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Chapter Text

October 31 was a day like any other at Wool's orphanage. Children did not hunt for candy and did not dress up as demons, witches or ghosts. They didn't even carve pumpkins, too precious to be wasted like that. The only thing that differed from the other days was the small slice of tart, provided to all the children equally. If among them there were those too young to protect their dessert, the instructors didn't care that much, until a fight started, they would never intervene.

Tom was now done being one of those children who were too weak. At the age of four, he had understood that what had been provided to you you had to hold tightly to you, fight tooth and nail to avoid having it torn off from under your nose. And if it happened? Then he would have promised himself that the imbecile would not get away with it. He was capable of things out of the ordinary. Of superpowers that no one had except him. He was special, unlike all those stupid kids around him. And he would always be the only one to be.

October 31, 1930, for Tom, was a day like many others. And it would have continued to be so if it weren't for the sound of the bell, the one that announced the arrival of a new baby. Mrs. Cole stood up with one of the instructors, with the air of someone who would rather drink her usual glass of wine than welcome another child within those walls. Whispers began to rise between the tables of the cafeteria, the children wondered who it could possibly be, if it was male or female, what tragedy had ever brought him here. Questions that were never answered, the other instructors invited the children to finish their dinner and return immediately to their rooms, if they did not have homework to do.

Tom followed the crowd of children to his shared room, there were at least a dozen beds in that single room and everyone began to get ready to go to sleep, sharing the bed with at least one other child due to lack of places or the cold. He felt lucky, not only did he have the bed in the corner closest to the door - where the heating pipes were - but he didn't share the bed with anyone, he wouldn't allow it. What little space there was on the mattress was his, his and that's it. Before going to sleep, she always made sure to check under the mattress if her most precious objects were still there: a brush that seemed to be made of jade - she was missing a few teeth, but it was still comfortable to use -, a book with pictures - Tom did not yet know how to read, but he had promised himself to learn it soon, before everyone else - and the one that was Snake skin - he made sure to wash and treat it with care every night, because it was the first gift he ever had.

But it seemed that that evening he would not be able to pull out the famous skin, Tom heard footsteps approaching the room. Without a door, he would surely have been noticed if he hadn't gotten under the covers as soon as possible. Mrs. Cole's voice was easy to distinguish, nasal and hoarse, the woman had not stopped smoking and drinking red wine for as long as she can remember. Every now and then he had heard her pray to someone - perhaps God - during one of her nights full of wine, Tom found it disgusting. Now that woman had just entered the room, out of the corner of her eye she could see a small bundle in her arms, accompanied by the instructor from before. He could hear the footsteps approaching his bed, and Tom knew at once what he was doing: he wanted to put the new baby with him.

He gritted his teeth as he felt something resting on his side and continued to pretend to sleep until he felt them were out of reach. Tom immediately sat up on the bed, observing what the bundle of blankets hid - surely he would have used them to cover himself better from the cold, afterwards -, he was a child, otherwise they would not have taken him to the boys' room, and he had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt that started from his forehead and ran to his cheek. Tom found it strange. It didn't look like a normal scar, not because of the ramifications it took, just like a real lightning bolt, and the lock of white hair that started right where it began.

"Well, I'm going to share my bed with you just because you have extra blankets."

Tom whispered, starting to free the baby from the bundle he was imprisoned in and placing blankets over both of them. The child must have been younger than him, perhaps by a couple of years, and took up very little space. Tom appreciated this, at least he still had most of the bed to himself.

...

The child's name was Harry. Harry James Potter. He was two years old and his parents had died in an accident. Mrs. Cole took the trouble to introduce him to the cafeteria, though she seemed a little bored at having to do so. Tom saw her begin to drink her red wine as soon as he sat down. The new baby didn't look anything special, he was obviously shy and tried to look even smaller because of how close he was to him. The only thing that intrigued the others - and that intrigued him too - was the strange scar, which in the sunlight was even longer than Tom had imagined, reached the boy's throat and apparently gave him some trouble with his voice.

Harry ended up sitting with children his age and knew nothing more about him until it was time to go to sleep. The routine at the orphanage was different for everyone: younger children were given light tasks, suitable for their build, but as they grew up they ended up helping with more complicated manual jobs, such as tidying up the garden, cleaning the rooms and corridors or helping in the kitchen. Tom occasionally watched him from afar, after all they were forced to share the bed, he had to know something about him, but Harry was so anonymous that when they moved him to a single room - just after he turned seven - Tom forgot about him completely. Or almost.

