, it’s a feather from my Phoenix in your wands.” There was no denying that, though Tom looked ready to try- Harry spoke first.

“The answers are pretty simple, sir. I have no documentation, because I’m an orphan, secondly I was on the run for all my life, and it must have messed with the school magicks or whatever. I don’t really know how it works” He shrugged a bit, but it didn’t help the blue-grey eyes from searching him, trying to find a weak point. It was a wholly different thing from the warm, helpful gaze of the Headmaster Harry knew; why is young Dumbledore so prejudiced? 

“That still leaves the last question, though. How did you get to know Tom?” There was no such question previously, and he didn’t like the manipulative turn the conversation took. He had a believable explanation just at the end of his tongue, but in a horrific turn of events, Riddle was quicker than him, shutting his mouth right back up with a shit eating grin he displayed. He had almost started to miss having to use glasses because of it, he wouldn’t see it this clearly if it was the case.

“I saved Harry’s life and became his familiar, we’re pretty inseparable since Professor. Can you imagine? Such a strong bond with another wizard?” Tom said, awfully cheery for someone baring their secrets to the world; granted, the Professor would know sooner or later, but it was still a weird thing to rub in someone's face. Surprisingly, Dumbledore visibly backed off a bit, seeming less intimidating now, as he clutched at an empty pendant which looked glued together in a hurry. If he had questions, the wizard didn’t voice them.

“Tom! You flustered my new Professor” He cried, still not ready to drop the act, scared of making a potentially dangerous slip up. There were probably things he shouldn’t know about the man. Thankfully, Riddle for once in his life got the hint and played along. “Our Professor Harry” 

“Sorry sir, are you here to deliver Harry’s acceptance letter?” Tom asked finally, his face back to the sweet and kind smile that was tragically fake in Harry’s eyes, especially met with the raging magic of the boy.

“Both of your letters, actually. Congratulations on becoming a prefect, Tom, Professor Slughorn vouched for you as always.” Dumbledore said, handing them the envelopes. 

“Thank you sir” Tom said flatly. This was the second time he got his own acceptance letter, and he couldn’t help the burst of nostalgia, no longer than next week he will be back at home. Tom hid his own letter, and was about to haul Harry up to their room if need be, but he didn’t budge- instead looking at the envelope, which said ‘Harry James Potter, 

Lamb street 14. Wool’s Orphanage room of Tom Riddle’ The address really was quite ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but smile at it. 

“Yes, thank you for delivering these, sir. I’m sure you didn’t have to, even I know you’re a busy wizard” He said, as if he actually was a child on the run for the whole of his life, not that it was that far from the truth. 

“No problem boys, no problem at all. We’ll see each other at the feast” And with that Dumbledore dissaparated, before Harry could even say his goodbyes.

“Did you just humble Dumbledore?” Tom asked, his shoulders shaking, no longer hiding his laughter. Harry forcibly took away his hand from where it was on the other boy’s, like they were lovers of something- at that moment it seemed like a reasonable action, really. 

“Shut your trap” He hissed in parseltounge, showing off his fangs, happy that they served well as a threat, maybe there were perks to having them. Not that it outweighed their ridiculousness, but Riddle shivered at the sight of them, and Harry could march to the back entrance to the orphanage unbothered. 

The next week went by incredibly fast, despite their increasingly awkward housing situation, and the upcoming school year. Thankfully, Mrs. Cole accepted him being a troubled orphan, and that Tom knew him from the boarding school he went to, fair better than he imagined. Maybe it was his scars, or his sorry underweight state, who was to say? Maybe Dumbledore charmed her before he talked with them? Usually she was much more strict, and Petunia- like. Whatever it was, she accepted their living situation and even added a bed to the already small room, but Harry didn’t mind that it was cramped, most of his life was spent in a cupboard either way. Sharing a room with Tom was strangely nice anyway.

They mostly came back to their routine, born when he was still a snake- though it had considerably fewer cuddles now. To be precise,  the amount of cuddles was; none, because he didn’t need to warm himself anymore, and because it was embarrassing as a human who had a bigger capacity for feeling shame than a snake. All in all, Harry didn’t feel anything when him and Tom left for Kings Cross, none of the usual relief at least, because for once in his life he was actually happy with the way he spent summer. 

Which, for one, was shocking, considering he did nothing but read, sleep, and annoy Riddle with questions about everything and anything, trying to piece what he was supposed to know about forties Europe. It felt more peaceful and satisfying than sharing a room with Ron could ever feel like, and, despite him not doing much of anything, it was fun; he felt relaxed, and well rested. 

Also, he was accepted into fourth year immediately, not like he had feared into the first- Tom, being an annoying prat he was didn’t bat an eyelash at the development, neither did he do it when Harry followed him to the prefect meeting. If it felt like he was stepping into a trap, he ignored it completely. He didn’t want to just sit around with their things, getting bored out of his mind in an empty compartment, okay? 

As soon as they stepped onto the platform, Tom changed their clothes to the school robes without asking. Harry’s were painfully plain for now, not being yet sorted into a house. Obviously, he couldn’t wait for the moment he could sit back at Gryffindor table again. Oh, to see the smug look wiped off Riddle’s face when he sees that, Harry was on cloud nine, but for now he walked beside Tom to the front of Hogwarts Express. Seeing they had not met anyone on their way here, they were the last ones to arrive to the meeting- this horrifying thought was only confirmed when they stepped into the room with around twenty other prefects, all of which Harry didn’t recognize. 

Their eyes all darted to Tom with varying reactions; from awe to blatant disrespect, not once were they impassive, however. Harry had never seen a boy other than himself gather such opposing opinions around himself. So, maybe he lied to himself earlier, there stood a Head Boy with pointy features and platinum blonde hair he knew. Kind of, anyway.

“Malfoy” Harry couldn’t help, but choke out. Both Tom and the Malfoy in question looked utterly bewildered, and the rest of the room was surprised to see a student without a house on a Prefect meeting, eyes trying to pry him open in search of an answer. Distantly he was aware how strange it must look, how bizarre he looked here with his plain robes and a person like Tom Riddle on his right. This was one of his worst entrances yet. Harry would be surprised, too, if he wasn’t preoccupied with staring at an almost exact copy of Draco, only that this one was older.

“You know him, Harry?”

“You know him Riddle?” Two questions were spoken simultaneously, but Tom ignored the latter turning his head to look at him, as he shook his head of his stupor. It was not the time to reveal he knew the Head Boys’s unborn son, and grandson. He presumed that’s who they were, at least. 

“Malfoy's are ridiculously easy to recognize because of their hair, you know Tom. The same goes with the Blacks.” He offered, still not quite over the similarities of the two family members. Riddle didn’t actually bite into his excuses, but he didn’t push further two, and Harry for once considered this a success.

“Well, Abraxas certainly takes pride in his luscious ponytail” Tom fires at him with a near deadpan, that makes him stifle a laugh with a fake cough. 

“Granted it looks very good on him Tom” He responds, trying to sound earnest and not like Tom Riddle dissed the upcoming two Death Eaters of his, one of which didn’t exist yet. The room was deadly silent, shocked faces all around them. Some even dared to laugh, only to receive a pointed glare for the head boy.

“That’s what all the girls say” Tom sighed. Even the head girl, who was a witch from Hufflepuff that looked weirdly like Madam Pomfrey, rolled her eyes. Their resemblance was really uncanny, he could even see the same fussy attitude in the way she put her hands on her hips. Oh, god. This was young Madam Pomfrey! Harry almost fell over on Tom when he realized this, thankfully the boy steadied him without a second thought.

“Thank you… What’s your name?” Abraxas Malfoy asked, both stunned and flustered by the compliment, while his hand went to his high ponytail unconsciously. Harry smiled at him politely, ready to introduce himself.

“His name is Harry” Tom retorted before he could speak, and Harry hit him across the head to the utter horror of everyone in the room, they were full of barely hidden anticipation. What was there to fear or expect, he had no clue- Riddle was uncharacteristically rude, and Harry sought to rectify that. 

“And I can speak for myself Tom” He bit out, trying to glare at Riddle, and not to stare at Poppy Pomfrey, now a young, Hufflepuff head girl, energetic with wavy brown hair pinned back from her face. She certainly aged well if she was this old, that is to say Harry had never asked about the witches age before. 

“No need to be a vicious snake about it, then. I just-“ Tom started before the head girl stopped him, and Harry couldn’t thank her enough in his mind. Poppy Pomfrey always came to rescue him in the most annoying way possible, he loved that about the mediwitch- she was a good constant to have in his turbulent life.

“I hope you have a good reason to bring an unknown student to the Prefect meeting, Riddle. You have never been one to ignore the rules” The witch asked with worry, and a hint of uncertainty looking at Harry; he couldn’t help the smile he sent her. There wasn’t actually a way to dislike Madam Pomfrey, she was a good-natured woman who wished everyone well.

Then again; it made sense she was suspicious, he didn’t exactly look the role of a first year, and did wear robes that didn’t indicate his house- courtesy of Tom. When he’s in trouble, it’s always Riddle. 

“That’s because I didn’t ignore any rules Poppy” The brunette said, so full of himself as to leave a dramatic pause at the end of the sentence, luring everyone to listen in on his little secret. Dramatic prick.

Harry had none of it, and he saw a good opportunity to knock Tom’s arrogance by a notch. “Tom’s my familiar, you see. Of course, I wanted to see what his duties looked like. I don’t think there’s a rule against bringing familiars to the prefect meeting. Am I wrong, Tom?” He said, sickly sweet, watching Malfoy and a few other Slytherin prefects choke on their spit, murmurs of gossip already filling the room, whispers of ‘A mudblood’ and what not.

Riddle, sadly, had no embarrassing reaction to this display, in fact he didn’t even look mad, only slightly miffed that his grand speech was ended abruptly. “Not at all Harry” Tom said, a lazy, fake arse smile on his normally pretty rose lips. The sentence was announced with no small hint of annoyance, but no embarrassment Harry hoped for. 

“But Tom can’t be-“ Madam (not yet, but it was weird calling her anything else) Pomfrey disagreed, her usual fussy nature seeping through. “He’s a wizard, and you certainly look like a wizard, so-” 

“That’s Impossible” Malfoy ended her sentence, watching them closely, his pupils becoming smaller and smaller- especially when his eyes fell on Harry. Years of training prepared him for every kind of suspicious glare a member of that family could hit him with. 

Abraxas looked downright petrified when he didn’t acknowledge his presence again, and it left him to wonder; do they think I can control Tom or something? If he has done something bad to anyone, it’s not my fault. Harry wanted to say he was innocent, but the milk was already spilled. He wasn’t responsible for this arsehole, not wholly anyway. His plan backfired both badly and rapidly, now he was going to be famous around the school in no time- at the mere thought of it he felt sick in the stomach. 

“It’s not impossible, as you can all see. Harry and I are both wizards, and we confirmed the bond with Mr. Scamander. If anyone here knows diagnostic charms, you’re free to see for yourself. Professor Dumbledore also knows this” Tom said, eyeing Pomfrey with calm grace, grabbing Harry to step in to the middle of the room; he sighed both in exasperation and something he refused to name, not really used to being so held onto by Tom. 

Did he kickstart some weird touch starved part of the boy when he was a snake, or something? Did this bond require a certain closeness? He didn’t have time or resources to research it yet… 

Madam Pomfrey, a future mediwitch extraordinaire, wasted no time doing a check-up on them for everyone to see. Harry tensed, not happy to be more abnormal to everyone than he was already- but it was hard being anxious when even Tom’s magic pulsed with a sense of sureness and pride, constantly pumping the feeling to his veins. It was a losing battle, he relaxed before he could fully rile himself up.

Results came in as a blue shimmer, similar to the one Mr. Scamander’s spell made, and young Poppy Pomfrey gasped. “It’s true! They’re bonded.” The room seemed to erupt with noise at the admittance, both disgusted, racist, awed, and weird comments thrown at them without mercy.

“Is that allowed?” 

“Poufs” 

“Of course Tom Riddle has one…”

“Filthy Mudbloods”

“That’s so rare!”

“Who even is that? Do you know him”

“Look at him, rice picker-“ So on, and so forth, in the small, humid space it was even worse to listen to than in the Great Hall. He was used to being bullied, but even his bullies chose better places to insult him to his face than this, probably so that their words stick more. A cacophony of voices screaming their opinions in his face was certainly nothing new, but he didn’t want this in this life, and yet it came to find him from beyond the grave. Fame was a vicious partner in life.

He obviously didn’t catch all the words aimed at him, nice or otherwise, but one especially cruel comment stuck ‘Of course, can’t you see his skin? Like an animal, so the bond could form. There’s no difference after all’. He wanted to vomit. His head hurt, his anger was all-time high, and he wanted to hex something. 

Harry fucking hated the forties with a passion; in that very moment it became obvious what kind of decade it was, even in the magical world. He heard so many comments about it in the orphanage this week too, but it was always behind his back, and in the Muggle world. Diagon Alley certainly wasn’t like that. Wizards, supposedly, didn’t care. Key word being, supposedly, because Harry wasn’t even that dark to begin with, and he already had enough of it. Hell, he was desi, and India was still a British colony, it made him want to punch something. He wanted to jump the disgusting pig that said that, and hex them seven ways to Sunday! It left him missing the still heavily flawed world of the nineties, but alas he couldn’t exactly go back. 

Sometime when he was bursting with rage at the unfounded comments, there was a silencing spell put on the room, and he looked around to see who cast it. There was an unmistakable yew handle sparkling in Tom’s hands; which Harry found out, twice now, could be used for compassionate things as well. He couldn’t help but offer a grateful smile up at the brunette, whose gaze swept over the people gathered with absolute disgust. Lord Voldemort stopping racist comments? More likely than you think.

“If someone dares to insult Harry like that again, they can very well challenge me to a duel. There is no need for Muggle misconduct here” Came from the tall boy’s lips, as he smirked; there was something deeply possessive in the gesture that made Harry shiver and feel like a treasure, despite it being deeply rooted in blood supremacist agenda. It wasn’t what he expected to feel at all, and buried those reactions down deep, deeper even than the unexpected friendship with Riddle that started to form. “Can we start with the actual meeting now? We’re already five minutes late” 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to care for boring, ordinary prefect stuff after that, too overcome with emotion; he didn’t actually care about rules, and he suspected he never will. If he knew a rule of the school, it was all the more possible he would break it in the near future; for example the forbidden forest, or the third floor corridor in first year- it was better he was left unaware. Students were soon boarding the train, and he silently walked around with Tom and Abraxas, checking if everyone was doing well. He never expected to see a Malfoy so well-mannered for a change, and if he had to guess it had something to do with Tom’s prestige. 

Was there already a small group of Death Eaters forming? More importantly, was Draco’s grandfather in it? Seeing as he went on and off about his holiday in France, it didn’t seem likely, but he also wouldn’t call the two boys friends. Tom wasn’t actually interested in the story, not like he was with Newt, at least. Harry tuned them out, basking in the happy presence that Hogwarts Express provided trying to calm himself, glad he was finally going back home. Sooner rather than later he found himself in an empty compartment, seated near the window, with only Tom for his company. 

Malfoy was getting them something to eat from the trolley, unprompted; Harry suspected it was to get into his good graces, not that he knew what for. “He wants you to like him so bad it’s almost amusing” Tom said after a minute of heavy silence. Oh, so they won’t speak of the meeting then? Good. The trap he fell right into was retroactively obvious. 

“Never seen a Malfoy being a brown noser” He hummed, looking out the window at the moving landscape, wondering why Tom wanted to announce him so early. It had to be a part of some greater plan with this git.

“You sure looked like you knew what to expect” Tom said, observing him. Fuck, it was such a huge slip up.

“I know my stuff” He tried enigmatically, fully aware he wasn’t supposed to know a knut about pureblood culture other than what Tom told him. Breathe in. Breathe out, this year is going to be fairly normal. At least Riddle won’t try to take his life for once. 

“That I can see. Wait until you see my other pawns, It’s fun watching them struggle to understand things” Tom sighed tiredly, rolling his shoulders, his eyes betraying he didn’t think Harry’s knowledge was a coincidence. 

No matter how bad his slip was, he had worse things to worry about now; There actually were prototype death eaters forming? Harry felt a chill going down his spine at the thought,  feeling as if he was electrocuted underwater. And here he was, thinking Riddle was still an ordinary, talented boy. It wasn’t that bad, was it? He saw the original formation just the summer before, and didn’t like it.

“I hope they do no more than bring you sweets” There was a beautiful river just by the window.

Tom hummed non-committally. The compartment opened to reveal Malfoy, with a pile of food, and one small second year boy who looked like a tiny, less ragged version of Sirius with a slightly different jaw and nose. His whole air was certainly different from his family member, though. 

“I stumbled upon Orion on the way here. He said he has the information you asked for, Riddle” Malfoy said before seating himself comfortably, placing all the snacks near Harry. Trying not to roll his eyes was hard, but Orion didn’t seem bothered by the older boy's antics; actually, it looked liked he thought Malfoy was dirt for him to walk on. 

“Fantastic. Do you have the family trees I asked for?” Tom asked, more politely than when talking to Abraxas; Harry could see why. Orion exuded an air of command at such a young age, and would grow up to be a powerful player, plus a cruel father, if his guesses were right. He had to be worshipped in Slytherin, like the pureblood prince he saw himself as. Harry searched his mind for things Sirius told him about his parents and immediate family, for something useful; there wasn’t much- he only knew the name of his mother; Walburga Black. 

“I have. Can I ask what you- or, this lovely unknown wizard beside you, want to do with them?” Orion asked, eyeing Harry up and down wolfishly- his snake brain didn’t like it one bit, and took control of his actions. Harry smiled, showing off his fangs ‘not threateningly’, but it was definitely meant as a threat. He didn’t like the boy, and neither did he like being looked down upon by a literal child- it all felt off. Like he was proving he was dangerous, trying not to get attacked; it made him appreciate Tom’s easy company more.

Orion’s mask flicked out of existence for a second, a moment so brief Harry didn’t quite catch the emotion. One thing was for certain- he was tired of Slytherins and their mind-games already. Tom didn’t seem to mind.

“You may. I wanted to see if there is anyone of connection to Harry, worthy of buttering up for our cause” There was no way to distinguish if it was a lie or not, and Harry kept smiling at Orion unperturbed. Tom certainly didn’t see a reason to stop him, not even talking about his ‘causes’, Harry was sure he didn’t want to know about.

“Of course, and those whispers of a familiar I keep hearing?” Orion asked, making Harry want to- for the first time in his life, throw a child out of a moving train. It was obvious the boy knew exactly what happened earlier, and was unceremoniously putting his nose where it didn’t belong. Judging from Tom’s magic- he seemed to think that children playing politics were entertaining, and Harry thought he was ready to wipe the floor with the kid.

“Harry says he can speak for himself” Tom deadpanned, and Harry wanted to sigh, or facepalm. Maybe even kick himself in the shin. Those were indeed his words, and Orion rose an expectant eyebrow, not knowing why Tom was so cheerful about the fact. 

Harry cursed such a profanity at Tom in parseltounge that he didn’t dare to think of a replacement in English- the boy smiled, and it was his real dazzling smile, too. He rolled his eyes, not before he could hide a smile of his own. Why was it so fun bickering with Tom? When it was so infuriating dealing with his ‘friends’.

Everyone in the compartment stared as he sighed, Abraxas looking at him like he was a second coming of Merlin. Oh, no. He slipped being a parselmouth too… This really wasn’t his day. Because of his time with Newt and Tom, he might have forgotten to reign in his parseltounge, and forgot that it was unusual; Harry idly wondered if Tom opened the chamber of secrets yet. He guessed not, because Malfoy and Black wouldn’t be so surprised then. 

Besides, Riddle looked beyond amused with his fumbling around the two Slytherin boys, he repeated the cursing for good measure and jabbed the boy with his elbow. 

“Ow! Behave yourself, you beast!” Tom snickered, having the time of his life being pushed around the seat. Harry had played right into his games again!

“You deserve it”

The others looked like he had just peed on their beds; that is to say, shocked and offended. Like Harry didn’t have the right to put this miserable evil wizard in his place, or more like, he wouldn’t have his hands if he tried it. Harry was pretty sure Tom wouldn’t let them do the same, but of course, Riddle considered them less than himself. 

He finally faced Orion, trying extremely hard to be polite despite his growing exhaustion; it was hard to think this little brat wasn’t yet someone Harry had the right to punch in the nose. “That’s right. Tom and I are familiars, pretty nice actually, other questions little one? It would be nice to know who you are, though” 

The implication was clear- he knew exactly who he was, but assuming this Orion was more resembling of Draco than his actual ancestor, Harry took the chance to annoy him. Judging from the redness creeping up to Orion’s face he hit the bullseye, Abraxas pretended not to notice, handing him a chocolate frog- he took it without thinking. Harry barely cared if the kid disliked him after this, he already had one dangerous dark wizard to take care of in his free time. Find your own helpful time traveller, Orion.

“Orion Black, heir to the most noble house of Black.” the boy said, giving him a hand to shake. Oh, Harry asked Tom about this previously, it was an official pureblood thing apparently; a show of status or something pretentious like that.

“Harry James Potter. Well met” He responded, shaking the other's hand, before coming back to his snack. He got a young Dumbledore card, which was tragic among many things this day, but the frog didn’t escape, so small victories it is.

Chapter Text

“Potter?” Orion asked, eyes blowing wide before looking him up and down, then at Tom. Riddle didn’t deem the situation worthy of his interference, and Harry rolled his eyes thinking about it. His family must have been more respected than Harry was ever led to believe by some, though he could understand the bad implication of being a pureblood.

It must have left a scar on people fighting in the war.

“Harry. James. Potter. That’s my name, no, no before you ask, not the Potters. Calm your knickers” He sighed, trying to compose himself well enough as not to choke on the chocolate frog he was chewing. Malfoy and Black looked at each other like he has grown two heads, and then at Tom with silent questions basically written on their foreheads.

“Did you just tell me to-“ The youngest wizard started, going pale like alabaster, before ending his sentence abruptly. Looking at his fangs as he ate, his gaze tracing along them like they were the most interesting thing in the world- it made him feel pretty self-conscious.

“Have you tried every flavour beans, Harry?” Malfoy asked, doing a cover-up for the other wizard, his tone smooth. It was actually a very good move, if only he wasn’t traumatized by Dumbledore saying he once got an ear wax when he was young. In his time the worst flavours were actually discontinued, he checked it. For once, he remembered to be brave, not stupid.

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t warn the other two- no one deserved to live that fate, not even Grindelwald, okay maybe that one did. It was just so disgusting. “Yes, I have. Actually, I got an ear wax flavoured one once, and, have never been the same since” 

“…” Even Tom has glanced at him with amusement, the flicker of his magic betraying how funny he found their behaviour.

“They have those in orphanages?” Orion asked on the exhale, standing still in the middle of the compartment, looking like a child lost in a grocery store. Meanwhile, Tom smiled from under the parchment he was gifted, not actually reading it, Harry knew it. He enjoyed watching them, that perverse bastard. 

“No. They don’t, not in Muggle one’s at least. Are there even magical ones?” For real though, he had no clue if there were, then again if such places existed him and Tom wouldn’t have to stay in frequently bombed London of all places. 

“There aren’t” Abraxas chimed in, trying no doubt to be helpful, though it was more awkward than anything- it had to be a talent of his to ignore social cues. 

“How did you get your hands on magical sweets, then? Riddle, are you fattening your familiar up?” Orion asked, trying his luck at provoking Tom, but, who could know that contrary to popular belief Lord Voldemort could be an oasis of patience at will.

“Harry… has a stealing problem. We are working on it as we speak, but watch your wands” Tom said, still acting very interested in the family trees, he made it look like a slip of tongue. Like it wasn’t information for his lackeys to have, and the two ate it right up- their horrified gasps were proof enough. 

“Oh, but I don’t suppose those weak cores would work for us? Would they?” He asked, very innocently, hands reaching for a pack of lollipops. Actually, it sounded like a good prank, he had to think about it more seriously, that would scare that idiot Orion away from him for good. Thanks, Tom.

“…”

“…” Harry was sure they were scared shitless by now, but they tried not to let them know of such. They tried to cover with barked, nervous laughter, it made Harry satisfied in a way, maybe it would take those infuriating Slytherins off his back. Tom must have had the same kinda of a sadistic idea- for once they could agree on a way to deal with things. It was just enough distress, without causing any serious harm, Harry could live with this kind of Tom his whole life. He could do this. It was fine, he had this under control. 

The rest of the train ride was barely better than the start of it, with Abraxas trying to lick his boots now and again, and Orion desperately trying to come across like an old lord. Harry promptly ignored them, instead focusing on the delicious food, which he found in his lacking manners a need to thank for. Overall, he was over it, and missed his friends dearly, feeling tragically isolated already. Not even a day of the new term has passed, and Harry felt like he already made more enemies than in his previous life all together; where was Ron with his dumb jokes when you need him? Or Hermione already fussing over exams? There was nothing he could focus on other than his situation, other than the beat of the rails underneath him; at this pace he will go as crazy and as deranged as original Riddle. 

Because by now he refused to mingle the unexpectedly caring and sarcastic boy sitting with him knee to knee with a sociopath that didn’t know what feelings are. This Tom could have a bright future if he only wanted to. But first, they really ought to make more normal friends, or else Harry will slowly, but surely rip all of his hair out- the point being, Slytherins are frustrating. 

After two miserable hours, Malfoy and Black left them alone, knowing they wouldn’t gather much information or anything from sticking with them longer. Harry could cry from happiness at the regained peace, going boneless against the window instantly, left to his own devices; Tom was studying the family trees from Orion silently- for real this time, his face in its most comfortable frown. Harry found it strangely endearing, without the good boy act, or a mask- Tom Riddle was annoying, sarcastic, and rarely smiled, but he was authentic. Actually it wasn’t so much of a frown, it was just the wizard's neutral expression- a way to save his energy, Harry noticed; despite being an extremely charismatic character, Tom didn’t have the greatest social battery. Riddle that Harry knew liked to spend his time planning dark schemes, and dramatic entrances, falling so deep in his research he sometimes forgot to eat or drink; definitely not preparing to take over the world, or that’s what let him sleep well at night.

Deep-rooted fears aside, Tom preferred doing things alone, or with someone who didn’t bother him with small talk, unlike the two pureblood vultures circling around their bones before. Harry was glad Riddle didn’t stop them from going away just because he found their presence amusing, he might have resorted to violence if not for that.

It was like the boy had two modes; all or nothing, complete silence or deafening thunder, his world was turned tragically black and white as a result. Harry chose the nothing option for now, as if pressing a button, falling into a companionable silence, much like in the Orphanage- it was a bit sad he couldn’t use the boy’s lap as a makeshift pillow, but tragically, he wasn’t a house pet anymore. He opted for swishing his wand mindlessly trying intricate movements for the spells he was going to learn this year, because he had the time to read his textbooks now. Hermione would be proud. If his eyes shed a few tears thinking of his past life, practically grieving his own death- Tom didn’t comment, his steady, caring stream of magic being enough of a reassurance.

As sad as it sounds, there was no one they had in this world- only each other, and though the thought filled Harry with both comfort and fear, he knew it was true, them against the world. If he ever finds a way to go back, Harry would leave a completely innocent friend to rot away, and become a monster with no one but vile, disgusting wizards for company. He doesn’t think he could do that, or survive it without going insane from guilt- no one in the whole wide world needed him more than Tom. You need him as much too, a voice in the back of his head said, you were always so lonely, so misunderstood- he ignored it, instead looking out the window at the wide plains of fields where the eye could see.

There was no one to bother them for the rest of the train ride- the previous four years this must have been Tom just sitting all alone for the whole day, a child without anyone on his side to keep company, share his thoughts with. Harry knew what it felt like. It was rather pathetic, a pitiful image of a boy that had no real friends, no people willing to spend their time with him. His mind's eye could practically overlap the images of him in the cupboard, and Tom here on the train, it was unnerving to think about it too long. 

Black and Malfoy only came to check on them to make sure of the newest gossip, or political standings and what not, but never really for Tom- he could be anyone else if he provided them with the same things. A sensation, a wizard powerful enough to rally behind maybe, never a friend. It certainly didn’t help that Riddle thought of himself like he was other, more special, gifted, when the only thing he actually might be was lonely; alienating oneself like that did no good. Harry also didn’t think neither Hermione nor Ron could replace him that easily, because he actually meant something to them. He was treated as a normal teenager by them, most of the time at least, but his companion didn’t have the same privilege bestowed upon him. Tom probably wouldn’t know love and affection if it hit him in the face, having never experienced them. 

When the train inevitably stopped, it was already after nightfall, Scottish skies full of stars. Creaks, and excited voices were all around him, because of that Harry was having such a good nap- and someone was daring to shake him out of it! Unforgivable.

“Wake up Harry! We’re already here.” A voice said, making him want to crawl in a hole and die. He was just getting comfortable, and his lovely cousin was probably trying to make his life hard again. 

“No… Stop it Dudley.” He said, wriggling on something soft and warm before kicking out, he didn’t know what his surroundings were at all. 

“It’s me, you sleeping beauty. Come on” That sounded uncharacteristically soft, and Harry grimaced, it was like Riddle was toying with him again. He wasn’t back with his Aunt and Uncle, he was on the Hogwarts Express. 

But, well, that was a good reason to actually wake up- Harry had to admit. He nodded, and rubbed his eyes before standing up, when he exactly fell asleep unclear, he felt well rested though; It felt like his pillow was shuffling, and he opened his eyes with a big yawn. There wasn’t a second of hesitation as he began mechanically walking to the least cramped exit without waiting. Riddle was surprised enough at this development to fall back for a glorious second, though his long legs caught up with Harry’s rather short steps quick enough. Luckily, the boy wasn’t on Prefect duty to check if everyone left, and they were free to go with the rest of the students. 

His barely working mind began taking him in the direction of the carriages, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him after a mere two steps out of the train. What now? 

“You go with the first years, Harry. The boat ride is really magical, you just have to see it.” What? Oh, yes. The boat ride, he was totally, absolutely taking for the first time. He has never seen this school at all. Harry was sure his expression was the blankest it could be, there may be many careers ahead of him, but being an actor wasn’t in his cards.

“Sure?” To be completely honest, he has forgotten the boat ride even existed, with the happenings of the last two months there were more immediate things to process. 

School tradition wasn’t his priority, mostly in the sense that he has already done the boat ride once, and didn’t actually need to see it. The twinkle in the back of Riddles deep brown eyes went unnoticed, and Harry began searching for the firsties.

“What are you waiting for, then? Go.” Tom giggled, shaking his head like Harry was being a silly goose. Personally, he thought the tall boy should sod off and mind his business. 

“You?”

“…” Harry had never seen the other wizard blink so many times in a row, a blush slowly creeping up on his cheeks up to hi ears. Tom had never looked so adorable. 

It didn’t help Harry was a bit sleepy, still not fully processing what he said or thought, so it was a bit hard to be coherent- the small compartment, and the soothing motions of the train made him give in to a false sense of security for a time; the knowledge that Tom Riddle would hex anyone daring to touch him went a long way with it too. 

“I can’t go with you. Anyway, it won’t take long. Don’t be scared.” Tom finally said, when Harry’s more subtle inner voice told him just how embarrassing he was making the situation; flustered wasn’t even the right description of his emotional state. 

“Oooh! Right, okay!” If he was dying out of embarrassment here, it was his own fault, and he already took a long step toward the right direction this time, backing away as fast as he could. What has got into him!? Why did Tom react?

His brain finally started working on providing necessary information; It always took way longer to travel with the boats, but he had to get sorted into the lion’s den somehow, and it would be full of complications if he didn’t trail the youngest wizards. Hogwarts, just you wait.

There was someone Harry didn’t know yelling for the first years to gather just as he decided on what to do. “See you around” He threw at Tom offhandedly, running away from his idiotic behaviour at once, he could very well hear Riddle starting to laugh long after he lost sight of him. 

Some people were already following him with their eyes, and he ignored his burning face, and made his escape as swift as possible. It helped, he was already taking off into the right direction before, watching the unknown Professor guide the younger students.

Harry couldn’t help but feel strange going with all the smaller wizards and witches, who were simultaneously younger and older than him. Still better than facing Riddle after acting like that, though. Harry couldn’t believe how shitty this day became, despite his best wishes, and Herculean efforts- the prefect meeting apparently being the tip of the iceberg of his humiliation. There was no one to talk to, and yet plenty of eyes looking at him from where he could see, both older and younger students alike. He helped a few wide-eyed kids get into their boats, and then he was on his way to the castle for the first-second time, for a moment of reprieve. The view from the Great Lake was as devastatingly beautiful as the first time around, if not better. The weather was clear, air crisp, and he found himself in the mood to appreciate the beauty better the second time around. The little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face, making the castle appear seemingly out of nowhere. Welcoming everyone into this vast, magical world of Hogwarts, a safe heaven for every witch and wizard. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of under-ground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered from then on.

A walk through the grounds also held a strong sense of déjà vu for Harry, not that he minded, his love for Hogwarts seemingly never ceasing  in the face of such nostalgia, filling his mind with pure wonder. He half excepted a small Draco to appear out of nowhere, to propose him a friendship- it was hard not to giggle at the thought. Finally, they arrived before the Great hall, making their grand entrance- unlike his first year there were no over the top alliances taking place, however funny he found the idea, no Draco or him fighting on the stairs for McGonagall to stare them down. The woman was actually there, a deal younger than he remembered, but still there. It was a nice tou- Something wasn’t right.

What!? To hell with familiars, this wasn’t supposed to be possible, unless… No, that definitely didn’t work.  Was she a time traveller as well? She did gift Hermione the time turner… Okay scratch that, his head of House was definitely old, but not ancient! However, far back did he estimate her previously, Harry wasn’t even sure she should be alive yet, and most definitely not standing before him as a forty-something. Barely any grey in her hair!  His cough didn’t entirely cover up his pure shock.

No matter how hard his brain tried to deny it, that was definitely her; a tall, stern-looking witch with black hair usually drawn into a tight bun, an imposing figure who can quickly spot trouble. Even her glasses were the same. What’s more, he could see when the witches eyes flickered to him- blazing recognition in the poor woman’s eyes. Harry could swear he saw her mouth ‘James’- and his mind hit amazing speeds, trying to make heads or tails out of this obviously impossible situation. The whole problem felt like bungee jumping without the rope, all of it dumped on his head the first day of school. She at least didn’t know him specifically, not that it was much better, knowing the stories of his father…

There was no escaping McGonagall in Hogwarts he knew, but he was also desperate to try, Gryffindor common room was off limits… Whatever they both knew, from whatever time they were, this did not make any sense, and Harry wasn’t equipped to deal with this. Why was his new life becoming so much more complicated with every new person he met? He knew barely enough about time travel, but this? This didn’t look like a good sign. His father wasn’t born yet, and so she should not recognize him as being similar to the man. Harry himself shouldn’t be here to note the fact, his existence truly an outlaw of nature; those ethereal figures of the day he died a blur in his memories, looking barely real. McGonagall should be absolutely oblivious to whoever he was, and she wasn’t, Harry should not know her, and he did. The irony!

What’s more, he was now an immediate associate of Tom Riddle, how is he supposed to explain that? Harry had no idea what this McGonagall knew of the war, but he rather not test anything. On the other hand, she could prove to be enormous help… The only saving grace this situation had, was that Riddle wasn’t observing his every move like a starved man watches meat on the stove right now, so he wouldn’t know of this. Harry already had an icky type of feeling, one that told him Tom was suspecting something. His heart felt torn between curiosity and logic, mostly because he needed someone to talk to, but mingling with other time travellers probably wasn’t good at all. Not that his method of transporting into the past was orthodox, so it could play by a different set of rules.

Disoriented to no end, he hadn’t heard any of Professors Mc Gonnagal’s welcoming speech this time, before him and other first years were led into the Great hall- his feet taking him there seemingly without his input. Harry barely had any idea how to handle Tom, or Orion, and now this? He wasn’t equipped to work on such high settings every day, so for the first time in his life, Harry actually missed summer. Oh, how the tables have turned. His whole brain turned into a pudding blur, vanilla flavoured, desperate ideas on how to flee filling his mind up to the brim like jam. Not that he actually would risk leaving Hogwarts, he was trying to prevent bloodshed by befriending a known murderer. A wholly reasonable goal, a concept entirely possible in practice. 

Cold sweat rolled down his back, the serious implications of his actions finally hitting him when he was so far away from Tom’s gentle, calming energy. He hadn’t even noticed how well it worked on his anxiety before. Being stuck to the boy like a baby koala. Absent-mindedly he noted being hungry, so at least his brain still had its priorities straight- then again he was also nervously nauseous, but the day was never ending. It stretched wider than Auntie Marge the previous year.

“Are you afraid of what you'll hear?
Afraid I'll speak the name you fear?”

Yes, he was all of a sudden. Now he had to listen to the awful hat song? Merlin.

“Not Slytherin! Not Gryffindor!
Not Hufflepuff! Not Ravenclaw!
Don't worry, child, I know my job,
You'll learn to laugh, if first you sob.” The hat cried this year, croaking the few creative words it came up with the previous few months. Harry really felt the urge to sob right now, purely because he was overwhelmed, thoughts of time, and consequences choking him up- he glanced at Tom who was nodding at him encouragingly. 

There was always Dumbledore to ask for advice, but Harry had the feeling neither the Professor nor Tom would let him off easy for that. If he didn’t break down literally, then figuratively he definitely did, because this was too much responsibility, too much information for one day. His mind was on the verge of spontaneous combustion, he needed to calm himself alone, and maybe meditate on things; preferably in complete darkness. That sounded calming enough, darkness, warmth, one of those hesitation hugs from Tom, or the more welcoming ones from Mrs. Weasley. He took a deep breath. Next thing he knew, the sorting actually started, and he realized there was a massive lapse in his judgement.

When his name was spoken, he died a bit on the inside, and his blood was thrumming in his temples, blocking out any sounds coming to his overworked ears. As for his other senses, he didn’t miss the prying eyes of everyone, their glances, Harry knew what being the new school sensation looked like, fated to be an outcast. What was that about leading a gossip free life? Nothing, apparently, because he could feel the way people were watching him, like he was a poor snake in the zoo. 

The whole student body was following  his every move, as he stumbled his way to McGonagall, and the horrible stool. His confidence at being sorted into Gryffindor seemed to evaporate into the charmed ceiling as he sat down. The witch didn’t betray any of her earlier thoughts, dropping the hat on his head without preamble. Harry went as stiff as a log. Tom was definitely looking at him too, his icy flow of magic rising and falling rhythmically like a heartbeat; but Harry didn’t dare even look at the direction of the Slytherin table now. He had to be a Gryffindor, okay? It was a matter of pride, a matter of keeping something (anything) normal. 

“Definitely not this time, boy! I can see how you did me dirty the first time, absolutely Slytherin in my opinion.” That was, devastating to hear, especially from a sentient piece of fabric. 

“But why? I’m a true Gryffindor! I proved myself by pulling out the sword. Not only that, but I am brave, I want to save the world. I'm not even smart enough to be in Slytherin!” He complained, trying to have his way with the idiotic ancient hat again, but the decision was definite.

“I’m not changing my mind, besides you have to keep a close eye on that boy. Don’t you? This is a favour I’m doing you. Keep him out of trouble, will you?” 

“No, please no! Just not Slytherin, I’m already a freak as it is, that’s the weirdest house. Spare me, please. I won’t survive a week in Slytherin” He tried pleading, hoping against everything this one thing would go right for him. 

“Nonsense! You’ll do great, and aren’t you prejudiced, huh? Your other half is waiting at the table! Eh… You’ll like it soon enough” The sorting hat hummed, a stream of immense pride coming off of it, he shut his eyes tight in defiance.

“I don’t want to be there, please? I’m already a celebrity there, and I- can I be normal for once?” Even he knew his arguments turned weak, childlike, the hat never cared for his feelings to begin with.

“Glory and Fame are never leaving you, it seems. Don’t argue with fate, Harry Potter.” He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers, sighing brokenly, and a second of his silent begging later the hat had shouted,

“SLYTHERIN!” 

Harry wanted to cry on Mc Gonnagal’s shoulder and beg her to throw him in a ditch, or resort him, but at least she looked surprised too- he took off the hat without her help, before walking to Tom, who looked proud beyond compare. Harry, on the other hand, felt like he was walking in a daze, legs carrying him without his input; there was already a seat prepared for him next to the brunette, cheers from the table rolling like thunder through the hall. What kind of messed up reality is this? 

Tom was observing his favourite wizard intently, as he had a habit of doing these days- it had yet to get boring with the wide plethora of emotions and reactions the wizard had at his disposal. Harry was currently getting sorted, mumbling something to the hat with eyes squeezed tightly shut. From the clench in his jaw, and the white knuckles on the stool, even a fool could deduce the wizard was arguing with the hat. The thought was funny in it of itself, not that Harry couldn’t do something like that, he even argued with Dumbledore upon ‘first’ meeting.

It surely didn’t look like the first, neither did it look like it on the train, when the boy navigated it without second thoughts- not once asking where everything was. Harry was just so bizarre, full of secrets he wanted to snatch from his mind. Maybe it was a good time to practice legillemency alongside occlumency? He was never interested in thoughts of others before, but now there were questions he longed to answer, just like he yearned for a certain someone. Let him tell you, living with the prettiest boy alive in one room, barely meters apart, was hard. It ate at his self-control, at all his inhibitions, to the point he didn’t have a drop of calming draught left. Maybe that’s why he was so frantic today,  impulses taking the best of him, but one question didn’t leave his mind even while chemically calm.

Just who was Harry Potter? Who was the man behind the mask, as so to speak? Tom didn’t have the barest hint, and it was a lovely mystery to unravel. He gathered material to think of for weeks just from the first of September. 

“SLYTHERIN” The hat roared predictably, and he began clapping, not even having to hide how pleased he was. Others followed, out of politeness, or to help gain favour with him- Merlin knew many girls would love to be in Harry’s shoes, and they would try to woo him this year again. The best example being Myrtle Warren, seated just to the right of him with other Ravenclaws. He glared at some guy beside him, named Goyle or whatever- Tom could never quite remember the names of less influential people in his house, other than his stalkers, as they mattered little.