Like the time he hung Billy Stubbs' rabbit on the rafters. The child had bothered him so much at that time, that he deserved to receive punishment, right? It was also not difficult to retrieve the rodent from its cage and open its stomach, leaving it hanged with its own guts. Tom was sure that no one had seen him, after all it was the middle of the night and they could hardly blame him. Yet she was surprised to find Harry right behind her. The child, still quite small for his age, was looking at the rabbit with indifference. Then he looked at Tom. He was already ready to block the child if he dared to warn anyone, although unable to speak he could still wake Mrs. Cole and direct him towards Tom. Yet Harry simply walked past him and went to the room they had previously shared.

From that moment Tom kept him under close observation, from which he could understand two things: that Harry did not seem in the least willing to spy and that he had no one to do it with. The child was isolated from those of his age, even in games. He diligently carried out his daily chores, finished before everyone else and returned to his room without leaving except for lunch or dinner. Every now and then he found himself forced to ask what he was doing during those hours, but the other children had no idea. Harry isolated himself and preferred to stay alone.

Tom forgot about him again. If he preferred to stay alone it was only a point in his favor, even if they had supostoted him, what evidence did they have? The only witness was even mute. He didn't even notice the fact that, at that time, he found more and more objects for his collection around, not even that someone kept him company when they punished him in a closet, or that every now and then he found himself with an extra blanket at night. Until he caught the child, just when he was leaving a doll - the one that reminded him of the doll of one of the older girls - near the door of his room.

"Hi, Harry."

The boy made an obvious start, which reminded Tom of cats when they were frightened, and he couldn't help smiling in amusement. The youngest child was in obvious embarrassment, observing everything but him. Tom pretended not to notice as he approached him, retrieving the doll he had left on the ground. He turned it over in his hands, like a valuable object, and smiled with satisfaction, now he also had something to blackmail one of the older girls with. She looked at Harry, the child had his gaze downcast but every now and then he raised it to observe him, almost as if he was waiting for something from him. To Tom it reminded me of a puppy.

"Great job, Harry."

The boy smiled at him. His eyes, of a particular green, lit up with happiness. He went away, running down the corridor. Tom followed him with his eyes until he disappeared from behind the wall. From that moment on he seemed to have a puppy following him, where Tom was there was also Harry - except when the two had tasks to do -, they sat at the same table and did the tasks together. Harry witnessed Tom's powers and looked at him as if he were a god, not as the devil's son. Harry always defended him from the accusations of the other children or Mrs. Cole, even when in reality it was Tom's fault. Harry became something closer to a friend Tom could ever have.

Their first fight came when Tom stranded Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson in a cave. Every summer they always went to that anonymous beach, full of rocks and where the sun had difficulty reaching them if it was not at least noon. That mid-summer day it seemed, however, that the weather would not improve very soon and the waves were too high for even the youngest children to enjoy, so most were on the beach. Tom took this opportunity to take Harry and two children his age with him, taking them to a cave he had discovered a couple of years earlier. Reaching it was easy, for him who had the powers, but he offered to help only Harry while the other two struggled to keep up with them.

Harry immediately did not seem convinced to enter the cave: the waves were too high and the path was slippery. But Tom convinced him to proceed, reassuring him that nothing would happen to him. When they arrived halfway through the cave, the group stopped, unable to continue due to the high tide. Dennis and Amy were obviously scared, holding hands as they watched around them. Harry was slightly calmer than the other two, he kept jolting with every strong wave, but he kept his gaze steady on Tom. Tom couldn't help but smile and start his little joke. Dennis and Amy were forced to jump into the water, thanks to Tom's powers, and every now and then they were raised to catch their breath. The more he heard them begging to stop, the more he enjoyed letting them go.

Harry that time did not seem to rejoice in Tom's powers, instead he found the child with his eyes firmly closed and his head turned to the opposite side. This confused him. The calm and silent Harry, who had always followed him like a lost puppy and who always defended him, now seemed completely disgusted by Tom's gestures. He brought his peers ashore, letting them rest for the moment, while he looked at Harry with confusion. And perhaps even with a hint of irritation.