“Move” 

His order was met with clear submission, the other not wanting to anger him, a good choice really. Now there was a perfectly suitable place for Harry to sit, and Tom checked if everything was perfectly placed, and clean. Only then he could let his equal sit here, right? It was perfectly normal, between friends, between familiars. Black seemed delirious with rage at the display of power, knowing full well Harry and Tom threatened his claim to the Slytherin throne. He knew what the boy thought, that he was undeserving of being the best, that he was a filthy- Tom also knew that’s why he was so eager to provide him with the Family trees; to prove his point. But Harry? Sweet Harry stared into the privileged kid's eyes and shoved his ideas down the drain by just saying his name. 

They were older, more powerful, and more special than Orion could ever imagine, yes the boy has charisma, born in status and the like- and yet he lacks the creativity needed to become a leader. People come to Tom like moths to a flame because he seems to know what he’s doing, he gives them another way out than patiently waiting for Dumbledore to make a move. He will make sure they change the magical world, and make it a better place, a safer place for people like them. Tom has already made many alliances, Harry could even make him, the previously cold as steel, like him. The world should already be at their knees when they start to work together. 

If he didn’t have family ties to rally people behind, he would do it in his own name, Grindelwald certainly did, his views twisted as they may be- instead of killing the Muggles Tom thought a good separation should do the trick. He knew how dangerous they could be, but wizards need to outsmart them if their kind is to survive. They suffered enough losses already.

Harry finally made his way down the table, plopping unceremoniously on the seat beside him with a barely hidden sigh, fangs showing a bit; he could only suspect what happened while they were away from each other, but Harry looked exhausted- on the verge of an absolute breakdown kind of exhausted. Despite having slept for a few hours, using Tom as his personal pillow and heater, not that the boy looked aware of the fact. What did Harry manage to do in such a short span of time? He will find out eventually, he supposed.

Eventually isn’t enough.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Harry. I suppose small talk with the sorting hat didn’t go well?” He said, ignoring everyone at the table and the rest of the sorting ceremony altogether. 

“Cut your crap, Riddle. This is awful.” Harry whined, shaking his head- Tom couldn’t disagree more, but if Harry’s disturbed magic was anything to go by, the boy was pretty shaken up by something. It wouldn’t do to aggravate him more, Tom wanted his familiar safe and happy, caring for the boy made something in him preen. 

“Oh come on, not much will change. We will still share a room, I’ll make sure you know everything there is need to know.” He said, trying to come off as comforting, but judging from Harry’s sour face, it did the exact opposite. It was definitely strange for someone who ‘didn’t’ know anything about Hogwarts houses, but like many things they told each other, this was probably also a lie. A neatly woven one too, Tom could see that much with a blindfold on.

“Drop it with the innocent act. I can’t bare to see it right now, we both know this” Harry vaguely motioned to the whole of him, his eloquence clearly at its peak. “Isn’t you” 

He only hummed with interest, adding this to the reaction pile where his brain stored all things Harry. If he was staring at the inexcusable bed head the other was sporting, that by the way made him look like he just did something indecent, no one commented. Would the girls leave him alone if he announced he likes a boy? Food for thought.

“Will it make you feel better if I say no one else is in our room? It used to be only me…” Slughorn granted all kinds of favours once you gave him a bite of pineapple, it was all too easy to exploit. The sheer privilege it gave Tom now, was monumental, maybe a slight inconvenience in the form of gossip was a drawback, but he never cared for it much; common people love to talk.

“Slightly” Harry responded wryly, clearly in a better mood now. “I would kill for some alone time right now.” 

“Who do I need to kill, then?” Harry’s head snapped back at his joke, like he had intent to bite him with those crazy fangs- Tom might just let him. Well, it was good he didn’t mispronounce his words because of them now, but he still looked disgusted with the implication of murder, Harry was really touchy with the subject to be honest.

“No one! You won’t kill anyone” Funny, how Harry made the simple statement sound like an order and a promise both. Tom wasn’t actually looking forward to ending anyone's life, though Harry certainly thought he would pounce at the idea.

“Whatever my lovely familiar says-“ A smack on the head really was to be expected when he teased so much, not that it deterred him in the slightest. He took Harry’s hand in his own with reverence, trying to fluster him some more, as it certainly took the boy’s mind off of more unpleasant thoughts. 

Harry ripped it off from his grasp like the touch burned him. “I mean it” Was said in parseltounge, making almost the whole table hold their breath, but Harry didn’t notice, his stunning green eyes pinning Tom down where he sat. 

He nodded, after all there was no need to kill anyone, now at least- not that he would never do it. Circumstances may change after all, but living could be more painful than death. There is still good revenge to be had.

Their whole conversation didn’t escape other Slytherins, though they weren’t as arrogant as to disrupt them- only a few were capable of such things. His most immediate rivals, and Abraxas who is so tone-deaf in those matters it makes Tom want to spit blood- but it took him many years, countless favours, and more than a few fights to get to this level of respect. Hogwarts, his first and only home, has seen him through it all.

“Our Tom has surely changed. You look more approachable now.” Orion hummed from a few seats back, meaning it as an insult, no doubt. His sharp tongue was subpar today at best, shaken that him, a nobody was granted one of the strongest magical bonds, like it was nothing. Tom wanted to see him crumble under the knowledge. 

“That’s a good thing to hear” And it really was, his untouchable persona proved hard to navigate when wanting to make a new contact, a sponsor or otherwise. Well, Newt was astoundingly easy to manoeuvre around, but that wasn’t the usual case, often times he had to alter his whole personality for his goals.

“I don’t want to know how you were before, do I?” Harry asked, already digging in where food appeared on the table. Dippet’s speech totally went over everyone’s head it seemed, revelations of the evening settling down slowly, especially when there were important conversations to have. 

“No, I don’t think so” Tom thought the ‘overheard’ conversation proved an important point, him and Harry are close. If you try to bully, harass him or otherwise, Tom Riddle will have you eat your own arteries. 

“It wasn’t a pleasant personality” Maybe he could make a show of those background pieces the prefects are, set a good example. They should fear what’s coming to them, as he will feast on their pain one by one. 

“I can tell you how he was, if you want to, Harry-“ Orion chimed in, clearly intent on being an annoying brat today, crossing the line with what he could do. Should Tom deduct points from him? Should he make him beg for Harry’s forgiveness? 

“It’s Potter to you” 

“…” Tom hid his oncoming burst of laughter in pumpkin juice, trying to ignore how Orion was shaking with rage. Black hated being looked down upon more than anything in the world, and Harry was so blunt in his ‘I don’t know, or care who you are’ statements it was hilarious. 

“Oi! Who do you think you are?” Lestrange argued hotly, to which Harry raised a surprised eyebrow, not stopping his eating. His method of assuring his dominance was, perhaps, the most unconventional Tom has ever seen. 

“Your upper classman” Flaunting Harry was extremely fun, and Tom couldn’t wait to start learning some familiar magic when they got the time. He would rub it in Dumbledore’s face until the day the man died if they learnt it quickly. 

“And a Prefect” Tom added, playing with his badge. He thought those two might have an aneurysm any time now. Now that he had someone special, special enough not to be scared of him, special enough to care for- to fight alongside.

Ignoring the stares, and stutters from the Slytherins, he looked at the teacher table. There were two figures watching them with whom he made eye contact with, one, predictably, was Dumbledore. The old rat never wasted time trying to use legillemency on him at the start of the year, each try was a complete fail- his barriers rose high like a castle wall. The second was more surprising, a witch Tom had somewhat respected before- Minerva McGonagall, Dumbledore’s apprentice that sometimes taught them transfiguration. Rather than him, she was looking at Harry, though, and Tom didn’t think it was the fangs that piqued her interest. He 

He wanted to make them both invincible. The library was a good place to start, he had read a book on it once already. 

Chapter Text

The first week and a half of term went both as good and as bad as Tom predicted. He and Harry accustomed to their new living situation rather nicely for now; maybe it wasn’t all that different to begin with, but their schedules were packed. No more lazy afternoons basking in each other’s presence for him, which was a crime by itself; Harry took divination, he took Ancient runes, thank Merlin they both took Care of Magical creatures together; it being his second favourite subject. Considering the workload has suddenly increased a tenfold, Tom was happy he got any time with Harry alone at all; add to that his various research matters, and Prefect duties, and it almost became unbearable. He had never longed for someone’s presence before, he never wanted anyone to be close to him, yes he desired a better life for himself- but that’s about it. This deep-rooted yearning wasn’t something he knew how to deal with.

Every Professor was nagging about the importance of O.W.L’s however, about their futures, and Tom silently wondered if they realized how much the world outside Hogwarts was burning to the ground. That their life was as bleak as the adults, that they were barely holding on, how desperate they were for a shimmer of hope. How critical it was becoming, the lack of food rations, the tense political situation, the more frequent raids of Grindelwald… It filled him with absurd amounts of panic, and the usual dose of calming draught had stopped working. He knew who could soothe his worries, but the boy slipped out of his grip just when Tom was ready to pounce.

Tom found it hard to believe any teacher cared about the students after this week, especially Dumbledore, whose classes- as always- were a chore. Not to mention his strictness, always trying to make him trip over his own feet, as if he was a problem. What was this guy’s deal? He proved he can do compassionate things, do light magic like Dumbledore always wanted. It still wasn’t enough for the man, as if he wasn’t the reason a war was going on. Just kill Grindelwald you coward, he wanted to yell. Gryffindors shouldn’t  just shove their problems under a rug and hide.

It was good him and Harry got a room to themselves, or he might have gone berserk one of these days. His carefully crafted self was falling apart second by second, his usual baseline of indifference becoming shaky with every new development. Not all was lost, however, Tom could just sit on Harry’s bed and read when he got especially desperate for human contact, when people flooded him with questions. He never cared before, and it filled him with an old fear, because who would he become if this amazing person left him? Harry was good, and kind, he was Tom’s familiar he was undeserving of. Mrs Cole said so many times, he was heartless and therefore undeserving of love- Dumbledore wasn’t much different, and other children always treated him cruelly. Not even his parents wanted him, why should Harry?

A tiny hopeful part of him assured him day to day that Harry wouldn’t just leave, unlike everyone else. Unlike Amy or Dennis that night in the cave he showed them magic, where they beat at him until he was covered in bruises, his magic lashing out- that must have been the first case of an accidental oblivate, he thinks. They were just exploring Mrs. Cole… Just exploring… When his oncoming stream o thought became too much to handle, he could just snuggle in the feeling of having someone who would always be there, new and exhilarating. 

That element of vulnerability was certainly an addition to his life he didn’t think would come, but he wasn’t exactly mad about it, all the consequences of it aside. What he was mad about, was that Harry suddenly cut off all their casual physical contact once he turned into a human form again, when that was exactly what he needed- Tom had to rectify this. There wasn’t a good enough time to confront Harry about this tough, since he realized this crucial fact too late, he was becoming so blinded by the constant comfort he barely realized it could be wrung out of his hands.

Sadly, he also saw the angry eyes following Harry from corridor to corridor, and it made him want to tie the other to himself even more tangibly. There wasn’t any stronger bond he could imagine, which was a problem, yet he still felt like there was a block on it- their magic was supposed to be more vivid, more substantial.

For things that haven’t changed much; Tom still disliked the commons with a deep passion, though now it was interlinked with several other problems different from his dislike for people. Every rule there, every slight breach of hierarchy had to be stomped carefully, and it was bothersome. It became tiring to silence all the fools, tiring to be the most immaculate student there was. Having climbed to the top, through the ongoing bullying, and vicious comments- it was a bit of a touchy subject for him. He still remembered when Abraxas was considered better than him, the destroyed parchments, the amounts of tea poured on his head. The idiotic tasks he had to complete for the upper classmen. If it hadn’t been for the boy’s usefulness he would probably torture him to no end, but as it was, Malfoy was a good follower. Forgiveness had never passed his mind, though he was a pragmatic man and his feelings didn’t meddle with his business. Usually.

Despite being on the top of the food chain, he always had to be on high alert in the common room, lest someone doesn’t acknowledge his status, or decides they can order him and Harry around, or… not- because Harry cheerfully took to helping the first years when they looked especially weak and pathetic, and sat wherever he felt like it. The shorter wizard looked, safe here, oddly enough. Tradition be damned, Tom didn’t know if it was a good or bad development, but it certainly started a bunch of rumours, one being that he was Harry’s underling. Funny, and mostly not harmful.

That is to say, the normal order of things has shaken up substantially, and no one even tried their usual tricks around Harry. Shocked and pliable, that’s what Slytherin house became under Harry’s careful ministrations, all the predators now suddenly docile lambs. Honestly it was hard to tell, how much of it was done on purpose, and the surrounding paranoia only bettered the effect, meanwhile Harry was a picture perfect older student. 

The best of it came when the caramel skinned boy absent-mindedly pat Orion on the head while helping with his homework, which the Black heir didn’t agree to by the way, but Harry did it anyway. Lestrange’s went deliciously wall-white while seeing this, the act of babying the ‘Slytherin prince’, oh how frustrating for Orion it must have been. Tom was a bit jealous of the head pat, but it was worth the look on everyone’s faces. Not that he didn’t want to scalp the kid. The screech Black let out was also good, and Harry had said he wanted just to be nice; all in all, the green-eyed boy walked around the place like he was a King. 

It was surprising no one challenged them to a duel, but the familiar bond did in theory make them exponentially stronger- Tom has revised some reading material. For now, everyone was startled enough not to make a peep, frightened by what the new rules were. Personally, he thought this was the embodiment of ‘killing with kindness’. He could have never mustered enough helpfulness to do the same and acknowledged that, but the shorter wizard had so much love to give- Tom wanted all of it. Be it the worst or best seat, his sweet Familiar didn’t care, and started up a conversation with anyone not immediately scared of him, all logic in his behaviour lost to the observer.

Unless he was looming in the background glaring at them, everyone was sure to love Harry. Tom was just making sure they get the message by glaring, maybe a few signs they would be dead if they touched him. Normal stuff. Harry was his, even if he wanders around like a stray sometimes, and those first days of term were incredibly important for this reason. Establishing new orders of things never came easy, not to mention it was stressful. 

Overall, it wasn’t half bad, he was finally learning legillemency, trying his a bit of unorthodox methods on a few names that landed themselves on a blacklist recently. Harry didn’t need to deal with all the filth himself, after all. Not only he would make their life living hell, having quite an influence on the teachers, and students- he could now haunt them every second of every day. Just a word of bullying from his mouth and Slughorn would go insane, not to mention good old Professor Merrythought.

It was an ardours trial and error phase, and it by no means worked perfectly, nor did it work every time, but he was doing his utmost to practice. And, oh was it worth it watching their faces when he sent them lovely visions of being sold into slavery, or being left behind by all of their loved ones; that’s what they get for trying to insult the most beautiful boy in existence. Anyhow, it was still an easy let off, Tom was working on bringing them nightmares for days, every racist, or disrespectful comment will be met with those, and honestly it was barely traceable. He could just say that was their heavy conscience making their brain go haywire. 

As for school matters, Harry was doing sufficiently well. Exceptional if it’s considered he has never been to a wizarding school, which Tom found hard to believe among many things. There wasn’t a student who knew the castle as well as the short boy he had the pleasure to live with, hidden passages, shortcuts, all navigated without issue. After a good while of this, he started to suspect the curse might have erased Harry’s memory from the world or something, because hell if he didn’t know Hogwarts better than anyone else.    No of the options he could come up with made any sense, nothing added up, only begging him to dig deeper.

Thankfully there were subjects Harry was doing better or worse in; better being defence against the dark arts, dare Tom say Harry was a natural, and worse being potions. His familiars skills at elixir making were abysmal at best, thankfully Tom could salvage most of the concoctions Harry made. The rest, he could only vanish from the cauldron when Harry gave him a sheepish smile- thank Merlin Slughorn loved exceptional students, and Tom in particular, because it meant he wasn’t  targeted. Though, this small, endearing imperfection brought upon a glorious opportunity. Under the guise of helping with a potion essay, he lured Harry into the library- finally, after a week of straight-up failures trying to do so.

They claimed a table a bit to the left, in a secluded corner of the library, September sun shining at Harry’s mess of hair. He quickly put a silencing spell around them, so they can speak about what he intended in peace that other places didn’t provide, Harry only noticed things going differently than he imagined when he didn’t start unpacking his books.

“This wasn’t about the essay. Was it?” Harry said, resignation lacing his voice, before his hand came to comb through his fringe, unintentionally showing off his scars. Tom never thought of scars as something to be attractive, but he might revise that opinion, then again it might be just the Harry effect. 

“No, but I can let you copy If you want. After we talk, of course. That’s my only condition.” He had this planned out so well, Harry couldn’t escape if he brought forth an entire legion of wizards to his aid. Not literally, but still, the boy was desperate for those essays. 

“Are there things you do without ulterior motives?” Harry asked, shaking his head, eyes closing in an attempt to calm himself, arms folding in front of his chest. Tom watched transfixed as his forearms flexed in front of the sliver-green tie. 

“Hardly any” He laughed, gulped and smiled; not necessarily in that order. Weirdly enough,  giddy happiness came easier to him these days, like some blockage had been lifted. “I just thought we can talk, and maybe try to make use of our bond for some magic? Light magic comes a bit harder to me, but I think we can manage.” 

“I suppose we can, there’s no harm in that. We didn’t see each other that much the past week, did we?” Harry huffed, eyeing the rest of the library as if they were a problem for their plans. Like he was on the lookout for someone, Tom noted. 

“Silencing spells, they can’t hear us” He said, moving his wand languidly. “And yes. Not much talking to be done in the common room. First off, what do you know about familiars?” He said, dropping an old tome concerning the topic, at least the width of his arm. Dust made a huge cloud around them, and Harry smirked, as if prompted.

“And I wondered who took the second copy” So there has been research done? Good. A sigh later, Harry started to answer. “I didn’t get too far, but I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal” 

“Don’t beat around the bush, if you don’t know I can just explain, so we can start” He knew this provocation was a bit too obvious, but Harry gladly ate it right up like treacle tart.

“Mr. I know everything better than the teacher. It’s like talking with a male version of Hermione” The shorter wizard cursed under his breath, making Tom wonder who the heck was Hermione, and if he could possibly make the person an ally. 

“You could just say ‘Please teach me Tom’” There goes the teasing he can barely hold back these days- something was happening to him, and fast too. Strangely, he didn’t feel inclined to go to the infirmary to see if it was dangerous. 

“You wish. Just- just let me start, okay!” The other boy said, straightening himself, like this was a challenge. In a way it was, though a dumb one.

“A familiar spirit, has many names; It’s the double, the alter ego, of an individual. It does not look like the individual concerned, and is a whole different being altogether, until linked.” Harry said, eyeing him with a look that said, ‘Aren’t I the best’. The arrogant, brazen boy right next to him was of course the best, because Tom wouldn’t settle for less. He nodded, listening like a good student.

“Even though it may have an independent life of its own, it remains closely linked to the individual.” His familiar in question said, in a flat tone, clearly he mulled the sentences over well when he read. It meant their lives would never part no matter how much they tried, Tom for one was ecstatic thinking about that part; he no longer will be left alone. 

“Right, but it doesn’t quite match us, does it?” He said conversationally, making heated eye contact, dare he say it was flirty- Harry’s composure started to peel away. 

“So, what does one need to form such a powerful bond to another?” It wasn’t really essential Harry said this part, but Tom would love to hear it said out loud. 

“This is a full on pop-quiz now? Okay, so one needs to be extremely compatible with the other being, usually that means they’re a reflection of each other, kind of like a patronus“ He nodded, bringing himself closer to Harry, eyes still locked in a trance, it brought forth a delightful roll of green eyes; yet it was reciprocated. Tom could feel sparks going off in his stomach, anticipation growing.

“Go on”

“Like, a very sneaky Slytherin might have a snake, but there needs to be a profound emotional connection. A need to protect, a desire to see the other happy, or…” And at this Harry trailed off, trying to get away, eyes falling on the window- Tom wouldn’t let him escape, he grabbed the other's waist and blocked him from moving further away instinctively. It felt so warm in his hands, so soft, he wanted to never let him go- he won’t let him go for all the gold in Gringotts.

“Tom. Stop, this isn’t- we don’t have such a relationship.” There was a beautiful blush displayed on those boyish cheeks, but why the concern, couldn’t they just change their relationship? Tom would very much like to try some new things if a little touch felt so gratifying.

“Don’t we?” He teased some more, the answer still wasn’t a no.

“You’re just going to start horrible rumours with this. Don’t you want a girlfriend or something?! Stop.” Harry said, grabbing his wrists, not shoving him away, not that Tom had a chance against the other in a brawl. He didn’t actually want to fight. 

“Rumours? Mhm, and just so you know, I don’t think I like girls all that much.” Actually, he kind of had his sights exclusively on Harry since the second he has turned back, because why would he search for something more? He had the person who showed him what affection looked like, someone beautiful who saw something in him. His special person.

“Stop! Teasing!” Harry commented, grabbing the ancient tome from their desk and smacking him on the head with it. The hit wasn’t hard, but the book was heavy, and he backed off hesitantly. Harry looked pleased that there was more distance between them now.

“You wanted to work on the bond. Didn’t you? I didn’t get to that part, so what do we need?” At least Harry was determined to work on it, so that was a good sign- Tom could work with a bit of apprehension, he won’t be swayed elsewhere. A goal was a goal, no matter what it entailed.

“Well our bond is still not fully developed, a connection is there, but we have to strengthen it. There isn’t much help on this part, but I think we have to become more conscious of it?”

Harry nodded mindfully, “Like how I can feel your magic constantly? I’ve mostly ignored it before” The boy said shrugging, it was a big surprise Harry could feel it constantly, but Tom did practice occlumency for years now- it might make it harder for him. If the secrets weren’t the ones blocking the way.  

“I think so, when we feel it I reckon we can try to cast spells with each other's magic”

“We can do that!?” Harry all but yelled, unforgivable green eyes twinkling happily as he grabbed at his holly wand.  “What spell do you have the most problem with, then?”

He was thrown off by that question, what does that have to do with anything? “A patronus? I guess, I never managed anything with it. Not even mist, but that’s a different thing altogether.” 

“Good. A Patronus It is then.” It was humiliating to admit that, but Harry didn’t look at him with pity in his forest like eyes, what he saw was much more vibrant. It made his whole being buzz with desire to grab at the boy, and then he felt the collapse of all his mental walls. Panic, freezing panic rushed to his brain at the signs of an intruder, only seconds later he realized it was Harry.

His occlumency shields felt like they were made out of cotton candy, and Harry was the rain. It was a bit like a nudge to his thoughts, something he grew accustomed to by now, but it felt more pleasant, tender, gentle. Almost like Harry belonged there, and he shouldn’t ever leave. Suddenly, he felt a surge of heat around himself, as he watched fixedly how Harry moved his wand.

“Are you? Wha-, but-“ A wave of bliss hit him, leaving him incoherent for the time being, like was surrounded with a warm hug from sun itself; Harry’s presence felt like a tender kiss on top of his head. Tom felt like he was high on felix felicis, like he could move mountains, or run hundreds of miles, he felt cared for, like he was wrapped in a blanket softer than a cloud. It was addicting.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry exclaimed in a second that felt like a year, and a magnificent stag shot out of his wand, fully corporeal, and almost vibrant. It walked around them with pride- before pushing its snout in his face, then it licked his cheek, and promptly disappeared. He felt the loss in his own magic, but couldn’t help the need to feel this one hundred times more, he has never felt so alive, so… at peace.

“What memory do you use? I- wow, I’ve never felt-“ It was like his tongue was made of cotton, his limbs heavy, brain struggling to keep anything in check. Will he build a resistance to this? Tom simultaneously wanted for the statement to be true and false. “That was the best thing imaginable”

Harry looked bright like a summer day, before something serious downed in him- like he had been suddenly punched in the gut, and the connection that made Tom feel like a young god abruptly shut itself off. He felt empty, so empty, cold, void of emotion. A shell of a human being.

“My parents. Well, it’s more like my imagination, I never got to meet them, actually. Because- ” Harry bit his tongue before he continued, looking deeply unsettled, like his lightning bolt scar translated to a thunder in his eyes. Tom almost felt himself flinch, he never flinched.

He didn’t know what hit him, but he had the strongest urge to make it all better, he would bring them back from the dead if he could. “I’m so sorry Harry, I- You never talk about it, but just so you know I want to make you feel better if I can” 

There were tears suddenly in those eyes, Tom didn’t know what the heck has gone wrong, his words were supposed to be comforting. One second he felt they were on top of the world, because he could feel it. Like, actually, tangibly sense Harry’s happiness flooding through his magic. One word and the whole situation collapsed on itself, making Tom regret whatever he said that broke the perfect moment in the first place.

Emerald green began spilling out in pearly drops down the peachy face. “I know” Harry tugged on his own sleeve and began angrily drying his face, it even left red markings under his eyes from the force. He was hurting himself. 

“I didn’t mean to cry, we can just start over.” Harry stated with so much frustration, and hate, it almost made him stumble backwards, but only almost, Tom had his priorities all figured out.

“Hey, be more gentle with yourself.” He said, summoning his handkerchief from his bag wandlessly, before wiping at Harry’s tears. It wasn’t a pretty kind of cry, all of a sudden the boy was puffy, his face was tense with distress, making Tom physically ache. What he said next surprised even his most repressed inner self.

“You can cry, Harry, I don’t mind. I won’t laugh, either, just. I-“ He didn’t know how to finish the sentence, so he instead opened his arms, allowing for a hug. Something deep in him said  he was begging for attention- he tried to ignore the voice, it was usually mean anyway.

“I want to make it all better” He breathed into the boy’s nest of thick black hair. 

“So we don’t have to continue? I didn’t think it would make me so emotional. Sorry.” Harry whispered, hesitantly falling in his arms, his magic singing alongside his mind- this was how it should have looked from the beginning. Just the two of them; Harry safe in his arms, tucked underneath his chin, hidden from the brutal world outside. 

“Whatever you want. It’s yours”

“Don’t. I’ll take it seriously.” Harry huffed, his arms clutching his robes like the boy was drowning. It didn’t cover up the silent sobs he was shaking with.

“Please, do” He sounded different now, even to himself- a man broken, pleading, begging. It was a quiet plea, a small child’s wish. “I never want to make you so sad again” 

“What? No! You didn’t…” Harry said, sniffing. Tom has never before felt so genuinely concerned, so hollow when faced with the anguish of another; he didn’t know what to do with himself. His hands started gently rubbing circles on Harry’s back, he hoped it was good enough.

“You won’t” Harry whispered into his chest, probably thinking he hadn’t heard, but he did, and that made him think well into the stretch of silence encompassing them. It didn’t sound like a reassurance made for himself, but instead for Harry. Tom held his special person through it all, hoping against logic he could just melt into the boy’s glorious honey coloured skin and disappear. How did he hurt the boy, he… liked loved so much? What did he do? Tom didn’t know, but one thing he never knew, now became obvious. He didn’t realize when his magic started to pour into the other, trying to soothe him.

Harry didn’t know why the thought of future Tom has turned him into a sobbing, disgusting mess in the other boy’s embrace. Honestly, he knew for many years now that Voldemort did it, the information of it was nothing new, but the visual of the other actually doing it… It was on a whole another plane of existence, and Harry had a hard time accepting the boy who was now cradling him close to his chest whispering sweet nothings into his ear could do something like that. 

Actually, it was more than unbelievable, now knowing just how familiar bonds worked. If they were so compatible in the first place, Tom should feel something while casting an unforgivable at his forehead. Maybe that’s what destroyed him in the first place? How else would he survive the killing curse, but it was only a guess, a theory he had no way to prove. What could drive a person so mad? The more he thought about, the less it made sense.

Harry had his doubts only this made him snap though it was as good of a reason as any, he was alone for the most of his life, he knew how to cope with it. The pain was immense, but he learned to live with it since he could understand it. The past week had been, stressful to say the least, the constant vigilance he had to practice just how Professor Moody drilled into his skull was certainly a part of it, the gossip surrounding him- the stares. Being one of the few students that weren’t absolutely melanin deprived was, hard. He felt like a freak, like a mascot, there was even one girl that asked him if she could touch his fangs, and if all Asians had them; and not in a normal curious way either. Obviously he didn’t tell Tom, or anyone, feeling first of rattled by it, and second fearing for the poor Ravenclaws life. What’s more, despite being finally taught by Dumbledore himself, the classes were… boring. There, he said it! 

If Harry wasn’t so coldly watched over, and constantly chastised for the smallest mistakes in Transfiguration, he would probably fall asleep right on Tom’s notes. However, he could deal with it, it didn’t matter that his grandfather figure suddenly hated him though Harry tried his best- orphans could deal with worse, he himself had worse, his own ‘family’ abused him for one. The most unexpected worst thing was the suspicious glances McGonagall gave him, the way she knew he wasn’t meant to be here, and he had to avoid her? It felt like denying your own mother when she was sick! He imagined that’s what it felt like anyway. She even followed him as a tabby cat at least once now… He chose the best method of dealing with hard situations for that. Avoidance.

Not to mention the schoolwork, or that he had basically no friends here- there was thankfully hope for that. Some Slytherins weren’t actually huge arseholes with legs like Orion was, even his future wife, Walburga, knew when to shut up. Harry was a bit worried about the age difference, but he liked the idea of Sirius existing, and didn’t say a word about it. 

“Do you want to tell me what upset you so much?” Tom said, quietly after Salazar knows how many minutes, with… for a lack of a better word devotion, successfully dragging him out of his spiralling thoughts. 

“…” Honestly he had so much mixed feelings surrounding the topic, he didn’t know, but Riddles magic was so, so worried, and so caring despite its coldness. It gave him clarity of mind. “It’s just, the memory isn’t actually the happiest you know.”

“What? But the stag was magnificent, Harry. Isn’t the whole spell supposed to be based on happiness?” Tom said, his voice reverberating in his chest, where Harry laid his head. It felt comfortable, too comfortable to be real. 

“My happiest memory is my mother… screaming. It’s the only one I have of her, but that’s when she was murdered” He finished shakily, and the pale boy released a surprised ‘oh’ at that, before hugging him closer if that much was even possible at this point. Harry felt too emotionally exhausted to be ashamed of their position, no one was here to see anyway.

“Thank you for sharing that” He was sure he became delusional, because since when does Riddle say ‘Thank you’ and at something like that no less. There were probably a hundred theories in the taller wizard's head right now, trying to unravel Harry’s secrets, though that won’t be a good thing- Riddle was too intelligent for his own good. 

“It’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing.

“Who murdered her?” His heart was sure to stop beating any second now, because it felt guilty, and foreign to blame this on the person he was clutching so tightly. Harry no longer felt it was Tom’s fault, he was a  person he couldn’t imagine killing an infant- just like he couldn’t imagine Mrs. Weasley doing that.

His mind struggled with the thought, and he tried to shove the feeling of unwavering affection deep, deep down his mind. It didn’t work. Tom was, he was… someone whose presence worked better for him than anyone’s in two lifetimes. ‘You’ just wouldn’t cut it.

“I don’t know” 

“That’s the most pathetic lie I have ever heard” Tom said, practically broadcasting safeness with his magic, and the way his skilled hands rubbed at his shoulders. Harry turned into more of a human puddle at this, breathing in the soap scent of the other's robes.

“I don’t want to say” 

“That, I can live with” And Harry could happily live with Tom never actually murdering his parents, he thought, and he was on a good course for it to become true. Only if there weren’t other time travellers messing with his peace of mind. 

Chapter Text

“So... today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L.” Dumbledore said evenly, the tone of his voice so monotone, Harry wondered if he wasn’t in history of magic of all subjects. His eyes wandered from the teacher to the window, and then to the blackboard, his attention swiftly drifting away. Being interested in this class was a lost battle anyway, he figured, with a heavy heart. 

Seriously, this man was so far from the flashy headmaster Harry knew, and Tom Riddle was an upstanding young gentleman, making him throw all of his other presumptions out of the window quicker than one could say Quidditch. So? Where was the lie? Why was the past starkly different from what he knew? It was like being in a whole another universe, and yet, something must have changed through all those years, something he wasn’t aware of, and drastic enough to cause a whole war. 

The Professor did not, in fact, stop talking, going on about the spell, or something- Harry didn’t give him half his mind. Between navigating personal matters, the future, and school, he had little time to care when he already grasped the material well enough. Harry was already falling half asleep and stopped listening all together, despite his better judgement; however strict Dumbledore was now, he couldn’t quite unsee the benevolent image of the man he knew. How bad could be his punishment? To eat a lemon drop?

Maybe he would’ve been more interested if he hadn’t grasped the spell on the train, he supposed, but even then this man lacked the extravaganza to keep him interested- without better things to do he began meditating on his familiar bond with Tom, only a few centimetres over from him. The pulse of their joined magic cores was steady, ice meeting fire, twisting and turning with their thoughts; Tom’s magic was like a calm sea now, falling and rising with his breathing. It felt strange to be so aware of where magic was hidden, but Harry found the sensation to be fascinating. With enough practice he could probably tell where Riddle was without looking, just by the way their bond ‘stretched’, not that he could test it now, sitting at the same desk. Instead, he focused on how the power fluctuated between them, how it sang anytime Tom found something worthy of his attention in the lecture, his magic becoming slightly aggravated as time went on until there was a sudden spike.

Riddle was writing notes down dutifully, in his too perfect, too even script, less like students notes and more like a calligraphy masterpiece, the moves of his quill hypnotic. It wasn’t anything like the hurried letters in his diary Harry encountered in his second year,  but they still lured him in with a promise of something unforgettable, just like the boy himself. Speaking of the diary, did Tom create the evil thing, yet? Harry had to advise him against it, that version of the boy was way worse than the original.

“Right? Mr. Potter?” 

Huh?

“… I guess someone doesn’t need to pay attention in class.” The room was suddenly filled with laughter, and it didn’t take long for him to notice people were laughing at him; it took him even less time to acknowledge Tom was trying to warn him of this, but Harry was too preoccupied by staring to notice. Shit. 

“Mr. Potter?” Why did Harry feel like Dumbledore was suddenly replaced by Snape, of all people? He hadn’t been paying attention, yes, but he knew the topic- mind numb, he turned his gaze toward the red-headed man.

“Yes?” 

“Do you think you’re too good for this class, by any case?” Certainly this wasn’t the person Harry knew, the headmaster would rather impale himself on a stick than be so rude to a student. If even Harry knew you were lacking manners, then the situation truly was horrible, because how tactless can a person be?

He cleared his throat, “Not at all, Professor. I try my best to listen” In hindsight, he could have used a little more dishonesty in his reply, more childlike innocence. It was bad he lost it long ago, somewhere in that godforsaken maze, sometime when his s only friends turned their backs to him because of his unwanted fame. 

He blinked out of his depressing thoughts.

“Try? Mr. Potter? As far as I’m aware you’re not a prodigy and definitely need classes to understand, especially since your education has been… lacking these past few years” The class held their breath at that, and Harry couldn’t help but wince, Tom’s magic went abruptly rigid in the back of his mind. That sounded awfully privileged, and if his  cover-up story was true, Harry would really struggle with grasping the material! 

“He’s doing well in his classes sir, we try to help him in Slytherin, but honestly Harry is a bit overwhelmed by all the information. Don’t get mad at him, Professor” Tom defended, his sweet boy next door persona finally amounting to something. Harry could at least take a breath to prepare himself for what was coming next, if nothing more. Slytherins eagerly nodded, agreeing to anything Tom said, whatever it was. 

Honestly, he could say they had no human rights and some would still nod, maybe that’s how the war happened.

“Did I ask for your opinion, Tom?” 

“No, but Harry is a bit flustered in your presence. I took the liberty to speak for him, since he’s so tired.” Riddle responded, so quick, Harry started wondering if Tom should become a lawyer once they’re both done with Hogwarts. That would be a job practically moulded for the cunning, sharp minded young man he knew, certainly more respectable than being a Dark Lord. Where did all the excuses come from, though, Harry had no idea. They were so believable, too, and Dumbledore seemed to falter for a second. 

“I am tired” He said meekly, straining his eyes a bit, so they looked more teary- not that it was hard pretending to be sleepy in Transfiguration of all classes.

“In that case, I’ll think there's someone who would be delighted to tutor Harry. Take the burden off of you a little.” That’s more the grandfather like man he knew, maybe not all was lost, Harry thought, but something wasn’t right. 

First off, that wasn’t actually the problem here, secondly, Dumbledore somehow spun around it just so that he appeared helpful. Harry was stunned. Tom tensed, imperceptibly to other people perhaps, but by now Harry could know if the boy was hungry if he scrunched his eyebrows in a specific way. Still, he had to play his part, and it would look strange to back off now when the battle was undoubtedly lost.

“Truly?” He asked, full of half fake, half true admiration for the manipulation skill- he hadn’t made his mind about this version of the man yet.

“Truly. Minerva will be lucky to have you, even today. Is seven o’clock at her study okay?” Harry had to hold Tom’s wand under the table as soon as he made eye contact with Dumbledore. Strangely enough, he sensed danger there, in those twinkling blue eyes. Immediately there was a feeling like his skull had been ripped open, and carved into with a dull spoon; all starting from his scar, before pain licked everything else. Excruciating. He clutched at his head in an attempt to make it stop; a second or two later a sweet, helpful coolness washed over his agonizing headache. It was if an ice wall prevented him from feeling any more pain, like a guardian angel hid him behind their wings; the breath he let out was shaky, and his lungs felt like he was diving in ice water for twenty minutes straight.

“Yes, it’s okay” He coughed up, trying not to puke on the other's shoes, and trying to make sense of what was happening. He knew Tom’s magic protected him from something terrible, but what was it, Harry had no idea. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had this complicated expression, and started his speech over again, like nothing happened. In a moment of unusual impoliteness, Tom snatched his parchment and began scribbling down a word with single-minded interest. Harry looked over at what it was, ‘Legillemency’ the hurried letters spelled. 

“…” He, not surprisingly to anyone, but top student Tom Riddle, hadn’t had the slightest idea what it was, and though the taller wizard expected him to respond he didn’t know how. The worst of it? Tom looked so proud of himself too, and he had to add to his smugness, if not for the awful nausea he would want to knock him down a peg. Harry weakly raised a quizzical eyebrow at his companion, doing a shrug; if Tom did things as ungraceful as a facepalm, he would do now. 

Thankfully, Riddle was too worked up over what happened to rub this in his face. Instead, he huffed, looked at Harry as if he was last Christmas’s lost apple pie, and wrote down next to the word ‘He tried to read your mind’, Harry barely suppressed his gasp. No, that would be, was that even possible? It certainly felt like someone tried to snatch every one of his memories, kind of like a dementor feasted on fear. After a second of thinking, Tom wrote another thing down. 

‘Idiot’ Okay, worried his arse, he was truly imagining things by now. Harry huffed angrily, it really wasn’t his fault Tom knew everything the whole library of Hogwarts contained. Neither was it his fault he didn’t spend every free minute of his time trying to read the whole library too, that would make him a worse freak than a boy with snake fangs he was. He pushed at the brunette, and the paler wizard's chair wobbled dangerously with a rattling sound. In a second, Tom was falling backwards.

“What was that?” Dumbledore asked, flipping around, but thankfully Riddle managed to stabilize himself somewhat, though his hair was ruffled, and hazel eyes were wide with shock. Harry barely held his laugh in, and that was without looking at the pure astonishment painted on the usually stoic face. 

“Nothing, Professor” The whole Slytherin side of the class said in tandem, sounding like a weird kind of choir. It was the little thing many forgot about the house, him included; Slytherins were loyal. Harry watched an old clock on the wall as minutes passed lazily, and despite doing decent at the demonstration, he still had the extracurricular thing with McGonagall he couldn’t avoid. Maybe he could fake being sick? Not that he knew how… He asked Riddle after rushing out the door, but his all-knowing self didn’t know either; Harry missed Fred and George, they definitely could do that. 

After that class, Harry found Tom Riddle was perfect as his personal guard dog, always there wherever he went for the rest of the day; like an especially ruthless shadow. Someone said a mean comment? They instantly go pale when they see who’s walking behind him, as if a nightmare hit them; someone tries to bump into him? A hex is flying right their way, before Harry can do as much as protest. That method sadly has a few drawbacks; first, girls walk around them like a boy band, second, Harry has a harder time making friends. But honestly, he’s too tired for that today in any case, he wasn’t even mad at the casual show of power when it was to help him. Riddle wasn’t actually hurting anyone, not anymore than Harry would when someone acted mean toward his friends.

Riddle of course doesn’t notice the problems this comes with at all, as asocial as he is in his heart- on the contrary, the handsome boy looked happy to be the only person around him, proud even. It was weird he didn’t find it in himself to push the other away, but maybe it was the fault of how much happiness the other was broadcasting through their bond. His face was like set in stone, in a striking contrast to what he could sense rushing to him with the ocean Tom’s magic was. 

Thinking about that, there were other problems coming with this. Harry was currently more scared of flirty Tom rather than murderous Riddle, mostly because the first one became a threat to his bodily autonomy; not really, but still, that boy was stubborn. Harry thought he might pass out if anymore of those ‘casual touches’ happen ‘accidentally’, the tension rising, blood pumping in his veins like lava, Tom’s excitement drowning his complaints- it shouldn’t be so easy to swoon over a guy who was as ruthless as he was charming. 

Harry was sure anyone who created Tom Riddle didn’t know the effect this self-assured prick could have on people. It wasn’t even the week since the library meeting, and Harry was losing his mind.

Whatever little free time they had, they spend trying to work on the bond- which Tom had a hard time manoeuvring. Maybe he finally hit a breakthrough when he did that whole weird mind magic thing in front of Dumbledore earlier? Harry couldn’t be sure. They don’t have a clue what’s the cause of it either, maybe Riddle is just pants in light magicks, or maybe he has a hard time navigating emotions. Harry knows on an instinctual level that his magic and feelings are closely tied together, so that could be a possible hurdle for Tom, who is always overly composed- always sipping on a calming draught when he thinks no one is looking. He’s even worse than Professor Moody in that department.

There’s really no one to ask though, Dumbledore could maybe help, but the man treats them like underage criminals, every lesson serving as a pretext for impromptu investigation; Today just serving as an example. On that note, he is going to McGonagall now, allegedly for not paying attention in class, more truthfully however, he suspects that will be more of an investigation- less of a lesson, like it was becoming a routine.

“You’re sure you can handle it? I don’t know if I can help again.” Tom commented, eyes full of anger, a promise of revenge Harry wanted to stomp out brimming from cocoa coloured irises. 

“Professor McGonagall isn’t as bad, I don’t think she’ll try- besides I don’t have anything to hide” He had so many things to hide, things that woman shouldn’t hear of for at least another twenty-ish years, if not more. He just didn’t want Tom Riddle to worry, which was a weird thought, the kind he got constantly since he cast that Patronus. 