"You've been doing the difficult thing since before, what's the matter?"

The youngest turned to him with a surprised look, looked first at the two children - who were coughing behind them - and then at the surrounding cave. Then he began to move his hands quickly, over the years spent together, the two had invented a code with which to communicate and Tom was the only one able to decipher it, so that he could tell what Harry wanted to the people around them. That time the movements of the hands were hurried, almost anxious, Tom could hardly understand what he was saying and had only caught the word 'death'.

"I'm not understanding. Slow down."

'They risk dying. This. It's. Torture.', Harry said, pointing first to the children and then to the surrounding cave.

"They won't die, I won't allow it. I'm powerful, remember? I can do whatever I want."

'And if your powers can't do it? How could we explain the disappearance of two children? We will end up being the prime suspects, they will send us to prison, they will separate us, we will not be able to see each other anymore and...'

Harry began to breathe faster, blocking his hands from what he was about to say. Tom looked at him with a morbid curiosity, this was the first time he had seen someone panic. Children usually cried and screamed when they wanted something. But Harry just lacked air, couldn't breathe, and looked like a caged animal. Tom also watched when he escaped from the cave and stood still waiting, because Harry always came back, because Harry would never abandon him, because...

Harry didn't come back.

...

On his 11th birthday, a strange man visited him, introducing himself as 'Professor Albus Dumbledore'. He admitted to teaching at a school where children like him, special children, learned magic. And Tom could not be more than happy. Finally someone who understood his abilities. Finally a club that would have appreciated him for what he was. But all his dreams were erased when his closet was burned down. His closet. With all its treasures. With all the treasures Harry had given him. The first time Tom saw magic it was not something as special as the appearance of a flock of birds, but something violent that erased all the progress he had made in those four walls.

Leaving the Wool orphanage was not difficult at all. Tom felt almost light when he was told that he would spend most of the year away. In Scotland. He was excited to see what this new world he was about to approach was like. The only person to greet him, at the entrance, was Mrs. Cole, who had paid for a taxi to reach King's Cross station. The woman was not at all happy to pay for him, but she seemed decidedly happy to see him go. No one else came to greet him, not even Harry.

His first year at Hogwarts was not difficult at all. If he thought he would find friends within those walls, he was very wrong. His peers, and even the older boys, looked at him as if he were scum, no matter how hard he tried to be the best of his year, no matter how much he tried to learn good manners at the table, no matter how much he kept to himself and didn't bother anyone. Tom, surprisingly, missed Harry. At Christmas he thought of sending him a letter, to wish him happy holidays. The letter was written first with nostalgia, then with anger and finally with sadness. He did not have the courage to send it, but he kept it in his trunk. He continued like this for the rest of the year: when he needed to talk to Harry, he wrote a letter about what worried him but then he never had the courage to send it. Summer came too fast for his taste. He was back at Wool.

The children who lived among the children were forbidden to use their wands, but Tom didn't have that kind of problem, he knew how to use magic even without the wand. After all, he was special. None of his peers could do it and they would soon see how special he was. Throughout the summer he began to design a plan on how to get all the Slytherins under the palm of his hand, it would have been a long-term plan, but it would certainly have been worth it. He finished all his homework for the holidays far too soon, now Tom didn't know how to pass the time except to do his usual chores for the orphanage and reread the first year books. It was the longest summer of his existence.

Finally the second year at Hogwarts began. Mrs. Cole called him a taxi again to get to the station, and she was again the only one who would say goodbye to him before he left. Tom certainly didn't expect someone else, it would have been stupid of him. He, Tom Riddle, would not have been lost in conjecture. Then he looked up at the windows, until he reached the fifth floor, where the boys' rooms were and met two green eyes, right where he hoped to find them. Harry waved his hand lightly, before walking away from the window. That year, for Tom, started better than last year.

Yet nothing had changed among his fellow housemates. Everyone saw him as a parasite that shouldn't have been there among them, and Tom saw them as just weak beings. However, he began to try to have more contact with some of his peers, with many doing some blackmail, with others he enjoyed hurting them. Eventually, the entire second year of Slytherin began to see him as the King of their year. This was his first step to climb the social class. For Christmas - or Yule - he had several important items bought, such as new quill pens, high-quality scrolls or a folder with protective runes inside. Just at that time she began to write letters for Harry again, but by then it had become more of a habit than out of necessity. He would never have sent them anyway, so he could write anything he thought about them. He continued to do so until the end of the year and was again forced to return to the Wool.