“…” The flat stare shot his way through those long eyelashes was more than enough, even blind people could see he didn’t convince Riddle at all, it was becoming increasingly harder to lie these days, like something weighted him down every time he did.

“Scream if anything happens” Tom said, as if that would solve the problem- not that Harry had any better idea, the taller boy couldn’t exactly just go in with him. “And I’ll give her hell”

“I think that would only make the matters worse.” He said, preparing to knock on the door already, tired and anxious. He was going to have this one on one with McGonagall, the one person he wanted to avoid, as they both shouldn’t be here. Harry truly dreaded it.

“Nonsense” Tom said, stopping his hand mid-air. Harry can’t help but think how unfairly he was treated, and Riddle was outraged too, which never really happened when it came to classes. Mildly annoyed Riddle? Sure, all day. Outraged? Unheard of. 

“What now?” He bit out, tired of being babied, he had worse, Harry could deal with a bit of pain- and he was sure as all heck Minerva McGonagall wouldn’t inflict any physical pain.

Suddenly he was pushed against the other boy, chest to back, Tom’s one hand on his wrist, and the other a featherlight touch on his waist, a ghost of what happened in the library looming over him. He could feel himself going neon red, his ears burning, air pushed out of his lungs despite the gentleness of the gesture, and there was a thumping where a steady heartbeat should be.

“Be careful” Tom said into his hair; Harry had no idea why the other boy adored the rat’s nest up there so much, but he couldn’t exactly judge, he liked that the taller wizard liked it.

“I will, if you let go of me.” He said, finally regaining some semblance of sanity. Escaping Riddle’s grip was ridiculously easy, and Harry knew he could stop the touching any moment he wished, but that was why it was so sneaky. Tom always, without fail, set up his attacks with an element of surprise so great, Harry didn’t know what was happening until all was said and done. Cunning bastard.

He finally knocked on the door, before the brunette could say anything, desperately not looking back at Tom- his magic already told Harry all he needed to, Riddle was extremely happy with himself. Prick. Insensitive, flirtatious arsehole.

“Come in” Came the witches voice from inside the room, and he braced himself before going in. It won’t be bad, he tried to tell himself. The door closed itself just as he stepped inside, blocking his only way of escape, and normally he wouldn’t bat an eyelash at it, but with more recent developments he felt betrayed. Riddles influence on him, no doubt. Once he was in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry to sit down not speaking a word, pouring him a cup of tea; the scene was all too familiar. 

Maybe he got in trouble one too many times these past four years, to get so intimate with the room that was splayed out here. Harry didn’t actually have any regrets over it.

He sighed, sitting down, letting his bag fall next to his seat as he deflated in defeat, he really didn’t want to speak of the future. “This isn’t going to be normal tutoring, am I right?” 

“I don’t think you need that, do you?” His old head of house said, murmuring a spell he recognized as a silencing ward. Now Riddle couldn’t eavesdrop on them, at least in theory,  and Harry found it helpful, Tom shouldn’t know he was a rouge time traveller on top of everything. 

“No Professor. That is why I shouldn’t really be here, I deal with Transfiguration just fine” He said, bringing the white teacup closer to himself in search of warmth, and comfort seeped through the cup into his hand. Nothing like a good hug, but it was as close as he was going to get in this situation- suddenly he missed the embrace from just moments prior. 

“We both shouldn’t. Should we Harry?” The woman questioned, straight to the point as always, and Harry couldn’t help but nod. She didn’t magically lock the door, and he could sense Tom was nearby, at the very least if things got too risky he could try to escape.

“Or is that your real name?” She asked, suspicion rising in her strict tone, but Harry couldn’t exactly blame her. For lack of better things to do, he sipped on his tea to calm himself, it tasted… strange. Warmness spread through his throat as if he drank a whole glass of butter beer in one chug, a need to tell her the truth springing in his mind. Not like he needed to lie on that.

“It is” A long stretch of silence fallen on them after that, and it was exactly what Harry had feared, disturbing silence. Silence that could very well make him spill everything he knew… His mind thankfully grasped at what was really happening; now he was glad at being shoved potion knowledge down his throat by Tom. “You spiked the tea with Veritaserum, didn’t you?” 

This was all just a test, she tested him with one of the most dangerous potions known to wixen for this. He flushed Tom’s cooling magic down his body like a waterfall, so the embers of fury that sparkled in his could drown.

“Say it” His voice sounded defeated, sad, more so than he wanted, but it was true, the woman didn’t know him yet. He hadn’t given her any reason to trust him, but he still felt the betrayal deep in his bone marrow, they were almost like a family. The closest he ever got to it, and she did this to him? 

“Both teas, actually, it’s a small enough dosage, so we can just not say anything. Time traveller etiquette and all” If there was a reason behind such action, Harry could possibly forgive it, McGonagall was possibly as worried as him after all. This version of the wizarding world was much more cruel than his times, at least for him, so why not for the Professor? Their positions were delicate, he tried to reason. It still left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, not from the tea itself, but he was quick to forgive these days.

“Sounds reasonable” He said, as if prompted to; there was an urge to say the truth he couldn’t quite ignore, but it wasn’t painful either. “How many years did you go back?” 

“Unspeakables can’t reveal such things”

“You were an Unspeakable!?” He cried, before he could bite himself on the tongue, his fangs undoubtedly flashing right in the witches face. McGonagall stole a glance at them, making him cover his mouth up in embarrassment- thankfully she didn’t comment. 

“What do you mean were?” The woman asked, brows furrowed. “Did something go wrong?” 

“No! I don’t think so, no. You looked like you liked your… next job, Professor” He said hurriedly, trying to pick up the pieces and glue this fundamentally broken situation with wet sand. It wasn’t really helping, but it felt better than to sit in silence.

“So you know me. From my future?” He hesitated with the answer for a split second, but figured the milk was spilled already. 

“Yes” Harry gulped, but then Minerva McGonagall had a full-blown nervous laugh in his face. That was, unusual, to say the least, and he could swear his eyes went wide as saucers, watching her be so unabashedly open.

“And here I feared I messed up the timeline, oh Merlin. If I still exist, it should be okay.” She sighed, relaxing against her chair, unbuttoning the awfully stiff collar of her outer robe. 

“I can’t really say, but I think so?” He said, feeling himself relax as well, it was the reassurance he needed to hear for those three months spent in the forties; he hadn’t worsened the future, all was well. Minerva McGonagall wasn’t worried, so he shouldn’t either, the barking laugh he punched out of himself felt amazing. 

“Worried about nothing! Psssh… Here I was worried young James Potter has strangely enough found my time turner, and got lost in time” She sighed, shaking her head as if a boulder had been lifted off her shoulders. Harry was never so curious if his father could actually do such things, but as his son he was actually doing such strange things; that maybe enough of an answer. 

“Speaking of which, I already can see you two are related, and the universe hasn’t collapsed in on itself, so? Who are you to James Potter?” The woman asked curiously, her smile widening, as if she could grow it with smugness alone. Harry only knew her as bitter and stern before, so that threw him off guard, but that didn’t mean he lost his mind to the strangeness completely.

“How… How old is he in your…” He trailed off, not wanting to tell her anything she shouldn’t. Especially not since he wanted to actively change the future, and he didn’t think the Gryffindor would be happy about it.

“My boss knows Fleamont. They are, dare I say friends, James is about five. Very talented in transfiguration. He accidentally turned an apple to a pacifier when he was younger.” She said as a matter of fact, but Harry can pick up an underlying fondness in those words, it felt homely. Just wait until he turns into an illegal animagi, he thought half bitterly, half jokingly.

“Is he your brother? You look so much alike, though you’re older, but time travel, right?” She asked conversationally, he didn’t know she had a chatty streak in her, and Harry felt his heart give a squeeze. This witch right here was even more of a grandmother than a mother to him, if what she says is right, and he can’t help but give her his most shit eating grin. 

“He’s my father” He states proudly, and young Minerva McGonagall of all people stares at him in utter disbelief, dropping her tea, only for him to cast a levitation charm on it. Then the witches stare moves to his outstretched hand, and she blinks, he watches his hand and blinks too. He just did a wandless, wordless Leviosa without thinking. He didn’t know he could do that.

“Sorry Professor” An apology spilled from his lips automatically, and he set the poor teacup on the desk with a sheepish smile. The future Gryffindor head of house looks like the world might collapse on itself in that minute, but it doesn’t. She rolls her shoulders.

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t really know more. I’m sorry, I was just excited, Fleamont was very scared he wouldn’t have children, let alone grandchildren.” He nodded mindlessly, not exactly wanting to tell her both men she was talking about were long dead in his time. It didn’t matter, he was dead set on changing that either way. 

This conversation, after all, wasn’t at all what he predicted, it was enlightening in the strangest of ways, but he wasn’t scolded for messing with time yet.

“Back to business, however,” Oh. There it goes, Harry knows that tone by heart, and it erases every other thought he might have had otherwise. Wandless magic? No matter. Dropping the bomb that a child someone knows already has a child of their own? Inconsequential- since he is about to get verbally whipped by this woman. He feels so small.

“What are you doing here, Harry? You aren’t here legally, are you?” 

His mind blanched, came out completely empty, and for a moment he felt that fury of his again; so first of she’s buttering him up, asking about his father, and now she wants to accuse him of something? That’s not the way the world works, not for him, not with this one adult. After a second though, Harry figured since she is an unspeakable, and cannot figure that question out, he can as well lie. He has fought off an Imperius before, it’s not a big deal, only a mere sting.

“Why? I am.” He bravely suffered the question, only feeling mild discomfort prickling his skin. The woman sighed deeply, and her eyes turned sour with dissatisfaction; his gut started turning uncomfortably- it felt like he was going through a broken floo system. Now she knew he could lie.

Time was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“If you were… You wouldn’t stick out so much, and you wouldn’t form a familiar bond with someone as aspiring as Riddle. He wants to become Minister of Magic, that is way too suspicious” Harry didn’t know that, and also, he didn’t think that was a part of the original timeline, not that he could be sure about it when the onslaught of arguments didn’t stop.

“Also, sorry to say it, but they would have chosen someone white for the job. It’s easier that way.” That made a bitter kind of sense, but he couldn’t help to think of other things. Sadly, no good excuses made it to his overworked brain. Did he change the future already? Could Harry Potter really stop a bloody war? Thoughts swirled around his head at crazy speed, none as complex as to grasp his full attention because of one disappointed gaze set on him. 

“Okay, I didn’t, but I’m not here out of my own free will either. You must understand Professor, I wouldn’t, you know me…” She didn’t know him yet. He pleaded, sounding ridiculous even to his own two ears, he wasn’t as creative with his lies as Tom. Suddenly it felt incredibly unfair to face this all alone.

His sweat turned cold, and there was a worry nagging at his mind. It wasn’t his, but Tom’s, Harry’s magic must have got pretty out of control for that to happen, but he ignored that, trying to calm the situation once more. Just a bit longer, and he will go back to his routine with the taller wizard, everything was alright. 

“Not out of your own will? Why wouldn’t you go back to your time then?” She pressed, eyes boring into his very soul. Harry couldn’t exactly do anything other than explode under this pressure, like a shaken soda can; it was hard keeping everything contained, he had wanted to tell the truth so badly. 

“…” He didn’t actually know how to respond, angry fiery tears threatening to spill from his eyes if she said a word more. This McGonagall didn’t know him, she thought his tears were manipulation tactics, she ignored him- he saw it. Recognition of it  leaving him feeling lost; he was a failure. If he paid close attention, he might’ve noticed when he started trembling from the stress… He was only fifteen, why was he dealing with such things? 

“You can’t be here, I’ll take you to the ministry, and we’ll fix this, your fang mishap too. Your father must be worried beyond belief.” The witch said sternly, her gaze washing over him, igniting something he had successfully kept in check for three months, but now turned into a raging inferno, the comment about his insecurities only added salt to the wound. 

That’s what pushed him over the edge, because, no one will be waiting on the other side of things if it still exists; no mother, no father, no family of his own. No home, a future he didn’t want to imagine because it was so bleak. Hermione and Ron would be sad for a year, maybe two, maybe even Fred and George would feel the loss; but they will grieve, and their life will go the same way it was supposed to. He was never a priority. Ron might even be happy, the boy was so quick to turn on him this year…

“Mr. Potter? Answer, and don’t cry. I’ll get you to your time, no problem. I don’t know why you’re here, but I can do that for you.” She said forcefully soft. He hated the tone already, it wasn’t genuine.

“No” He said. A weak sound, from an even weaker boy, he tried to be strong, he really did.

Harry James Potter didn’t matter beyond the boy who lived persona, he didn’t mean anything to anyone; if he had disappeared from England it would do the same amount of damage- his sacrifice only mattered because Cedric might live because of it. Might. Harry wasn’t even sure of that, he wanted to wail, and cry, to rip his hair out, and make something of himself here at last. He was trying so hard this time, to be someone that mattered, someone who changed things. This Professor refused to let him do it; Harry didn’t care if it was selfish, this was his one and only ambition. 

“No? Why are you refusing? Why are you here? Are you a spy?” Her voice turned into something vicious, sharp as a knife- Minerva McGonagall turned against him in a matter of seconds. A voice in the back of his mind hissed morbidly, promises of sweet revenge, and for once they agreed. This was a betrayal.

“Because I died! I fucking died! I can’t go back, because some divine power I’m not sure exists, pushed me here without my consent! Do you know how that feels?” He cried, pushing everything out of himself, all those leftover simmering feelings finally spilling, taking anything in their wake like a raging fire. 

“I wanted to die! Once and for all! To be done with this, not to be given a second chance at life, because my first one went tragic. Because I’m a freak worth nothing! Even the heavens pity me.” McGonagall wanted to say something- not that he let her anymore, she had her time. Harry began shouting with the full power of his lungs so that they stung. Her meek words of urgent calming didn’t even reach him, and the rampage went on; she shouldn’t have let him take that potion if she wanted to avoid this.

“And now I’m trying to live a peaceful life, but Dumbledore, my own parental figure, can not for the life of him leave me and my familiar alone! Now you! You were like a mother to me!” He yelled in her face, angrier and, angrier, to the point he knew he was overdoing it. This woman didn’t recognize him, didn’t know who he was, his breath was wasted on her; it felt exhausting to let those feelings out, but he continued in a whisper,

“I won’t leave Tom” finally he said it, he knew that much since way back, though he refused to acknowledge it. Harry knew how it felt to be abandoned, to be forgotten, they should stick together to avoid such a fate. They will.

“Fine” In his previous life he might have missed the tell-tale signs of a spell going his way, but in this one he paid more attention, maybe it was the war that did it to him, maybe it was the stares- maybe it was his death. The witch wasn’t exactly subtle about it, too, since her wand was right there on the desk. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” He dodged it by jumping to the floor, which was good, because it worked. Harry desperately wanted help, he wanted someone to help him, but he needed to think for himself. If he had his way, he wanted this whole room to burn down. McGonagall was already preparing to fire another spell at him, and take him away from his new life, he wouldn’t let her; Tom promised to make everything better. Harry wanted to see how that looked like. 

The witch rose her wand aggressively, he did the same, and thank Merlin he was quicker.

“Expelliarmus!” Her wand flew into the air, and he caught it at the last second, not aware of how much power went into the simple spell. Riddle noticed, though, and the door went flying, crashing into the cold stone wall with a bang. 

He was growing awfully anxious, the private lesson wasn’t even taking that long, so why? The meeting could have gone for ten minutes at most, but something was gnawing at Tom’s consciousness through the bond; something insistent enough that he felt it deep in his bones. For the first time in his life, he felt restless, and he couldn’t overdose the calming draught anymore today. Not if he didn’t want an obligatory trip to the hospital wing because of it, the potion didn’t work anyway.

Why was he so anxious, so annoyed, he hadn’t got a clue, but it was becoming increasingly hard to sit still. Everything was going well until now, so was this just his obsession talking? Was this his paranoia- no, he felt danger. A dull version of it tapping at all his veins from the inside, prickly like snake fangs. Calm yourself Riddle, Harry can take care of himself, he has enough talent to surprise you with a hex, he can survive a private lesson. Not once in his fifteen years of life did he think he would become overprotective of someone, but his heart secretly (not so secretly) felt delighted by it; Tom wanted the sun kissed boy to have all the joy in the world he couldn’t have, and he would drown himself in the bliss of it.

Harry even sent a few sparks of a very homely feel through their now full bond, so why were his instincts lashing out? His familiar was safe, his beloved person was all well, he tried to reason with himself- to no avail. Tom thought everything would go fine, he only insisted on going because of his newfound clinginess. Maybe he had hoped for an evening spent by watching stars from the astronomy tower, but nothing more, so? Why was he starting to feel like someone slapped him in the face? He glanced at the door, and then back at his diary, and red ink.

McGonagall was a respectable woman, a bit misguided by Dumbledore, but Tom couldn’t blame her. She had no good reason to be weird to Harry, though; and yet, the way she eyed him at the opening feast didn’t sit right with Tom. Was she the person the caramel skinned boy seemed so set on avoiding?  She was a good teacher, though, Tom liked the strict type. No nonsense kind of people, easy to do business and politics with. 

Suddenly, the strange sensation of Harry’s magic turned into bursting magma, a volcano that burned his nerves, scorched his fingertips. He gasped for air, as if his lungs were about to be filled with smoke. The rising panic, and the hopelessness he could manage, maybe they were talking about the boy’s fangs. Harry had a hard time accepting them; Tom slowly forced himself to breathe and calm down. It didn’t do much, but it did something, he had to let Harry do his own things.

He began scribbling down his own strange ancestry in his diary anew, trying to distract himself, finally catching a minute to think on the matter. That’s exactly when felt the sting of loneliness, tears he didn’t shed since he was a mere babe began falling down his cheeks like a broken faucet. Those weren’t his tears, and they hurt, stung as if made of acid against his cold face. Like an arrow through the heart, the feeling stabbed him; leaving a gaping hole where his soul should be, and instinctively he knew someone was trying to separate him and Harry- he would rather not live at all if that was the case. 

The shorter boy was probably casting something, and powerful too, he could tell by the drain in his own power. What’s worse, the act didn’t seem intentional; It felt like war, like bombs falling on a building, destroying whatever it landed on with no precision. Only meant to damage, Harry wasn’t a person that did such crude things. Something was deeply wrong. 

The door slammed into the wall inside the office before he could register what he was doing, his anxiety at its all-time high. Harry was standing with a burnt wand in hand, thankfully it wasn’t his perfect holly handle, it must’ve belonged to the witch. Tom let himself let out a stuttering breath of relief.

“Harry!” He whisper-shouted, scrubbing at his face to get rid of the tears that started to mess with his vision, they didn’t belong to him anyway. McGonagall was standing shocked looking between them, and turning all colours between white, red, and sickly green- before he could think he sent a stunner flying her way. The woman fell on the floor with a muffled thump- Tom couldn’t care less if she broke her skull on the table in that second, his sole focus being Harry. 

“Tom. What have I done?” The boy asked, looking at the burned wand in horror, like he didn’t do it out of self-defence. His throat sounded like he scraped it raw, and it made Tom full of murderous intent; Harry put the useless piece of wood down on the desk with shaking hands.

His breathing started hitching, and he looked at his hands as if they were bloodied. They weren’t, but the guilt the shorter wizard felt was palpable. Harry just wanted to protect himself, Tom knew that much.

“Shh… She said something bad, yes? Attacked you? It’s normal to protect yourself” He cooed, forcing the door behind to close with a swish of his wand, they didn’t need visitors right now. Three steps inside the room, and he was already at his beloved’s side, ready to do anything, but first of all he hugged the shorter wizard tightly.

“It’s not her fault” Like fucking hell it wasn’t.

Harry was trembling like a willow leaf against a rainstorm, a picture of a puppy left on the side of the road to starve. Tom despised anyone who made the other suffer, and for the perfect boy to endure so much? Someone in this room deserved death.

“I like her, I love her… but” Harry stopped his sentence abruptly before shaking his head, his face contorted in a wide array of emotion, then the boy swallowed something down. More to calm himself than anything, Tom supposed.

“Do you have good memory charms, Tom? You said you would do anything.” That sounded like begging, he had hoped to hear Harry beg in a vastly different way for the first time. Especially since the request didn’t need the reminder, still he hummed in agreement, trying to wash out Harry’s panic by letting out his own cold magic wash over the boy. It helped, if only slightly. 

“As a matter of fact, I do. What do you want her to remember?” If Harry decided she could live, then she could, for now at least- he wasn’t keen on killing, but the witch hurt the only person who meant something to him. She was well aware of how dangerous it was to mess with familiar bonds, and if she didn’t, well, Minerva was a fool.

The world isn’t merciful to fools.

“Nothing from the past five minutes. Fill it with something about my fangs, for all I care.” Harry said brokenly, yet sternly. Tom squeezed him more in approval, trying to ease the rising tension between them; he had to cover up worse things at the orphanage many times. 

“Whatever you want. It’s yours”

Chapter Text

They fell into his bed together after sweeping the common room; honestly he was surprised people were trying to start a chat with Harry now of all times, but he quickly threw a few cutting hexes, and some more dark curses in the air to get the message across. Don’t even attempt it, and Harry didn’t protest either- he might be a bad influence on the boy. But violence was a message everyone understood without words, and they were top Slytherins, and you don’t just meddle with their stuff when they don’t want you to. Though Tom wasn’t sure how the shorter wizard would deal with it if left alone, it didn’t actually matter, since there won’t be such an instance.

Once in their little sanctuary, they were finally safely hidden away from the world; even if Harry was too shaken up to sleep, and he was too worried about the boy to even attempt it. 

They fell into bed together like this- It was nothing sexual, just the two of them seeking each other to try and piece themselves back together, like the broken toys they were. Strays, abandoned with their only hope being in each other- Harry even more so than him- granted he wasn’t exactly sure the other knew he had to sort out the memories in order to erase them, since the situation was so specific. But, oh, just what he saw left him in complete disarray. The network of Harry’s carefully curated lies ran deep, and though Tom was sure the other didn’t tell all the truth to the witch, the findings were still invaluable. 

Lost in time, brought together by fate, he thinks with awe. I'm worth the future for him, he dares to think. 

Asking for his help was a show of trust nonetheless; but it wasn’t the time to talk about it, not when the olive skinned boy was so enraged, thrown into depths of despair completely alone; their magic practically boiling. Tom didn’t want to cross the very thin line of their peace, he could work with his new information alone; there were more questions than answers, but that was life. He finally feels alive, not like a void of cold mindlessness with ambition, it’s exhilarating by the way.

He just feels so immensely happy that Harry didn’t abandon him for his old life, he couldn’t care less about other things. 

Small, more rational voices in his too fast-paced brain told him just how dangerous it was falling in love with nature defying time travellers, but he really didn’t care. Laws of nature meant little to him, he looked up ways to become immortal before he even met Harry, death doesn’t seem so scary now though if it brought him this gift in human form.

He was selfish, he never had things he really owned. So if he wanted something he got to grab it, clutch it until his fingers bled, until the taunts of others stopped, and he not once let go; he won’t let go of Harry either. There weren’t many times in his life he made a choice solely for himself, there’s always scheming to be done, but this was one of those rare occasions. Natural order of things could go kick itself into the rubbish bin.

All it took to get such an obvious, yet subtle declaration of devotion was a simple push, an anticlimactic fall, and an explosion so great it destroyed a wand- these things didn’t happen often, it was easy to destroy a wand through physical means, but magical? It meant a complete and utter overpowering of the wands master, and Tom knew in fact McGonagall wasn’t weak. He liked it much more than simple words, really- he still dreamed of the moment Harry would say ‘I love you’, but this eased his anxieties. Why did Harry refuse to go out with him though, he had no idea, but if the boy wants to be courted, then court Tom will. 

You will do anything, you’re so desperate, his mean side said- Tom promptly ignored it.

Harry was all the more admirable because of the new realizations; his equal truly and, at last, someone to share everything he was with. Somehow, he didn’t feel worthy of it, his confidence faltering just when he needed it, he had a need to voice his affections, though words couldn’t possibly describe the depth of them. Any attempt would just be laughable, he opened and closed his mouth.

Through all the ridicule, this person chose to stay with him; defying time, defying the natural order of life and death. Those weren’t just mumblings of a maniac Tom knew, Harry was brazen, but controlled, and what he said felt all too real; also, it made one wonder just what made Harry so fed up with the future- he had to ask sometime, purely to change it. New world, for him and Harry to live comfortably in, whatever the other wishes to become, Tom shall provide for. That was a plan he was looking forward to, a life with someone capable of drawing emotion out of his dead heart; he felt numb for so long, every flutter of it was special. A heart made of ice shouldn’t be able to beat so fast, but he could hear the blood pumping in his ears, all because of Harry.

Together with him, he felt whole. Harry was the fire to his rain, warmth to his coolness, his fondness, his treasure. Tom didn’t know dependence before, now he understood, with all the possible risks looming over his fragile mental state. He had to remind himself he couldn’t take more calming draught, and he couldn’t allow himself to think of the war raging outside longer than necessary, he still hears the bombings sometimes. He tried to oblivate himself out of those- it doesn’t work.

Since when did his life turn into a series of impossible events, he didn’t know, neither did he particularly care as long as it continued just like now… Meeting this wonder of a wizard was worth it all, all the annoyance, all the possible heartache. If he was full of adoration previously? Now he would worship the earth Harry walked on. 

There were small problems with that though, Hogwarts being the safest place on earth was a whole arse lie, and they had to finish school before anything else. Tom had so many plans, so many pressing questions, so many promises to make… Political stances to take, dates to prepare… Harry trembled beside him, taking him out of his private brainstorm.

For now their foreheads were touching, allowing his brain to slow down somewhat, but nothing else; Tom tried to encapsulate the feeling of calmness with his entire being, but the attempt was futile he wasn’t calm in the slightest- it was like the library all over again, only worse, because he lacked his stability as well. He didn’t know how to help Harry, but he could damn well try. Maybe they both deserved to feel a bit hopeless, small against the pressure put on them, just in the privacy of their bedroom of course. Together.

He played with the boy's hair, focusing on a particularly stubborn swirl, the wild locks were pretty fun to mess with in any case. It made him feel carefree, his worries washed away before they could truly form, when they were like this; all was good. After all, they could allow for an easy evening; it isn’t everyday one gets attacked by a teacher, and has to erase their mind, Tom thought. They could have this, he told himself against his first train of thought, one that said he was being a weak useless child allowing himself even a second of vulnerability. His brain was excessively mean to everyone, him especially, it wasn’t a surprise such filth formed in it.

Tom wondered how much of the meeting was planned by both Dumbledore and his apprentice, since when did they know what he didn’t piece together. What was still kept from him? Some things were now obvious, falling like perfect puzzle pieces where nothing made sense before- Harry knew the castle, because he was a student here in his time, he knew people he shouldn’t have met. Harry is not of this time; Tom couldn’t care less (he cares, it means everything to him to be chosen).

The boy was potentially aware of many schemes undergoing now, maybe he knew how the war will end. Tom couldn’t stop thinking that someone chose him, for the first time in his life, and he kissed the boy’s head slowly, tenderly. Harry grumbled. The wizard next to him must have known since the opening feast that a trap was awaiting him if he dared to breathe wrong, but despite it, he was still here. With him.

No wonder Harry was so on edge lately, if he knew this would happen, one way or another, and the boy wasn’t exactly patient. Secrets, so many secrets surrounded this short green-eyed boy, ones that could shake the entire world if given the chance, but of course he had secrets of his own. 

Tom could never blame Harry for what he didn’t say; the world was against him, in more ways than one- they all have masks to shield themselves. Weak, without mirages, people are weak, just like the day they’re born. Not to mention, the current order of things despised everything Harry is; the boy is Asian, pretty gay to anyone with working eyeballs, and he’s also kind, and a bit effeminate, poor and an orphan. Not the traits one wants in a society where blood status and war capabilities are the only things that matter. That his core is stronger than anyone of his critics is a different thing, all Lords care for in the world are appearances. 

There weren’t much more social norms a person could break, and he was a bit of an expert following almost every single one, and he was aware how mismatched their pairing looked. A proper young man, and his lover extraordinarily flashy companion, many would still put Harry in a circus simply because of his fangs and skin tone… Sigh. They have a lot of work to do in the upcoming years, don’t they?

Tom promised to make everything better, and he will. Soon enough, the world will know not to mess with whom he held dear.

For now, they lay on his- theirs he thought smugly, bed, deep in the castle, cautiously hidden away from anything and anyone, wards thick in the room. Nothing worked like good runic wards, maybe except blood or familiar wards, but they didn’t get to that point yet. This evening nothing else mattered but their breathing synchronizing, and the comfort of being by each other's sides, Tom never knew such simple company could feel so good. If not for the agitated fire trail of magic Harry was pushing into him through the bond, he could probably fall asleep just like that.

“Tom?” It was the first time the other wizard spoke since he agreed to clean that mess up, filling the woman’s memories with some bullshite. Something about trying to transfigure Harry’s teeth into normal ones like he was told to, no matter how much he found the fangs absolutely adorable, his beloveds wish was a wish. The notion of getting rid of them was atrociously ridiculous, but he didn’t voice the fact.

“Yes?” The boy opened his eyes to look at him, the green of them glowing in the cold atmosphere of their dorm; Tom felt like the most important thing in the universe as long as that gaze was set on him. Please never look away, he wanted to beg. 

“Nothing. Just wanted to hear you say something.” That was so sappy that he could feel himself melt into the happiest man alive, and he knew he would let Harry remould him into a new person if this kept up. For someone who refused to progress their relationship (he is a bit miffed at this one) Harry was tragically romantic right now, and Tom wasn’t sure his poor braincells could handle that.

What is this push and pull, he wanted to demand, but instead:

“You’re finally getting spoiled.” He admitted, full of ironic accusation, trying to tease his way into normalcy. Harry’s features scrunched up in confusion, and a hint of something he couldn’t name- it was worth his weight in gold all the same. Everything about Harry was, a treacherous side of him said.

“I like it though, it means I take good care of you” It was more of a wish than a statement.

“Do you?” The boy asked, rolling his eyes in barely hidden amusement, and Tom had so much questions, but he figured they could wait until morning. He didn’t dare disrupt this moment with his curiosity like before, he could practice self-restraint from time to time; his growing obsession had to be kept in check until he was entirely sure Harry wouldn’t leave.

You’re so dependant, so weak… Shut up brain.

“Oh yes. What a wonderful boyfriend I would make” That earned him a deep groan, a frustrated, but fond sound his mind immediately filed away for later. Not that he knew what it could be used for, logically it served no purpose.

“Whatever, you flirty bastard. Can’t help yourself, huh?” Harry sighed, but relaxed into the mattress at last, his limbs going limp- the boy looked positively, or negatively, exhausted. What the woman wanted of him was impossible, and it was no wonder his familiar had enough of things for the day, but they were finally safe, together.

“Me, flirty? Never. You must’ve mistaken me for Rosier” He grabbed a blanket to throw over them, and added in a more serious tone, “I won’t do anything though, you can just go to sleep. I promise.”

Harry didn’t look entirely sure, but if the way his hunched shoulders sagged on the mattresses meant anything, the boy was too comfortable to move. He did a similar thing when he was in snake form and fell asleep on his chest, Tom couldn’t help but imagine the human version there instead.

“Pinkie promise it.” Harry requested with the seriousness worthy of a four-year-old that wanted the newest candy flavour, but simultaneously Tom saw a dictator who wouldn’t stop until they got their way. Who was he to refuse?

“I can’t believe you’re a teenager” 

“I can’t believe you don’t want to pinkie promise me on this”

“…” Fair.

Feeling more idiotic than Orion Black on a bad day, he outstretched his stupid pinky, for the even more silly muggle vow. Harry shook it with his enthusiastically- the action didn’t fail to be dumb, but Tom appreciated the skin to skin contact all the same. Better, in fact, since their bond finally developed into maturity, leaving electricity to spark between his hand and brain in a mindless, soft, and delectably pleasurable way. The feeling of it humming under his skin was glorious, from the way the darker hand trembled against his, Harry felt the same.

He kissed Harry’s knuckles emboldened by the newfound sensations, their joined magic spiking with the act, his own excitement thrumming along the bond. Thankfully, nothing strong enough to cause an unwanted reaction. Tom tried to send as much assurance and safety as he could through the flow of his magic, the stream of it certain and steady. Thank Salazar, Harry didn’t take away his hand, only blushed slightly, covering himself up with the blanket more.

“If you try anything I will burn down your wand too” Harry threatened sleepily, his pyromaniac tendencies on full display, eyes slowly closing under the storm of emotion. His companion earned some rest after all, so he didn’t complain their conversation was cut short.

He hummed in acknowledgment, thinking of more pressing matters since Harry was already falling asleep, they were still holding hands- there was a name he added to his black list today, and he wondered if the witch knew what kind of enemy she made. Just what kind of nightmare should he prepare for her?

All the response he got to his darkening thoughts was a comically loud snore, which made him chuckle. If it was anyone else, he might’ve snuffed them out with a pillow, just to have some peace and quiet, but he didn’t mind Harry disturbing him. It was almost welcome, keyword here being almost, the raven haired wizard was still annoying, he didn’t suddenly lose the ability, though it was worth feeling his warmth pressed against his side. Silencing spells were invented for a reason, after all. 

Lacking the desire to sleep, he summoned his diary to look over the Gaunt family tree again, going back to what he was about to do before the sudden disturbance. Potter always messed with his plans, not that he could complain when so much intrigue happened. As it turns out, material from Black wasn’t completely useless. After making up his mind, he hastily drew his name beside Merope Gaunt, and breathed another shaky, albeit humourless laugh. Things were getting more complicated by the day.

The next morning was a tad awkward, mostly because Harry fumbled with everything, blushing a pomegranate red anytime he looked at their shared bed. Tom didn’t have such qualms, why should Harry? It certainly wasn’t the first time, for Merlin’s sake, when the boy was still a snake he almost permanently lived under his shirt. Clearly, intimacy wasn’t a problem. Not to mention they only slept there, nothing more, and the situation obviously called for it; the distress Harry was in was way too great, Tom couldn’t just leave the boy alone in his misery. 

However silly he found the situation however, it certainly stopped him from asking questions, Harry was too skittish to answer anyway. Maybe he was scared of hearing lies, for the first time in his life. Through the corner of his eye he could see the honey coloured hands grabbing books for the day, Harry’s face hardened into a mask that wasn’t usually there- he was preparing for something, and Tom didn’t like it one bit.

“Is everything alright?” He found himself asking, packing his books one after the other, really he was turning too soft for his own liking. A grimace and he was at full attention? His followers wouldn’t believe that if he told them.

“What do you think?” The other said dryly, shoving parchment and quills down his bag as quickly as possible, so carelessly it was a wonder how nothing spilled in there yet. He arched an eyebrow at Harry.

“I think you’re worrying too much about something inconsequential” Tom replied truthfully, grabbing his diary to look at the family tree displayed there. 

“I'm worrying just the right amount. I don’t want Dumbledore on my back… I attacked a teacher yesterday” The boy’s grip on the book he was holding made his knuckles turn white, and he stared at the object with hatred. What was wrong with intermediate potions?

“He won’t. I did my utmost yesterday. You can just relax, it’s okay. No one’s going to know your secrets.” He offered placatingly, his bargaining side coming out without him thinking about it, but it wasn’t the right thing to say, it turns out. 

“How much do you know?” Harry bit out, going for his wand as if Tom was about to stab him with his, like he was preyed upon. He didn’t understand what happened to trigger this reaction from the usually carefree teen, he has faced much worse even in his stay at Hogwarts.

“…” Hesitation didn’t bring him good results this time, but he did draw his wand.

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” Harry demanded, closing in on him, wand against his sternum chin held high, giving the delicate looking boy a commanding air. Tom wasn’t that scared, because of the bond he knew his safety was assured, but sweet Salazar if it wasn’t the most attractive thing the caramel skinned boy did to date. 

“Not much, just what I had to erase. I thought you knew that…” The wand didn’t recede, and neither did his beloved calm down, his jaw suddenly clenched tight. “I won’t say anything about it, if you don’t want me to” 

Harry was contemplating his offer, Tom knew it by the was his magic started to dance around the bond as if preparing for a ritual- he saw it in those unforgiving emerald green eyes. The thrill of being at a wand's endpoint first thing in the morning wasn’t supposed to be exciting, right? He was thanking Merlin, his… other parts didn’t react yet.

“Secrets cost secrets. Give me the diary, right now.” It was spat at him with a calculated twist to Harry’s holly handle, it was on the thin line between playful and terrifyingly threatening. Tom couldn’t get enough, the feeling of being cornered like this by his equal made him want to do things of the more unholy nature.

“How do you know about it?” His method of hiding things in plain sight never failed him before, people refused to believe the truth most of the time. His diary was just that, with a few safety enchantments, but nothing drastic- he hadn’t found the right spell for it yet.

“Don’t ask useless questions, when everything was going well up to this point” Harry said, bordering on what Tom thought was hopelessness, that is to say, he handed over the diary as he was told just to ease the other's worry. Harry flipped through the book instantly like it was holding the essence of evil.

“It’s normal?” It was murmured distantly, and Tom couldn’t understand what he did to it in the future that made Harry hate the book so much.

“What did you expect of a diary?” He asked, grabbing Harry’s wrist, bringing his wand wielding hand closer to his heart just in order to provoke, the contrast of their skin against each other made the muscle pound in his chest. That’s where the boy should aim, he thought with no small amount of twisted satisfaction.

“You’re not the one asking questions here Riddle” Harry sneered his fangs shooting a bit of venom out, but it was much too soft to actually be meant in a mean way- mostly Tom thought, the boy was scared of what he’d find. 

“Mhm” Like an animal trying to make itself look bigger, Harry tried to scare him off, from something Tom had no clue about. Secrets, many more secrets awaited him on his path to courting Harry Potter. 

Finally, the boy skimmed to the last page, the one with the family tree, and he paused as if it was what he was searching for. The fact he overlooked several rituals possibly considered dark, and his research on deathly hallows, goes to show he was looking for something specific. 

“You found out.” Harry breathed with resignation, like his whole resolve was about to fall apart. “Did you open it?” It took him a good minute to figure out what the other meant, and silence fell on the room in the wake of his unusual cretinism. 

“I didn’t find it yet” He responded, reaching out to Harry in hopes of calming the boy- it was like trying to stop a hurricane or flood in a way. Thankfully, Harry’s dangerous presence didn’t leak out of him today, Tom liked to think it was because he tried to keep his calm. Truly, he had no idea why, the power of his familiar tasted bittersweet against his own. 

“Good” Harry, Sweet Harry- what do you not understand about being the heir of Slytherin? Shouldn’t I fit in? The muggles are destroying the world, can’t I destroy them? It wasn’t good he hadn’t found it. If his grand, grand, grand-something ancestor wanted him to do some job, Tom will do it. He already opened his mouth to protest but felt the tip of Harry's wand filling up with magic, preparing for a spell casting session- it wasn’t a smart move to continue.

“If you try to get rid of any muggleborns, I will kill you with my own two hands. You’re better than that Tom, we both know it” He grimaced, compared to the other threats this one somehow rang true. What happened in the future to cause such a kind soul to suddenly get violent like that? Whatever it was, Tom had no choice other than surrender, despite it being Harry it still felt belittling. 

‘You’re better than that’ he said, but was he? Was he really? Without Harry, certainly he wasn’t- his moral compass was set by the ideals of his most cherished person, other than that by nothing at all. Tom just planned to scare a few pests away, but if Harry was going to threaten outright murder… 

“Understood”

The battle was lost, but the triumph in Harry’s smile made it up to him. It still was degrading and annoying, but if his familiar’s magic sang with such joy, he could maybe live with not finding the chamber.

“Okay, then would you mind giving me back my diary? It’s pretty rude to steal it, as that’s not the only thing in there” He sighed, reaching for the book- it came with an overwhelming fear flowing from Harry’s side of the bond. His hand halted somewhere around the other's elbow, trying to reach the damn thing. The snake boy quickly took his wand from his chest, and whispered,

“Incendio” with that, all of his notes turned to ash in front of him- its not like he had a bad memory, but still. There were priceless amounts of knowledge there! Harry looked proud to have burned it. What did future him do with that book?

“What was that for? I don’t go around burning your stuff” He hissed, but Harry has already summoned his bag and left for the common room, so he hastily did the same, catching up to the other Slytherin in no time.

“You don’t need it, believe me”

“Since when do you decide that? Isn’t stealing enough for you? You could have it- if it bothers you so much, not destroy it.” He argued like a child, knowing Harry was beyond entertaining his logical arguments, as he vanished the ash from his hand with a quick spell. 

“Mmm… I just didn’t like it, Tom. Don’t be such a prick about it, I’ll buy you something in its place” With what money, Tom wanted to ask, since when did banks acknowledge time travellers? Even if they were heir to the Potter fortune. What little of their house was now residing in the common room stared at them, trying to decipher their conversation. 

“I don’t want money” 

“What do you want then?” Harry asked, his pride making him basically strut through the room, not unlike his patronus. Tom couldn’t decide between fighting and snogging that expression off his face, all in good sport, of course. 

“A kiss” He deadpanned, knowing full well what effect it would have on Harry- his face wasn’t thick enough to withstand the request. The boy spluttered and ran to the exit, as fast as his legs let him, but his Incarcerous was quicker. Thin cords shot from his wand just in time, and the next moment, Harry was wriggling on the floor.

“That’s playing dirty!” The room was filling out by now, onlookers where he could see, and gasps filling the air- they were probably thinking him and Harry were fighting over domination, like a standard Slytherin should. Oh no, this was their most feared leader showing his love- he wondered if they realized it. His and Harry's secrets run deeper in their veins than one could imagine. 

“And you weren’t? Cornering me like that, back in the dorm?” He shot back, rolling his shoulders, and pointing to the place Harry aimed his wand at, just moments prior. The knowing twinkle in forest green eyes turned into a flush.

“That’s different…” Harry tried weakly, glancing at the surrounding crowd. No one said a word, though some blushed or exchanged looks.

“How so?” 

“Things I do for your safety don’t count” What safety did burning an innocent diary bring, Tom had no possible idea. He adored the idea of someone caring about it though, it felt better than any respects he was given last year. Whispers started to fill the air.

“I still want that kiss” Harry frowned deeply at that, causing his scars to ripple on his honey skin. The other wriggled fruitlessly some more, grunting and sitting up.