That summer seemed to be just like last time: with him completing all his homework, rereading textbooks, and doing his assigned chores. On July 31, however, something changed. Tom was certain it was Harry's birthday that day, Mrs. Cole took care to provide an extra treat at breakfast for those celebrating birthdays. But that day the woman took Harry aside and from the window she could recognize Professor Merrythought. A shiver ran down Tom's spine, a shiver of high expectations. He reached Harry's room just as Mrs. Cole left him with her DADA teacher.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, I am Professor Merrythought, and I have come from Hogwarts to deliver this letter to you."

Harry prese la lettera tra le proprie hands and began to read its contents. Surely it was the same letter Tom had received two years earlier, telling him that he had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, then the list of all the books he would have to buy along with school supplies and a wand. Oh, Tom couldn't contain his happiness. He watched as Harry's expression changed from quiet to surprised, then confused. The poor fellow had to make the old woman understand that he could not speak, and she seemed to be caught a little off guard, but straightened her back with a sweet smile on her face.

"It's nothing to worry about, my boy, there's nothing a potion can't fix. I am sure that our healer will know how to help you as soon as you come to us. So, do you accept?"

Tom could notice how Harry noticed him in passing, smiled at the woman and nodded his head. That year Harry would come with him to Hogwarts and Tom could not contain his happiness.

...

On August 10, the duo, in the company of Professor Merrythought, headed to Diagon Alley to buy what was needed for that school year. Harry was visibly agitated, he looked at everything around him with a critical eye and was frightened at the slightest loud sound, he always kept close to Tom - just like in the old days - and he could only be happy. The first things they bought were everything they needed for Harry, leaving the books for last, and the wand, essential for attending Hogwarts.

Ollivanders was happy to see the professor, but above all to look for a wand for Harry. Tom could only be even more proud when he discovered that the two shared a nucleus, while the boy seemed surprised by this knowledge. He turned to Tom, his wand in his hand, and pointed to both of them, a silent question to ask if this was the truth. Tom couldn't help but nod. Harry's gaze first lit up then, to Tom's confusion, became cold and distant. The rest of the trip was a bit embarrassing, even with the chats he had with their teacher, Harry's coldness could be felt even with his silence.

Tom promised himself to confront him when they returned to the orphanage, now he could no longer ignore him. Now they would attend the same school, as big as Hogwarts was, Tom was sure that at least at mealtimes they would be forced to meet. Or if Harry ever ended up in Slytherin just like Tom... In that case it would have been difficult to ignore each other. He had to solve that problem as soon as possible. The professor accompanied them to the gates and wished them a good day, not after having given Harry all the necessary rules of the statute of secrecy. When he disappeared, Tom grabbed the younger one by the wrist and began to drag him to his room. Harry looked like a dead weight behind him, he didn't object, but he didn't even give a hint of wanting to walk.

Tom locked the door with an Alohomora without a wand as he looked at the little boy with his arms crossed. Harry continued to maintain his detached expression. It reminded him of the times before they began to become... Friends. When he found out he hung Bill Stubbs' rabbit from the rafters and said nothing to Mrs. Cole. When they still shared the bed but apart from that they knew nothing about each other. But it was certainly not Tom's fault, it was Harry too weak of stomach, he knew what he was capable of and ran away as soon as he saw two children whimpering. Hypocrisy, that's what it was.

"We cannot continue like this. We can't pretend not to know each other, not now that the teachers know that we come from the same orphanage. Do you wish anyone had doubts about us?-", Tom clenched his jaw when Harry deliberately ignored him, he found himself forced to shake him by the shoulder. "-Answer me, damn!"

'You were going to kill someone.-', Tom found himself surprised when Harry actually answered him, he expected him to ignore him again. '-You were going to kill children and it seemed to be enjoying you.'

"You saw me killing animals, Harry. Rabbits. Cats. And now that I was going to kill people, are you complaining? Really?"

'Killing a person is different from killing animals. People have souls.'

Tom snorted in amusement, shaking his head. Really... Of all the bullshit he could say to him, the very one they heard in church. He shouldn't be surprised after all, Harry has always been indifferent to his petty gestures, until the thing fell on him too, then the boy felt guilty and ignored Tom for days. How could he not understand? Harry was always indifferent, but deep down he still had hope that someone could come and pick him up, someone to consider family. And what kind of model child would he be if he had been bad in the eyes of God?

"You're really stupid if you think that nonsense, in church, can be true. Look at me Harry! How many times have they called the parish priest to 'free the devil' from me? How?! Does it seem to you that it worked? That all those beautiful words solved something?"

'It's different.'

"How would it be different?! Do you know how many times they whipped me with the belt? You should know, you were there too. How many times have I been forced to stay under water in the tub, unable to breathe? How many times, Harry, how many?!"

Harry looked down, unable to look him in the eye. Tom tightened his grip on his shoulder, only to let go of it and start patting him on the shoulder. Harry continued to be short for his age, skinny, that the blows he received ended up making him stagger and force him to retreat. He looked at him with contempt, grabbing his wrist, but Tom began to do so with his other hand as well. Before long, they found themselves pushing each other. To give each other blows that left bruises. To provide scratches and bites. The two found themselves in a real fight for their first time.

"Answer me! For Salazar. What would be different?! Do you also think that I am the son of the devil, Harry? Do you think I'm bad? A monster to be locked in the closet?-", they ended up falling on the bed, with Tom caging him between him and the mattress. "-How would you be different, Harry? What changes between you and me? You... that you stood by and watched while I killed Bill Stubbs' rabbit. You, who stood by while I hurt the other children. You, who created the plans with me!", Tom tried to catch his breath as he looked at the boy below him, Harry's eyes lit up by something he didn't know.

"You and I are the same. We always have been. You're just as bad as I am, Harry. You can't run away from the truth, not anymore."

Chapter Text

"Slytherin!"

Tom had no eyes but for Harry. Of how his tunic took on the colors of his House. Of how he walked with his head held high towards their table. How he seemed completely indifferent to the whispers they were exchanging between the tables, but Harry didn't pay attention to any of them, he looked at Tom and only him. He couldn't help but smile. He had introduced Harry to all his most faithful companions, who had welcomed him warmly, now there was no doubt that the boy would have no way to ignore him, to get away from him, now he would always be by his side.

The dinner began after the usual speech by Principal Dippet. Conversations quickly took place at the other tables, but the Slytherins were quiet and composed in their manners. Tom noticed Harry's surprise at the appearance of all that food, his own expression the first time here, so he took the trouble to fill his plate himself, in his experience it was better not to eat more than you are capable of or you end up vomiting. He gave him mostly liquid foods, at Wool's they rarely ate solid foods and certainly Harry's stomach was not yet able to digest them properly. It will do so with the passage of time, for sure.

Harry's silence was no surprise to Tom, but he noticed how some - who did not yet know the boy well - were annoyed by his lack of thanks. Oh, Tom would surely have intervened, but Harry needed experience to be able to survive in the snake den. Then an enraged Harry was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever seen. He remembered that time when one of the older boys stole his glasses, out of pure spite, and Harry got angry like a fury, biting his arm so hard that blood came out. Now, Tom was still too young to understand what excitement was, but when he thought about it, he could feel his pants tighten now.

After dinner the prefects accompanied the first boys to the common room, where Slughorn was waiting for them. Their head of the house began to explain all the basic rules of the school, mentioning the house cup and how to receive points, but above all how Slytherin must be united because there will be no better family than one's own House. The first ones are told to go to their dormitory rooms, where their luggage was already present, while those of other years remained quietly in the common room. Tom attended the birth of the new 'King of Slytherin', his speech and his companions who would accompany him. Everything is normal. Everyone was then told to go back to their rooms, because the new courtyard needed privacy.

"Alphard, your brother is the same year as Harry, isn't he?"

"Who? Ah, Potter. Yes, if I'm not mistaken he's in the same dorm room."

"Well, make sure he's always by his side and that he reports his every move to me."

Alphard nodded positively, and then hid behind the curtains of his bed. Tom watched all his roommates do it, and then left the dormitory and headed for the one of the first years. Taking into account the help of his companions is a great thing, he makes them believe that they are necessary and helpful, but he didn't need it that much. She knew Harry like the back of her hand, he knew when he woke up - whether he was induced by nightmares or not -, he knew what he would start eating breakfast from, he knew what his favorite Muggle subjects were... And she also knew well that Harry didn't sleep well at all, alone, when he was in a new place. How to restart their friendship - Harry's independence from Tom - if not by showing that he remembered even the smallest thing?