“I think not” The boy shouted, somehow loosening the bind enough to cast himself out of this situation, his relashio gaining a hiss quality to it.

He cursed under his breath- that little snake, just when he had him at him mercy, when he was about to claim his lips, not actually but the fantasy of it was nice- Harry ran, ran like his life depended on it. He couldn’t run forever.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Potter!” He yelled, giving chase like a kid playing in the garden- it was safe to say Slughorn didn’t understand what was happening when they passed him on their way. Tom barely registered running past him in his frenzy.

“Over my dead body!” Harry shouted, sounding terrified at the prospect, but his magic betrayed him, it was so happy as if a heavy burden left it- what Tom wanted was a simple kiss, not that bad of a request, but the other reacted like he asked for his hand in marriage. He probably will, but not now. 

“I rather you were alive for the duration of the act.” He sighed, making Harry bark out an involuntary laugh, which was, of course, the best kind- and a sign he might get what he wants after all, but the boy didn’t stop.

They only slowed before the doors to the great hall, tired and panting, Harry’s bed head hardly appropriate for any occasion, in this case they looked like they just shagged- not that his familiar seemed to notice, but it did result in many new onlookers other than Slytherins hot on their heels, and quite a few giggles. He gave them the biggest grin he dared before grabbing Harry by the shoulder, honestly it bordered on the thin line between friends and lovers, but the other boy didn’t say no. 

“Don’t” Harry said, trying to shove him away. Why?

“I’ll get my kiss sooner or later” 

“As if” Their glaring contest was spectacular, but amounted to nothing, neither of them wanted to lose, and held their ground stubbornly.

“You’re mine, who else would you rather kiss?”  He whispered into the boy's ear finally, making him turn an embarrassing shade of pink. Many girls had their hearts broken that day, not that he cared, beyond showing off what’s his. 

“Oh, piss off, and eat your bland porridge. I saved you a lot of trouble, and this is the thanks I get.” Harry whisper-shouted, slipping out from his grasp, shooting daggers at him through his thunderous gaze. As long as he was looking only at him, Tom didn’t mind the glare, but quickly the boy’s attention turned to the food, where Harry buried his shame in bacon.

“In the evening, then?” 

“Sod off” It didn’t fool Tom at all, their bond picking up on the subtle change- not today then. Maybe tomorrow, just you wait Harry, you promised me.

On the other side of the room, the teacher's table looked deep in thought, Dumbledore seemed frightened, McGonagall confused but overall calm, and Slughorn who finally arrived from who knows where was blushing slightly. Tom knew the man would ‘scold’ him lightly for running in the corridors, but what could the man realistically say, bonds with familiars were more sacred than marriage in some cultures. No one could despise him for showing affection to Harry, even if they got a twisted view on things. 

Tom knew he was painting their relationship in a vastly different light than it actually was at the moment, but it would catch up to the image sooner or later. Besides, if someone brought their muggle prejudiced views into the magical world… He will shove his love for Harry down their throats if that’s what it takes to make them see reason. On that note, Harry didn’t want him searching for the chamber of secrets, but he didn’t advise against taking his lordship title. Tom sighed, the political route it is, the longer infinitely more ardours route.

They couldn’t exactly keep them apart, and no one would deter Tom from his goals, though from the press to his occlumency shields Tom knew Dumbledore wished to try. Deal with the war first, and assault students later he broadcasted for the man, before smiling- it was the kind of smile Harry absolutely despised. Albus seemed to have the same idea on it.

Why are you playing hard to get, when you’re hard to want, Dumbledore. Just deal with your homicidal boyfriend and leave us alone, Tom thought, looking at the destroyed blood pact on the man’s neck- not that the parallel hit him at this point in time. Not when he saw Newt Scamander’s owl forgoing Dumbledore and going straight to him, the first letter since they arrived in Hogwarts; the Transfiguration Professor looked taken aback, when the animal perched on his shoulder friendly. Oh, so the letter demanded an immediate response? Tom couldn’t wait to read what it contained.

It was Friday night, just before the Hogsmead weekend, and if Harry was avoiding cuddly Riddle, it was his personal choice. He was scared one of these days teasing may just become something more, and he knew he wouldn’t know how to stop.

The night was chilly, and he didn’t have his invisibility cloak to make his life easier, but he still could roam the halls somewhat freely with his vast knowledge of the place. Filch wasn’t around here, who knew when the man was born, so it was pretty fair game.

It was delightfully quiet, his steps tap-tap-taping along the stone floors, September wind sweeping the ceilings high above. It was hard, living with a smitten dark lord just one bed over, and it was even harder when said man had a crush on you, and was your familiar. When you felt just how excited he was to see you, how happy he was when their eyes locked together in heated glaring battles. Harry might just have a crush on Tom too.

Worse was the brunette’s disregard for the public opinion of them, but frankly Tom tried to make it as comfortable for him as possible- no one ever gone such lengths for him, and he might just give in, if not for the homicidal tendencies. Murder and blood supremacy is still a big NO in his books. The murder of his parents and radical views considering the war were a hard pill to swallow in any case, not that his Tom did any of that, but also he saw how the boy tried to better himself everyday- how he took muggle studies as an elective suddenly, how he was researching the capabilities of their magic not curses or blood rituals. It turns out familiar magic is mostly defensive, or healing. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle, after all, was a charming boy, attractive enough for the both of them, and he was so determined to woo him; but if Harry succeeded in making him a better person, which after destroying the diary, and the tid-bit McGonagall let slip on her future world, he was practically sure about- he didn’t want to destroy the life Tom was going to have. Wouldn’t Harry ruin everything the wizard was working towards with his freakiness? The forties were not known for their tolerance of all things, and the radio roared about attacks and fronts, or deaths every single day. Harry tried to ignore the war, he couldn't help in it at all.

What would people say, he thought in a voice tragically resembling Aunt Petunia, even as the corridors were filled with people gossiping about them already. He didn’t have the right to destroy something before it was even built…

There were too many secrets surrounding him too, even if he forgave the boy for what he didn’t get to do in this timeline, they still suffocated him; Harry was never good at lying. At least McGonagall got off his back, and though she was somewhat suspicious, the witch wasn’t hostile anymore; Memory charms put on her were brilliant he had to admit, the woman though she burned the wand herself, trying to fix his dental... problem. Their relationship was well now, even if he missed his own times Professor. Dumbledore was more cautious around them now, though, since that letter, and the burned wand, he wasn't a foolish man. Thankfully, he kept his mouth firmly shut.

On a more positive note, they were meeting with Newt tomorrow, who was probably the most sincere friend Harry has made here- and who could maybe give him some advice on how to navigate his new life. The magizoologist was almost as outlandish as Luna, and twice as shy, but his company always helped with his day; Tom said they were going to meet someone new with Newt, which in Riddle speak was ‘we are going to talk to some new exotic snake Newt has rescued, but is absolutely illegal to have’. It helped none of them were scared of a little jail time, and two of them knew parseltounge- overall he was looking forward to it. Animals wouldn’t judge his dubious choice in romantic partners, or his skin tone- unlike humans. Playing with magical creatures, meeting up with a friend, it was almost normal, as normal as his life could be. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice when he walked into an old unused classroom, why he didn’t make a noise when he saw an old friend standing in the middle of the room, unused. Abandoned. The mirror, mirror of Erised stared at him in all of its reflective glory, Harry has promised to not seek it out anymore; but it was in another time, to another man, and Harry hadn't actually searched for it- he can’t help himself as he takes a few steps forward, barely scared of what he has become in those few years, obviously he expects to see his parents there, alive and well. Slowly, deliberately slowly he raises his head to look, but it’s not his parents anymore standing beside him; the face of the person next to him is vastly different from his own, he recognizes the face.

A pale, handsome man is standing there, smiling, so realistically Harry can hear his heart flutter. His hair is shiny, immaculately styled, and his eyes are a deep chocolate colour, and he seems to be well-fed once in his life; when the man grabs his waist in the illusion, Harry can swear he feels the ghost of that touch on himself. Tom does it constantly after all, he’s so touchy, so loud with what he wants it barely leaves him time to think of what he desires, but now, he is mesmerized with this vision. He can see what he wants for himself. They’re older, much older than teenagers, perhaps in their forties, and there’s a living room behind them in deep burgundy, and it looks like a home, a home Harry never got to have, a real place- so close, yet so faraway. Tears fall down his cheeks, and he forces himself to look away for the moment to wipe them, but his gaze returns once again to the mirror. When the not-real Tom kisses the not-real Harry on the mouth, their robes shuffling he blushes, and then pales, he barely feels it when he hits his knees on the floor. Oh.

Oh, no. 

“I love Tom Riddle” He says to the empty room, and he feels himself sink into despair. It’s not just a simple crush now, is it? He’s terrified to admit that this feeling overwrites his past-future friendships, it’s irrational. He feels it anyway. But can the boy even love him back, he thinks bitterly. Would it be real?

Harry doesn’t know if they have a chance at something so serious together, they’re broken, beyond repair. They’re jagged at the edges, and trust barely anybody, Tom is unforgiving and has a cruel streak; he feels the need to protect anyone and their cat as long as someone is happy at the end of the day. That someone is never him. But this once, he is just selfish. They’re mismatched in everything except stubbornness, and their relationship will be ostracized, Harry knows this. 

“We’re not so different, are we my boy” Someone whispers behind him, and Harry knows who that is, this situation happened to him before, even the endearment is the same. At first, he fears, he doesn’t know what, maybe hexes, unkind words, maybe the searing pain in his head from Legillemency poorly done- Tom has told him it only takes averting eye contact to solve the problem. ‘I’ve got to keep my Darling safe’ he had said, and suddenly Harry knows. He just knows.

“Do you see Gellert, sir?” Albus Dumbledore hums, and sits next to him without a word said, it’s all wrong. Why is he the one offering wise words? He doesn’t know, but he feels he needs to, Tom will never forgive the man. He doesn’t have to, but Harry thinks the hate the boy feels will consume him if he doesn't, it will burn and destroy. Lead him to becoming a monster he doesn't deserve to be. The edges of resentment blurred over the years, both men aren’t easy to get along with in their own ways after all.

This too young Dumbledore is not the wise sage Harry knows yet, and echoes of the future ring high and clear in his mind, words that need to be repeated. This man looks so sad, Harry thinks.

“This mirror gives us neither knowledge… nor truth. Men have wasted away in front of it. Even gone mad. It don’t think this will help Professor, but if Tom started a war I don’t think I would still love him” There is silence so dense at his sentence, and blue eyes, so wide Harry can’t look back at them, he gulps. 

It’s not right, so he rectifies the words.

“Or maybe I would, but that doesn’t mean I would let him do that to himself” He breathes, suddenly overwhelmed, it is too much to ask of himself to save the world from the next war- just as it is too much to ask for Dumbledore, still a young man to sacrifice what he desires the most. He laughs humourlessly at it all.

Fate hates everyone.

“That’s awfully insightful for your age Harry” He called him Harry this time, he thinks with satisfaction, magic humming at the back of his mind flowing with Tom’s own ocean of it effortlessly.

“Someone older, and grey told me. I hope he didn’t regret that” There’s a sharp intake of air, and a shaky exhale, like it hurts the Not-yet-headmaster to breathe- like the most basic of needs is beyond him when he looks in the mirror. 

“I don’t doubt it” Dumbledore offers, but Harry does doubt, oh, how much he does.

“Just don’t keep it all to yourself, Professor. Being a hero is not the amazing job everyone thinks it is” He slithers out of the room before he can hear the man sob, Harry doesn’t think he could survive it right now- so close to it himself. Is that why Dumbledore despises Tom so much? Too much like Grindelwald, was he? Harry knows how that would pan out, and he sought to rectify the mistake. 

His mind is a mess for the rest of the night, when he slides into the dorm he pretends not to notice Tom trying and failing at producing a patronus, this one more evening he spends acting like he doesn’t love him, like he doesn’t want anything more than to curl up with him in bed to look at his face first thing in the morning; trying to keep himself sane and not to cry his eyes out on the pillow. Through the haze, Harry wonders if his parents hate him now, but after all they were dead, and now they don’t exist, he never knew them. For all that's worth, he's barely a son to anyone. Harry doesn’t know he cries in his sleep anyway.

Chapter Text

The next morning comes quickly to him, despite the night being rough, he hadn’t slept well, and he can feel tracks of tears on his face. It’s finally Saturday, the first Hogsmead weekend of the year- and Harry is about to see a friend, if he secretly wonders how they got the slip to go, well… he doesn’t voice the concern. Maybe Mrs. Cole isn’t as sadistic as she lets the world see, though Harry somewhere deep inside his mind strongly disagrees- maybe Tom just manipulated his way to permission, or maybe Slughorn doesn’t care much for such formalities. Either way, he doesn’t care, it’s innocent enough he thinks the Slytherin may have his fun with this if he wanted to.

It’s also partly because Tom looks so proud anytime he gets anything done, he likes to think of himself as capable, at least Harry thinks so. He never asked, just drew conclusions, it's a theme with Tom really. The boy isn’t a sharing type of person, he just leaves clues like the mystery in human form he is, and Harry likes picking the clues all up. It’s nice getting to know someone piece after piece, there’s a magic to it, he thinks, though he is uncertain if the magic here was actually falling in love.

They get dressed relatively quickly, Tom taking the longest time in front of the mirror- he jokes the other is behaving too much like Abraxas at which Tom scowls, though he looks perfect either way, more perfect than the idealized version of himself in the mirror of Erised could hope to. Because this one is real, and warm, and if Harry raised his arm he could trace the fine lines of the other's jaw with his fingertips. In all honestly, looks like his should be illegal. Looks straight out of a fairytale, his sleeping beauty… Maybe Tom should become a model instead of a lawyer? That’s definitely an interesting thought, but Harry’s not the one to decide a future for him, and Tom never asked for advice.

Riddle probably has three back-up plans on the back burner if one doesn’t work out, the Slytherin he is.

“Harry, you’ve been staring at me for the past minute.” And you were extremely content doing so went unsaid, Harry was happy it didn’t get acknowledged- he can feel Tom’s power answering his though. It’s a fairly new development.

“Mhm… thinking about things.” He says dismissively, summoning his scarf wandlessly, because apparently that’s also a thing now, because of their bond of course, he thinks his potential might have doubled, but he has no real way to know. Poppy Pomfrey thinks of him as the boy who runs in corridors, and sleeps in class, and he doesn’t trust whoever is a nurse at the moment to diagnose his weird anatomy.  His whole being fizzles with magic the more they work on the bond though, and when they use it to cast especially, the more he and Tom try doing different spells, he can feel it growing. 

It’s amazing, alive and a part of his daily life now, swimming in the ocean that isn’t his, warm because of his fire. They might outclass Dumbledore in the magical core department now, it's a terrifying kind of thought, and Tom agrees. They keep it under wraps for now.

“Probably thinking how I’m the second most beautiful familiar in the world” Tom says as a matter of fact, going over to tie his scarf like a dotting mother, Harry tries not to compare him to Molly Weasley of all people (he fails). 

Mrs Weasley wouldn’t be happy to be dragged into this, but then again he only saw some of her ancestors going around the place, and Tom is like an overbearing mother. The Prewetts looked so much like Fred and George, he almost said hi.

“Second?” He asks dumbly, brows twitching, surely Tom lost his ability to see or to speak properly in the past few minutes since using the loo. He’s definitely the first. 

“I’m not coming for your throne darling” The way he rolls the last word from his lips has Harry at mercy, he might as well been cursed with imperio for all he is aware. Shivers run up his spine and down his shoulders, and sink into his skin like he’s been electrocuted, his brain not responding to stimuli other than Tom Riddle and his ridiculously attractive voice.

Everything about him is overly attractive, in all honesty.

He blushes the worst he ever did, not even the stares of the whole school could make his cheeks hotter- he doesn’t know how to tease back this time, and for Merlin’s sake Tom looks so smug at that. His smile is absolutely dazzling, like a prince on the telly that Harry could never quite watch properly, always hidden, always from the kitchen.

If he had to save his life right now, forming a coherent sentence, he’d be dead two times over. “Good” It’s shaky, and Tom chuckles at it. Lord Voldemort actually fucking chuckles, like a teenager, Harry feels dizzy. 

“Let’s just go” He said too loudly, startling the other into standing straighter, and without looking back on his shame he walks out of the dorm. Tom and his freakish long legs catch up to him in a matter of moments, and then they’re off, begrudging stares following them from every corner; Harry absent-mindedly notes that none of the purebloods seem particularly miffed at the presumed homosexual couple going on a ‘date’. They’re probably more worried it’s him with their esteemed top Slytherin, but they don’t dare show it, even Orion doesn’t seem more assholish than usual. He’s just the normal amount of a ponce, but no one stops them on their way.

That’s when comprehension hits him square in the head. Oh dear Morgana, it looks like he is going on a date with the guy he has a crush on, the boy he loves. The big L word that feels scary to use, but at the same time doesn’t encompass his desire to see Tom live a happy long life with him, to watch his eyes twinkle with every smile, to share his worries and grief. If Ron were here with his spoon-full of emotions, he would have the laugh of his life at his inadequacies, and late realizations. Just ask the slimy git out, he’d say, Harry misses him briefly, before remembering his best friend decidedly wouldn’t encourage dating evil Lords, and maybe that makes him miss Ron more.

Backing up a few steps, he has never been to Hogsmead legally, not to mention a date. Shit, he has never been on a date. It’s not one, he tries to reason with himself, but the knowledge doesn’t quite sink, and he feels absolutely light-headed when they walk out of the castle, Harry doesn’t know how to act.

“Your magic seems awfully excited about the trip” Tom says conversationally, and if Harry was of sound mind at the moment he would know the taller wizard was prying, searching for information he had no reason to possess. Always on a search of something, his maniacal familiar trying to ask about the future, but as it is, he barely registers it.

“I’ve never gone there with someone. Not legally anyway.”

“Your times seem tragic at keeping anything in order if that’s the case.” Tom regards, he’s right of course, they let him participate in a possibly deadly tournament at fourteen, but he can’t believe he agrees with the boy on the assessment of the future Ministry of all things. Though It’s not their fault, he sneaks out to the village like a criminal, more like everyone else’s. 

“I seem tragic at obeying rules, or so I’ve been told” He laughs, trying to hideaway in his Slytherin scarf, it’s off, the colours mostly, but it does feel divine in its softnesses. 

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Didn’t take you for that kind, though, there’s just so much I don’t know about my familiar.” Harry never knew being buttered up for information felt so good, if he did, he might’ve encouraged it more. His last dying, completely besodded with Riddle braincell, makes the obvious connection at last. He’s being played.

“I won’t tell you unnecessary bits about the future, Tom. Ask some other friendly neighbourhood freaks around” He spits finally, breaking out of his rose-coloured bubble, unfortunately he thinks, this bubble is very insistent. The bubble kept him from realizing his feelings for a month (possibly more), it’s hard to get rid of it when it paints his life so beautifully.

Tom groaned a bit “Worth a shot” He laughed at it, because he almost fell for the trap, keyword being almost. Living with snakes does things to your mind you can’t really undo, especially if even the cute first years try to make you the fool in conversation, and look adorable doing that.

Once they’re walking merrily on to the village, almost hand in hand, and out on the grounds he notices how Tom slows his steps to fall in with his- since when he wants to ask, but his evil object of affection has other plans. “Will you at least tell me what house you were in?” 

“…” Harry knows how much Tom dislikes rash Gryffindors, and it makes him puff out his chest in pride to prove him wrong. You absolute bafoon! Your familiar is the type of person you dislike the most in the whole wide world- his inner Malfoy says, and he has one of those just because it’s funny, all in all their family members do speak exactly the same.

If he is a bit hysterical trying not to let on he is in love with Tom Marvolo Riddle, it’s not anyone’s business.

The silence is telling; only their footsteps, crackling leaves and muffled conversations of other students disturb the autumn paradise, all yellow and burnt sienna leaves. Harry does his best not to grab Tom’s transfigured elegant robes and kiss away at those lips, there are people around. It’s too out in the open for things like that, so he manages- barely. Other than his sexuality and or feelings crisis, the scenery is a red-orange paradise, mostly because there’s no whomping willow around, capable of turning you into mushed human meatballs. That’s the change he likes the most about this old-timey Hogwarts, others not so much.

“No, but… no. Gryffindor?” Tom stares, clicking his tongue in mock distaste. “But you weren’t surprised at the common room at all.”

“Oh, yes there was the time I poly juiced myself and sneaked in” He may just list off his adventures to watch Tom trying to piece them together logically- it’s impossible, his life was never logical, so much so that even the most brilliant of the generation fails in understanding it. He also doesn’t give the boy context clues, so there’s that. 

“Your life sounds…” Tom trails off when they walk over where they usually ride on carriages. Adventurous? Impossible? Funny? Fake? Sad? Moronic? Harry thinks it’s all of the above.

“So dangerous” That wasn’t what he expected, and when he looks into cocoa eyes they stare him down accusingly, Tom’s magic also has this icy protective edge to it. Harry is happy to be the most important in the boy's life at times like this, not that there’s competition, maybe except the hoards of drooling girls.

But today he lets himself enjoy it, he relished in the feeling of being a priority to someone, it feels strangely embarrassing, though in a comfortable way- his job hiding being pleased with being taken care of wasn’t necessarily well done.

“I know.” He says sombrely, taking a deep breath as his eyes skim the person who made his future (past) like that. All he feels is deep affection, and somehow the sensation of it warm in his heart is enough to ease his worries- this Tom is different. Those things won’t happen again. “It’s okay though. You swear to protect me every half-hour” He teases. 

There’s a knife like quality to the hiss Tom let’s out, it doesn’t mean anything in parseltounge, but it does evoke feelings in Harry, several of those, actually. He smiles, for once not in public enough to show his fangs, Tom glances at them like he’s hungry, but maybe he just looked at Harry’s lips.

“Now, now. Riddle me this Tom-“ For all his grace, ethereal beauty, and hotness, his companion stumbles at the horrific pun, and Harry feels triumphant somehow that he managed to get that part of him out of the hole it’s usually buried in “how come purebloods don’t address the rumours… surrounding us?”

“Ah, you mean that they don’t act bigoted for once in their life?” Harry just nods, he tries not to notice how Tom’s magic washes over him with pride, and… need. What need, he has no idea, he isn’t sure if he wants to find out.

“Most magical communities have no problem with it, as long as the family line is secure. Love is love.” When the brunette says it seems so natural, simple even, not like the disgusting, filthy secret Vernon said it was. Then again, when has his Uncle been right about anything? Maybe pureblood culture isn’t so bad, he thinks hazily. 

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Tom declares beaming like he proved a point to Harry, not that he did really; he already suspected such, but… He didn’t dare ask before, not wanting to admit anything, but yesterday ripped that chance out of his hands forcibly. Now that Harry wants to stay here, it messes he has to understand some things other than those needed for immediate survival, unlike before. This is one of them. Anyhow, he makes the smug look disappear quickly from Toms face in a foul move.

“Oh? Isn’t that Myrtle Warren, absolutely running towards us? Is that a box of chocolates? How curious” Moaning Myrtle, though alive (a small victory), of course isn’t running in their direction; Tom flinches in disgust anyway, and then promptly frowns when he realizes he fell for a badly crafted lie. 

“Not Gryffindor in the slightest” Tom taunts.

“You take that back!” He barks out, not truly offended, it's Tom’s way of saying he’s not stupid after all. “You just got played by Gryffindor’s golden boy, get used to it.” 

“Golden boy?” Tom asks, a burst of jealousy twisting itself down to Harry's magic, possessive and primal almost, he suppressed the shiver coming with it, though his own magic wiggles contentedly.

  “You don’t need to know” It doesn’t particularly matter, since I won’t let you listen to idiotic prophecies, that lead to killing families Harry thinks with determination. “You really don’t” 

Tom looks confused, and brooding more than usual, but Harry lets him- he won’t uncover his secrets anyway, not if he doesn’t want to.  They walk to the village side by side, and Harry feels immensely grateful he can do that with someone he likes; without hiding away, even if eyes follow his every move. By the second life, one could think he’d get used to it…

It’s stressful, but the hand Tom sets on his back is decidedly keeping him from thinking about other people altogether, the warmness of a bonfire encasing his very being with its cracks- his magic is ecstatic, Tom’s pool of power responds with the same kind of giddiness. Still, the eyes follow them, whispers of insults too, he acts like he doesn’t notice.

Harry knows that people who dare taunt him in public don’t have good night’s of sleep lately, and he might just know who causes that, but he doesn’t say anything- a weird part of him likes it. They should feel guilty, Tom can take care of him, it’s what they deserve his mind supplies. Why should I be the only victim? Harry has never been a priority like this before, he feels cherished, noticed. Some people could watch what they say, couldn’t they?

This Hogsmead is even smaller than in his time, and it goes to say that Hogsmeade is a picturesque little village of thatched cottages and shops. Now it’s just tiny, the shops are lively however, and it doesn’t look like a world war has its claws here on the surface; it does however when you look at the details, the prices are high even for Harry’s standards, and there’s little to choose from. It’s not like the abundance of the nineties, and the cheer is lacklustre compared to his times too, but he shakes his head trying not to think about it. There’s little he can do. It’s not bad, he tried to tell himself when refocusing. 

“Where are we going?”

“To the most disgusting place in all of Scotland, but to be fair- Newt insisted, and he says a friend runs it, honestly I wouldn’t consider the other Dumbledore a friend, but…” Tom trails off, making a face of disgust and shaking his head, like just thinking about it makes him gag. Riddle doesn’t do something so plebeian as fake gagging, though, he has an image to uphold.

“Other Dumbledore? There are others?” This world is really out of sorts, if there are more Dumbledores; there is just one man for all that Harry knows, and he never speaks of any family. Certainly there aren’t little Dumbledores? Harry was pretty sure the man loves Grindelwald, not the best choice, but Harry isn’t one to comment on it. He looks at Tom like he grew two heads. 

“There are two, the one that runs that godforsaken hellhole is the brother of our Professor” Tom explains, showing him the way to a pub ‘Hogs head’ a rundown sign says, and, yeah. It certainly doesn’t look inviting even from the distance, neither is it on the main road of the village, and Harry almost misses the orphanage’s shabby looks and clinical white tiles. The Wool’s orphanage itself is at the very least clean, preferably spotless, the staff and kids make sure of that, it’s broken down by time, and London Blitz but, hey; they try to keep it okay looking.

Not this place though, It’s so run down he would rather meet in the shrieking shack if it existed, but sadly it doesn’t. It’s hard to make him apprehensive of a place, for Merlin’s sake he had lived eleven years in a cupboard, but this… This is something out of horror, and Harry doesn’t think the war is at fault here.

“As I said, he insisted.”

“Newt, what the bloody hell” There’s a hum beside him, and a hand running down his spine that feels like a reward and a torture all at once, like he’s just a candle to Tom’s flames. His magic makes sure to communicate how nice the touch is, and Riddle has the sheer audacity to grin- it's the best thing in the world to see him so honest in his emotions. Walking into the disgusting building successfully ruins the moment, though, Harry feels as if it really shouldn’t be a place for meeting anyone.

The bar at the Hog's Head comprises one small, very dirty, and dingy room that has bay windows that are so encrusted with filth that you can barely see through them. Dust is absolutely everywhere, and he can’t help but sneeze, successfully puncturing his lips on his dumb teeth problem; the place is filled with rough wooden tables that generally have nothing except the stubs of candles sitting upon their surfaces, and old stubs too. There’s a smokey, yet chilly air in the place, suffocating like too many cigarettes have been lit up here, and it makes Harry grimace. The stone floor of the place is so dirty that it looks as though there is not a floor at all, but instead that the building is simply built on open ground. He sighs.

Who the heck even runs the place like that, there is magic made solely for cleaning purposes, it can’t be that hard to use. The whole place screams shady, and Harry doesn’t want to stay here longer than absolutely necessary. Other than them, there are two guests in total; Newt, whom Harry would recognize anywhere with his tall frame, but hunched over posture- always trying to make himself smaller despite there being no need to- and second, a face known to him from inside and out.

Granted, it’s not the same as his in the mirror, but it is in the uncanny valley territory all the same. Those same lips, same cheeks, same jawline, different eyes, and brows, a forehead creased with age, it’s like staring in a warped mirror, though this face doesn’t carry his scar. This is Fleamont Potter, his grandfather, and all at once Harry knows why no one believed his lies of not being in the family; those genes are strong as can be- even their complexion is the same, they’re like two water droplets. He is frozen over by shock and just stares; his grandfather does the exact same thing, Harry dutifully notes that the man’s eyes are a rich black. 

“You’re here!” Newt exclaims all of a sudden, cheery as ever. “I was wondering if you two will show up, but Fleamont here wanted to check on the rumours so badly” 

“It’s not my fault when Arcturus has been pestering me about having an illegitimate child. Which I would never have, loving Euphemia as I do” The man says his voice foreign to Harry’s ears, he knows on some level, that this is his family, but he sees a stranger with his face sitting there on the man’s broad shoulders. It’s disturbing, and weird, and he feels like he lost his footing all at once.

“Um… Hello Mister… Potter sir” He mumbles, and shots Tom a glare, this isn’t ‘meeting someone new with Newt’- this is practically making their life harder. He stomps on the boy’s leather boots for good measure, his magic twitching with anger. Tom tried not to show the kick hurts, Harry knows better than that, his magic could’ve turned into a cactus for all its prickly quality. Newt giggles.

“Good Morning” Fleamont Potter says cheerfully, his clever eyes assessing Harry like he’s a puzzle piece, his gaze darting to the scar with a knowing expression. This man looks smart and calculating, and as his grandson Harry knows better than to take chances with that, he turns to scold Tom harder than Mrs. Cole ever could, but Riddle unfortunately speaks first.

“I know you wouldn’t want to go if I told you the whole truth, but Harry, if you can have a family, why shouldn’t you meet them?” It would make a point, if Harry was stubborn just to prove something, but he’s trying not to mess with the future here.

“I agree, Harry, no need to isolate yourself” Newt says, hope painting his voice.  There is a need! Harry doesn’t want to cause anything that might change the fact that my father is born, perhaps. Ever thought of that? He doesn’t say that, not in front of Fleamont, his teeth do an unpleasant crunch, though.

“Maybe there’s a reason I don’t seek them out?” He says quietly with a toxic kind of disdain, oh, how annoying Riddle can be- Newt is decidedly not at fault, he doesn’t know better. Now they’re glaring at each other magic rising along with the tension, he narrows his eyes.

“You’re not fooling anyone here, looking like my clone.” His grandfather says with a shrug, oh no, they even have the same mannerisms, ones that Harry thought before were entirely his. Tom looks between them as if saying ‘This is for the better’, and Newt gives the boy this look that says ‘Everyone would know eventually’.

He sighs and messes his hair up from the back to feel a bit better about the situation- it does little, but he needs anything he can get now. “So what? You know I’m not your son” It’s not a lie, he isn’t. 

“I know, but I also know enough about magic to see you are family. It's common knowledge me and my wife want an heir, where they come from matters less.” Oh, shit, his family was just as Pureblood as they come, huh? It’s strange, like talking to a mix of Lucius Malfoy, Sirius, and Arthur Weasley at the same time, but that’s his own flesh and blood. It’s strange… it’s hopeful. 

Newt seems surprised at the sudden terseness of the conversation, but he doesn’t say anything, only gestures them to sit down; they do, him and Tom shoulder to shoulder, circulating magic between them. It’s helping. Okay, it’s Tom who’s being all understanding, and helpful at the moment, his magic doesn’t know whether to explode or curl in on itself and become the small spark it was at Privet Drive.

There’s a moment of silence when Newt summons a surprisingly clean tea-set out of who knows where, and pours each of them a cup of Earl Grey.

“So you want me to be your heir, shouldn’t you be trying for a child of your own? In due time it surely…” He bites his tongue when Tom looks at him with knowing cocoa eyes, that prick knows where this is going, doesn’t he. What kind of game are you playing Riddle with people? Harry just wanted a normal, albeit slightly illegal friend meeting in Hogsmead.

“I have two Lordship titles. That’s more than enough to share. Family comes first, Harry.” It’s hard to believe the saying, when you never had any, he thinks sadly, grabbing the teacup- Tom is a calm ocean beside him, his hand going to rest on his knee squeezing at times.

“What if I’m not family?” He really hopes to get Fleamont with this one, but the man just offers him the most shit eating grin known to mankind, and Harry knows he dug himself this hole. Is it too late to run? He’s curious about his heritage, though, Tom and Newt planned this for him. Surely, they don’t want him in harms way.

“I have a thing just for that.” The man says presenting a gold ring, it's inlaid with rubies, and there’s a big old P engraved into the largest one. A family heirloom, he thinks distantly, the P is for my name- it brings a shy smile to his face; the trinket feels like coming to a long-lost home. Besides the cloak, he never had things of that kind, and how he cherished it while he had it. Harry doesn’t think the ring to be all that special, besides being clearly ancient, sentimental, and expensive, but Tom and Newt both look at Fleamont with wide eyes. It makes him wary.

“What is it?” He asks, not taking it from his hand yet, scared of what that could be, though Tom’s waves of magic have a sunny quality to them, he thinks offering this is invaluable. Strange.

“It’s an heirship ring, someone a Lord or a Lady gifts his next in line. If you try to wear it, but you’re not family, it will reject you. That said, please do try, Harry.” He’s really fucked, because for all he knows time travel does not change DNA, and he for all his stupid hair is definitely a Potter- but he’s also a Gryffindor, and he is both curious and stupid enough to reach the gold ring. It hums under his fingertips, a song of acceptance, and happier days lost to history; he puts it on, despite it being too large for him, of course it’s magic and readjust immediately.

If having a wand choose you felt like knowing, and warmth, then the Potter heirship ring feels like a hug from a mother, like hot chocolate served inside the Burrow rooms late at night. It’s like being surrounded by love itself, and Harry can basically hear whispers from the ring saying ‘Welcome home’, it’s so overwhelming he barely notices the glow of it in the dark disgusting room. 

“That’s the fastest acceptance I’ve ever seen. The ancestors clearly like you Harry” Fleamont says, like it wasn’t a dream come true for Harry, like it's not what he dreamed of the past how many years, trapped, abandoned. Tears fall down his cheeks without his knowledge, when did he become such a crybaby? Tom squeezes his thigh encouragingly, he slips his hand on the boy’s without thinking, the touch helps him feel more like himself. No one besides him and Tom notice.

“Thank you… sir, but I don’t think I can take it. I’m no one to you.” Newt and Tom look at him like he’s a gnome turd, and doesn’t understand the situation at all, but he really doesn’t. He can’t just do that, it feels wrong, he shouldn’t be born yet, it is like stealing from his father’s inheritance.

“Nonsense! You’re family little Harry, you know, you’re even named after my father. I don’t think that’s a coincidence, is it?” Harry thinks his family is scary intelligent in its own happy, smiley way, It's like talking to an all-knowing teddy bear. Fleamont knows something, that much is undebatable. 

“Harry can’t exactly say that Sir” Tom says, grabbing his waist instead, and squeezing there, effectively grounding him in the onslaught of affection he feels pouring into him from the ring, he looks at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. 

“I can talk though” He mumbles, eyeing Tom, who throws him the ‘I just try to make your life easier’ expression that’s fake as all heck, his grandfather promptly ignores it. 

“Hmm, I suppose it would be too good if I could know everything. Right?” Fleamont says, black eyes understanding more than they ought to, he sees more than meets the eye, Harry knows it instinctively after spending a month down in the dungeons. 

“Harry’s been cursed before, right? We can just say I picked him up from India, where a part of Potter family originates.” Newt says, sipping his tea, as if he isn’t the most brilliant friend Harry could ask for in this timeline. Why does it sound reasonable again? Ah, yes, Riddle planned this, that brat.

“That sounds good. We’re known to be on good terms with each other, and could say Harry was preyed upon for his parseltounge abilities, worshipped in India. Good. You’re an amazing friend Newton” Fleamont thinks aloud, before snapping his fingers, and there’s a house elf who listens to something the man whispers to her and promptly disappears. Harry is staring at the now gone silhouette of the elf, clearly not comprehending his family has (had?) a house elf. 

Harry can’t help but be surprised how quick the whole process has been, and he feels a bit weird about it. Like he doesn’t deserve it, though Tom’s magic washes him in sweet clinical calm, but it’s never that easy, he knows. Potters work hard, but fate works harder.

“Seems like the matter is settled then, so what do you want Harry?” Tom asks indifferently, but Harry knows him better than that. It’s evident in his stubbornness that this is a part of his well-thought-out plan, something he orchestrated, and thinks will be beneficial, something to take care of him. Harry could melt thinking of it, but he doesn’t let it show. 

“I- never knew any family…” He sighs, and tries not to think of the way he will mess up the timeline of literally everything, but he also decided to stay here, and he wants to carve himself out a place to stay in this world. He always wanted a family, and just maybe he can have it.

Fleamont doesn’t look like a man who wants answers, he looks like a man who wants to welcome someone into his home, at least that’s what Harry sees. Sirius once said the Potter’s practically adopted him, and Harry may just be the same, his grandparents must have big hearts to just accept strays like them. Who is he to deny that?

“But, I think I’d like that. Just don’t stop trying for a child of your own, you know?” It would be a right shame if his father doesn’t come to be, and Harry doesn’t think that would do him well.  The three of his companions laugh at his demand, Tom and Fleamont more so knowingly than Newt, but it’s all in good sport, right? Harry thinks he got himself a piece of this world to share with the people in this room, to take care of them.

“Excellent! Euphemia will be so happy!” Fleamont exclaims.

“I’ll come back with the proper paperwork around noon, until then- Newt please take care of those two, If Harry managed to get cursed at such a young age I don’t trust him to just run around willy-nilly. All Potters are too curious for our own good” With that his Grandfather dissaparates into thin air, leaving the three of them, and Harry blinks. Did he imagine it, or did Fleamont look at his scars? What does the man know…

“He’s really something, right? A good bloke in any case, just a bit crazy.” Newt says, opening a suitcase “But I have other plans for today, come I’ll show you some new hatchlings”  Mr Scamander steps into the suitcase, causing them to look at each other with raised eyebrows, but they also step in, knowing that Newt adores expanding charms more than a normal wizard does.

They spend time with the magizoologist, just like in the summer, it’s fun, and a bit educational, but most of all it’s adventurous. Newt is decidedly in his element, and shares his knowledge like there’s no tomorrow; from Erumpents to Kelpies or Nifflers, no creature escapes his sight or lecture topic. It’s a cosy afternoon in the suitcase, that's more like a house than a leather box to be honest, and Harry loves magic for such things. After that, when the three of them are positively exhausted his grandfather comes back all cheery, and happy, paperwork in hand, everything is a blur. Harry doesn’t know whether everything is going too fast, or too slow. But this is a happy end, for himself he supposes, and starts searching for a quill. Fleamont looks offended.

“Of course, we’re not signing it in this hellhole. That’s just disturbing, we’re going to apparate to Potter Manor” The man says proudly, winking at Newt, who apparently knew this was coming judging from his nod.

“I'm going to meet with Jacob in the evening. Now, if you excuse me.” And there his friend goes, a swirl, a crack, and he’s in a different place altogether, leaving him at the mercy of two predators. Harry looks at Tom with wide eyes that scream ‘help me’ and ‘I had no idea we have a manor’, Riddle just smiles the fake smile he hates to make him more nervous. 

“Of course, Lord Potter, could you do the honours?” Tom says instead of ‘no, thank you’, and Fleamont grabs both their shoulders in camaraderie, before Harry feels like he is being squeezed through a tiny tube. His knees buckle when he feels real again, but Tom catches him automatically, like he’s some damsel in distress. Well, he kind of is.

“Thanks” He mumbles through the embarrassment of it all, eyes catching sight of what presumably is Potter Manor, and hell if it isn’t the biggest house Harry has ever seen. It’s a miracle his eyes don’t fall out at the sight of it, and Tom just stands there unbothered, still holding him close through his initial shock. 

“I said I’ll take good care of us, didn’t I?” He hisses in parseltounge, tone frivolous and proud, Harry has to suppress a bodily shiver that races through him at the words. 

“You planned this, you damn snake. It could have been dangerous! You know I’m not supposed to be here-“ He tries, also in the language of serpents, eyes accusing focused on the taller wizard. 

“That’s why I thoroughly checked them. I have connections you know, I don’t think your ancestors mind” Tom says with finality, shoulders square, Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You’re unbelievable”

“I know” 

“You’re going boys?” Fleamont asked, opening the gates to the estate with a swish of his wand. “It’s been long since we invited family over” 

Once they’re inside the lavish manor, all in various brown, red, and gold shades by the way; Tom thinks the love of the colours comes from generational overexposure. It’s a homely place, full of plush carpets, fuzzy pillows and couches- clean, yet not overly so, like a Christmas card. There’s a sense of luxury to the place, but it isn’t overbearing like Malfoy Manor with its high hedges and white peacocks, this building has an air of subtlety to it despite its size. Tom knows Harry immediately fell in love once he saw a burgundy living room full of pictures, and pre-samhain decorations; his magic sighs in relief, and basically jumps with excitement turning into a lovely home hearth, not unlike inside a fire place. 

Tom has planned this accordingly, he thinks, those people are good, respected, and wealthy. Not to mention they’re Harry’s family, possibly grandparents, so it’s only fitting Tom won’t let him lose the connection, besides his familiar shall not live in poverty; That would be the greatest offence, when he promised to take good care of him- Tom just started with the basics. An opportunity like this is one in a million, not to mention it came to them so freely. They eat a lovely dinner with Lord and Lady Potter, courtesy of the sweet Euphemia and various house elves- Tom is surprised to see so much generational wealth, but he guessed the family liked keeping a low profile.

Harry is basically a standard Potter through, and through, and that realization leads him to like his future ‘parents in law’ a  tiny bit more. Fiery the lot of them, but they’re kind, and generous, hearts made if gold so to speak. Once it’s time for Harry to make a final decision on being the heir, which Tom is certain he will accept judging from the happy rushes of magic, Euphemia whisks him away to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Lord Potter alone in the living room. He doesn’t mind much, it’s Harry's decision at the end of the day, even if the messy haired wizard would be stupid to decline such an offer.

Lady Potter is a short chubby woman, with rosy cheeks, blue eyes and auburn hair- she is the epitome of nice, and good-natured. Tom thinks she’s a bit bland, but that’s about what he’ll make of the Lady, in due time they take to cleaning the dishes wands swishing in the air. There’s also some suspicion to her that doesn’t escape his judgment, but it’s relatively small; he wants to leave a good impression of a sweet boy next door, not the plotting mean little orphan he is, so of course he does as he’s told with no complaints.