Finding the youngest boy's bed was easy: it was the one closest to the door on the left, just like it was at the orphanage. The tents were closed, but they could not be enchanted, so it was not difficult to enter between them. As he had predicted, Harry was flailing in bed, unable to sleep. Tom made sure to murmur some spells to keep the curtains closed, some protection, and even some curse if anyone tried to dismantle his spells. Then she quietly got under the covers with him, at first she felt him stiffen and tried to turn around, but Tom's stress was stiff enough to deprive him of movement.

"Sleep."

Whispered. And the little boy relaxed a little in his arms, they fell asleep just like when they were children, and Tom went back to his dormitory about dawn. They created a routine very quickly. In the morning they sat together at breakfast, greeting each other when they had class, at lunch they could not see each other often - Tom had optional courses that also occupied lunchtime - and then they met at dinner, the conversations at dinner being the most monotonous, of little importance, while those in the common room were more interesting. Gathered in some sofas by the fire, Tom and his group talked about this and that, while Harry stayed to listen or chatted - his voice resumed after a treatment of his vocal cords - with Orion. Then night came and the two had their usual meeting in Harry's bed, sleeping together.

They continued like this until Christmas, where they remained the only ones - of the entire house - to remain at Hogwarts. Usually Tom, in this period, began to write the famous letters for Harry ... But what could he do when the boy in question was right next to him? The first two days they barely met, both busy with homework, then inevitably they began to see each other more often in the common room now that there was no one with them.

Harry still seemed reticent about him, when they were in the company of other people he would sit quietly next to him - perhaps reassured by the presence of others - but now that they were alone... The boy had difficulty keeping close to him. No. Not difficulty. He seemed really disgusted by the idea of being alone with him. Tom almost wanted to laugh and maybe he was already doing it, because how could you be so hypocritical when he agreed to sleep in the same bed with him?

"I don't bite you, you know."

"You're capable of it.", Harry's voice still hoarse from recent use, but it gave Tom chills when he heard it and maybe even had a double effect between his legs.

"Oh, I know. But I'll go easy with you, I promise."

Tom watched happily as Harry's cheeks took on a reddish tint and as his gaze tried to escape from him. He didn't know what was happening, but Tom liked it too much to stop from the thrill he got. He gave several blows on the cushion of the sofa, inviting the youngest to sit next to him and Harry reluctantly approached. He sat down – and took it as a victory – but made sure he was far enough away from Tom, avoiding touching him.

"What's your problem, Harry? Are you afraid?"

The boy snorted, giving him an icy look. He must have taken the question as a challenge, for he sat down slightly closer to him. It didn't take Tom anything to bridge the gap and put an arm around his neck, their faces very close.

"Stop it."

"You have to be more precise than that, Harry."

"Stop touching me."

"I guess I can't do it, you know, I'm pretty comfortable in this position. In fact, I almost think I'll lie down."

Tom led them both to lie on their side on the sofa, holding Harry in a vice. Even with the food available at Hogwarts, Harry continued to be malnourished and small, but Tom found it perfect. It fit easily to him and took up little space, then its heat was an excellent stove in the coldest moments there in the basement. Harry sighed a big sigh, but he too made himself comfortable on the sofa, squeezing against that sensitive area of Tom. He was still unaware of why he only woke up for and with Harry, but as long as he could keep him at bay, it wasn't a problem for Tom.

"You're annoying."

"You didn't think that way when we were younger."

"We were children. I didn't understand."

"Oh? And now what have you understood?"

Harry remained silent. Tom from that position could not see his face, covered by the boy's unruly curls, but he could imagine him with his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip between his teeth. To that imagination she could not help but hold him closer, holding tighter towards that pressure that was growing between his legs. Harry planted his nails against his arm, trying to free himself from the grip.

"Let me go, Tom."

"You have this bad habit of not answering me...-", he brought his face close to his ear, noticing - with pleasure - how it had taken on a reddish color, and began to whisper to him. "-What do you say if you answer me, I'll free you?"

He felt Harry, underneath him, stiffen slightly and then take a deep breath. Suddenly their position changed, much to Tom's surprise, the boy quietly straddled him and shrugged his shoulders to keep him down. Tom smiled amusedly, bringing both hands to his hips and watching as his face became more and more embarrassed.

"I understand that you are a bad person."

"I thought we'd already made this clear, Harry...-", Tom tightens his grip on his hips, shuddering at the sight of his expression of pain. "-You are a bad person too."

"But what you have done is wrong! And I want to improve! I...-", Harry pats Tom's chest, his eyes moist. "-I want a family. And I can't have it if I keep having you around!"

Tom smiles, then his smile turns to laughter. A laugh that made Harry's muscles stiffen and stop the continuous blows he was giving him to his chest. Tom's hand shifted, taking a handful of Harry's wayward hair and forcing him to duck, his grip iron enough to hurt the younger boy. Oh. How he liked to see that expression of pain. He had never wanted to hurt Harry... But if it was the only way to make him understand things, well, who was he not to? After all, Tom wasn't averse to hurting people.

"A family, you listen to yourself? No one will adopt you. No one will look at an 11-year-old boy. No one will want a child who is too big. They will take, watch and want only children under five years old. The beautiful ones. Those without imperfections. Those who resemble angels. And you, Harry? Can you consider yourself an Angel with that scar you find yourself with?"

"Fuck off! Let's let it go!", the boy began to fidget under his grip, not paying the slightest attention to the pain Tom gave him and with tears starting to run down his red cheeks.

"Answer me Harry! Are you an angel? Have you ever been called that? No. They only looked with pity at that poor child with the scar. They only looked with disgust at that poor scarred child."

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

The flames of the fireplace began to stir. The heat of the common room became too high for the heavy clothes they both had. The air had become crisp with magic. And Tom was as if he was drunk on it. He looked with joy at Harry's face distorted by both physical and emotional pain, to his chest blows that became less and less as time went by and to his back that bent more and more towards Tom. He welcomed him with open arms. The grip on the hair became gentle, bringing the boy's head against his shoulder. The grip on the hip moved to the back, becoming a caress along the spine.

Harry sobbed. Harry was screaming. Harry was crying. And Tom? Tom enjoyed all that pain and outburst, holding him close to him. He admired with wonder how the particles of magic flew in the air, how they slowly became calmer and calmer together with the outburst of the younger boy. He admired the power that came from it. He admired Harry. He was so excited that he found it hard to think in tight pants, but he forced himself to pay his attention to the little boy, in case he needed reassurance. Sure, he'd been an asshole, but Tom knew when there was a need to be nice.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's not true. You don't mind at all."

How well he knew him...

...

From that outburst Harry went back to ignoring him and Tom let him do it, the lessons had started again and it was good not to have any kind of distraction. Tom aimed to have all 12 of his subjects with top marks and he couldn't have it if he chased a puppy who refused food from his owner, sooner or later he will be hungry and look for it on his own. It was only a matter of time. So Tom gave Harry space, letting him make friends and acquaintances outside his jurisdiction, observing his health from afar and ending with their nightly routine.

If Harry didn't want him nearby, then Tom wouldn't even come near to help him sleep. It seemed that things were going well, after all it didn't seem like the little boy was having problems with his hours of sleep. Until February ended and Tom woke up in the middle of the night, with his magic alarming him of an intruder in the curtains of his bed. With a quick lumus he pointed his wand at the stranger, trying to hold back a smile when he saw Harry. The boy looked at him badly, but he still got into bed with him.

Now they ignored each other, again, only during the day. In the evening they met when everyone had gone to sleep and took turns on who went to whom, waking up before the others to leave the other's bed and return to their own so as not to arouse suspicion. Even if he imagined that someone had understood what was happening, because Abraxas always looked at him with a smirk as soon as he woke up. While Alphard sighed more and more often when he came out of the bathroom of their dorm.

Then came the Easter holidays, a long weekend where they were again alone except for those in their seventh year, who were studying for their NEWTs. Now that there was no one to look after, both stayed longer in each other's bed and Tom was able to observe Harry still asleep in his arms, his face half hidden between his neck and shoulder. Tom had a strange need to touch him, which grew as the two continued to sleep together. It happened especially when the boy slept in Tom's bed, he found it strangely exciting to see Harry undone by sleep waking up in his blankets.