“I know I met Harry two hours ago, but if you hurt him I will break all two hundred and six of your bones manually, and then force you to eat your own bone marrow. Did I make myself clear, sweetie?” She says with a light tone, and Tom feels suddenly floored, that was… something, and he just blinks. He might come to adore this woman, he thinks, not that’ll she would be a match to his newfound magical core, but he still nods. 

“Of course, my Lady, I would never. We’re familiars after all, if anyone does something to him, I will destroy them with my own hands” He says, as if nothing was amiss with this particular conversation, it’s nice he thinks, that she came to like Harry so quick. It’s also good she has a logical point of view on the world, overall Tom thinks he might grow to like her for real. Euphemia Potter is no fool, and she takes no chances, that’s a good parental figure for his sweetheart.

“So it’s true?” She asks, while levitating cups on to their rightful places without looking back.

“Yes, is it known in the upper circles already?”

“Arcturus and Melania have quite the long tongues you’ll find” The woman sighs, arms open wide in a what can you do gesture, they must have caused a stir in pureblood circles already, huh? Good, it can help with his career plans. 

“Just like their son. Delightful” He says with sarcasm, at which the woman laughs, and looks at him with more kindness than before.

“Oh yes, a pleasure to be around” She sticks out her hand to pat him on the shoulder ”I’m glad to hear that you’re a nice boy Tom. Harry seems like a lovely young gentleman, it would be a shame if someone were to court him for family money” 

“In due time I think to bring a fortune of my own into the house, it’s been long since Slytherin vaults were touched” He sighs, faking a slip of the tongue, and he sees the ladies eyes twinkle with amusement, she knows these games, he figures. Tom didn’t take her for a true Lady of an ancient house, and it seems he was wrong about that.

“We’ll see about that. For now, welcome to the family, Tom!” She exclaims after they’re done putting every plate away, and goes to hug him. He’s too stiff to respond in earnest, but Euphemia doesn’t seem to mind, this can make a home for Harry, Tom knows, and he’s more than happy with that.

Chapter Text

Harry carefully read through the blood adoption papers, line after another endlessly boring line- admittedly things written on there are what he would consider rather standard, not that he has a frame of reference- and though he knows basically nothing about his grandparents other than some basics they’re still his family. They raised his father just fine, and everyone remembers him as a good man, maybe except Snape, so Harry is rather sure of his wellbeing; more so than he ever was with his Aunt and Uncle. With Potters, he won’t be haunted for sport any longer, nor will he be an outcast in society, because of his heritage or his race. The whole plan, it seemed, was flawless.

It’s almost idyllic to think this way, that’s for sure, but Harry can practically imagine himself settling here, imagine growing old in the manor, like he was always supposed to do; in his time no one told him he even had a house. Besides, he looks almost exactly like Fleamont, and it would be foolish to think more rumours won’t spurt from it, he lived in Slytherin long enough to know refusing would have consequences as well.

He will be the last person to worsen his grandad’s reputation, even more so because Fleamont is a good husband, who Harry knows would never cheat. There’s this glimmer of unbothered adoration in black-void like eyes, and he knows that man sees barely anything outside the short chubby Euphemia and her wonderful cooking. Not to mention Tom said he researched them too… Harry isn’t sure in what way it was conducted, or what was searched for, but he also knows Tom cares for him.

However, twisted his affections may show themselves, Harry knows the boy means no harm; if this was prepared so well, Riddle must think it’s beneficial. Shaking his head, Harry asked something that nagged at his brain, bothering him about the whole thing.

“How come you knew I was family when you saw me? Like… besides my looks, it could be a glamour for all you know” He asked still trying to make sense of things, playing with the quill sitting beside a coffee table in the most delightful living room in existence. It’s a daydream come true, adoption papers ready and a married couple just waiting to raise a child of their own, happy to bring him into the family.

“Oh? Well, Newt told me you’re an orphan. I thought it was a lie to be honest, but if you really don’t know…” There’s a complicated expression on that face, a deep sadness that permeates into the air as his grandfather studies his expression; Harry doesn’t know what the wizard could be looking for.

“My parents died when I was one” He can see the way the older wizard grits his teeth, clenches his fist and shakes his head before resuming- fury, grief, confusion all giving way to a subtle softness.

“You’re marked by death my dear, like all Potters are, unfortunate placement though… On the forehead” The man gestures, and he feels his eyes widen, and his magic surges in shock just as Tom’s does the same in the kitchen with Euphemia; there are some secrets to uncover here on both sides it seems… But the thought is overshadowed by a panic rising up to his throat, just when Harry thought the whole dying thing was imaginary his grandfather slaps him in the face with it. It’s not nice to be reminded of it, nor of his parent's murder, the culprit of which is in the kitchen.

“You have the scar too?” He asks dumbly instead of darker questions swirling in his head, already searching the man before him with his eyes, though it doesn’t do much. Autumn clothes are not revealing in any way, and forties autumn clothes are even worse in that regard. There is not a blemish on the other’s skin despite his age, not wherever Harry can check. 

“Got that right, kid. Mine is more discreet, no one other than Euphemia really looks at my thighs, you know? Not much to see” Fleamont Potter laughs, and Harry may just have an epiphany that his weirdness is actually totally expected from the family, just like Weasley’s having red hair is customary. He still blushes at the joke.

“That’s… surprising” 

“That she looks at my thighs? Mm… I don’t think so Harry, you know I was young and handsome once too.” The man huffs proudly, before winking at him, which he fake-glowers at. It’s a bit funny, he must admit.

“You know what I meant!”

“Mhm, I’ll tell you more of that over the holidays, surely. There’s so much to teach you about our traditions! I’ve waited for an opportunity like this so long, ah, and don’t worry about whenever you come from, I won’t ask” He thinks he might want to hide in a ditch and die, not a whole few hours of knowing his grandpa and the man already saw through his lies- other than that he marvels at already being allowed to spend holidays here. Gaining love here is as easy as breathing.

Why was it so hard in the future, then? Clearly he’s not the problem, he thinks, and then shakes it off to avoid a breakdown of the massive kind. Dwelling on his past won’t do anything good for the future, and his brain is not sure what emotion to prioritize, so he just has to make do with being tragically confused, and staring.

“…” He wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to hit his head repeatedly on the oak floor, and wants to laugh until his belly hurts- the world doesn’t end though, and the future doesn’t fall apart. This is all real. Still, he takes a few breaths to calm himself enough to think things through. “How did you figure it out?”

“Death likes us, but Fate… Fate is nuts” The wizard says, as if it explains everything, eyes twinkling more like Dumbledore than actual Dumbledore. “Besides, I am friends with the head Unspeakable”

“McGonagall” 

“Her boss” Fleamont responds as if a random student should know such things, for all it's worth the man doesn’t bat an eyelash at his half silent inquiry and continues, “Did she figure it out?” 

“Memory charms exist for a reason” He nervously laughs, fidgeting a bit, focusing his attention everywhere but Fleamonts coal like eyes; they don’t seem to bear any resentment.

“Understandable, but do try to not be obvious, kid. I won’t ask about what you don’t want to say, whatever family we are- we’re still family. I know that much, and I just want to help. For however long.” 

“That’s more than any adult has done for me actually” He says pathetically, quietly, brokenly. Harry Potter wasn’t a wanted child ever since his parents died- not to say that all others had only bad intentions, or didn’t try to help, but this kind of unconditional affection was never gifted to him until he met Tom.

“…” Silence falls between them like a heavy curtain, giving Harry time to think his decision through, whatever Fleamont decides to do with that time is unclear.

His previous experiences brought upon a conclusion of being undeserving, he had to prove his worth elsewhere, trying to be a hero- it was never enough. He was never enough, even his friends required constant proof of him being worthy. Here it seems he is worth something just because he exists, and that’s what keeps him going, trying to make sense of the times, that’s what keeps him here. Why go back and leave all this behind? No other guardian looked at him like the vulnerable, broken child he is, no one before his grandparents. He can have this and not worry about clinging to the magical world like a vice, until he can’t no more.

It’s fine, he thinks, it only took a trip back in time. It’s not really fine, and it might never be, but he wants it to be, so he’ll just have to heal his scars and learn what a real family looks like, with Tom of course. 

“You know I come in two for one package, right?” There’s a barked out laugh, and a smile meeting his question, hands clapping in satisfaction. 

“It’s obvious lad, I know love where I see it” The older wizard says dismissively, a bright smile making his face seem at least five years younger than it logically should, Harry thinks this is what having a father looks like.

“It’s not-“ He hisses in frustration, but for the better or worse Fleamont doesn’t react to the parseltongue at all “we’re not, like a thing” Harry tries in English, gesturing with his hands.

“Sure, kiddo, but between you and me? Us Potters always fall head over heels- not a sensible bone in any of us” His grandfather flicks his eyes to the kitchen door, a more goofy smile pulling his lips (it’s a wonder how many different smiles a person can have), and eyes turning into crescents- its the most adorable thing, looking at someone who’s so in love. 

“So don’t worry” Harry is understandably floored, and his muscles stiffen as he looks to the kitchen where Riddle fiddles about with his Grandma happily, they seem to talk friendly- Tom even smiles his actual smile, which is rare, and Euphemia hugs him, though Tom resembles more of a log than a human at that point. It’s all he has ever wanted and more.

“Your secrets are safe with us”

“Yeah” He responds shyly. Meanwhile, Fleamont looks absolutely lost looking at his wife, black eyes filling up with something Harry can only describe as boundless affection- it takes a minute for the man to come back to his senses, and it leaves Harry wondering.

Does he look at Tom like that? Riddle certainly doesn’t look like that at him, though the boy's facial expressions are not his strong suit, whatever people might think- the boy has a hard time expressing what he feels, dealing with most of his emotional baggage through actions. If that’s not love, what is? Harry doesn’t know. They decided to change for this, Harry thinks, and that has to be enough, because his gaze strays back to the matter at hand.

His breathing is almost as shaky as his hand, but needless to say, he signs the papers without second thoughts. It’s still hard to believe he may deserve a place, a home for himself, but he will live out this fantasy as long as he can; in this burgundy living room so ingrained into Potter tradition it appeared in his deepest desires, finally reclaimed as his. 

Harry couldn’t care less about money or the title that goes with it all, as long as Fleamont and Euphemia keep looking at him with those eyes, with such care he has only really seen given to others. Something aching deep inside his heart finally settles.

Their stay at Potter Manor goes well after reasonable Hogsmead hours, and when Harry finally catches on to that fact, he practically screeches to everyone's horror and shared laughter. Fleamont almost doubles over on his armchair, tea with rum in hand, a beverage Tom acted he didn’t see Harry also sipping- it’s fair to let the boy celebrate. His magic also became so fuzzy, and soft around the edges, it was hard to tell himself no, but that’s besides the point. 

Euphemia Potter shakes her head in what has to be the most motherly fashion imaginable- he supposes, never having a mother makes that distinction quite hard, but it’s a fond expression still, he will memorize and use it later. Tom himself can’t help the bubbling amusement that rises in him at that undignified sound, it’s so like his sweet familiar to enjoy himself so much to lose track of time.

“Oh no. We’ll die- or worse get expelled” Harry exclaims- panic obvious in every one of his actions, magic turning into a swirl of happiness, laziness, panic and other less describable because of alcohol feelings. His emerald green eyes are as wide as they can go, and his hands grab at his robes in what must be panic induced dumbassery, and he chuckles again, then goes to grab the boy by his shoulders.

“He has his priorities, that’s for sure” Lady Potter says, sarcastically eyeing her husband's cup with suspicion, at which Lord Potter vanishes all the steaming liquid inside. Tom almost laughs at the sudden lover's quarrel, but he has someone to care for, and how lovely does that sound. 

“Harry shh… We won’t get expelled, just calm down.” He says softly, allowing their magic to flow between them, so Harry gets himself under control, a bit- the boy is almost immediately slacking in his palms, the picture of being comfortable. Tom wishes he could always disarm him with such a simple touch, make the boy melt against him like candle wax.

“Ssso how are we going to explain our abssence to the Professors? Huh? Thought of that, Tom? As much as it painss me to Sssay it, Ssssslughorn is not getting us out of this one.” Harry says, prolonging every ‘s’ sound. He grimaces just thinking about it, but instead massages Harry’s shoulders, so he can think clearly, today has been much. Too much; though every day with Harry is much, things he has to analyse pile themselves up endlessly,  there are entire towers of them in his poor brain, begging to be brought forth into his mind- only that there are five things happening at any given time in the presence of this boy. 

Tom can’t catch a break, and strangely enough, he doesn’t want to.

“I can talk to Dippet” Lord Potter assures more his wife than Harry, his smile lazy on his lips, and before Tom knows it, they floo right inside the headmaster’s office. Everything is a bit of a blur after, he’s not tipsy per se, but he did take a huge influx of Harry’s very much intoxicated magic- it doesn’t take a genius to know magic, thinking and physical conditions are linked- and though it shouldn’t be the case he does feel somewhat drunk. Okay, extremely drunk, like he tipped over Firewhiskey and licked the spillage of the floor. Tom didn’t drink anything since he was thirteen, and it wasn’t a good experience then; he never intended to drink in the first place; but even then someone found out how exactly he came to be on this world and decided spiking his drink would be funny. It's easy enough to deduce, after all, who doesn’t want their child?

Someone who was forced to have it, that's who.

He doesn’t find coercion funny, nothing about that night was a joking matter, he thinks. And though it isn’t a clear memory, he knows there's some former Slytherin walking around the world with two fingers less. Now though? He feels safe, content even, as adults talk in the background and he for maybe the first time in his life doesn’t give a shit about what. He’s being taken care of. 

Lord Potter says something about celebrating a new addition to the family, Dippet enthusiastically nods, and Harry takes him by the hand- before he registers anything about the headmaster’s office they are going down the stairs leading to it, fingers twined together like centuries old vines. They fit together perfectly, even in such mundane ways, it must be magic for it to be so.; all the best things are magic. His hand feels too cold, and too warm at the same time, and he doesn’t know if he wants to run, or give himself up, suddenly up is down, and down is up- but what does that matter when his world found itself on a different axis?

Harry is the centre of his everything, after all. 

“I love you” He babbles, mind addled by the stupidly cosy feel of Harry's excessively euphoric magic, it feels like holding a hot cup of tea on an otherwise chilly sunset- like late nights in the middle of June when you find out you’re magic, like… home. He shakes the feelings off partly, some of them are here to stay it seems, they’re his own- but that just means his familiar is suddenly a lot less sober. 

“I love you too” Harry says reverently, gathering his wits to say it properly, and Tom scourges his mind to see if there’s any way he might be hallucinating.

He gulps, and his heart stutters dangerously, his free hand itches to just grab at Harry’s wild locks and bring him painfully close to himself. 

“Tell me that when you’re sober” He whispers, but the corridor is devoid of all life, and the sound reverberates through it, causing a reaction akin to rippling water.

“I will, but first-“ 

Tom Riddle for the first time in his life doesn’t know what hit him, not when his lapels are grabbed roughly, nor when he is shoved against a wall, though there's already a hand stopping his head from hitting the stone harshly. He just gasps, and lets it happen.

His brain hardly catches on to the fact all this is Harry’s doing when the shorter boy drags him down to his height, where he goes willingly, albeit not understanding why. It’s just, Harry is his safe heaven, his beacon of light, whatever he pleads for nicely roughly enough is as good as done. He also doesn’t know what’s happening when suddenly there’s a press of warm lips against his own. Tom could swear he had a heart attack then, because if not, then the hammering of his treacherous heart ought to be checked out by a mediwizard. 

It feels like someone lighted his every nerve on fire, like there are fireworks bursting in his head, and like there’s music playing in his ears; the surroundings don’t matter, neither does the fact that Harry tastes like all the cookies Euphemia fed them- or maybe it does. Maybe Tom notices every inch of skin pressed together, and the weight of his cherished against him, maybe he tries to burn the feeling of it into the very core of his being just because he feels wanted at last.

His hands grab at the caramel skinned boy uselessly, knees almost giving out from under him; he never expected it to be this intense. It stops even quicker than it started, leaving him wide-eyed and silently begging for more- it’s not right to ask, not now, but oh. Oh, how much he wants it. 

“Here’s your kiss handsome” Harry giggles, and if he didn’t have a reason to live, he might have perished at that.

His gasps for air are fruitless in bringing him a sense of control, so instead he says, “You are never fucking drinking without me”

“Ssure” Harry agrees in a sing-song tone, not stopping in his giggling, and Tom feels honey-thick guilt drip down his throat. It’s not like he forced the boy to do it? Right? No- he is not like his mother. 

Harry, despite being drunk, did that himself; the iron grip his conscience held him in dissipates as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens himself up. Tom is not aware of his tousled hair, or robes, just slightly askew- his pristine mask all but fell off on that nameless corridor deep into the night. They go back to the dorm just like that, clinging to each other sweetly, uncaring about what tomorrow might bring, meeting no one on their way. It’s the purest Tom Marvolo Riddle has felt in years, tucking himself to bed with a drunk Harry Potter on his side.

October comes quickly, and despite them being fairly quiet about the adoption, the word goes around faster than Tom suspected. Remember, you may sleep but gossiping scum don’t- and that’s how him and Harry find the great hall one Tuesday morning, everyone with newspaper in hand, various expressions adorning their faces. It’s unusual, mostly the newspaper covers deaths, raids, and other such things, for it to cause a sensation of this sort. It has to be about Harry’s heirship, doesn’t it.

“Fuck” Harry curses, looking at him in barely concealed horror, grabbing his sleeve like a troubled child.

Even ghosts peer around the students shoulders to get a look, they may be dead, but they’re still curious of what’s happening. When they take a step into the room there’s a not so quiet murmur of ‘here they are’, and other comments, some look at them kinder, some meaner. 

“It’s going to be okay” He says to Harry, ruffling his hair a bit more, just because he can now.

Once news spread the reactions are always varied, that’s the cost of making something public; Harry seems to hate it, hating being looked at and judged, the boy looks ready to explode. It’s like all his courage can disappear into thin air as soon as there’s media involved, but that’s what Tom is here for.

That’s to say he wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders, concealing the nervousness of the dark skinned boy expertly; they’re a team after all, and he hopes for the best outcome. All the idiots who try to say something have him and a very mad Euphemia to face in the future, and that’s not a good thing to look forward to- she has some very specific torture methods.

This casual sort of intimacy between the two of them is easier now than it was before, and Tom revels in the feeling of it. It makes him feel like there is nothing in the world he lacks, being so accepted by another. Harry certainly doesn’t oppose it as much as he used to, though he still sometimes does; but it’s safe to say he doesn’t remember what he said that fateful night to him. What he did, and the fire he ignited inside the frozen over lands of his heart. It’s a shame, really. Too bad that it's a core memory for Tom now, and he won’t let go of it for anything. He still remembers the chocolate aftertaste it left on his lips, the mind-numbing warmth of it all… 

“Follow me” Harry just nods in response, curling slightly tighter to his side in a way that makes him feel like a knight in shining armour, like a paragon of justice.

They make their way to the Slytherin table as always, and Tom assess the situation; he practically senses how tense Harry is; how familiar the situation is to him, magic bubbling like an overheated potion- and that it never ended well. Tom wants to ask, and at the same time doesn’t want his beloved to relive it, so he focuses on the task at hand. Behaving like he doesn’t notice eyes following him comes naturally, they’re all beneath them, so it’s not that hard, but the same can’t be said for Harry’s darting emerald green eyes. 

He serves himself and Harry their usual favourites, making sure to always keep a grounding touch on Harry, and pretends he doesn’t see Orion, Abraxas, Nott and others crowding them. Their usual seats are at least half the table away, but no one comments when making place for them.

“Thanks” Harry tries, and picks at his food, avoiding everyone’s curious glances. It’s almost dead silent at the Slytherin table, and Tom revels in the tension of it. Just out of spite, he looks up at Walburga who is at least saving her dignity, and didn’t sit closer to them than usual. It must be though not being the most sought after, magically talented, rich heir; Not that he knows the struggle, but Walburga looks even more like she ate a slug than usual.

“Heir Potter, is that it? That’s what your ring means, little Harry?” Little? Oh, Tom feels deep simmering rage rise up to his head like a tsunami wave, his calm response is just silence before the storm. He somewhat respected the witch previously, she showed him the world of pureblood culture, but he is not beyond stomping on her inbred face until all that’s left of her is dust.

Harry glances at him and shots him a warning look, no fighting in the Great hall then- shame he’ll have to corner the witch after.

“Took them long enough” He remarks, looking at Harry with his best sarcastic expression, the curl of his lips mocking- Harry pretends his laugh is a cough, no one believes it. No one with two or more braincells, that is. 

“I guess so, Tom. Would you pass me the bacon?” He does so, deliberately showing off a wandless charm, just to see some pureblood masks crack loudly. It’s entertaining how Orion stiffens, entertaining how Abraxas grins maniacally, and still Walburga’s face doesn’t do so much as twitch. Truly a master at her craft, though she does look uncomfortable at best, her position is being threatened.

“No problem” He responds, eyes trained on his sweetheart, happily dotting on him.

“Didn’t you say you’re not a Potter? On the train? Just what did you maim the poor married couple with Harry?” Nott asks directly, and Harry blinks at him owlishly, munching on his toast. 

“First off, I never told you anything. You don’t look fun to talk to” There are a few chuckles here and there until Nott glares at them all, personally Tom almost spit out his eggs at the joke, not that he’ll admit to doing such an act.

“Secondly, I told them the truth? It seems I'm a long-lost cousin or something” Harry says kindly, as if it really was a misunderstanding and not Nott being an absolute douche bag who tries to say Harry manipulated his way to the top.

“It was a shocker for both of us” He says as a matter of fact, and gives Nott the best unimpressed look imaginable. Both versions aren’t that far from the truth, Tom manipulated Harry to the top, and Harry is a long-lost relative. It’s all such a perfect part of his scheme, isn’t it?

“He can talk for himself” The other Slytherin roars, clearly losing his temper as his plate clatters on the table from how hard Nott hit it.

“I regret ever saying that” Harry mumbles into his juice, shoulders slack; it should make him triumphant, but all he feels for the caramel skinned boy is concern. He squeezes his thigh encouragingly. 

“Well, I think you’re just a liar Harry” Nott says, and Harry kindly corrects,

“It’s heir Potter for you Nott” it’s all bite, no show, and he feels a shiver of the best kind going down his spine. All of his instincts say that Harry should definitely use the tone on him.

“But it’s better if you didn’t address me at all” The shorter wizard groans, and continues the thought, as Nott watches paling by the second at the easy dismissal. Harry is absolutely lovely today.

“Agreed” He says solemnly, nodding despite everyone’s apprehension to continue with breakfast- not like that’s literally why they were all here.

“Tom? Shouldn’t purebloods know how to talk to other purebloods? I think some forget their manners” Harry says with a grin that shows his lovely fangs unconsciously, and it’s way too loud for it to be a mistake. Such cunning from this Lion wearing a snake skin, basically wearing his colours. Tom wants to drag him to the nearest alcove and never leave.

“Some wizards are really ignorant Darling, just wait until I take my title to see” He says deceptively privately, and he can see interest shining in those unforgivable eyes, before everyone gets the hint and snaps back to whatever they were doing previously. Tom goes back to his eggs, and his familiar to his toast. 

Walburga Black continues on watching, and she shoots him a cutting hex that he blocks with an almost too late protego. They will have a war, Tom knows, and he kind of looks forward to it, at least Harry doesn't notice the curses.

“Thanks for saving me” Harry sighs into his juice, like he’s ninety years old, too ancient to have to deal with all those youngsters and rascals. Tom is more than happy to care of whatever Harry sees fit.

“My pleasure, Heir Potter”

“Do you have a power kink?”

“What?” He asks, blinking, not knowing how exactly one could twist power, or whatever Harry was implying. Is it something sexual? His eyebrows rise at the shorter wizard.

“Never mind” Harry would’ve been most likely happy to leave it at that, but things were rarely that simple, and seldom comes a political statement such as becoming an Heir to a prominent family that doesn’t make people talk. If Harry Potter, a wizard with another familiar was a threat before, then now he was an enemy number one to many things people stood for; he was better than each and every one of his wrongdoers, and he could use it. Such knowledge starts spreading fear in the most ambitious house, it’s like a death sentence on people lesser than, and Tom Riddle is ready for a new order of things. No matter the casualties.

Harry wouldn’t, he is too kind, not tainted by the war the same Tom is; being from the future and all, in any case the shorter wizard doesn’t react to such things violently. He thinks everything can be done with peace-talks and enough good will, sometimes good will leads to bloodshed, but Tom won’t disillusion Harry if he doesn’t have to. It’s better that the boy is like that, he's sweet and forgiving, and everything he adores but couldn't achieve. Clearly not many knew what lies under the forest-deep gaze of the boy, as they taunted waiting for a snap, not many were aware of how gentle Harry actually is. 

Tom thought it's best to stay that way, until there was a situation calling for it, he could be the bad guy of the duo, he was more fit for the role anyway with his cold, analytical take on life. One could think the rest of the day would go badly, if such an unpleasant beginning started it, but actually it was quite the opposite. Some people congratulated them- yes them, they already think he’ll be Lord consort, which is undeniably making Tom’s day. Though it was rightfully tiring, and satisfying in equal measure responding to everyone wanting to gawk at them; lessons went by just as quickly, and it was a testament to everyone’s patience that they weren’t attacked yet. Mainly to Walburga and Nott who looked like ticking bombs, the kind London kids kicked checking if they’ll explode or not. Everything was just fine until they stepped into the common room after a final period of magizoology (the school name just sounds dumb and not nearly scientific enough), sleepy and grumpy. It was a long day, after all, and if Harry sounded ninety years old in the morning, now he even walked the part.

Two months of term going by without a fight didn’t dull his duelling skills, and didn’t smother him into a fake sense of security either, his paranoia just simmering on the back burner of his mind- and yet he didn’t expect being attacked just as he goes to lay down in the common room. Not just when he started to tolerate the place, because Harry spends so much of his time here- still, he blocked a stunner instinctively, yew wand slicing the air like a butcher knife. 

“Who dared?” He asked, letting his sinister self breathe a bit of fresh air after four long months being trapped. There was little time his more dark side had any chance to show itself in his new life, not that he complained, but it was a part of him- it had the right to wreak havoc from time to time.

The room was eerily silent, and younger years hid in the furthest corners of the room to watch, or simply ran away to their bedrooms. He didn’t stop them. Harry’s magic was becoming increasingly distressed, like he didn’t understand what was happening, and Tom just wouldn’t have that; not after so many blissful weeks when it brought him so much happiness, he had to take care of the shorter wizard. It was decided, he will make this quick. 

“Well, well. You got a fighting spirit in you still? Mudblood clinging to a fake heir, thinking you’re all that, don’t you Riddle? You’re nothing, a pathetic excuse of a leader for Slytherin.” Nott taunts, clearly his ambition, ego or whatever else thing such an arrogant imbecile has been deeply wounded during breakfast if he attacked them for everyone in the house to see.

It’s okay, he’s used to being laughed at, and so he just looks vaguely unimpressed “If that’s all you got, then challenge me to a duel like a wizard should” 

Maybe it’s underhanded, but if the duel is made official, he will be devoid of any responsibility considering the teens… overall wellbeing. 

“No- Tom you know our magic” Harry begins, suddenly frisky, and even more worried, it would have been fine, really; only that the perfect person next to him isn’t worried about him. He’s worried about that scum that dare threaten his position, suddenly he wants to rip that pathetic boy into shreds.

“You’ll absolutely destroy him, Tom! You know how it gets with our bond” Harry explains hastily, probably seeing how much angrier he got, Harry is suddenly shaking him by the shoulders, fingers digging unpleasantly into his flesh. “You can’t hurt him.”

“He’s asking for this Sweetheart, why shouldn’t I? Just stand back” He says, rolling up his sleeve to aggressively mop the floors of Slytherin (his) common room with that ugly face, and sad blonde hair. 

He can feel an ice-cold rush through Harry’s hotter than fire magic, and he halts his next move, as people observe their exchange. Nott stands there with a smirk, a smirk that he won’t be able to muster for much longer, that is.

“I’ll do whatever you want! One thing, just- don't hurt him” Harry fidgets, and reaches for his cheeks as if he was going to fall apart at the slightest touch. It genuinely looks like the honey skinned beauty is scared of what he’ll do, and several explanations for what that is rush inside his mind, but it’s all washed away when Harry is so close to him. His breathing hitches, he could spare Nott some limbs if a reward is good enough. 

“One thing I want”

“Yes” 

“Can I ask for anything?”

“Within moral reason” Harry responds, nodding, caressing his cheeks as if he is going to evaporate; like he is actually expecting a denial. The prize is too sweet for a denial.

“I agree to your terms” 

Methodically he bows to Nott like a proper duellist should, the poor little shocked lamb mimics it, but he looks like fish taken out of water; Harry Potter just pleaded for the bug's wellbeing, Tom thinks the bug in question should be more grateful. Overall, the fight is ridiculously anticlimactic, it takes nothing but an Expelliarmus to win that stupid thing, and he grasps it with practised ease.

“Really just a disarming charm?” He sighs, looking at Harry who is overcome with relief that this thing didn’t escalate further, but he grabs the wand tighter and Nott just gulps. “You don’t deserve this” 

He snaps the boy's wand without caring if it’ll be difficult to replace, if he dared to challenge him he should know about the repercussions. There are gaps, Nott is screaming, and he tries to jump him, but Harry does quick work of immobilizing the idiot. Tom knows it must be humiliating to the pureblood, but he takes joy in the fact- Harry doesn’t understand the connotations this action has and lets it slide; after all, for him, it’s better to have a broken wand than a broken leg. As if it’s an afterthought he throws the remains of the sad little stick at Walburga, he knows she’ll understand the warning- you’re next. Then he drags Harry to their dorm, leaving the rest of his house in shock, it's good to show your creepy side from time to time, especially when Harry promises him such sweet, tantalizing things. 

He wonders what’s more shocking to those pea brains, him being successfully placated, or the fact his duel didn’t end with a pool of blood on their ancient carpet again. Some more intelligent surely take time to ask, how scary is the Potter heir to command him so freely, when the only scary thing about that situation is Tom’s devotion. When he closes the door behind them, he can hear the uproar starting in the commons, for good measure he places a familiar ward on the entrance to their room.

Chapter Text

Some things just never work out the way you intended them to, and for the most part Harry was okay with that; adapting to the unexpected was basically his whole personality. His life was a series of vaguely connected events, becoming more alarming as time went on, each leaving him broken in different ways. He could by now bend any way the wind blew if he just wanted to, that was the price of survival most of the time. Nothing was bad enough to make him stop and wonder, well- almost nothing.

Someone tells you, you’re actually a wizard? Okay, cool. That’s actually pretty self-explanatory with all the accidental magic.

You have to go to a school for wizards no matter what you want? Amazing, you hate your abusive relatives either way.

You’re a chosen one now, Harry, aren’t you proud? I am sir, very proud sir. Absolutely not traumatized by the fact everyone treats me as a relict of war, or a child soldier. It’s an honour being me, it isn’t I hate it. It's too bad only my closest friends treat me like a human being.

There’s a maniac waiting to take your life, Harry. Okay. 

There are two murderers searching for you this year, Harry, and I’ll make you fight so many dementors. Whatever, I’m so tired. Of course.

You must compete in a deadly tournament now, my boy. Okay, sir, it’s not like I’m still just a child who didn’t sign up for this, it’s not your fault.

Still, he didn’t harbour resentment, it was all in the past for him; he couldn’t bring himself up to muster hate, all of his being was too tired of feeling it- he just wants love. 

That’s why, “I love you” may have been the most surprising string of words of all, one that stopped most of his brain functions, as it was meant solely for him. It brought his willpower to its knees- no matter, he shakes the thought off, before his mind can really wander. Now was not the time for this, and Tom didn’t bring it up either; as such, Harry didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, no matter how strange that sounds.

Actually, now that he thought and talked a bit about it, him being thrust back in time fifty odd years wasn’t the most weird thing that had happened to him during his life. He already killed a Basilisk at the ripe old age of twelve, though in this time the beast still lurks somewhere deep in the belly of the castle. So why exactly wasn’t he expecting Slytherins to outright attack Tom Marvolo Riddle on an otherwise normal Tuesday was hard to say. Maybe it was the respect Riddle commanded day to day? Really, he had no idea.

All his mind had taken account of was that Tom, his sweet Tom, could harm someone for a petty reason; worse than that, he would do it in front of an audience. Despite Nott being an utter wanker, and an idiot to even try, Harry worried about the consequences it could have, especially consequences on Toms mental health. Merlin knows Riddle would get out of murder even if he held the bloodied butcher knife and someone found him like that, but Harry isn’t keen on reliving that particular version of the boy. Whatever the tall dark wizard claimed, he was fragile, a figure made of tempered glass, but glass nonetheless; one drop, and he would shatter like the precious gem he is. 

The descent into madness was probably not so hard after being broken to pieces without anyone to glue you back together.

It’s just like any Slytherin to have an ego larger than life, and self-assurance of a dragon to boot, but the last month was so peaceful he didn’t think any fights would actually take place. How wrong he had been, just a little family tie changed so much in the inter-house dynamics it was crazy. He still didn’t like the politics of the snakes, it wasn’t worth the effort put in, plus the whole hierarchy was needlessly cruel, but he had no other choice than to play pretend. 

Though by now, Harry found he had a vengeful streak in himself as well- a part of him only now allowed to rage at his previous circumstances, now that he was taken proper care of. He supposed it was a part of the healing he sought out to do after the adoption, and he hoped his parents would be proud of how far he came in terms of doing things for himself.

Speaking of revenge, Tom literally snapped the boy's wand, an object personal, bordering on sacred, and… Harry felt nothing but satisfaction watching. He didn’t have it in himself to chastise the taller wizard, not when his magic wasn’t a flurry of aimless anger anymore. It helped that Tom did it with such class.

Menacingly, in front of a crowd- he should find the action cruel, but he didn’t, it was actually fitting. Strangely cathartic to watch, for all the taunts, jabs, and underhanded comments he had to endure from the blonde boy- and not only today. Nott shouldn’t just run around accusing him of being a fake, or trying to take a budding Dark Lord in a one on one duel.

That’s what stupid, naïve little posh prats did. Ones that knew nothing of power and their actual standing place, and Harry understood his position exceptionally well. 

It was good Harry plead for the fool's life, or else blood would paint a morbid image down on the cold, greenish, gloomy floor. A picture of a son dying too young to actually see the world, a tragic tale of a few springs barely lived. Harry sat down on his bed thinking as Tom secured their room; from today's display he reckoned it was a necessary step- roars from the common room could be heard all the way up here.

“You’re just going to let them roam like that Walbu-“ He put on a silencing charm of a lifetime on those walls, there could be an earthquake, and he wouldn’t hear a thing of it. He didn’t want to hear. Tom smiled at that, easing his way toward him in graceful steps. Harry almost forgot he agreed to doing one request, and his heart stopped inside his chest, before doing a somersault and trying to beat itself out of his ribs.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Did I do well?” Tom asked, praise seeking, manoeuvring himself next to him like a cuddly cat; actually Riddle was like a monstrous kitty always, a bit like a panther even. Harry found that particular mental image hilarious.

“Yeah, you did your best. Nott didn’t actually deserve to lose his limbs over that, mind you. He’s a total wanker, but he is no competition for us” He said diplomatically, knowing it was true. They both were gifted wizards in their own rights, and now they multiplied their power- basically becoming powerhouses.

“He shouldn’t have said so many bad things about you, he has to know his place” Tom replied fervently, like simple taunts were the highest level of insubordination.

“He knows it now. Drop it, didn’t you want a reward for being a good boy?” He asks ironically, kicking Tom’s stupidly long legs lightly, and he feels the bodily shiver Riddle failed to suppress. The boy’s magic becomes electric, an ocean hit by thunder, and he seems extremely happy to be called that.

“…”

“This is what gets you going?” He sighs, and hides his face in his hands, Tom Riddle likes being praised. It is both a thing he should have known was coming, and such an embarrassing surprise to admit, he wanted to crawl under the duvet and pretend he didn’t exist. Except, he shouldn’t be the one embarrassed here, but Tom!

“Everything about you ‘gets me going’ so to speak” Tom says conversationally, as if this wasn’t something half of the female population would squeal over. Then again, Riddle wasn’t interested in girls, or any other boys as far as he was aware; Harry blushed harder just thinking about it. 

His heart threatened it's going to stop beating any moment now, his magic turning into fiendfyre of unimaginable heights; molten gold filling up his veins as opposed to blood. He desperately needed to calm down.

“Oh, shut up!” With the power of a wandless charm, he transforms the nearest pillow into a flying missile that hits Tom squarely in the back of his head, simultaneously destroying that impeccable hair. The boy in question wasn’t fazed, and the green round pillow just landed back on the bed with a thump, coca eyes sparkling with mirth in the low light of the dungeons.

“Only if you make me” The brunette all but purrs, pushing into his personal space. Harry’s breathing stutters. 

“If that’s your request!” He squeaks, hiding his eyes once more, trying not to think about how excited his and Tom’s magics are becoming, and about the fact the boy is damn near seated on his lap with how close he is. He can hear Tom breathing from here, and his mouth becomes parchment in the second he realizes this. 

“No.” It is said softly against his neck- a ghost of the other's breath hunting his senses down to pin them down, and he jumps because of the sensations, his breathing quickly becoming ragged, and back rigid. He feels like all his common sense drowned in the great lake, and his muscles turned into vapour.

“N- n-no?” He laughs, arms going to stabilize his weight, away from his face, but instead they end up bumping into the taller boy's chest, and he reddens even more at that, if it’s even possible to do so. 

“I want something else” Now, Harry is scared of what the manipulating snake could want, but he’s too hooked to stop, too excited to think clearly. He’s too mesmerized by eyes darker than midnight, and a soul like night skies with bright stars on the expanse of a heartless universe. 

“Go on” 

“Say that you love me” Tom says unabashedly, cornering him on his own fucking bed, and he just stares. The other boy looks broken, begging- Riddle never begs, Harry founds the sight intoxicating.

“What? You can’t waste a request on that! I already said that before!” He sees the cocoa eyes widening in shock before narrowing like a predator who’s ready to catch their prey, Tom’s bright smile becomes the only light in this room he sees. 

“Uh. Oh. Haha!”  His heart does a thump-thump-thump at a dangerous speed.

“You remember” Tom says, crowding him in by pushing him down on the mattress- he struggled too late to really do anything, and now Riddle was on top of him, dark hair falling loosely, eyes dark with unholy desires. Harry found out he liked it.

“I-i-i”

“I don’t care if it’s fake, just say it again” The tone turned cold. Harry slapped the other wizard's shoulder harshly, so that it stung, and frowned. Riddle didn’t even flinch, just pressed himself closer, so that their noses touched.

“It’s not-” He said, angered, trying to kill Tom just with the power of his gaze, sadly he was no Basilisk.

“Even if it's fake. I don't care at all, just say it” The taller wizard said like a threat, and Harry wants to never let go of him again; he didn’t think Tom thought he didn’t deserve to hear those words. It makes him guilty just thinking about how he didn’t bring the conversation up, it’s all his fault this time.

“I was drunk, not lying- you total ball sack!” He says against his better judgement, suddenly breathless, his hands deciding to rest on the other's neck; not that he knows what he’s doing.

“I love you too” Tom says, stealing a kiss from his lips this time, a chaste thing that shocks his entire system with the gentleness of it. Harry could melt into the duvet like this.

“Oh you snake. Save your wish for later, Arg! This is so unfair…” He ruffles the other's hair in frustration, causing Tom to nervously laugh at his outburst. 

“Whatever my Lord says”

“Your ‘Lord’ wants his boyfriend to kiss him” He comments, scared, and simultaneously excited; the biggest risks should give the sweetest fruits. Thankfully, Tom couldn’t be more buzzing with happiness at that, and he grips the brunettes locks tightly, just toeing the line of it being painful and playful.

“As my boyfriend wishes” Tom says in parseltounge and dives down, plastering his smile all over Harry’s lips eagerly.

The first thing Tom thought after Harry explained what he meant by his words was, an extremely intelligent ‘wow’, and then in rapid succession ‘I love him’ ‘marry me’, and ‘he’s mine’. Needless to say, he was on cloud nine, a first class beauty pinned under him, Harry’s fierce emerald eyes filled with a haze of arousal, and their magic singing in harmony. Kissing was quickly moving to the top of his favourite activities ever, just above reading- and that says a lot, since he’s an absolute bookworm.

It all comes so natural to him, whereas before he couldn’t muster any of such feelings to other people, and not for a lack of trying. They just languidly kiss for the longest time, Harry’s hands in his hair tugging helplessly to bring him closer, and closer, further into the madness that their magic brings while merging; merging further into itself. Tom is only vaguely aware that the bed they’re on might be floating, not that it matters much.

He could probably stay like that, unmoved from his spot, Harry in his arms warm and safe for eons- if not more, but the object of his adoration finally gasps, and tugs him away from himself suddenly. His unforgivable eyes look hungry, lost.

“Aren’t you going to get on with it?” Harry pants, his hot breath hitting Tom in the face, and he just smiles. This is perfect.

“Maybe” His tone is much more composed, and teasing than he actually feels; it's always been like this, but Harry doesn’t mind, he’s accepted. Before he can formulate a somewhat coherent thought, the other is pressing on his nape, where he feels a shiver forming under those clever fingers. With the added arousal and magic around them, he just feels absolutely blissed out.

“You can be rougher with me… You know” Harry tries to hide his face, but he doesn’t let him, oh no. Not now, not when asking for something. Not when it’s so vulnerable like this, when Tom feels so perfect reflected in those larger than life eyes. 

“You’ll be the death of me” He practically whines, the tension in his body hitting critical heights. Harry giggles, but otherwise doesn’t comment, his leg coming ominously close to the erection Tom is sporting as he gasps for air. His revenge is quick and sweet, as he dives back in for a kiss again. 

It’s all or nothing, and it feels important; they’re not hiding anything, letting the other have their fill. Maybe it’s the hormones talking, but the act of it feels gentle, tender, like a promise, or a fleeting love letter sprinkled with a known perfume. Still, they won’t last much longer, and this won’t bring them what they need; it’s an endurance battle between two warriors who want nothing else but to snap.

The dark skinned boy finally groans in frustration, pulling at his robes, vanishing them without a second though; cold air hitting Tom’s skin, a shiver sending him grinding against the shorter wizard's thigh. Thankfully his trousers are still on, it doesn’t help there's a wet spot on them, he can feel himself blush with shame, but his hips don’t stop riding the other's leg.

“Greedy” Harry comments, tugging at the waistline of his trousers, his hands mapping his body everywhere. Tom doesn’t even know where Harry is and isn’t touching him at the moment.

“I waited fo-oh. Umm” His breathing grows more rapid, and his words come out broken as he temporarily blinds himself with the pleasure willing his hips to stop. “This, so long.” 

“Ah, right. You’re the one saying about courting all the time. I’m just trying the goods out” Harry says, half jokingly, his voice deeper form all the exertion, Tom has never heard such an enticing sound. His eyes shut themselves against his will as he tries to regain a bit of control, its all for naught, he feels so good just letting it go.

His beloveds honey coloured hands go on an exploration of his back and chest, and he might just shatter like ice hitting stone. Tom's hands hurt from gripping the sheets too hard, his brain turned into Harry’s favourite flavoured pudding long ago, and he just needs to let himself fall into an abyss. It’s still hard, giving up control, even when he wants to.

Tom could swear this is what being burned alive felt like, and he secretly both loved and hated the idea of it, he just felt so good; cherished even, treasured- it’s a droplet of water too much, he is flooded with sensation as his whole world whitens. His untrained arms give out when Harry caresses an especially sensitive spot on his belly, and he knows he just finished into his best pair of trousers in a disgusting mess, but really, who would care for such matters.

When he finds it in himself to think after a few minutes, he’s surprised more with himself than with the smirking body under him. The other just stroked his hair through it all, mumbling sweet nothings to his ear, and it’s too much for his blissed out from orgasm brain to handle.

Well, at least Harry wasn’t under him for much longer, flipping their position with ease; after all the boy was the physically stronger of their pair, and he had just climaxed- becoming all weak and pliant against the dark greens sheets. He feels on top of the world like this, who knew submission tasted sweet on his tongue?

“You’re alright?” Harry smiled, sitting on Tom’s lap making himself hiss at the friction he suddenly got on his forgotten, albeit still attentive cock. He breathed like a dying man, soul sucked out by a demon, and Tom loved every second if it.

“Never been better” He says despite his usually cold, clinically steady voice coming out horse and shaky; his beloved just smiles wider.

Harry huffs a laugh, going for another kiss to shut him up; through the impatient pulse of magic Tom just knows he ought to get rid of the other’s pants, and he magicks them off in a frenzy. The poor clothing just floats in the air with almost every other object in the room, their magic sorting its needs just as they do theirs; Harry probably doesn’t even notice as lost in his lust and passion as he looks. His eyes are glazed over, and he’s still in his shirt and tie, loosely wrapped around his caramel neck; it looks like a collar with Tom’s colours on it.

He sighs, taking in the most breathtaking sight  of the boy before him; and he revels in the feeling of it being exclusive to him. 

“Yeah, so- ah” The boy looks at him, all flushed and yet somehow simultaneously blushing, their bodies brushing each other as the shorter wizard seeks his release; it’s mesmerising. 

I'm surrendering tonight, he thinks, oddly giddy at the notion. He just beams up at Harry, grabbing at the others painful looking erection which earns him a nasty curse in parseltounge. Profanities spilling from those pomegranate lips are all delicious, and Tom wishes he could carve them out in marble, Harry’s stream of unholy ‘oh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ blurring into a symphony he wants to hear every day.

“Faster for fuck’s sake!” Harry says, head thrown back as he grabs his wrist to will him to be rougher, just up until Tom can feel it will leave a bruise, a sign of possession on his body. He doesn’t pick up his pace until after it’s done- when Harry finally leaves a mark, willingly or not- he grins, his mind going feral. 

“Your wish is my command” He agrees exasperatedly, stroking the other with precision; his own sessions always been like that, means to an end- its anything but that now- now he teases, changes his pressure just as he sees Harry losing his clarity of mind.

“Not all the way…” Tom just hums in agreement not stopping his ministrations whatsoever, there is no need to, he can feel how pleasurable Harry finds this; their magic is like a galaxy full of stars. “Today” 

“With you or with me?” The other boy looks downright scandalised, and like a temptation made only for him to look at. Maybe it’s the boy’s smouldering eyes, scorching his soul- leaving their claim on it with smoke, and ashes that make him ready to serve. Tom knows he would commit every sin only to feel this hellfire consuming him again.

Harry doesn’t recoil when he picks up the pace once more, instead falling forward- Tom is there to catch him as the dark skinned boy shudders in his arms with delight. He might have left a few marks of his own on that neck, but who’s to judge?

“Fuc- ah! Just this today” 

“It’s my honour” He says steadily giving in, pressing the newfound sweet spots, allowing Harry to come with a shout; it’s perfect, and they stay like this until their breathing turns normal again. Bliss is too weak of a word to explain how Tom feels right now, as their magic falls from it’s crescent, things falling into place around the room. His familiar once again on his chest like he used to, after having given him all he wanted to and more; it’s a matter of seconds before Harry falls asleep.

Firstly, he divests them of whatever scant clothing they still have on, and then he just casts a scorugify on them as the way to any bathroom is blocked off for today. As much as he loves the idea of being marked, he won’t leave a sticky mess of semen on himself, there is some decency in his depraved brain. After it’s finished, he slips himself and his lovely one-man-miracle under the duvet to taste the afterglow of their shared night; before he can truly understand what his magic is calling out for him to do- he holds a yew handle in his hand, and whispers,

“Expecto Patronum” What burst out of his wand surprises him not only because it actually manifests, like it has never before- not even after the three best months of his life; though to be fair he hadn’t tried it with the memory of Harry telling him he loved him yet. Which was a tragic overlook on his part. He looks at the silvery animal strolling through the air, with its wild mane, and careful, prideful steps.

Of course, his Patronus is a bloody lion- what else could it be? It’s something his familiar will have the laugh of his life at, and he chuckles too just thinking about it, then feels Harry stir in his sleep. All at once he stops laughing, and hoes tense watching the other wizard, but the messy haired menace doesn’t wake up, he only to plasters himself all on him, as if he still was a snake. It’s adorable, Tom should put this in a pensive.

He obviously doesn’t heal any scratches, and or bruises on their bodies, happy to let them serve as a sweet reminder. Once again, he falls asleep in the arms of the person he loves, this time sated and rightfully exhausted, setting his wand aside as his patronus dissipates into the air with a silent roar.

The next morning, Harry doesn’t wake up like usual, unlike Tom. Maybe all the pressure, and their activities drained the boy more than he knew, or maybe it had more to do with the fact Harry was a heavy sleeper- one could never truly know. Not the one to disturb such a thing, Tom called in sick to Slughorn, claiming they were both down with a cold; the ignorant man of course didn’t bat an eyelash- sending a few potions their way, telling them to just stay in the room for the day. 

Their disappearance surely will cause a stir in their house, but he doesn’t care.

Arranging a free day was all too convenient, but it’s not like he will complain- if anyone decided to knock on their door today, Harry’s overpowered silencing charm would muff it all out. Nevertheless, after the rest of the house gone to breakfast, he left Harry a note and slipped out to the kitchens. There is no better way to start a day than a breakfast in bed, and that being said, he still intended to woo a future Lord Potter. The trip was rather standard, elves were more than happy to help, and he was in a fantastic mood today- high on happiness may be a better term though. 

Sadly, nothing so good could last forever, and when he was going back to the dorm, which by the way was the shortest trip to the commons, his luck ended. Albus Dumbledore, his number one despised human being, stood there casually, waiting for him; and Tom just knew he was waiting. The posture, the twinkle in his eyes, this was a man who wanted something from him- his right hand itched for his wand, but he didn’t draw it just yet.

Though, if he was going to miss Harry waking up for this, he will bombarda maxima the Transfiguration classroom and blame it on the Prewetts. 

“Hello Tom” Dumbledore says uncharacteristically softly, and persuasive, making Tom want to vomit on the other’s shoes.

“Greetings Professor” He replied curtly, trying to walk off, but of course the red-headed man stopped him just as he was to leave. 

“I want to talk Tom”

“Maybe there has been a time when I would listen, but it's long gone” Albus flinches like he has been whipped.

 “Sir” He says dryly, meeting the man’s gaze straight on, the impenetrable fortress of his mind prepared to guard him. Nothing like that happens.

“It’s not about you, my dear. Harry… he told me something enlightening not long ago, and when Slughorn told me you two were sick, I became worried. You two didn’t have a fight?” Dumbledore asks, and it’s the closest thing to a sincere tone Tom got since his wardrobe in Wool’s started burning, it stops him in his tracks.

“Nothing like that. May I ask what Harry told you?”  He asks, carefully evading telling the Professor a word too much, it's Dumbledore he has to keep himself in check, even if he is acting strangely nice. 

“A valuable lesson on love, to think such a young man is capable of understanding what I couldn’t for the longest time” It makes Tom think, as he reevaluates what kind of relationship Harry might have had with the Professor in his times. What could they bond over together, with the ever prideful Albus? What's enough to make the man walk all the way down to the dungeons and act civil while at it?

His eyes flicker to where the man is absent-mindedly playing with his blood pact pendant, it clicks. Everything about Harry just clicks, and his world comes crashing down as an avalanche down on his head, burying him deep under the never melting snow. It’s cold here, very cold. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” His voice sounds strained, and faraway to his own ears as he runs to the Slytherin common room, his steps ominously alerting anyone of their presence. Dumbledore didn’t go after him, looking shocked, no doubt curious what brought outs such emotion from him, but Tom isn’t keen on their shared mind games now. 

Truly, nothing matters, but getting his theory denied by Harry. It's his fault he thinks- he was reckless not disillusioning himself as he stepped into the detested room, ready to jump to his and Harry’s shared quarters. It's only a step towards the dorms, but someone blocks his way.

“We have to talk” Walburga Black demands, before sending a crucio his way. She is not a fool, and Tom knows she fights nasty, but he’s too unstable to think about what Harry might think of his retaliation. At least he is in his right mind not to cast an unforgivable with his wand as the witch did.

“Crucio” He whispers; screams of the girl slice the air like nothing else. What's worse, he can feel Harry’s silencing charm shatter; Tom subconsciously knows he will be dead once he’s found out, but not by the ministry- by Harry. 

Chapter Text

Harry was sleeping soundly, the last of his worries and nagging fears dissipating for the night thanks to the events of yesterday evening, his dreams domestic and peaceful as can be; a nice change of pace. All in all his sleeping habits have never been on the healthy side of things, leading to sleepless nights, or overcompensating; in any case he hardly had such good rest. 

It was high-time he got some actual sleep done this term, between worrying about the future, doing OWL work, writing to his grandparents, and other variables such as focusing on his familiar magic; that’s all the more reason an earth-shattering, gut-wrenching, bone freezing scream had no place breaking his silence spells. Still, it did. His instincts were kicked into their usual fight or flight response before his mind could fully comprehend there was no immediate danger-it was too late, he already jumped out of bed as if he was jinxed. 

Somehow, strange things still clung to him like baby koalas even after death, what was worse was that the situations still managed to shake him up- if that kept up one more year he might really consider being cursed. He checks the bed; no sign of his lover, his spine already gone rigid.

Tom wasn’t here with him, but there was a note left on his bedside, beside his wand, so he exhaled shakily, before looking around. 

“Riddle can take care of himself”

“He can take care of himself”

“I don’t need to worry about Tom of all people”, he repeated a few times into the air, clearly panicking, castle walls as his only witness. Everything was perfectly normal, some things were oddly misplaced, but that was all more than predictable with the way their magic acted the previous night. Strangely enough, there were no calming draught bottles for him to empty either- it seemed Tom finally stopped taking them, thank Merlin. Though they could be useful for once now…  Harry groaned in frustration.

Next he checks the door, stumbling a bit; his limbs still heavy from sleep- the runic-familiar wards were sturdy as ever, if a bit smudged on the floor, and glimmered in the morning light with their welcoming shimmers. Everything was in perfect order, so, why? Why was there tortured screaming and anguished crying coming from the common room? He had an idea, but refused to believe it before he saw it with his own eyes.

Tom would never. Oh, but he could.

Harry barely noticed he was naked as he grabbed the door handle, and he felt himself blush; he promptly summoned some clothes, pulling his pants up hastily throwing on whichever thing landed in his hands first. He was buttoning his shirt as he haphazardly ran down the Slytherin dorm corridor to their commons, tragically aware the garment was way too long- one of Tom’s for sure, it’s great- Harry was even wearing the idiot's clothes. Not that he was mad, they smelled like lavender and Tom, but if what he suspected was true… 

He shook his head, turning on another corner. Without any indication of what was happening in the common room, the screams turned manic, and he took his holly handle, feeling safer with it in his hand- the note laid forgotten on the night stand. It was safe to say his blood ran cold with throat closing anxiety, the one that forced you to cry when you couldn’t, the kind that made you regret even being alive in the first place.

The screams lessened as he ran down, and then abruptly stopped just as he took the last corner panting from the sprint- appearing in the godforsaken common room, its ruthless green shades suddenly toxic to his eyes; first thing he noticed was Walburga writhing on the floor from what looked were aftershocks. Horrifyingly, her body couldn’t decide between crashing on the floor and leaping in the air as she wheezed laboriously into the serpentine carpet. He grimaced.

The next second, she vomited on the ancient fabric, her blacker than sin hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, making her look extremely pitiful. He felt himself tense and gulp, but the experience could as well come from anyone else, his body didn’t exactly feel like his right now, everything was too surreal. 

“Who did this?” He whispered into the air, feeling tears prickle his eyes; they were not from sadness- actually, he hated the girl as much as the next person, but it was wrong; he couldn’t look at it, and he still wanted Sirius to be born. Riddle apparently didn’t find it wrong to torture someone like that- especially after touching him so tenderly with the hands that did this damage just hours before. 

His tears were angry, burning his cheeks, nothing about feeling so livid was pretty. Walburga laughed between coughing up the contains of her stomach on the floor, and he was aware that some students were coming back to the dorm from what presumably was breakfast. He didn’t care, everything was hurting, but at the same time he felt helpless and numb, stares escaping his mind because of the matter at hand.

“Who?” She asked sarcastically, before vomiting another batch of her bodily fluids on the floor. Harry could see the outline of freshly shined shoes, and hoped against hope itself he was mistaken.

Just when everything was going so well, did it have to go to shit? Don’t we both deserve a happy ending, Tom? The thoughts never left the prison his brain made for them.

For all that's worth, he could have been locked in the cupboard again, because all he could do to defend what he deemed precious was curl up and pretend he didn’t exist. It was sickening to his stomach, and his magic lurched with it, some tiles underneath him cracking like eggshells.

Sadly, Harry knew the only person who could, and would do this to Walburga the best of anyone- pretending not to didn’t solve anything, and Tom was just… standing there, silent as a grave. He gulped. It felt like a stab through the heart, only repeated a thousand times with a blade made from the essence of cold; Harry felt himself shiver with the worst kinds of feelings.

There was a flurry of emotions from the bond hitting him all at once; fear, anger, loss, determination, but it all didn’t make sense. Those weren’t his emotions, he wanted them gone. Nonetheless, he didn’t dare look Riddle in the eyes. It was too much, and yet he longed to see the cocoa colour, yearned for the boy to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like, but Tom stood there as if paralysed.

“Harry I’m… I-“ There was a flood of distress in the voice, and Tom looked ready to throw up himself, though he absent-mindedly noticed the wizard didn’t have a wand in his hand. Great, wandless unforgivables were the last thing he needed. 

Harry didn’t care for weak excuses- he was furious, disappointed, and he felt betrayed- his magic surely reflected the mindset as the brunette stopped talking and just flinched back; his core felt like a snowstorm growing around the flickery flame of a candle, going on the last embers of its existence. Tom’s on the other hand felt like someone drained the Great Lake out of every last drop of water, a lifeless deserted land left in its wake. It was like a heart not beating, a human not breathing; Riddles magic was as dead as a corpse. 

He finally rushed to the witches side, holding her up, so she doesn’t choke on her own filth, and someone- presumably Tom vanished the disgusting mess before he knelt; but what use was such care when Harry is the only one being given it? 

It feels right. It feels wrong, everything that should repel him just brings him in, and his love is put across the line as he despairs. Why does this make him feel so alive, Harry doesn’t want to understand. Still, he’s terrified. A heart shouldn’t ever be torn apart in a million places, claws sinking into the muscle as every fibre of it breaks one by one; such things are simply not made to withstand that.

“Walburga? You’re alive?” He asks slowly, as Tom comes closer to them- he still refuses to look, maybe because he is crying, maybe because he doesn’t have it in himself to hate the boy- he doesn’t know why, but tears keep falling down into the pool of his own loneliness. 

“She should be” Tom responds devoid of any emotion, and Harry feels an absurd urge to slap him on the face, for now, he pushed it down forcibly. 

Why couldn’t he have what he had yesterday night? Was he unworthy? There must be a reason everyone in his life leaves sooner or later, normal people don’t get abandoned any given moment- Harry knows he is a freak, but so is Riddle. Couldn’t they be weird, and imperfect together? That’s really all he wants. Did Tom get bored of him? It was going so well until now, or so Harry thought. He trembled, as he tried seeing if Sirius’s mother had any lasting damage. 

“Worrying about me? Potter” She spat, both metaphorically and in his face- there was a beat of ominous, sickly silence before the witch laughed like a madman.

Harry was half sure her behaviour wasn’t the cruciatus’s fault, Walburga’s eyes seemed as clear as ever, only that the mask of a normal girl was symbolically left cracking at her feet- it was weirdly reminiscent of Sirius crazed from Azkaban expression. He moved away from her, but not much- as he was still worried about her wellbeing, and a cruciatus was no joke. 

Especially not one given by the ever persistent Lord Voldemort. Harry felt disgusted with himself, with Tom, with the world, and he felt so guilty for thinking he could make anything better by himself. He was a nobody, a speck of dust in a dirty attic, and just tried to play the hero because of his own desires. He hiccuped, and wiped the spit off his cheek, surprised Tom didn’t cast another crucio, or anything at all. 

“Tommy, Tommy~, aren’t you getting weak? Can’t cast a proper crucio now? Because what? YOUR LITTLE FAIRY WOULD BE MAD?” The witch playful words turned into joyless screeches, not unlike nails on a blackboard- her hands gone scrambling for her wand, before Harry could fully comprehend what she said. Tom couldn’t cast the curse properly? That surely was a mistake, he was the most sadistic, and ruthless person in the wizarding world. But was he?

Riddle stayed silent, just kneeling near him, careful not to touch. He was a monster.

But was he? Was he really? His Tom was sweet, and gentle, and his Tom acted like he didn’t care, but remembered how every one of their classmates liked their tea- this Riddle looked at magical creatures like shooting stars, this boy cared. His lover wasn’t a heartless less than human more than a nightmare, he was just a lonely boy driven back to a wall by circumstance; Harry sobbed silently, burying his head in his hands. 

Those two people didn’t add up in his mind, but that didn’t lessen the frustration or the pain he felt as his magic tried rejecting its twin. Vaguely, he registered he was hyperventilating, and that Walburga took her wand, and that Tom was repeating “I'm sorry, I’m so sorry Harry, come back to me sweetheart” like a mantra, his magic as panicked as Harry’s own, but it’s all blurry as his magic grows more restless, feral- unpredictable; it wants to merge with Tom’s while simultaneously trying to separate itself from it, like its poison. Things are flying, glass is shattering, younger years are crying, but he doesn’t care.

Honestly, it feels as if he’s ripping his own rib out with blunt nails, and there’s no hole in his chest to grab it.

“I have you lovebirds now” Walburga chirps ominously, and she tries to cast something. Harry never knows what, though he predicts it’s an unforgivable, in any case her wand is pointed at him, but Tom hugs him, and shields him with his back. Not that the spell has a chance to fire as Harry feels his own magic unfurl around the room, his eyes unfocus, and he unconsciously bites down- it's a coincidence that it’s Tom shoulder he does it with. Other than that he can hear rumbling, and he can see cracks appear along the castle walls, and across the precious view of the Great Lake. There’s an explosion.

Harry faints, nowhere near understanding what happened. 

He blinks, once, twice, and then again, slowly adjusting to the bright lights and whiteness of the room he is apparently in. The thing is, he doesn’t immediately recognize the room, and that should send him into an absolute frenzy, but he’s too tired to mind it. Feeling exhausted, numb, and strangely sleepy, he thumbs at the sheets- he’s in a bed that’s not his own.

“Fuck. Where am I?” Harry asks no one in particular, trying to feel his limbs; but they could be made from lead, for all he feels is an unmovable weight. There’s a shaky cry, and a humourless laugh beside him, like a grieving relative or something, as old-timey bed springs creak under someone. From the sound of the bedding alone, he knows he’s still stuck in the forties, perhaps locked in an asylum.

“Thank Mother Magic, you’re alive-“ A voice says, and Harry has to adjust before recognizing this pitiful sound as Tom’s. It feels unnatural, and every little fibre  of his being rejects the idea of his most cherished sounding like that, like a broken toy, a husk of a man.

“I lived through death, what did you expect?” He teases, before turning his head in the other’s direction; their magic feels steady, almost airy, as if it’s shy to mingle with itself, but it’s calm.

“Not you helping a madman who tried to curse me” Riddle taunts, but there’s no real bite to it. Tom is bandaged heavily around his shoulder, and he has horrible bags under his eyes; like he hasn’t slept for two days, his chocolate irises betray a sense of relief. 

His usually immaculate wavy hair is slightly matted and in disarray, otherwise limply hanging off his forehead- still, Tom smiles at him, his real, ridiculously dazzling smile that makes glaciers melt, and breaks hearts all around Hogwarts. It also broke his, but the events of it seem inconsequential when he’s faced with such a welcome.

Harry pretends tears don’t threaten to spill when he feels how worried out of his mind Tom is for him, but he needs information.

“She was the one crying in pain, not you”

“I failed the curse miserably, if that had been a real unforgivable she would be dead or insane” Tom scoffs, weakly sitting on his own bed before walking to him- he looks like a newborn deer doing so, but he doesn’t comment, giving his boyfriend some space on his bed not without grunting in discomfort. At least, Harry hopes that’s what they are. His whole body feels like it’s made from unmovable stone, so the gesture is a grand one. 

“Delightful” He retorts, rolling his eyes, stuck somewhere between guilty, disturbed and relieved; It’s a weird concoction of emotions for sure, but he also feels chemically calm. Most likely they pushed a calming draught down his throat as he slept, to avoid… whatever his outburst was.

“It was in self-defence, I vow on my life” Tom says, sitting on the bed, then swaying, before finally, hesitantly laying down next to him; he must be exhausted too he notes. Harry has half a mind to register Riddle took his hand in his, as if he was checking for a pulse. 

“You never lose control like that Tom, so don’t feed me this crap” He retorts viciously, still understandably mad, but even more so confused. That’s better than he thought the situation was, at least.

“I lost it- because I realized who I am? I… was in your times” The brunette manages to choke out not after a minute of silence, and Harry feels how serious the sentence is, how weighed down Tom feels by it. How does he know is a question for a later date, perhaps when Harry isn’t on the edge of losing consciousness.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Harry” The others feelings slip into him through their bond, like vicious voices in his ear telling him how undeserving, and worthless he is. How disposable. 

Riddle is scared he is some scum Harry will abandon. Luckily for him, Harry doesn’t think he could stop loving the devil now- even if he prayed with all his power to fate, he just couldn’t, not that fate liked him much. 

“Please don’t hate me” Is finally said, though It's nothing more than a breath Harry feels a ghost of on his cheek, but it's enough. It has to be.

“Oh, Tom. I don’t hate you.” He sighs, willing his hand to intertwine his fingers with the paler teens in a silent reassurance- he doesn’t have energy for much else. “And, you’re not him” 

“Does Lord Voldemort ring any bells?” Tom spits self depreciatingly, disgust rising in his magic and in his bobbing throat- coca eyes filled with misery. Harry hadn’t figured the other already came up with the nickname, neither that he linked everything he let slip out so well, his intelligence is the most scary thing here. 

“Yeah?” He says, against his better judgment, not in his right mind enough to lie. 

“See? I’m a monster, a monster who hurt you!  And who knows what else I’ll come up with.” The taller wizard trembles, and there’s a pitiful sigh leaving him along with it.

That is enough of an answer for Harry, because monsters don’t feel remorse, and they don’t fail at unforgivables, and the maniac that killed his parents wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t apologize. He can almost tell himself that the shared face is a pretty weird coincidence, and that this Tom Riddle is a whole different person. Isn’t he? The person before him is far detached from what he could have been, and Harry feels a prickle of guilt at not believing him down in the dungeons.

Though, really, who in their right mind even tries retaliating with a cruciatus?

“You’re changing from that path… I-“ He shuts his eyes for a steadying breath. “That guy couldn’t even feel love, Tom, and yet here you are” 

“I shouldn’t be able to feel it either, I’m not good enough for it” Tom says, sounding like a beaten child, resignation lacing his voice; it sounds like clacks of shackles fastened on your hands and feet. It reeks of a deep hidden fear- Harry can’t look at Tom like that without his heart clenching, and painfully thump-thump-thumping away. 

“A child of a love potion feeling that is unheard of” Tom says tears spilling from his eyes, the second time Harry has seen them, but then they weren’t Riddles- not really anyway. Now though, now it was all the grief, pain, disgust, and disappointment squeezed into the pearly drop falling down the handsome face. Too bad he can’t wipe it away, he doesn’t have enough energy. 

“What? It doesn’t make any sense, Tom, you’re just human. Don’t you think no one really showed you love before? That’s why you haven’t felt it” He laughs, shaking his head before hissing in pain at the sudden movement; the brunette watches with concern, rubbing soothing circles on his hand with his thumb.

“You’re just silly, and now as an apology- hug me. I can’t really move well myself, everything hurts” Playing the pitiful card, and adding big doe eyes works like a dream; he feels himself wrapped in a pair of strong, warm arms almost instantly; his whole being from the tips of his toes to the recesses of his soul relaxes. His medicine addled mind tells him he’s finally home.

“You’re too forgiving” Tom states, grimacing, yet not doing anything to escape- good, Harry really needs to use him as a pillow.

“Maybe”

“I’ll go get the mediwitch to look at your vitals, and then I’ll fetch Dippet” His menace-dark-lord of a boyfriend announces as if he was a muggle doctor, but Harry uses his last drop of energy to hold him in place. 

“Let’s sleep first, and then you’ll send them a patronus”  Harry offers, too tired to even think about dealing with nosy adults. 

“You saw!?” He pretends to snore, and snuggles into the inviting chest as his medication truly takes his consciousness away. “Merlin, are you sure you weren’t sorted into Slytherin first?” 

“Shut up lion” He giggles, as he goes on to dreamland, clutching his murderous boyfriend with all his might. Not so secretly, he fears Tom might just disappear if his grip loosens a little. 

Tom has been a nervous wreck these past couple of days, between Harry being so distraught to try and reject everything their bond stands for, and their magic exploding in the common room. Honestly, deciding to not accept a familiar bond AFTER the fact, was not only a glorified suicide mission, it always left devastation in its wake- that was elementary knowledge he thought Harry had drilled into his messy haired head by now. Apparently- that was not the case. Then again, the boy was understandably shocked.

All in all, Tom is beyond grateful the separation didn’t happen, him being as barely human as he feels, and with the future in mind… It just wouldn’t do them any good, and as unworthy as he feels, he genuinely wants to do better. He wants to be enough, he wants being wanted- Is that in his cards however is a matter for the future to decide. 

For more of the technicalities, Slytherin common room is currently under repair, and it’s as Slughorn informed him; looking like someone threw a bomb in there. Tom secretly hopes Orion is crying over his favourite couch, but alas he hasn’t left the hospital wing, so he has no idea. Tragically enough, Walburga lived by some fucking miracle, and she’s up and running again. Almost everyone present got injured one way or another, but they were back to their lives already; being the centre of it all they got the worst of it- not just mere cuts, and bruises from the extreme version of ‘bombarda’ his familiar presented. Or so to speak, Harry got the worst of it all, his magical exhaustion nearing fatal levels after what was an accidental breach of Hogwarts wards; and it took all of Tom’s willpower to pass him his own power down the bond while dealing with the poison from his fangs. 

It’s not that the bite wasn’t causing agonizing pain. Definitely not.

However, the immense, searing pain of being eaten from the inside of his veins couldn’t compare to loosing Harry. The boy that in three months turned into his centre of the world, his sun, moon, and all of the stars, his fire on a cold winter day- maybe he was being too sentimental, but without someone to love with, was life worth it? He knew from experience the answer was no; he was loveless, abandoned and feared for most of his life, and nothing compared to the past weeks spent with Harry. 

There was this moment, nothing but a terrifyingly long second when he thought Harry’s heart just stopped breathing, and he can still feel the honey coloured skin going deceptively cold against him. There’s still a phantom weight on his shoulders where the beauty’s head sagged on his shoulder, tears staining his already blood soaked robes. 

Nothing but a mere second- Where time stopped to laugh at his misery, and fate looked on with self-satisfied smirk, or at least he thought so- his eyes were focused on only one person. 

That’s when he found out what real fear felt like, and he prayed to any being above while doing his best to transfer magic, next thing he knew he collapsed on a once again breathing Harry- his first waking moment seeing Euphemia Potter clicking her tongue while patting his head. Safe to say, he has never been so pampered or guilty in his life, and he never was struggling to keep his lucidity; only managing to say a weak “Is Harry alive?”

Lord and Lady Potter understandably went livid upon hearing the news of what happened- though he did leave his own unforgivable out of the brief story, just to be safe- and they almost cursed Walburga seven ways to Sunday once she woke up, sadly he fell asleep in the middle of it. Exhaustion dragged him back to the land of Morpheus. It was a given she would have a shit year now, but he hardly had it in himself to enjoy the knowledge, more overcome with the thought of finally knowing what having a family could feel like.

Tom, who has never in his life been so protected by and adult, was obviously shocked that they assumed it wasn’t his fault- that's a thing Dumbledore left him with, but, well… To be given such obvious care, and genuine worry when he was the one who would take it all from the Potters in another life? Maybe this one too. It was safe to say he felt bitterness on his tongue.

Fleamont just told him to sleep his worries off, not knowing what kind of monster he was giving advice to. 

By the second day, when he woke up again (for more than like fifteen minutes), he was still tired, and unreasonably sore. Not to mention finally conscious enough to acknowledge the fact. That’s when he had found out Harry didn’t wake up yet- or rather not once in two days, his magical reserves still being too small. 

“I wonder if he’ll wake up at all” The mediwitch said when she thought he was asleep. It was devastating to hear, and he demanded his bed being brought closer to the boys, which the mediwitch begrudgingly agreed to.

With the fresh memory of a green-eyed boy dying in his arms, there was only one reckless brave thing to do. 

Of course, he gave him all of his power as soon as he was close enough to do so, though the drain was slowly becoming torturous, and slowed his own healing considerably. His shoulder might be bleeding, but he deserved it, right? Harry didn’t. 

Tom didn’t care about the consequences, though it effectively made them both bedridden for the next couple of days- not that he complained, Tom wanted to be at his sweethearts bed all the time, every day. 

In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. 

More importantly, he had to be there to watch his beloved forest green eyes open, he needed confirmation that the boy was alive- not just breathing. 

He barely ate, or slept from that day on, earning himself many scoldings from various people; the mediwitch, older Potters, Slughorn. Strangely enough the only one who seemed to get what he was going through was Albus the prat Dumbledore, arguing that it was normal for familiars to be so magically tied together, but the thought irritated him, so he ignored it. No one would separate him from Harry anyway, lest he will actually cast a proper Cruciatus. 

His usually overcompensating brain felt dangerously lethargic because of his neglect- anxiety painting every one of his nerves with its sickening presence. It poisoned every second, and brought him to tears one too many times these past days and restless nights. So when Harry- sweet Harry, finally woke up on the fourth day, it felt like he could properly breathe again- not giving a second thought about worsening his state he walked to the boy, just to feel his body heat again. 

He couldn’t decide between damning himself to rot in rhetorical hell or begging on his knees for forgiveness- everyone knows Tom Marvolo Riddle never begs, and definitely not for forgiveness, but if something could bring Harry back into his arms, he would do it without hesitation. 

“You’re not him” Harry said, giving him forgiveness as easy as breathing, his eyes shining with unshed tears; despite the boy looking half alive, Tom still thought he hadn’t seen anyone more pretty in his life. It wasn’t really better, and wouldn’t be until they talked this all out, but- he could rest.

One embrace calmed him instantly, when nothing else could, the hum of their magic turning into a half forgotten lullaby, the tune of which sounded eerily familiar. The words he couldn’t make out, they were muffled, drowned out, and he fell asleep to them harmonizing alongside Harry’s soft snores. 

In any other circumstances, the noise would be a nuisance, but Tom was just glad his anchor to life was not sleeping for good. 

On the fifth day he woke up surprisingly enough; not exhausted, already when realizing this there’s a smile on his lips, and his hands go to feel where Harry should be laying. The space is empty, and his mind goes into a panicked frenzy without warning. 

“HARRY!?” He feels his lungs collapse, and his anger whiten into righteous fury. Something happened.

“I’m here” The boy says softly, setting up what looks like a privacy ward next to the bed, drawing scribbles with his wand in the air; he looks a lot healthier already with the abundance of magic Tom transferred him. Good. “You can calm down, the mediwitch said I’m recovering outstandingly well, and a privacy ward is more concentration than magic based.”

“What do you need to set up wards here for is what worries me” He retorts dryly, observing as Harry works dutifully.

“So we can talk, about the future… a bit” Harry says, resolutely looking at a plain looking stone wall, shoulders scrunched up tight- their magic tenses as well turning into a steel like substance, cold, hard, and uninviting.

He hums in agreement, still worried, but not wanting to anger the dark skinned wizard before they even got to talking. The fact his knees go closer to his chest can only be described as orphan instinct resurfacing, from times he was still scared of being freakish- it hadn’t reared it’s ugly head in years until now though.

“I think we have to make some things clear, Tom. For you know- us to work” Harry says, sitting down beside him so that their shoulders bump into each other comfortingly. The position is good since he doesn’t have to hold the other's fervent gaze too long, and can focus on literally anything else other than immense guilt. 

He hadn’t known guilt could feel as suffocating as this, and he wished he’d never found out.

“We’re still talking about ’us’?” Honestly, he thought yesterday’s slip up was just that- a slip up, not a sentiment Harry was set on, but it feels like someone took a weight off his chest at last. Maybe he could, like, work with this? Tom has worked with worse circumstances than that, or, not, if you have the future in mind.

“Well, I knew what I was getting into while falling in love with you. Did I not?” It wasn’t good Harry was beating him at rational thinking, he thought as sparks of hope began lighting up his mind. 

“A Dark Lord?” 

“You won’t become one, believe me, that man killed toddlers like it was nothing. Well, he tried, and I’m sure you wouldn’t. See? Crisis avoided” Harry says, seeking his hand with his own shyly, as if asking for permission; Tom takes the caramel hand and kisses it before he can stop himself. The shorter wizard blushes despite his dark complexion as a reward for the boldness. 

“The scar is my fault, then?” There’s a beat of silence and then a sigh before Harry picks up the topic, still not letting go of his hand- on the contrary, he squeezes it as if to ground himself. 

“Don’t worry about it, Fleamont told me it happens to all the Potters at some point. One way or the other. Besides, you won’t do it, I'm sure” 

“I don’t even want to know if I will. You’re naive, Harry, how can you be sure I won’t just go bat shit crazy in this timeline? Maybe later than-“ 

“Shhhh- McGonagall is a time traveller too, right? But her future view of you is vastly different from mine.” Harry says, the beginnings of a smug smirk pulling at his lips. The rest of the arguments he could probably talk himself out of, but this sticks into his numbskull; it shows he is capable of some change at the very least. 

“You’re too forgiving. I can’t understand how you even look at me” He sighs with finality, being stubborn is one thing, but refusing Harry Potter when he actually wants something another, and Tom Riddle can’t do the latter.

“I think you’re dashing actually” The shorter wizard claims, bringing their joined hands onto his lap like it’s the most natural gesture in the world; their magic has a sweet undertone to it now. This may be another Patronus worthy memory, he thinks through the daze. 

“You know what I meant” He sighs, looking at their intertwined fingers, the contrast of their skin making his head spin. It reminds him of that precious night not even a week before, a shy half smile surely tugs at his lips as he thinks of it.

“You were one good-looking villain- besides you were already dead in my time. Kind of anyway, I was a baby when I killed you- were even” 

“You’re joking”

“Absolutely serious” Harry says with his most straightforward tone, his head falling on his shoulder comfortably. All this information will surely take time to truly sink in, but there’s a thing he wanted to ask since the burning wand incident.

“Can I use up my request?” 

“Go on” Harry breathes, his voice sending shivers down his spine, before coming to his brain in a rush of happiness. Their magic seems to feel the same, as the room seems to warm itself without reason, and it settles back deep inside their cores; it hadn’t felt like that since the common room. 

Tom thinks this was somehow resolved too easily, but he lets it go for now- surely his inner mind gremlin will tell him how horrible he is later. 

“From what year do you come from?” He asks finally, and he can feel more so than hear Harry laugh nervously into his collarbone, the boy's magic turning back into flames, albeit small and flickering like the ones you find on candles.

“1995” The boy deadpans.

“Oh my fuck” That’s literally, more than fifty years from now, and it feels like an eternity to be thrown back in, he thinks. To just adjust would take so long! He, for one, wouldn’t know what to do with himself in eighteen hundreds, but instead of voicing his awe he comes back into more normal territory- teasing. 

“You’re just a baby!” 

“Says an old man” They have a laugh, and then there’s a knock on the door; before they can even say ‘come in’ or some other pleasantry they find themselves in the presence of Lord and Lady Potter with a mountain of sweets, snacks and other foods needed to ‘fatten them up’ in the words that of Euphemia. Harry dissipates the privacy ward in an instant. 

“HARRY! You’re awake!” The married couple shouts in perfect sync before running up to them. It's safe to say what comes after that is the most homely evening the hospital wing of Hogwarts had ever witnessed. 

Chapter Text

As was constant in Tom’s life since he found out he was a wizard, October brought with it many fantastical realizations. Clearly he had to reevaluate his intelligence if this still surprised him every year, but well, that’s life for you. He may or may not blame Potter for his recent lack of braincells, though life lacking them is sweeter than any nectar. 

First of all realizations, Lady Euphemia Potter can, and will force-feed you thrice the amount of food compared to what you expect- without the need to imperio you. Tom tested it, and found himself having seconds without questioning it, although his stomach possibly never housed more food; Harry looked similarly full back then. It was safe to say that it was a wonderful, homely evening. Euphemia still wasn’t satisfied, and so they both were the most angry-pampered boys in all of Hogwarts. 

Second, building back a relationship that’s full of both trust and passion is harder than any OWL class could ever be, managing to fray his nerves like nothing else. Can’t Harry just fucking voice out what he wants? He’s good at manipulation not divination, he needs clues! In any case, the constant push and pull was so intense, he wondered how he still kept himself together through the onslaught of emotions. 

Just the amount of his spiralling thoughts concerning the matter was insane, though it seemed his companion didn’t mind; yes, they regressed a bit in their intimacy, but it wasn’t like Harry was suddenly scared of it. Honestly; maybe he should be more cautious with the murderer of his parents, but Tom was a selfish man, and he didn’t dare point that out. It was easy to admit Harry was addicting, and Tom was sure the ‘taking it slow’ was going to go into the rubbish bin any day now.

Lastly, as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, Slytherins were all as dumb as a sack of bricks. Sometimes, he wondered if any of their lot had some sense of self-preservation, but maybe it hadn’t developed in such young children. Not all were as experienced as him or Harry, either by the war or the future, living in a mostly magical area- which Grindelwald obviously didn’t attack, or maybe they were simply put in this house because of ambition not other characteristics. Either way, they got manipulated way too easily by someone that wasn’t him- the white sheep they were. 

Maybe it was the power of the ancient and most ridiculous House of Black, but alas it won’t be long before he claims his Lordship, and all that disadvantage will fly away like a leaf in the autumn wind. 

“What are you thinking about, Tom? Not wallowing in self-pity again are you?“ Harry teases without hesitation, as if he wasn’t just tying the tie for the boy, the dark skinned teen giving him full access to his (sadly) unblemished neck. The boy looked so happy doing that, giving up his most vulnerable spot, but something told Tom it wasn’t exactly right.

The power of having full access to Harry, though? It was exhilarating.

“I’m thinking how in the world Walburga managed to spin her situation around when we were in recovery” He said, tightening the knot of the silver-green tie gently, tugging it to kiss Harry quickly. The boy hummed contently, but Tom could clearly tell how neither his magic nor his mind were here by now, how unfocused and tired Harry was today- despite it just being morning.

“What’s with you, Darling? Is something the matter today?” He asked, still using the tie to hold the caramel skinned beauty close, his other hand grabbing the other’s waist possessively. Blocking any means of escape without a problem, like Harry was a skittish, frail little thing.

For a moment he’s sure Harry will push back, turn around and curse him, but it doesn’t happen; it never happens of course, his familiar is far too pure and forgiving. Too tolerant, but where Harry decides to stay- that’s just Tom’s gain.

“It’s not a good day for me, Halloween, that is. My parents they-“ Harry sighs, burrowing himself between his neck and his shoulder fitting there as naturally as he breathes- like they were designed for this purpose only. Not like he should throw him into the great lake should such an opportunity arise. 

“We can skip class if that’s what you want” He proposed, nuzzling into the nest of untamable raven black locks. It felt like heaven. 

“Tom, not all of us have brains bigger than our egos. I can’t fall back on anything more” Harry grunts out, a grimace forming on his face where Tom can feel it through his robes.

“Babe, you’re doing just fine with school. You have more power than the teachers, whatever they can teach you is a matter of practice.” 

“I’m also dumber than them and exploded the common room with it” The other grumbles into his neck, sending pleasant vibrations down his collarbones. Tom isn’t sure whether he was imagining the brush of fangs against his skin or not, but it’s better not to think about it- or about how he craves the pain of the venom back, like a sign of being wanted. Thankfully the bite scarred, so that was that- not that Harry knew. 

“That was my fault. Besides, not to brag or anything, but I have a ridiculously rich boyfriend.” He says into the wild, black mane of hair of the smaller wizard, inhaling the scent of their shared shampoo as he does so- it’s one of the most trivial, yet most comforting things on this earth Tom can imagine. 

“You? Admitting to an error. Dear Merlin, what did you do to my boyfriend” That earns Harry a vicious pinch on the bum, which he jumps from- not that he can escape Tom’s arms as easily. 

“HEY!” The boy shouted with indignation, his face burning hot as his magic mixed with shame.

“Shouldn’t have said that” Tom smirked, but his gaze turned to the green infinity of Harry’s eyes, doors to his soul betraying how serious he was about this. Wasn’t all of this his fault anyway? 

“We can go just fine, I’ll skip if it gets too overwhelming. Not like what I’m sad about will happen anyway.” Harry says, punching his chest a tad too forcefully for it to be playful. 

It’s a promise, it’s a warning- Tom treats it as a declaration of love and devotion. I’m willing to stay, but you can’t become that thing, you have to keep yourself in check; is he capable of that? He doesn’t know. He wants to try. 

“You’re right as always, honey.” He says, mimicking Fleamont Potter’s overly saccharine tone, used solely to apologize to Euphemia when he messed something up. For example, stole one of their cookies, or came home late; a very husband thing to do.

“Oh my god” Harry exclaims, arms thrown into the air, already accioing his things; the boy throws his bag on his shoulder with a fluid motion and steps away to start their day. Tom doesn’t know when he managed to slip out from his grasp, his palms, and his neck feel empty.

“Fine you win, I will skip when it gets too hard” The other finally gives in, from the corridor. 

“A wise choice indeed” He agrees, smirking lightly, voice deep and full of barely concealed darkness. 

“Prick” 

“All yours” Tom retorts, all too pleased about this situation. Harry turns a ripe tomato red before shutting up, walking off into the direction of the commons as Tom closes the door behind them. The shorter wizard doesn’t bother with waiting for him to catch up.

When they have already taken every turn, and every twist leading to the common room from their shared chambers, the earlier light-hearted atmosphere vanishes as if it was a bubble of soap in the wind. Since they obviously weren’t there to deal with any fallout, it can be said history was rewritten for some ugly wrenches needs. 

Since they caused the explosion, some more conservative fools started saying they were traitors and such, because who in their right mind would destroy millennia of history like that? 

And so, they began carefully, slowly yet deliberately- as not to anger an unpredictable madmen- started siding with Walburga. Wizards, the lot of them, hated the unknown; Tom just had to persuade them to try any innovations, but without a strong background to help him it was a Sisyphean task. As for heiress of House Black- who, of course, painted herself as a poor victim, because wasn’t she attacked first? 

He wanted the worst fate to meet the wrench. But, well, since Tom couldn’t just throw her into the lavatory to rot, she could spew any nonsense; especially if someone like him wasn’t there. A tactic underhanded, but effective; he would be fooled if only she hadn’t taught him this exact same thing. 

Clearly the way Harry treated people as equals led them to believe they could actually make a fight, be someone- Tom was preparing them a bitter surprise; this was his domain and no one else’s. 

Thankfully, that rumour didn’t lessen their powers, just painted them as mindless, and he has just the thing to regain all his political standing. Hopefully, more. In the meantime, he relishes as people avoid crossing their path, or just glare- it seems Harry is accustomed to this as well. Tom isn’t pleased with this fact, actually it breaks his heart into a million pieces, but some things are like that; for example who he can very well become. He can’t change that.

Their small walk to the great hall is obviously unbothered because of this development, if slightly uncomfortable. His familiar once again locked himself more in his head than anything else, and didn’t notice when they arrived, so at least he wasn’t bothered that much. Harry was quite sensitive about his public image, despite appearing like a brazen type at the first glance. 

It was also probably a good time to do the statement he wanted, without bothering the other wizard. Plus, he waited long enough as it took multiple letters and drops of his blood to confirm; hard work, lots of bureaucracy, and scheming will pay off. The owl should come any minute now if he planned everything right. 

They sit on their usual spots mechanically, though he can see that some aware of what he was doing lately were watching more attentively than others. Suspense gripping their throats like a hanging rope, yes, he liked having this kind of control. Tom didn’t leave things out in the open often, after all, it was a clue for more of the smarter snakes. Hopefully, the package will arrive on time, a part of gaining power was doing a dramatic show. 

He was exceptional at theatrics, lying was an art if acting before anything else; so here he was- and yet, he still sweated thinking of the upcoming spectacle. 

Barely did he notice some new guy sitting beside McGonagall and Dumbledore at the staff table because of the thrill of it all.

He began putting food on their plates leisurely, Abraxas watching with interest, while Orion glared; not that the small fries mattered. Nott, for that matter, was still deeply wounded by his snapped wand and acted like he wasn’t interested, but Tom could see he was happy with their disgrace- well, not for long.

Tom needn’t have worried about anything, Harry was back to normal, chatting with some muggleborn; one that was smarter than he looked seeing that he didn’t avoid them because of rumours; and his parcel was the first to arrive. All was falling into place, his long-term plan, though with some fundamental changes now- that didn’t change one fact, he wanted to build something to outlive him. All of that started in his small, evil mind years ago, but now he can put himself in the spotlight like he deserves. The owl wasn’t remarkable, but what it held in its worn talons was something many in this hall were drooling over subconsciously.

An inheritance, to one of the most powerful houses, one that should long be dead. 

He smirked almost uncontrollably, like his life depended on it, all arrogance and pride; he took the letter with the ring inside with what could only be described as inborn dignity, Tom was made for being someone better all along, and this lifetime he won’t mess that up. He didn’t miss the eyes going to him, after all he rarely got any mail- and this definitely didn’t come from the Potters, oh no. Harry raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, their owls- courtesy of Fleamont- were definitely more young and flashy. 

This was something more than simple mail, it was only for those in the know; unfortunately Walburga wasn’t anymore, and oh what she lost- she didn’t bat him an inbred eyelash anymore, thinking her rival has fallen from grace once and for all. Ah, those Purebloods, so foolish, so naive- living in their small elitist world; Tom a product of London bringing up knew better than to not finish off his enemies. 

It was her second grave mistake, one that would practically end her. Tom wasn’t going to throw away his shot, for all he was a Slytherin in blood, his familiar put that little brave streak in him; risks paid off. Everyone that mattered watched as he took a fake calming breath, envelope in hand. 

He knows now his life will never be the same, and he finally won’t be nameless, and that’s a tale for a book if he has ever seen one. A bastard, an orphan rising to power from mud and blood of a city that was never home to him, a freakish abomination rising above all else against circumstances. Harry surely felt his excitement through the bond, his magic feels like a raging ocean now, waves crashing onto the vulnerable shore. 

Tom’s smirk turned into the most shit eating grin, he felt that Dumbledore began watching too, that old man was always more intelligent than he had any right to be. It was only natural to put on a show, so he winks at Harry; the boy grumbles something into his toast- simultaneously he takes out the locket. 

He looked at the serpentine S, inlaid with glittering, green stones: It was easy to visualize it as a minuscule snake... concentrating on the letter S, imagining a serpent, while the contents of the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach ready to accept another powerful wizard into the family. 

“It can’t be!” Orion gasped, knowing full well what he was holding in his hand, given his family was always carefully diligent about their education; Tom felt a rush of confusion from Harry pass over the bond, but his own satisfaction drowns it in its relentlessness. Quickly, it becomes too loud at the table to notice his thoughts, not to mention his familiar’s. 

“NO” Nott breathed, shaking poor Walburga’s arms as she chatted away with her fellow Ladies; Tom touched the locket with a wave of knowledge that it was something important, and finally, he put it on. Nott could choke on his pureblood spit for all he cared. 

“What in the name of Slytherin do you want, Nott??” Walburga asked. The golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome; seemingly just like his own mahogany ones. It scanned him before crinkling in mirth, looking almost sadistic. 

The heirloom closed as quick as it opened, after it produced a bright green snake that looked strangely similar to Harry’s animal form- but it was transparent, made of pure power, not unlike a patronus, though it felt more malicious. If having your wand choose you felt glorious, this?

This was like being reborn. Tom was sure he was ascending to the heavens. 

The family magics washed over him curiously, yet with full acceptance, it felt like clearing up fog in his mind after a long day, like jumping out of a tower to grab a broom at the very last second; Slytherin magic felt like freedom; the serpent coiled around his shoulders tightly as Slytherin banners fell from the ceiling. 

By now the other tables began looking around to see who did that, why there was a Slytherin heir if the family should be long gone. Barely more than squibs.

Harry looked at him with the smallest hint of a smile of his own, and he scooted over to be closer; their bond thrummed with his quiet pride. Finally, the family he always wanted to be accepted- and Harry fully understood the struggle, the searing pain of thinking he was alone in the cold, wide world. 

Thank you, my love, without you this wouldn’t be possible, he wanted to say, but that had to wait; wait for when Harry was finally comfortable showing their relationship off in public- so, instead he said, 

“Be careful what you say” His response was louder than he anticipated, or maybe it was the hall that grew eerily quiet; with a sort of cool and collectedness few expected of him since the accident. “When talking in the presence of Lord Slytherin”  

The claps of people in his house come as no surprise, most of them are confused, however; but it is his family right; and his triumph practically drowned everyone who was shocked. Walburga animatedly choked on her tea, and Orion ran out of the room like he was burned, but it had to be good enough- if he couldn’t make them pay in other ways humiliation will do. There’s a grounding hand on his shoulder, he vaguely registers as Harry’s. 

“Slytherin?” Abraxas asks suddenly, as if the notion is wild. “Changing your name then?” 

“Do you want me to keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?” He said with a deceptively light tone, like that matter was a joke- Harry’s expression too flashed danger with that unforgivable eyes of his, one hand on his back pocket where he had his wand. It wasn’t obvious who’d he fire at, but Tom was too strung up on happiness to be anything other than excited with what he saw.

“No… Of course not! Filthy muggles get what they-” The Malfoy heir says without missing a beat, before biting his tongue- eyes panicking slightly, though his face doesn’t do as much as twitch from the easy-going smile. 

“A bad thing to say to two half-blood Lords, innit?” Harry supposes, not before relaxing his shoulders; it’s just an act Tom can see, the boy’s internal inferno began burning brighter, turning Tom’s very heart to ash along with its sinuous flames. Abraxas giggles uncomfortably, and Tom is sure Harry is going to do something then- just as the boy grabs his tie.

It takes him a good while to see he’s been grabbed by the thigh and manoeuvred onto the dark skinned boy’s lap like a shameless maiden in the worst kind of pub. His rationality flies through the window that instant, for he cares little about his reputation in his beloveds arms.

“Well played my Lord” Harry teases before kissing him. It’s a whole spectacle and a half, his heart feels like it’s about to burst, he’s sure people, mostly girls are fainting; some are still clapping- some dead silent- some gasp. It’s a thing, and Dippet has to use a silencing spell on the great hall. 

“Would’ve appreciated a heads-up though”

“You love surprises, don’t you?” He says unperturbed when Harry goes in for a kiss; it’s chaos in the room, but Tom doesn’t care for prejudice right now. 

They’re still connected, and he feels honey flavoured lips slide against his own, and his insides boil with need to be claimed by Harry as his. It’s weird to think of his special self as property, though it’s more thrilling than degrading at the moment. 

Honestly, he would burn himself alive if it meant keeping Harry warm; his obsessions always thrummed deep, and would be alive as long as his heart kept beating. He wasn’t sure when exactly he stopped kissing Harry to stare at the other like he hung up all the stars in the sky. 

“Marry me” Those doe eyes he so much adores widen, and a blush creeps up both their cheeks as Harry tries to escape the embarrassing position- as if only realizing what he’d done. It was too late, Tom caged him in between his thighs with a vicious grip.

“What?” The other asks, blinking, gasping, his fire of a heart turning into a blazing star- it was filled with so many feelings, most of it indescribable, but none were a clear rejection. He smiled, and sighed contentedly; not a rejection was fine for now. 

Tom wasn’t sure when he just stopped thinking about anything other than his boyfriends smiling face, and his endless pools of green that were somehow his eyes. He wasn’t sure when his hands wandered to the other’s neck either- maybe it was becoming a habit. It didn’t matter the beauty before under him was speechless, Tom knew he would get what he desired.

For his dreams, as outlandish as they may seem, will always come true- as long as a certain someone doesn’t leave his line of sight. Okay, he thought the family magics may have messed with his feelings of euphoria at the moment, but the point still stood. Firm as ever.

Someone cleared their throat behind his short wizard, bringing him out of a haze. “That’s… one way to propose, but would you mind, Tom, coming to my office this evening. At your earliest convenience, of course.” Dumbledore asked, actually asked, making eye contact without trying to penetrate his occlumency shields. 

It should be wrong, but didn’t Tom want all the acceptance, didn’t he desire all the praise this man could give him? Wasn’t that what he strived for since the poor closet bursting in flames accident in the orphanage? Being broken didn’t mean he didn’t crave being repaired. 

“Not at all” He said leisurely, giving the air he couldn’t have cared less. Dumbledore smiled, and himself stopped a piece of scrambled egg flying in their direction with an extremely witty phrase of “Fucking Poufs!” from the red-gold adorned table. 

Insignia of his house around the room all seem to twitch. “Did he do that?” Some Ravenclaw asks, and others just shrug, the depths of their blindness rushing at them in full force.

“Better research that” Myrtle says to herself, looking proud for whatever reason- like she has the right to bask in his glory.

“Dare I say, this is being rude to a prefect, and a figure of authority in the school. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor” He said with a daring smile to the outrage of the boy, because who would want to be humiliated like that- Setting an example for other less brave. 

Tom would die if any of them knew the reflection of his innermost self, his own Patronus was a lion as well. Playing with the kitties was much too fun.

It’s safe to say, Harry didn’t actually think more shocking things could happen on Halloween; between loosing his parents, fighting a full-grown mountain troll, and other things. This year had absolutely no reason to try, and be special in his book, but, of course, that didn’t stop things from happening- on the contrary. 

Every bottled, waited out, and otherwise dormant little piece of the chess game decided it was the day to move. All at once. A proposal and a public announcement of being heir Slytherin by Tom wasn’t on his list of things likely to happen, but here he was; though the declaration was probably a bit his fault. Honestly, it was as heart-warming as it was embarrassing.

In his defence, the boy was positively buzzing with happiness, and satisfaction; a complete one-eighty from his day to day, his usually reserved eyes becoming open and warm; a personification of tempting to Harry who craved such closeness. The thirty-first of October is a day of mixed feelings for Harry, ones he can’t, and doesn’t want to, fully untangle; what mattered more now, was that he could lead a happy life. 

Despite all the time's bigotry, and future struggles; those would come to him sooner or later, if he even managed to live past fifteen- despite the huge disappointment he was surely being to his times. 

The thing was, his times barely gave them anything while expecting him to give his all; and so Harry will take whatever he wants in the past. It’s time to live, not only survive. 

I can't help but love you, even though I try not to; because knowing what a sin is doesn’t stop you from committing it.

This line of thinking consumed him, as their lips met again, and again; Tom seemed to abandon all his inhibitions with a green halo of family magic sinking into his milky skin- both their minds addled by the influx. Their touches were more casual these days, and yet more hesitant- it was safe to say something broke that day in the dungeons. Harry longed to feel whole again by now, he didn’t know how much that was the bond talking, and how much it was just him.

A fine line of trust was breached, misunderstanding or not- and some spells should have never been cast- it was a wonder why Hogwarts allowed it. Then again, Tom was a descendant of one of its founders, the wards listened to him more than anyone- because as it turn put wards do listen, especially blood wards- that’s why they’re so effective. Turns out, studying does help understand the world around him- when he can, he will thank Hermione. 

In any case, rebuilding their connection took time, and a tortuously long one at that; Harry was a rather hot headed individual, but he knew he should not rush. Not this. Tom was becoming better yes, but that didn’t mean it was safe to let him just do as he pleased, similarly, he needed to consider his feelings on the topic. His own gradual fall into the dark, as it was, or wasn’t. 

That said, the waiting game, the casual sort of touches; fleeting kisses, sweet words, it all melted his brain by the hour. Thoughts of his beloved’s embrace devouring him whole when autumn nights began growing colder, the boy sleeping just mere meters from him. Even in the well heated dorm, Harry felt the chills go down his spine like currents of an icy ocean- maybe he imagined it, but the more they tried to rebuild the bond- the need to touch became almost unbearable. 

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his skin, and drape his whole being on Tom. 

Many things were left unsaid, either because Tom didn’t ask, didn’t want to know- or because Harry didn’t want him to actually understand what kind of a foul creature he would turn into if he took a bad step. 

It was too much for anyone’s psyche, and this version of Tom was fragile like a glass sculpture; his psyche didn’t need the stress. Not when he hated Grindelwald for starting a war. 

Sometimes his boyfriend called him too forgiving, too merciful- but in truth he didn’t think his cunning snake deserved such a fate. They were two sides of the same coin, touch depraved, love starved men in search of a meaning. 

Secretly, Harry wondered if Voldemort wasn’t as manic as he was when he tried to kill him; would he still grow to like him. More like a son, of course, but love came in so many shapes and sizes… If love was his protector, as the wiser, older Dumbledore told him- couldn’t the breaking of a familiar bond provide it? 

Wouldn’t it kill the one who dared to snap it? Harry for sure has tried, and survived by a miracle, he read the reports, and more importantly he felt his core too weak to rebuild on its own. He knew who would risk their reserves of power just for him. But all that was just food for thought, one that didn’t lessen the price that Lily- his mother, he thought idly- had to pay. 

October coming to an end always brought this dark swirling thoughts to the surface, for drowning your demons was hard when they could swim. 

It was a work of horrifying circumstances, and a lack of love that brought them both into such a state previously; and Harry, thanks to some talks with Fleamont, knew better than to judge fate and death. It didn’t do to dwell on the divine. He was placed here for a reason, and his reason of choice was love; to love and be loved back. 

In the meantime, the thoughts of evading war became ever so distant, especially hearing so many tragic stories unfolding in his current timeline; paradoxically, for the first time in his life he just focused on living for the past month. 

Was he capable of more than survival? 

It all crescendoed on Halloween morning, because of course such a blissful couple of weeks had to come to an end, but at least it was with a bang. 

On a fundamental level he understood; him and Tom wouldn’t, and couldn’t just stay down low forever, but well- it was his crippling idiocy, and wandering hands that brought this forth. Happily, his calculating, ever so careful other half didn’t mind, and Harry was good at searching up resentment. 

The bond betrayed no such feelings, only the cosy feel of acceptance, and satisfaction hummed underneath its surface. 

That goes to say, the rest of the day wasn’t as glorious as that miraculous half-hour with mind addled by enthusiastic, ancient magic. Oh, no. Reactions were mixed- taunts, whispers, Harry grew accustomed to that, especially in the tournament year. But rarer had it been so opposing.

On one hand, people cheered for him, on the other spells were cast at his back; not like he didn’t put a permanent shield on himself after the… well, explosion. It’s better to be safe than sorry when you’re Harry Potter, even if the ritual is considered… technically dark magic.

He used it for protection only, so that wasn’t even the worst of his doings! Like when in third year he had the genuine desire to murder Sirius, and Peter- and only stopped himself because there were many witnesses. Never has he admitted that to anyone, let alone himself. 

Besides, who else would recognize such familiar magic other than him, Tom, and some scholars; the blood was given willingly! Harry didn’t just take without consent, it was all well and good, his boyfriend even said 

“I would rather bleed out than see you in pain, take whatever you want” Maybe it was dramatic, but access was granted- no harm done. If a disgusting little part of him was glad that Tom would do that for him, well, he ignored it. 

That’s exactly why his overprotective little lion, yes- he still had the time of his life remembering the proud Patroni- basically dragged him back into their room once the day became too much. He may be immune to most spells, but not to words ‘Pouf’, ‘Slave’, ‘Tom, with that absolute waste of space?’, ‘Freak’. 

He couldn’t decide between letting Riddle (or should he say Slytherin) torture them all, or doing it himself, or in the most kindly fashion letting it slide. It was alarming that torture was becoming a solution to all his problems, but, he didn’t go through with it; the price to pay for it would be too great. And wasn’t that the type of thinking Euphemia would adore? 

Harry may know her very little, but he loved his Granny all the same. In any case, he let his demonic boyfriend roam around the castle alone- he was a big boy. Harry wasn’t aware what he missed when he fell asleep on the by now familiar, luxurious green duvet.

Albus may have been the first of the staff to reach out to him, but he definitely wasn’t the last. Only as he escorted his green-eyed beauty back into their rooms, Slughorn and Merrythought did the same. If he wasn’t keeping appearances he would tell them all to go to hell, because he is doing something more important than their old-arses could think- but as it was, he agreed to meet with them politely, just not today. 

He was networking just alright, no need for too many old fools to clog up his schedule. 

Today he wanted to just take care of his other half, to be there when he couldn’t previously- where he didn’t want to, and just to be trusted with this. Well, it meant the world to him, but Harry told him to take care of his things first. 

And in the wise words of Fleamont Potter; when your spouse tells you to leave them alone for a while, you do- unless you want to see your favourite pair of trousers turned into shreds, or your bed in fiendfyre flames. It sounded like he had experience, and knowing Harry was flesh and blood that in part came from Euphemia, Tom took himself out of the equation for a while. 

That’s how his evening meeting with the fire headed Transfiguration Professor turned into an afternoon one, or maybe, more accurately, was about to become-  if he hadn’t stopped in the hallway leading to the Transfiguration classroom. Talking could be heard even from here, so most likely, the people inside didn’t use a silencing charm. 

That’s a how he found himself overhearing Minerva McGonagall talking an unknown man, perhaps her superior, he thought. 

“How long should I stay here?”

“Well, until the war ends, so at least three more years. You know it’ll be quick” Definitely a superior then, though concerning as it was they were indeed talking about the future without any safe measures. Then again, he knew what they were talking about, most children wouldn’t think much of it- or perhaps they hadn’t been here to bear witness.

Harry did say something about the future changing. 

“Yes, yes. I did it all already- I know how fixing points work” 

“No doubt- I sent you here, of all people. Always so dutiful, though I can’t understand why Albus didn’t make his move sooner” The man responds, voice deep and lost in thought, his last words said more to himself than anyone.

So as it turns out, the old man does eventually end the war, too bad it’s years too late- how many lives have been made miserable because of this hesitance? How many families broken, lives lost... How many children met Tom’s face at the hands of one blinded by love, man? 

Personally, Tom believed they live in a grey world, not a black and white one, but Dumbledore pretends to be way purer than he actually is. His life is painted in striking contrast, but he himself is actually muddy, grey, though each morning he paints himself white. Playing the martyr is easy, dying is easy- living is harder. 

No matter how much he fears death, he can say that with certainty, and so it disgusts him that Dumbledore doesn’t put his life on the line. He shakes the thought off, just before it becomes vengeful, Harry said many times it wouldn’t do him good to focus on it. 

Tom disillusioned himself, and walked carefully, almost soundlessly, closer to the door to the closed classroom; he was getting some crucial information, some that Harry didn’t want to disclose. He wasn’t one to throw away an opportunity. 

“Head of DoM doesn’t know how fixed points in the past work? I’m astounded” DoM? Department of Mysteries, here in Hogwarts, oh, if that isn’t a treat Tom doesn’t know what is. Suddenly, he’s glad he oblivated Minerva himself, because a sloppy job definitely wouldn’t fool someone of this calibre. 

“I meant that I can’t understand his reasoning, Minerva. Don’t be cheeky-“ Thank Merlin he wasn’t the only one, though that clarified things a bit- McGonagall was here to assure the Professor does his job. She may be an apprentice, but she’s here to guide him. 

“Can’t I? You, sir, always do that to me” The witch responds, so playfully Tom thinks his ears stopped working altogether, her heels click along the stone floors as if she’s getting closer to the other person. 

“That’s different! That’s private kitty-cat” He wants to be calm, but he can’t, the nickname is so funny- and so out of place he only manages to come out with a snort. “And the offer still stands” 

“For the hundredth time, I won’t marry you. Our age is…” McGonagall trails off, 

“I waited so many years, I can wait another couple, until you deem it normal enough” There’s such confidence in what the man is saying, that Tom ultimately decides the poor fellow is in love. Time-defying romance isn’t as rare as the wizarding community is led to believe, he figures- besides, that’s excellent blackmail material. 

“Don’t be daft” The witch says, her steps closing to the door, Tom doesn’t move, his spells should hold, and he freezes as the door opens, because something definitely isn’t right. Despite being disillusioned, he can tell the man behind his Professor sees right through his disguise. It can’t mean anything good. 

Chapter Text

“Don’t be daft” The man says, his steps coming closer to the door by the second; Tom doesn’t move, his spells should hold, and he freezes as the door opens because something definitely isn’t right. Despite being disillusioned, he can tell the man sees right through his disguise. It’s nothing good. 

“You shouldn’t see us” 

“…” For a hot second, he calculates if he’ll gain anything by pretending he actually doesn’t, but the more bargaining side of his brain tells him otherwise. There’s gain in this situation if only he plays his cards right, and in part thanks to his special insight into the future.

“I could say the same about you” He replies dryly, taking in the shocked faces of Minerva and the ministry official. It’s funny in a way, how thrown off they look shoulders drawn tight, and irises shrunk. 

The man was tall, and honestly a bit lanky, though his shoulders were quite broad betraying a hidden strength; his hair in a messy, yet deliberate disarray, not like the hairstyles of today- it’s greying streaks flying In whichever direction. The robes were also not of this time, and his eyes betrayed a good amount of healthy ruthlessness needed to work as an unspeakable. 

Tom could definitely work with him, at least in the future; but connections were still connections. Time mattered little in terms of this department. 

“My silencing and repelling spells are top-notch, kid. How did you get past them?” It was a genuine question, and Tom rummaged his vast knowledge of wards to see if anything fit the description. He hadn’t actually done anything to gain access, nor did he know what caused this obvious mistake. 

Was Hogwarts playing tricks, or was this a perk of family magicks? Was the job just sloppy? Tom couldn’t know, it was too long since the Slytherin family actually acknowledged a successor, despite the heirloom being passed down to every next generation. 

“I would rethink the first statement if I were you, is this really what the ministry is up to these days? Or should I sa-" The man takes out his wand abruptly, and Tom, despite being confident in his occlumency knows better than to reveal it yet, so he blocks the spell manually; protego and obliviate crush into each other with a bright white spark that makes him wince because of the flash. 

It’s like lightning without the horrifying sound, but still blinding to anyone near; thankfully, there were no bystanders. McGonagall shakes a little in disbelief, as if he shouldn’t be able to block it. 

“How?” The witch asks breathlessly, her stern features twisted into an annoyed grimace Tom knows from class, one used when a student was particularly hopeless- never has it been turned to him. So, how did he know what the man was going to cast? Simple, he used his brain.

The easiest procedure to do when someone saw anything they weren’t supposed was to erase it with a memory spell. Or an unforgivable, but he tried not thinking about those kinds of solutions lately, for the world’s, Harry’s and his sake. Some of his blood thirst had to be curbed for this, sadly.

“Easy, I’m not looking for trouble” He said, mulling over his options. “I know how to keep a time travel secret or two” 

The adults tense, eye each other, and draw their wands slowly this time, as if to show they weren’t threatening- too bad Tom knows better than trusting adults. He doesn’t lower his wand. 

“Who sent you? Grindelwald?” The man inquired, and he barked an enormous laugh at that, seeing the fear in their eyes; they’re scared the man is going to recruit children by now. Honestly, that’s probably not far from the truth, but not in his case.

Working as an underling is just a no. Even as an evil bastard he would be on top, he’s one ambitious leech. 

“Actually, no. I'm here to meet Professor Dumbledore” He replies easily, though that does precious nothing to ease the tension. He wonders if knowing secret passages will give him advantage if push comes to shove, Tom was certain he could take McGonagall in a fight, but her… company may be another matter altogether. 

He may be superbly overpowered, but he’s not invincible; one slip up and an opportunity will run off into the world to roam free. Not only that, but he’s not going to waste his shot. 

“Oh, that’s right!” Minerva says, connecting the dots, “but he was supposed to show up in the evening…” the witch says finally, suspicion thickening the air so that it’s hard to breathe. Their stares crash into each other in a harsh battle, one that he goes out of without a problem. 

His magic trashes in a need to unleash, to battle, it wants an outlet he can’t let it have; the adults seem to sense his unease too, on a subconscious level at least- they take a step back. 

“How come?” The tall wizard asks, brows furrowing, searching him with his eyes; the man doesn’t show his surprise as he reaches Tom’s occlumency shields, still as strong as the surrounding castle. Minerva looks at the exchange, having no way of knowing what’s happening, and grits her teeth. 

“I had a change of plans, my familiar is a bit under the weather today” He said, taking a careful step forward, less friendly of a gesture than it looked; wandless magic has an advantage on a shorter range- he’s slowly gaining the metaphorical high ground. 

“I think you understand its best if you forget about this…” The man says, with a stop, like he’s figuring out how to address him; strangely enough, it doesn’t look like he doesn’t know his name. Future surely is interesting. 

“Tom” McGonagall ends the sentence, eying the man from the side, communicating in absolute silence. Tom barely manages the urge to petrify them at once, the conversation already looking more like arguing with a criminal than a chat with a student. 

“Yes… Tom.” It looks like the man is uncomfortable saying that, and he just smiles in reply. 

“Oh no, you got me all wrong. An unbreakable vow and an apprenticeship at the DoM will do the trick just fine, no need to wipe my memory.” He drops the bomb loud and clear, feeling excitement roll off his shoulders like smouldering flames. Harry would be so proud he hadn’t fought with them yet, and still got what he wanted; this was really his lucky day. 

“…” Morbid silence befalls them, as the ministry officials rethink their life choices, and his offer. They look torn, and yet they lower their wands, not a spark falling from them- he drops his own as well, but that definitely doesn’t mean he’s defenceless if that’s what they were hoping for.

“Why- I-“ McGonagall tries, but any and all her protests die in her throat.

For the better or worse, no spells fly in the air, and he forces his posture to relax as the game of mental chess plays itself.

In all actuality, this is a good deal- Tom knows, despite working on it for like, maybe five minutes at best. It’s beneficial for both sides, and leaves room for other negotiations, not to mention an unbreakable vow is a more secure method than a memory charm. It has its risks, sure, but the man probably understands there's no wiping his mind of anything with his level of protection; Tom is doing this willingly. 

The only one more definitive method of keeping one’s mouth shut is death, which this spell can also cause; that’s probably why it’s seldom used in the modern day. Tom doesn’t have any problems with it, though, he knows himself enough to keep one conversation secret if there are things to gain. 

No harm to himself done.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he won’t use the knowledge, just that he won’t reveal where he got it from; which is pretty standard for him anyway. Not to mention it will work as a great boost in his career, gaining such an apprenticeship is obviously prestigious. It’s also a good start for aiming for the Minister seat.

Ah, even at this age he’s scary” McGonagall mumbles, though Tom graciously pretends he hadn’t heard a peep. He’s about ninety percent sure the woman’s superior wasn’t as easily fooled. 

“Do you know how the spell works?” The man asked, a slight air of concern draping his face, eyes deep of something Tom can’t name. Pity, respect, resentment? All three? Who is he to say such things? Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things if he secures this. 

“Would I have proposed it otherwise?” He replied nonchalantly, reaching his hand forward to the man. 

“…” They go over the contract without much fuss. The Unbreakable Vow is a spell where a witch or wizard makes an oath to another. If the terms of the oath are broken, the person who breaks it will die; in truth, there is little to understand, and despite it being old, ancient, powerful magic it doesn’t have many requirements.

“Will you, Tom Marvolo Slytherin, keep what you heard here today a secret?” The woman asks, her wand tip at his and the man’s joined hands. 

A witness, willingness, and a deliberately worded oath- that’s all it takes. A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire, with that, the deal was sealed. Should this be done was another matter altogether, but Tom wasn’t one for morals either way.

“I will”

“And will you, Elphinstone Urquart, grant him the apprenticeship he asks for in exchange?”

“…” Tom still doesn’t believe this has gone down so smoothly; he barely contains the predatory smile escaping him as the man agrees to his terms. It’s funny, how secrets of the future matter to them more than integrity; so much so, that some put their lives at stake.

“I will” The man agrees, less confident in his words than he was, but it’s safe to say not everyone is as unhinged as him. A little bravery goes a long way- the encounter ends quicker than it started, a monumental moment turned into a barely noticeable mist of magic, and scars. 

What mattered more, was that as long as no one got truly hurt, he and Harry wouldn’t have a disagreement. Tom, on the other hand, got everything he wanted from the encounter; the only regret he might have were the light scars on his hands. 

They were barely noticeable, but he knew Harry would figure out what they meant sooner rather than later- inexplicably the boy liked holding his hands, caressing them, and looking at them. Not that he wouldn’t tell Harry where he got this from, just without the details; his beloved was reasonable, surely he will appreciate the advantage he gained. It was time for some true Slytherin thinking after all. 

When the pair disappears from his sight to god knows where, Tom finally knocks on Dumbledore’s door; finally dropping his illusory spell. 

“Come in” There’s a creak of the door, and the boy he has always been so cautious of walks into his office. 

His gaze is light, but his steps are confident and taken with purpose, like a prince walking toward his throne, like a lion circling his pride. Tom’s youthful face uncharacteristically betrays the weight of a thousand bricks that boy carries everywhere with himself, something that was there when Albus saw him for the first time. 

In that little sad orphanage room, cold, void of all life despite the tiny child by the window. How harsh he had been then, how he regrets all that he did, but there’s no turning back time, and the list of his is regrets is long and vast. He sighs. 

Albus can’t shake off the feeling that he has disappointed this child, where he should have been a pillar of his wellbeing- but he has believed that everything he touched would turn to dust. He didn’t want to ruin such a spark of hope Tom could become, but he did anyway. 

“You wanted to see me Professor, sorry... -for such early intrusion” It’s almost a carefree greeting, if not for how Albus knows it’s deliberate; a tactic of manipulation. A trait that reminds him of a different young man he loved and disappointed greatly, but maybe, the man he let down the most was himself.

“No matter at all Tom, I ended class for today anyway” He replied in turn, not ever dropping their play. Being sincere with each other was an opportunity long gone between them, and yet, he still was thinking of the boy like his nephew of sorts.

“Oh, that’s great then” The words seem so fake when accompanied by the plastic smile, Albus almost flinches- almost, because he knows it’s a shield. He uses the same shield, always smiling, smiling when the world they know burns. 

It’s so similar to Gellert’s expressions, his heart clenches; tears force themselves to his eyes so often these days, but he wills them to stop. It’s so hard facing Tom, with his brilliance, with the darkness Albus knows hides in those deep brown eyes. Just like his long-lost lover in his youth. 

“Come, take a seat, and have some tea” He summons an elf and tells it to prepare them a solid portion of Earl Grey to clear their minds. Mostly to help calm himself, but he rather not be so over analytical about his person- the thoughts came anyway.

He hadn’t stopped a war, didn’t end bloodshed; he couldn’t destroy his love and sentiment for others, Albus wasn't strong enough to squash his feelings. His words were used to spread hate, and cruelty now. Nothing went as planned. He wanted to choke just speaking the words ‘Greater Good’. 

Tom takes a seat across him with grace, his body language saying nothing of how hostile they are with each other usually. The tea pops in the room, and they take their respective cups with great relief- it’s something to do with their hands at last.

“Pardon my insistence, but, why was I summoned here?” Insistence isn’t what Albus would call it, but his student is never one to forget about pleasantries. 

“I wondered what brought such sudden realizations, my boy.” Why are you in search of a political standing now, Tom, why are you looking for a fire that could consume you in such shaky times? Isn’t living happily enough for you? 

It should have been for Albus. 

“Ah, I assure you, Professor- it’s not sudden. Besides, as I told my housemates already, I felt sufficiently disgusted by my father’s name, changing it was a natural next step” He nodded, though the answer he got was so veiled, and so inconsequential he wanted to slap the table and demand more information. 

The temptation to just try, and most likely fail, at reading the boy’s mind was great, but Albus stopped himself. He had to breathe in and tell himself Tom wasn’t suddenly turning evil, and trying to initiate a worse conflict than they already had, but he succeeded. Eventually. 

“Understandable, though, after what your mother did to hi-“

“I know that, but she stopped soon after. He should have taken me in, but he was too scared of fathering a freak, I presume; nowadays, he still lives in luxury.” Tom says harshly, almost hissing; Albus can’t help but nod. There’s no real reason to believe Tom, but he does- it’s always like that with him and those dark, yet  brilliant minds, he thinks. 

It looks as if Tom is ready to pounce, and destroy him once he disagrees, but he just hums with a smile. A smile almost as fake as their whole conversation, but at least they’re civil with each other once more; that’s a step. 

“Understandable” 

“…” Tom keeps silent as a grave, his pretence falling like a curtain; a sneer appearing on his handsome face like a demon mask. It’s not the first time such an expression broke his heart. 

“What do you want, old man?” The usually well-mannered boy spits in his face, and he takes a calming sip of his tea. “Don’t you have bigger things to take care of than my personal life? Once I am going to rise to the top, that’s when you want me?” 

The words hurt like a sword of magical steel to the heart, and he wants to retort something equally vicious at the youth, but he can’t. It’s not what he set out to do after talking to Tom’s strangely wise other half, Harry Potter- the mystery boy. 

How such a youngster could shake off his hypocrisy off of him so easily, Albus isn’t sure, but he’s eternally grateful. 

“No” He breathes, and his throat clenches around the word like it’s scared to let go. His student just raises his eyebrows while sipping tea, arrogance personified. 

“It’s not that. I just-“ He tries, but the words just won’t come out, his trying is all for naught as always. 

“Wanted to know if I’m turning evil yet. I figured, but no” Tom responds uncaring, and perhaps, Albus should have known it was too late for turning things right, for forgiveness. It was only brave of him to try, and his doors should remain open should Tom want to walk through. 

“Truly silly of me. Right?” He laughs humourlessly, sipping his tea as if it's going to help him. “I’m glad you found something to keep you on the light side, though” 

“The World isn’t black and white, Professor, but- what you mean. I get it, I learned love” Like you told me children of a live potion never rarely feel. 

“I’m happy for you boy” He said, looking out to the window, silence encompassing them in a blanket of strange comfort. After he turns back, Tom is no longer there, and his teacup is empty. 

There’s a creak of the door, and the boy he loves comes in into the dormitory; successfully bringing him out of his half-asleep state, mind foggy from the nap he had taken. The kind that was born out of exhaustion and caused you to forget which year it was, though in his case that wouldn’t be exactly unfounded- anyway, Harry was blinking his eyelids heavy, and yawning like crazy.

He was so tired of dealing with people that he fell asleep without even changing his clothes, and Tom chuckled at him, probably noticing that fact. It’s lovely to see that smile after just waking up, he thinks idly.

“How long was I out?” He asked, throat horse and voice deepened by sleep, to which Tom’s side of the bond fluctuates. Harry is too sleepy to concern himself with the fact. 

“Does it matter, Darling?” Tom responds with a question, voice thick like honey, and similarly sweet- Harry is not easily deterred, and he knows something his ‘darling’ does not.

His familiars universal love language is being mean, so when he’s trying too hard to be sweet, well, Tom’s definitely hiding something. 

“Yes” He retorts in kind, sitting up immediately. 

“No longer than an hour” Tom says, slotting himself near, already taking off his outer robe like a fussy wife. Honestly, it’s a bit funny that this tiny dark lord is concerned with chores and ironed clothes. 

He groans dramatically, falling back on the pillows of their dorm when the taller wizard finishes. “You’re such a child” Tom says. 

“If you want me to call you daddy, that’s not how you do that”

“What? Why would I…?” Tom asks, eyes wide in disbelief, and a bit of disgust, his face scrunched in the weirdest grimace, like he doesn’t understand what Harry meant. It’s like he’s from another era or so- Ah, okay. 

“Ugh, the forties.” He groans, looking up at the other boy as their magic surges with their humour.

“Ugh, the nineties!” Tom huffs dramatically, hands thrown into the air, like he’s mimicking a toddler, but hey, Harry can act spoiled on occasion. He never had an opportunity to before, after all. They look at each other, deep mahogany eyes meeting his green ones, before they both erupt in unbridled laughter. 

“Damn you old man!” He giggles, grabbing Tom’s hands to drag him into lying down next to him; if they skip class, they can at least do it well.

“Careful what you say” Tom retorts, shoving him a bit to have more space on the bed, after all dorm rooms don’t exactly have large beds. Harry almost falls off the edge, and repays in kindness, his palms digging into the handsome boy’s chest. 

“What did Dumbledore want?” He asks, as they wiggle into more comfortable positions, there’s really not enough room to do anything but wiggle. They end up far too close, practically face to face, not that either of them complains. 

“I’ll give a fortune to anyone who knows, but it looked like he wanted to have a chit-chat or something” Tom rolls his eyes before even finishing the last part, effectively showing how beneath him all the school is. Like he isn’t just a student here. 

“Mhm, that sounds like my Dumbledore” He says sleepily, and Tom magicks their clothes into silk pyjamas. Prat. They do feel nice on his skin, though, and Harry can agree Tom’s transfiguration skills aren’t half bad.

“Sleeping together? Before I accept the proposal?” He teases, and Tom seems truly offended for a second by the impropriety. 

“Oh, shut up” The brunette barks out, going in for a hug. “It’s not like you can get pregnant” 

Harry chokes on his spit, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Merlin” He takes Tom’s hands in his, just to be sure that they don’t go any wrong place, but something isn’t exactly right, he decides to file the thought for later; he’s much too sleepy now. 

Later apparently comes in November, and not on the first, either. The month hasn’t exactly been calm for the both of them, between peers varying opinions of them, letters from numerous political fractions, and OWL level classes; it’s safe to say Harry barely had time to take a shit in peace. 

Honestly, he wrote back very appropriately to Grindelwald “FUCK OFF”, and though that wasn’t his best moment, Harry didn’t regret it at all. The sheer audacity to write to children still in school! Don’t get him started, or he will destroy that blonde scumbag if he has to- him and Tom probably have more power than that monster already, but Harry is not up to fighting yet another Dark Lord. He did enough of that back in the day. Not that’s exactly measurable in a duel, but, yeah. 

It’s good though, at least he’s having a half-normal school experience this time, despite the world being insistent on making his life less and less ordinary. There are some changes, sure; for example the Slug club he hates wholeheartedly, but Slughorn is dead set on continuing. 

He basically hand-picked favourites, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and put them in one place. Obviously, he and Tom were more than just merely sought after. Harry would go as far as to say they were stalked, and treated like precious jewels one could buy. 

In truest Slytherin fashion, Horace Slughorn formed a kind of club of his favourites with himself at the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return... It would be genius, if not for it being absolutely annoying in Harry’s eyes. Not to mention boring. 

“Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see! I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead?” The man always said, knowing full well he was too inexperienced in the ways of pureblood culture to know how to decline, unlike Tom. 

It was you win some, you lose some situation for Harry, and proper assertiveness became a skill he must master as the other half of Tom Slytherin. An aspiring politician- not, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord whose name people are scared to say out loud. It’s tragic, and a pain in the arse, but it’s also a responsibility he’ll take over his own fame any day. 

The only good thing from this situation is that they somehow acquired a magical hourglass of the man when Tom showed interest. Harry isn’t all that sure his dubiously moral boyfriend didn’t manipulate his way into owning it, or worse stole it, but he couldn’t care less. 

Maybe the head of the house found it suiting, since his familiar was an heir of the founder? The intricate snake-like designs on the artefact would indicate that, though some small part of him would say that stealing it would be a retribution for all the trouble the man caused them! It was a wonder how reclusive he became in this timeline, though, he supposed, he hadn't had a choice in the nineties. Not really, anyway. 

He wrote to Newt, and the man definitely agreed Slughorn was no good; too nosy, and too greedy for their liking. Tom apparently dealt with people much worse, as he didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

Secretly, Harry was happy only a few select people could really get a reaction out of the stunning boy, but his private musings were often undercut with guilt. 

As he thought, he admired the hourglass; the sand ran accordingly with the quality of the conversation, if stimulating, the sand ran slowly. It was fascinating to watch it flow, and it was a useful tool. 

“I’m done with the bath” Tom says in lieu of a greeting, already in his sleepwear. His hair is wet, and thick droplets of water fall from his fringe, because of course, the little shit thinks that styling your hair with magic makes it frizzy. Of course this pretentious prat’s appearance can’t be anything short of immaculate- Harry loves it. 

Sand runs fast in the glass cage.

“Good, good” He replies absent-mindedly, watching as small rivers of water fall over the other's face. It’s as fascinating as it is unfair, Tom looks like a model even when so homely! 

It’s good he doesn’t look all that good when he curls the stupid hair though- Harry counts it as a small win. 

“…” 

“You’re not going to shower?” The tall wizard's eyes and words are threateningly judgemental, and his stance changes to a more reserved one.

“It’s okay, I magicked myself clean. You absolute germophobe.” He mumbles, thinking on how he showered just in the morning. Clearly, Tom found being a normal human being unacceptable, and sought to rectify that.

They were working on those things. 

Tom grumbles, and eyes him suspiciously, but the sag of his shoulders betrays even this superhuman has no strength left for fighting today. Harry smirks. 

“Can I interest Lord Slytherin in some cuddles?” He giggles as he says this in his best politician impersonation, and the other looks vaguely offended that Harry makes fun of his title.

“You can, Lord Potter” Tom retorts, pronouncing every syllable carefully, as if to make the point. The point flies over his messy hair, and he grabs Tom’s hands to drag him into the now double bed; transfiguration was useful, apparently. 

Not for the first time in the past month he wondered just what left those scars, on beautiful pure skin. He watched his own caramel contrast with Tom’s powder white skin and sighed at the glamour- of course, he can feel the scars, but not see them. 

He sighed.

“What are you sighing at? Hm?” Tom inquired, getting into the most comfortable position he could while Harry was still firmly holding his wrist. The skin slipped against each other over one more pronounced scar, and his boyfriend tensed. 

The sand slowed, and his little snake knew he was cornered by now- Harry watched his face carefully as he grabbed his wand, and whispered “Finite” 

The glamour dropped like broken pixels on a computer screen to reveal the tiny, string like scarring. “Are you going to tell me where you got it from?” 

Tom winces, and tries to cradle his right hand, but they both know Harry is the more physically strong from the both of them. He just adjusts his grip, a little too tight for his liking, but he can’t let the sneaky git get out of this for the hundredth time.

“It’s- ah, It’s nothing you have to worry about” Tom bluffs, straight-faced- too bad his magic fluctuates, and Harry knows this stoic-plastic look all too well.

“What happened to no secrets, hm?” Sand in the poor hourglass seems to still at the implication, as water droplets fall between them. Perhaps it’s not the most complicated question, but what it hides under the surface is loaded; their future, their past, their bond; the simple string of words connects it all. 

There was a promise, and Harry certainly won’t hesitate once it’s broken. Here in the quiet of their dorm room, there will be no casualties, and hopefully Tom knows this. Harry doesn’t want to do many things, but he doesn’t want to be like Dumbledore either. 

Stagnant, too scared to move- living with guilt, fear, and responsibility draped on his back like a cross. Potters are no sacrifice lambs, his grandfather taught him as much. 

Tom’s breath stutters at the question, and Harry feels his pulse thrum both as the waves of his magic, and under his hand. A cold heart was clearly moved. 

“It’s an Unbreakable vow” The sand stills practically to a stop, like the blood in his veins seems to reach boiling point. 

“What?” He asked fervently, his grip probably becoming bruising by now, and his possessive side flared to life. It was like adding fuel to the fire, the way the brunette looked so innocent, like he hadn’t done anything to endanger himself. 

“With whom?” He’s not even sure his lover can answer the question, and he’s not sure the stupid pact won’t lead to his demise! His anger burns his insides from the inside out, like cigarette pinpricks all over his chest, he might just beat Tom into a pulp at this rate. Who does he think he is!?

“Department of Mysteries” They sit uncomfortably as things start floating around the room in a frenzy, Tom even has to duck a book flying straight at his head.  Harry isn’t pleased, that much couldn’t be clearer. 

“This isn’t about a prophecy, is it?” His voice sounds like it's someone else’s; his boyfriend suppresses a very embarrassing sound as the pain on his hand gets too much. If it were anyone else, he’d call it a whine.

It’s probably for show, but he lets go and calms a bit; that doesn’t mean he isn’t fuming. He has the strangest urge to strangle the boy before him, and then hug him, so he feels the safest he has ever been is in his arms.

“It’s not” Tom’s voice is steady, as is his magic, bright, and clear like a river in the early spring; breaking the last bits of ice covering its surface. His unease settles slightly, dissipating into his bones, laying dormant for now. 

“I didn’t use this thing on you, for obvious reasons- and you just go out.” He takes a moment to breathe in shakily, before he explodes something- their lamps are already suspiciously cracking. The sands flow steadily in the hourglass, uncaring of what is said. 

“Harry, it won’t bring any harm to anyone. I swe-“ His boyfriend begins, but he shushes him with a vicious glare and a hand to his mouth. Tom looks pissed off, but it’s not like he has the right in this situation!

“No harm you say” Harry barks out, his voice demanding, eyes angry and full of disbelief as his magic crackles; fangs on display. He hates those things, but they do look threatening.

Harry thinks to what Euphemia would do when her husband is acting uncharacteristically idiotic, causing problems around the house. It’s so easy to imagine himself in the role of a housewife, it’s practically laughable.

“Harry…” It sounds vulnerable, pathetic.

“NO HARM YOU SAY, AND YET-” He takes a steadying breath, hands coming up to rustle with his hair, no doubt making it look even worse than it usually does.

“YOU DISREGARD YOUR OWN SAFETY LIKE THAT!? What DID YOU THINK, THAT YOU CAN JUST TRADE YOUR LIFE FOR ANYTHING?” Harry knows he sounds like a howler, but thankfully, through days of practice their familiar-silencing ward holds. No need for people to hear his distress over in astronomy tower, right?

He’s also pretty sure his boyfriend full on shivered, and definitely not from fear. Tom blinks stupidly, and his mouth is agape as he tries to make heads or tails of the situation.

“That’s your problem with it?” The pale wizard asked softly. 

“What else could it be? I can’t believe the most brilliant of your generation is so dense!” Despite his best efforts at holding back, the lamps still break, though thanks to the blood ritual they don’t cause anything more than a few light scratches. 

“Oh” Tom responds eloquently, before adding a quick “Episkey” 

“You worry about me?” Harry blinks in disbelief at the question, brows furrowing almost immediately- he has nothing else to do, but sigh.

“Dense. So fucking dense, there’s no hope for you. I love the man, and he asks if I worry about him!” He laughs, taking his wand in hand to hopefully fix the mess he created. 

“I love you too” Tom said, breathlessly, like the words are going to disappear once he finally lets them out. There’s a single tear in those deep coca eyes, it’s like staring into the depths of mother earth herself, and Harry struggles to keep his fury intact; he doesn’t succeed. His heart just about melts.

“I’m so angry at you, you’re going to tell me everything, you understand? Or I-” He doesn’t know what exactly, and his mind is suddenly blank.

“I’ll do anything you want” Tom replies right away, using the most submissive tone of voice Harry has ever heard of him. He’s fucked, Harry is damned- he’s way too much in love with someone he shouldn’t, and he adores every second of it. Argh, why should he care if its fate?

Chapter Text

Christmas isn’t usually a joyous time for orphans, and as such it never occurred to Tom he could actually enjoy it. Maybe it was an unspoken rule of the Wool’s orphanage that the holiday was just an indication of another year without finding a family, or perhaps it was Tom’s own bitterness toward the fact. 

Truth be told, he was never a likeable kid- hell, he isn’t truly likeable even now, despite all his charm, and pretty face. So, he never enjoyed Yule before, simple as that. Why would this year be different from all the miserable ones before it? 

This year, everything he thought he knew turned into shambles, his beliefs, and systems now more akin to crushed eggshells beneath one’s shoes.

Nevertheless, Harry didn’t turn his life upside down for nothing, and even in this, never thought about subject; changes were made.

For the better or for worse, honestly, Tom wasn’t equipped to say. His standards of holidays were not exactly high, it was surreal to even have someone to spend it with; not to mention Harry, his familiar, his beloved, dare he say his saviour.

It was more than he ever hoped for, even with all his arrogance and ambition- Tom never though someone could love him. Unlovable, freakish, lacking. Tom Riddle was a lacking little boy, who knew nothing of love and affection.

He isn’t that sad creature anymore. Just a year before he was a child locked away in a sterile, grey beyond belief, lonely orphanage room; more of a hindrance than an actual human being. 

He was a freak that no one ever wanted to have, to be with, to talk to; his abilities far too dangerous, too scary to be described as anything other than him being a devil child. 

Unwanted. 

Christmas wasn’t a time for little devils, for evil minds, and demons. Not a time for an ugly duckling like him. At least at the time animal’s didn’t abandon him, beginning his soft spot for the furry little creatures- oh, just remembering the euphoria he felt when he discovered he could talk to snakes makes him grin. Still, his developing charisma never landed him a gift, nor company. 

Dumbledore didn’t even bother checking in, and Tom became bitter.

To think that now he was a part of a family. Seemingly out of nowhere. Him, unworthy Tom, becoming someone's loved one, a person you accept unconditionally, someone you care about- his younger self would laugh him in the face and demand to know where he lost his sanity were he to say that out loud…

But he wasn’t that little delusional little monster anymore, somewhere along the line he earned his love. The prize he wanted most of all, once upon a time, like every dirty little orphan child did. No longer was he forced to stay at a school for an otherwise most important holiday, with people who cowered before him or ridiculed him. No longer was he alone. No one forced him to stay at the orphanage, Tom was finally free of that prison. 

This year, holidays became an occasion to feel truly comfortable, and the thought of it was as enamouring as it was depressing. Things too good to be true often disappeared from the hands of anyone foolish enough to grab the delusion, though now he had a hold of his future, Tom would never let go.

Harry would probably beat him into a loved pulp if he said that out loud, but Tom still struggled feeling adequate for this. Healing, as his emerald eyed beauty often called it, required time. They have plenty of time. 

So, Tom let himself think he deserved to feel safety, love, and everything good under the sun. And yet, it was cruelly denied when he was a kid, making his heart turn into ice. Tom might’ve murdered Mrs. Cole if it wasn’t for Harry, but alas, it wasn’t an option in his current repertoire. It was a strange thing to get used to this new reality where everything he wished for as a child was freely gifted to him. 

Stranger still was the feeling of content and accomplishment that came with it- Tom never thought he lacked success. Though this was definitely something he wanted long ago, he didn’t imagine it would feel like this… He could never voice the need for closeness out, thought it was a weakness. 

Emotions are tricky business, despite this, they gave him strength. Harry was devastating when emotion surged through him, both in the deadly, and more sexy sense. 

Inexplicably, his life became a reality where he was no longer without a knut to his name- a reality where he was wanted; where his equal decided to let go of his future, just for him. Tom wasn’t alone anymore, and that was the most jarring change of all. 

Still, Harry- sweet Harry had no complaints at all. Never as much as a peep, besides demanding him to be truthful, a truly pathetic price to pay for salvation. Tom would give him the universe if Harry as much as looked at it with interest… The dark-skinned boy was obviously mad about the unbreakable vow he’d made with what was essentially a total stranger, but that grievance didn’t last long. He almost wanted to shake him, and demand the wizard to be less forgiving then.

At the very least, the argument (if you could call it that) wasn’t as explosive as Tom predicted it could be, and though he regretted breaching Harry’s trust that much- it was a much-needed next step to assuring their lives were lived comfortably, and his ambition was quelled enough. 

For now.

He wanted there to be no lies from this point on, but, as with everything, only time could tell. Tom was sure, even the first time round, he didn’t want to become the next deranged maniac on the list alongside Grindelwald, or other madmen that could lick his boots. His desire for greatness had to be quenched somehow to keep him and Harry happy.

No matter what fate intended, Tom would change the sky, remould the stars, and destroy the universe; only because he wanted this to last forever. His hubris truly knows no bounds, doest it? 

Winter air caressed his cheeks, sweeping his thoughts away before Harry caught wind of his darker than midnight plans.

“Tom, hurry the check up! The last carriage will be leaving soon!” The dark skinned boy chided half-heartedly, his caramel like skin glowing in the winter sun, crispy air colouring his cheeks in the most beautiful of ways. The unruly hair framing the sweet face like Harry was the most mesmerizing masterpiece. 

“…” He took a breath in, barely managing to look at the last carriages to Hogsmead. Indeed, they had to hurry up. His mind still latched on to the vision of a mildly annoyed Harry in this winter wonderland of uncharted snow, and shining sun.

Unlike any other sight Tom’s eyes had the opportunity to land on, this one man played with his heart like a fiddle. With just the look of his fresh green eyes, he was on his knees, his familiars bouncy step making Tom play along his every little game like a child begging for attention. He never desired to be the centre of anyone’s world like this before.  

That didn’t change the fact it was what he needed all along. 

“Tom!” Harry roared, dragging him forcibly toward their destination, making him realize he was staring- behaving like an utter dunderhead. 

“Yes, yes-“ He replied teasingly, letting Harry drag him to the thestrals, the bony creatures of death looking at them with interest in their soulless eyes as usual. Despite their rather morbid visage, they were friendly enough- it was the only known domesticated herd of them, after all.

Tom was used to the sight of those bony horses, he has seen them from when he can first remember; it wasn’t after a long, extensive research had he found only people who knew Death could witness the scary animals. Living at the times of war, in an orphanage where many children, and mothers came and went; Tom knew death.

Most others did not, so he learned not to pay attention, he didn’t go to Hogwarts to become a freak once more. Masking was something he learned like a muggle child, it helped him adapt, it managed to get him out of trouble, so he gazed past the thestrals like always.

He might be scared of death, but he knew what it entailed despite the panic, his vendetta against the phenomenon didn’t make him respect it any less. Honestly, he wasn’t sure when or where he saw his first death- it might have been a woman dying in childbirth, it might have been a boy on a street on whom a building fell during the Blitz. The sound of his shrill, panicked screaming still filled his head to a painful degree, but the most traumatic didn’t mean first. As Tom pretended he didn’t notice the creatures, instead thinking back on things he needn’t- he forgot an enormously important fact; Harry died once already.

All of a sudden, his familiar stopped in his tracks, making Tom run into him, face right in those unruly raven locks. “Wha-“ Harry stuttered. “What are those?” 

The question seemed to take a lot out of the boy, even when Harry must have noticed the creature’s from far away. Tom rubbed his temples soothingly. Knowing the stubbornness of the boy, he probably managed to tell himself he was hallucinating.

“Thestrals Harry, you can see them… huh” In truth, Tom should have suspected this, but since the boy took the boat rather than the carriages at the begging of the year… yeah, there was that. 

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” The shorter boy demanded, distancing himself from his chest; eyes glued to the bringers of the night, like he was mesmerized. In an admittedly strange way, Tom saw the resemblance the two carried, but he daren’t speak of it. Comparing your boyfriend to a skeletal horse was no good. 

“I didn’t know you witnessed death” He commented lightly, as if speaking about the weather. His love didn’t look back at him, shrugging in reply. 

“Death? I mean…” Harry paled slightly, and sighed in relief, like the reason wasn’t morbid at best. Tom wanted to console him, be a bit of help, but it seemed like his little lion has made peace with it all already. Always the surprise with Harry Potter, was it? Always one step ahead of the curve.

“OH! Yes, well, now that you mention it. They were a bit protective if a remember it right” The caramel skinned boy laughed, going in for petting one of the creatures happily. They didn’t bite at him like they did to some who got too close, and Tom watched with growing interest. To Merlin with not biting, the creatures snuggled into Harry’s hand, trilling excitedly. 

“W h a t”  He asked, rather dumbly, not sure what he wanted to know. 

“A Potter thing” Harry replied, smiling brightly with cheeks dusted pink. Everything in his life was becoming just a Potter thing, and rapidly at that- Tom found he didn’t mind that, even if the Potterness in his life was a hard pill to swallow. 

“Are you going or not?” McGonagall demanded, eying them suspiciously, especially him. It wasn’t how she should act toward her future colleague, but he had to digress. Tom barely gave her a glance before jumping into the carriage first- just so he could give Harry a helping hand, and then they were off to Hogwarts Express. All the while, his familiar’s eyes seemed to be far away, looking at the horses with interest. Potter Manor better be ready to house them… More precisely, however, hopefully Fleamont hasn’t burned the house while they were at school. 

Harry was glad his grandmother didn’t let her husband destroy the house while he was away at school, from what he found through letters, Fleamont Potter had the tendency to mix potion making and cooking. It was always a bad idea, and should strictly be prohibited- if only because he was good at cooking and absolutely pants at potions. Surely, that worked both ways, since despite being an accomplished Potion Master his grandfather… 

It was good, he could make himself a sandwich alright. During the whole train-ride anxiety seemed to drown him, and questions arose without him willing them to. Will his grandparents truly take him in? Wasn’t it just a practical joke? In all his worry, he forgot his aunt wasn’t born yet, and begged to any celestial being he could think of so that Petunia wouldn't be waiting on the platform. 

Tom assured him it was fine the whole way, and warded the poor compartment, so heavily Harry didn’t think anyone could break there without a week's worth of preparation. Overall, if not for his baseless panic attack, it was a cosy train ride; full of cuddles and calmness. Thanks to his distressed mind, he could bask in the washing tides of Tom’s magic without limit.

Usually, his stoic boyfriend was too controlled to let it roam free; and Harry was far too ashamed to ask. So, if anything good came out of his delirious state- it was that. 

Of course, once they were home (what a word) all his nonsensical worries turned out to be blown out of proportion, and Tom was exceedingly smug because of it. His ‘Told you so” looks could cut through glass. In any case, their first public welcome to the family was warm as could be, hugs, a crying Fleamont mumbling nonsense about kids growing up too fast, even though they weren’t their kids. Harry surely felt like they were.

God rest ye merry gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay                

Remember Christ our Saviour

Was born on Christmas Day

The words cheerily assaulted Tom’s eardrums, as he sprawled himself on the living room floor, on one of the most obnoxiously Indian rugs; with fires of warmth tickling his side, and smells of food coming from the kitchen alongside laughter. It was like living in a film. 

The muggle radio was spewing nonsensical tunes non-stop since he got here, but thanks to its craftiness, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the invention. Still, he had to extract himself from the situation more than once- to get back on track.

He wasn’t used to such happiness, and  enthusiasm aimed at him with startling accuracy. It was as if it was all an illusion he made up in his broken cradle, one that would disperse once dawn came, his hopes crushed when he heard the toppling bricks of a building two streets away. That was to say, Tom was here only for a couple of days, but he was exhausted by the constant anxiety that this will slip through his fingers like sand. 

It didn’t change the fact he was the most annoyed, and simultaneously most content he was in years- Despite being severely overstimulated.

To save us all from Satan's pow'r

When we were gone astray

Potter manor was, is, and always will be too rowdy for Tom’s liking; between baking, pranks, the never ceasing music playing from every corner of the house to its loud occupants; it was just too much. However, it had to be said, he enjoyed each overwhelming second immensely.

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Comfort and joy

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Needless to say, it wasn’t a seamless transition from school life, mostly because the difference in a solitary lifestyle compared to how Potter’s worked day to day was much too big. Harry didn’t seem to mind the change at all, on the contrary, he was overjoyed, and wherever Tom liked it or not his raven haired boyfriend looked stunning in such a homely atmosphere. 

Harry was just thrumming with excitement through their bond, and he didn’t seem to tire himself out no matter what they did. Whether it was tending to a garden, cooking, cleaning, decorating or simply chatting; his familiar thrived here- magicks if the house basically singing his praises every second they got.  

Tom was happy to just observe, but, of course, his future in laws didn’t take ‘No’ as an answer; it didn’t matter he knew nothing of celebrating Yule time, or whatever rituals from India Harry’s ancestors did. Euphemia, the old sneaky witch, had a kind of perverse pleasure watching him embarrass himself while trying to do everything right the first try; like a crazy aunt she cooed, and giggled. 

He didn’t know what magic she used that made her voice not sound malicious; either way, it was a good time. All was forgiven when she gave him that Latin Spellbook, even before Christmas. 

Tom was practically sure this was a copy of some old, if not ancient, book from the family vaults, but he didn’t dare make a peep about that knowledge. The twinkle in Harry’s grandmother’s eyes was telling enough. 

“TOM!” He flinched, but if someone ever asked him about it, he didn’t. Lord Slytherin simply does not do such undignified things.

Harry giggled at him, as he turned to see the boy standing above him; how he hadn’t heard his footsteps, Tom didn’t know. “Yes, love?” 

“We’re out here baking, and you’re lazing around?” The boy accused half-heartedly, his smile almost splitting his flour covered face in half. Thump, thump, thump. His heart, magic, and soul begged to be let loose on this artwork of a man standing above him. 

“You’re baking every day since we came here” He responded flatly, before sitting up- it wasn’t a good choice, mostly because he was just at the right position to hug Harry’s thighs, and had the strongest urge to do so. 

“Besides it’s…” Tom hit his tongue, but his magic betrayed him, as was reflected in the eyes of his beloved.

“It’s okay if you’re tired. We can be a bit much, I didn’t get used to the Weasleys for the longest time” His shoulders sagged with relief, but his lips were tugged upwards by a ghost of a smile. So, there was hope of getting used to this madness! This was worse than politics! 

“Weasleys?” He asked instead, knowing just enough about the purebloods to make assumptions.

“Future.” Harry said dismissively, patting his head like he was a stray dog. Humiliating? Maybe, but as embarrassing as it was, it was all the more enjoyable.

“Mmmkay” He mumbled, looking for his in-laws, before giving in to the urge to hug Harry’s legs. 

“You’re just like a kitty” The shorter teen laughed, not once stopping his ministrations; jewel like eyes gleaming with barely hidden amusement. 

“Don’t you dare bring my patronus into this, or I’ll obliterate your kneecaps” He threatened, dropping his voice just a tad to communicate this was crossing a line. The line was dragging Harry to his exquisite bedroom, but that was beside the point. 

I'll tell you of a little boy who lives across the way

This little fella's Christmas is just another day

“Right, right” Tom was tragically out of it today it seemed, mostly because while snuggled into his furnace like boyfriend, he didn’t notice the change of song, despite the roaring radio. 

Harry seemed starstruck by something, and urged his hands back before settling with him on the carpet. “We can just sit together if you want” 

He's the little boy that Santa Claus forgot

And goodness knows, he didn't want a lot

“If you want to” Tom was too tired to even complain, or argue that Harry should go back to baking. He didn’t even have the energy in himself to be grumpy about the smaller teen being covered in flour, as they settled on the floor; a mess of powder, tousled hair and comfort. 

He sent a note to Santa

For some soldiers and a drum

It broke his little heart

When he found Santa hadn't come

In his mind, he hoped against hope, this could last forever. Neither of the boys noticed a fond looking Fleamont taking a picture of them, looking like a proud father in every way that mattered; his ever mischievous wife might have spelled a mistletoe above the boys- just to give them a little surprise in the morning. 

Is this the beginning, or is this the end? Is Fate the beginning, and Death the end, or can Death be just a start to a new life? 

December 25th 1942, an unexpected date, when unexpected deities meet. But, why? Why would Fate, and Death meet on an otherwise ordinary day, before an ordinary home; standing with their ankles deep in snow, ethereal robes fluttering in the freezing air? Why are they gazing into one of the windows, curios of what gifts the occupants decided to present each other? Something inexplicable had happened, and yet, it was fated all the same. 

“…” Death stood, their onyx eyes in wide disbelief, its robes turning into smoke as their emotions reached their unbelievable highs. Perhaps, not exactly fated like that, but even all powerful beings didn’t know everything about the world and its occupants. Their area of expertise was shamefully small, if one thought about it hard enough; Death, Dream, Magic- they made laws of nature, but they had their limits all the same.

Miracles do happen, when some of them begin to work together, this intertwine of ethereals makes the impossible happen. This time, something even stranger came to be; but, what was Harry Potter’s life if not the impossible made reality? 

Fate, and Death have both been played in a way, all that without even denying nature its dues. This day was an unlikely fixed point in time, one Wizards speculated about behind closed Ministry doors; a secret held tightly to one's chest until they laid in their grave. 

None of the brilliant witches or wizards knew of this one, though, and it was the perfect time to assess if fate of two troubled souls was changed. They looked stunningly regal, and even proud as they watched two boys bicker with each other over books, quidditch supplies, and sweets; a married couple chiding them lovingly- it all looked like it was made to belong. 

“Odi et amo.” Fate whispers after a while, their androgynous voice akin to fresh snow.

“Love, and hate indeed. But, why?” The dark figure asks peering inside the home, when Fleamont catches their gaze and winks; Death is a protector of this Family of sorts, and they just smile. Nothing seems amiss to other occupants of the house, even their little dark haired deathling, who already stepped twice into their realm- escaping unscathed. And still, they can’t believe where Fate got the Idea to help Harry in life- like, like… that. 

“Oh, believe me, dearest- I don’t know. They weren’t supposed to be romantically involved at the least”

“I sure hope so! In the first timeline, their age-gap was nuts!”

“I think of a few more things wrong with that arrangement” They respond, eyes unfocused, seeing things no other being could; stars seem to align just right, because the dazed expression doesn’t leave their face at all. Death feels chills roll down their spine. 

“All is well, that ends well” They try appealingly, humming like an old wise man.

“Oh! You think THIS is the end?” Fate starts laughing hysterically at that, shaking their head, making all of their silvery adornments jingle. “Maybe for us” 

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?” Harry asked tentatively, and Tom couldn’t help the fond shake of his head as he responded. His green-eyed beloved looked torn, if not a bit sad that the last string connecting him to his previous life was going to be destroyed, no matter how horrible that life was. 

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t want to remember even a smidge of that traumatic past. Not that he had any say in that, Harry liked his autonomy, even if he was too forgiving for his own good; oh the things he would do for that man. 

Tom glanced at his scar, before placing a gentle kiss on it, feeling like he was worshipping a god. 

“The prophecy is absolute rubbish now, Darling. Do I look like a Dark Lord to you?” He laughed, handling the glowing orb carefully for now, eyes drawn to its magic and intricacy. Too bad it’s a useless piece of rubbish that destroyed his life in another time, Tom didn’t have mercy for it. 

Needless to say, they didn’t need some weirdo in the future to find it and think it was concerning him, as it was self-fulfilling from what he understood. A Mastery in the secret arts had its perks, after all. 

“You look like a very sexy Lord” Harry purred easily, grabbing his shoulders to ground him; their bond thrumming in their veins like rivers of magic, it’s supply seeming infinite. He felt on top of the world at that moment, drowning in the forest green of his familiars eyes. 

“Thanks” Without further ado, he dropped the offending orb, and it turned into pieces under the force, making a tragic mess of itself on the floor. Tom smiled at the destruction he caused.

“I promise to love you for who you are, and for who you are yet to become. I promise to be patient and to remember that not all things between us are rooted in love.” Harry said breathlessly, eyes shining with unshed tears, it was only the start, but Tom knew the vow would be beautiful. 

It was a moment lost to time; Tom saw that caramel skinned beauty glancing at him through his eyelashes, dressed in the most fine white robes, their trimmings representing moving snakes. He felt his heart and his magic constrict painfully, it was too much for his bruised younger self to dream of a day like this.  

The words would be too on the nose for anyone other than the brazen man he was hopelessly in love with, and he felt his throat constrain with the upcoming weight of his feelings; his emotions larger than life at that very moment- threatening to consume him with the ever-growing inferno of their power. Harry took his trembling hands lovingly, the gesture bringing Tom to the present at once.

“I promise to nurture your dreams and help you reach them. I promise to share my whole heart with you and to remember to show you how deeply I care for you, no matter the challenges that may come our way. I promise to love you loyally and fiercely—as long as I shall live, and even after death” The other wizard said reverently, a few stray tears finally dripping down his cheeks, glittering like pure starlight in Tom’s rose-coloured mind. 

He took a steadying breath, and straightened his shoulders; knowing full well how proud of this day he had become. Hundreds were watching, but he couldn’t have cared less about them. 

“Mother Magic smiles on us today, our wedding day, and how can she not?  With our hearts beating together as one, our love warms the world.”  He started, voice reverberating through the room, despite the wedding’s large attendance; and maybe for the first time in god knows how long he unabashedly smiled in public. Harry’s dark hands trembled in his, as he tried to keep his calm. 

It was all for naught, Tom felt himself fall into the abyss of emotion so deep there was no way to walk back out. It was all he ever desired and more. 

“Through all the impossibility, I love you with all my heart. You're my love, light, and soulmate. You're the person that keeps me singing, smiling, and laughing. I give you this ring as a sign of my love that's forever, eternal, and never-ending, like the circle in this ring” He said like a prayer, before placing a ring on Harry’s- his husbands- finger, a snake eating its own tail; a cheeky take on their all consuming fate.

Tom was sure that was the first time he saw Euphemia Potter weep, but before he could register anything else, Harry tugged him into the fiercest kiss. 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Uncle Tom asked him, his boring brown eyes  searching his face, and although the question was normal, James knew the man wasn’t really interested. Too bad! He liked talking about himself, and his answer was the bestest in the whole wide world!

If this dull adult just did the things his husband asked him too, it was his fault; James could bore him to death in return. 

His favourite Uncle was making them breakfast, and it was just unfair that this one was the one who asked, but James will not be easily deterred from bragging. He brought forth his mist disarming smile, despite knowing this man was cold, and unresponsive to his strongest weapon. 

“I wanna be just like Uncle Harry!” He said confidently. That earned him a raised eyebrow  from the man, and a clutter of some dishes in the kitchen, not that James was allowed to go there, not since he dropped a few eggs on Uncle Tom’s head. 

“He has fangs!” He explained in detail, knowing it was sufficient explanation. Vaguely, he heard his coolest uncle dropping the frying pan, or at least, he assumed that’s what it was, and the scary-looking husband of his laughed. James has never seen or heard him laugh before, but the man turned slightly less unbearable when he did, and so he smiled back proudly, simultaneously puffing out his chest. 

James Potter was a master at making adults laugh! He was his parent’s little ray of sunshine at the ripe old age of six! Even this stone-statue person was smiling when talking to him, it was a talent! 

“I’m sure you do” The adult said with amusement, looking back to the kitchen entrance where Uncle Harry was standing, completely soaked in pancake batter. James burst out laughing, knowing by then that pranking his family was his favourite thing to do. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Enter” He said leisurely, not even lifting his gaze from the papers he was currently signing; it worked well as an intimidation tactic, and he already knew who it was so the need of confirmation was non-existent. The documents themselves weren’t particularly interesting, though they needed to be done, monthly check-ups assured no one meddled with the new, more liberal law. Advocating for muggleborns, and creatures was hard work, but Tom knew without them the magical world would crumble to dust, like ancient Rome fell under its own weight. 

If he had a tad of insight from the future, who was to blame him for using it?

Ironically, Malfoy became his biggest supporter in the past few years- despite being an absolute bigoted arsehole when they were children. Tom found he liked this turn of tables, one where he gave all the cards a good shuffle, winning the whole game; though honestly, he didn’t know another who could possibly take care of the Great Magical Britain like him. He was respected, and fairly well liked thanks to charities Harry dwelled in, not to mention all his innovations worked- unlike… some people’s he rather not name. 

“Minister” The man croaked while opening the door; he was older than him, like most in the ministry, and subsequently wasn’t at all happy with his subservient position. Tom didn’t mind- he liked the thrill of power, the edge it gave him, more surprisingly, however, he liked being responsible for how the things were running, liked nurturing his projects (much like plants or animals), thankfully this last meeting won’t be exhausting- or so he hoped. Harry joked he treated Britain like his pet, and it wasn’t that far from the truth. 

“Yes? Straight to the point, Jeremiah, I have to go home soon.” He drawled, finally looking at the man, taking in his pristine plume robes and a hard set to his jaw, backtracking from the bald spots he knew made the man most insecure. The man still tensed, like he was struggling. Oh, so Harry was right about all the claims- honestly it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but still, to blood purists it was probably soul shattering. 

“Yes sir, well. After performing the ritual you wanted us to, we added a safety alert to the trace- and we were astonished to find the Black’s have been…” If the voice was gritted through the man’s teeth earlier, now it practically died in his throat like he was being choked.

“Abusing their kids?” He continued flatly, meanwhile signing the paper he read previously. 

“You knew?” The man raged through his teeth,  his absolutely horrified face resembling a blank slate the longer he stood there. Well, Tom knew many things. Things he probably shouldn’t, thanks to his mastery in the department of secrets, but that was currently beside the point. 

“I needed evidence, but fear not. They’ll have a good home” He replied with a shark like grin, not specifying whether he meant the adults or the kids. He learned this trick while mimicking his Harry, of course; his beautiful husband was a true marvel when angered, and he took a few pages out of his book. Tom has even got a few scars from a particularly vicious cutting hex aimed at him when he mentioned getting rid of his political opponents in a… morally dubious way. 

“Of course Mr. Potter” The wizard replied curtly, his voice drier than the sands of the Sahara, but it didn’t escape Tom how the man looked ready to piss his pants once he smiled. Ah, really, no matter what Harry said, power felt perfect in his hands. 

Still, to know one of your own classmates mistreated their child like that, when he was supposed to be the one not able to feel love. If he could overcome the rather sadistic parts of himself in order not to hurt people he cared about, then anyone could. Sadly, he knew the world didn’t entirely work like he wanted, which in turn made him remember Mrs. Cole. Tom grimaced just thinking about the woman.

He will give Orion and Walburga absolute hell.

Despite his best efforts over the years, Harry had to admit Malfoy manor looked truly stunning at Yule time. He would never say it out loud, however, because Abraxas might just have a stroke, or worse- the man might become prouder than he already is, which in all honesty was Mt. Everest levels of enormous. 

The party’s white and evergreen theme looked straight out of a fairytale this year, and Lord Malfoy made sure it was always a different set of decorations; this time there was mystical sparkling fog swirling in intricate patterns over the floor.  Fake snow was falling leisurely from the ceiling, enveloping everything in a natural kind of sparkle that was exceedingly hard to replicate using magic, but, of course, his classmate was a huge show off. Drinks were all charmed to be unified to the theme looking… in muggle terms- potion like, and the music was just magnificent, not to mention played live. Harry didn’t even know there were magical violinists, but as it turns out, the world never stopped surprising him.

Horrendously, the aesthetic was basically the only good quality that those annual gatherings had for Harry; Tom always had the same speech of how it was extremely important to network and all that, subsequently making him begrudgingly agree to showing up. But honestly, it was tragically boring. No lie. 

Political talks, engagement contracts, business- you name it, every boring topic was first, and foremost here. It was a wonder how he didn’t gauge out his own eyeballs at the twenty odd parties. There were a few moments of respite for Harry, however, mainly grabbing a hold of someone who played quidditch, or ambushing Newt’s older brother to embarrass him- but that was it. Well, not exactly, one moment of sweet, and adorable entertainment was running at him in his prestigious formal robes.

Tap, tap, tap, small Italian dress shoes parted the fog in their lacquered glory. Truly, Tom and Euphemia overdid themselves; the boy-distraction looked every part of a young, handsome heir Harry could imagine. Not without his wild streak, of course. 

Tom to his left didn’t seem to notice their boy running up at them full speed, one sticky hand holding some important politician's wand, not that Harry would stop his husband from the fascinating conversation about the laws surrounding centaurs, that was taking place for some reason. It might’ve have been with the French Minister of magic too, what a shame. 

“DAD, LOOK!” Sirius barked out, looking nothing of the sad creature he was when Harry decided to take him away from Orion. If he pestered his influential husband to make a few children protection laws, it was not only for charitable reasons; most of all, Harry was a loyal man.

He wouldn’t make Sirius suffer in this lifetime. He forgot one little detail though, and that was his younger brother Regulus; which meant adopting two kids at the time, being barely more than a child himself. 

Okay, maybe nearing forty was not exactly ‘youth’, but Wizards do tend to live far longer than muggles, so there was no need to feel old. Harry didn’t regret taking the sun and the moon under his wing one bit, though. 

“Mmm, wonderful ambush skills Pads” He nodded, as if he was siriusly impressed, and in exchange Sirius granted him the best shit-eating grin. “But I do hope you will return this to the poor soul you pranked, dear-” 

The boy grimaced, and shrugged before paling a bit when Tom finally got a glance of him. 

“Pardon me” Tom said apologetically to his conversation partner, holding a placating hand up. The French minister looked at them in utter confusion mixed with terror when he saw Sirius flaunting his prize, especially since the boy had no wand of his own yet- thankfully the man decided to turn the blind eye to all this, clutching his wand tighter instead.

Harry let out a breath of amusement  relief.

The boy’s shoulders sagged a bit, but he sighed, and nodded after a while- glancing up at Tom, who stopped to look in horror at their heir. “Sirius, whose is it?” Tom tried calmly.

It was funny to see him permanently stuck between scowling, and laughing, but Harry just tapped his shoulder, communicating he got it covered. Tom liked manners after all, and wanted to leave a good impression always, but had the softest spot for their family; of course he was torn between praising his son, and/or punishing him for the cretinism of it all. 

If his husband secretly took joy in the fact his sons were taunting his most annoying subordinates, and co-workers; he couldn’t show it. Not that Tom was emotional in the first place. 

“Please continue talking, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse me” The charming man he got married to for once, had no idea what to say, so Harry sneaked off, grabbing his Son-Godfather’s hand, looking for the poor soul who was now left wandless.

“Is Reggie trying to poison them as well?” He drawled in mock dissatisfaction, much to Sirius glee. His adopted son twirled the stolen object in his hand, barking out laughter from time to time, thinking the idea to be absolutely hilarious. The looks they got- it was good Harry was used to looking like an absolute madman. 

“Worse-  he’s trying to set the man’s robes aflame.” He could barely believe his ears, and felt a headache incoming, explaining this would certainly make a whole mess of things. It’s better he returns the wand… inconspicuously, or better yet, if he stopped Reg from whatever he was actually doing. 

“Look it’s working, huh- wonder how he did that” The boy mused appreciatively, grey eyes absolutely absorbing the ethereal atmosphere of the hall. This had to be a joke. 

“…” Not a second later than the boy said that, did the head of law enforcement screech indignantly- the tail of his expensive black robes smoking, and burning. In his dismay, the man searched for his wand, only to find a broken twig from one of the decorations in the hallways instead. 

“…” Panicked screaming, and heartfelt laughter, could be heard throughout the ballroom. Some people turned red in anger, some white in a sudden bout of fear like some terrorist did this, and then some started to grab their stomach from how much they were laughing. 

Sirius snickered, and Harry barely managed to shut his mouth when someone took pity on the ridiculous looking wizard, putting the flames out with an augamenti. Regulus materialized to his left, as innocent as an angel, his eyes twinkling subtly in the shining light of the ball. 

Harry sighed deeply, shaking his head. “What’s James doing, then?” 

“Putting laxatives in their drinks currently” Regulus replied dutifully, and Harry truly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Yeah, maybe bringing up one of the marauders wasn’t exactly the best way to venture into parenting; especially when him and Fleamont had to deal with James to top it all off. 

His father and god-father were already a handful separately, but this package has always been a two for one. Harry at least hoped Regulus would be… a more complacent child, but alas, no. That didn’t mean he didn’t love them! But, it was hard keeping up sometimes; thankfully, from the time of being left to manoeuvre Tom’s various moods he was an expert at negotiating. 

“Stop him, or else no quidditch for a month.” Regulus smiled almost imperceptibly, keyword being almost, as Harry was well versed in all the micro expressions of the boy. “And Reg, no potions for you” 

The boy looked absolutely heartbroken, and the siblings rushed not unlike a hurricane, trying to stop Prongs, looking as if they were hit by the strongest imperio under the sun. Harry made his way to the three mischief-makers too, while wandlessly levitating the stolen wand back to their owner; in the midst of the panic, no one seemed to notice it was back. He shook his head in quiet disbelief. 

“Those rascals” Tom whispered right into his ear suddenly, using the tone of voice that should strictly be used in the bedroom, even more so when his husband used their bond to push, unsavoury feelings through it. Harry shivered, not knowing when or how his husband appeared behind him- it send a pleasant shiver down his back. 

“Our rascals” He added, smiling up at the taller wizard, who looked even more stunning when not boring him to death with politics. Tom’s robe was the darkest shade of green, almost black, sparkling like onyx in the charmed room thanks to the silk material; the high collar making him look regal. Those eyes drilled into him with the intensity of their gaze, and he smiled in return, grabbing his beloved’s hand; all was good.