And now he could also see him wake up. It was strange, he must not have been surprised by this vision, because the two had shared a bed when they were just children and often saw themselves waking up. But now... Now, after years of sleeping apart and doing it again, Tom found Harry's vision waking up almost heavenly, divine. It was a vision to be kept within the high walls of his mind. Even Dumbledore would not have been able to find this memory, if only he had tried.

"I want to kiss you," said Tom, out of the blue, so fleetingly that he surprised even himself.

"How do the big guys do it?" asked Harry in a voice hoarse from sleep, perhaps still too stunned by it to understand what Tom had just said.

"Just like them... Can I?"

"If I allow you, I'm sure you won't stop at kissing, you'll demand more and more..."

Tom held back an amused smile, but he didn't seem to be able to because Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. The younger boy pushed him towards the mattress, forcing him to lie down completely on his back while leaning lightly against him and watching him from above. Harry's unruly hair covered his face like a halo and Tom had to deny his words at Christmas, at that moment he seemed more like an angel than the angels themselves.

"Only one."

"So I can?"

"You can, but only one...!"

He didn't give him time to finish when Tom bumped their mouths together. It was an awkward kiss, one of those first kisses where you use more teeth than lips, yet the two managed to find a rhythm in it and follow it. It was so confusing that they both came out short of breath. But their break did not last long, for Tom broke his promise, which he had not kept, of a single kiss, and gave another. And another. And yet another. He was like a drug addict. Harry was a drug.

He forced him to stay under him. He caged Harry beneath him, getting between his legs as he gently stroked them. The boy that night had not worn his pyjama pants because of the heat, a habit that Tom used in his favor, bringing his hands to Harry's inner thigh and tightening his grip there, so hard that he inserted his nails inside the flesh. He wanted to leave his mark on that little boy. He wanted it his. So much so that he began to bite his lip and split it.

The taste of blood stopped him, not because of surprise, but because of the excitement that came from it. Harry's face was red, he was breathing heavily, and his green eyes were full of tears, shining like two gems. Then there were his lips... They were inevitably swollen, but the lower one had the mark of his teeth and was bleeding, which flowed like a river on his chin. Tom smiled at his work, smiling even more when Harry snorted. He lowered himself, bringing the nose against his neck and causing the two intimacies to collide with each other.

"Tom... We should show up for breakfast..."

"We can stay in bed, we're on vacation Harry."

"Yes, but it would be strange if I left your dormitory when the others returned, wouldn't it?"

"Ten minutes."

Harry sighed annoyed as Tom smiled victoriously. He tightened the grip on the boy's legs, stroking his thumbs a few times that always gave Harry a start. Began to run his lips against the delicate neck, swallowing - like a drug addict - every gasp and moan that came out of his mouth. And he moved, he moved his hips to make the two intimacies rub together. Tom didn't know what he was doing at all, but if he continued like this he could feel his pants tighten even tighter and Harry pant.

In the end it wasn't ten minutes. Tom didn't let Harry go until he felt them both stiffen with a strange sensation, both blushing when they realized they had soiled their boxers. They took turns showering, Harry went to wash first and ran away as soon as he had the opportunity. Tom took it more calmly, trying to understand what had just happened and considering whether to search through the books or not.

...

In the end, that strange reaction was called 'orgasm'. It happens when the body reaches a certain point of excitement, such that it has to let out that strange white liquid, which the books call 'sperm'. The books also talk about sexual preferences, he said it was completely normal to be aroused by a male, and hormones, which are at their peak in Tom and Harry's age. Tom read all the books he could find in the Hogwarts library, but they all said more or less the same thing. But many others also spoke of an act called 'sex', which intrigued Tom so much that he read as much as he could. In the end he came to the conclusion that he would have to wait to do it...

He wasn't sure if he had enough stamina to stretch the act as he pleased. He would train, first, then, when he knew it was time and he could watch and feel Harry completely freaked out with excitement, he would do it. First he would have to convince Harry... He didn't understand why, but having the boy's consent seemed important to him, otherwise they wouldn't have enjoyed both, right? And Tom wanted Harry to enjoy every one. Single. Moment.

Until that moment he enjoyed kisses. And what kisses. Tom was increasingly able to find empty moments where he could retrieve Harry, hide in a niche or in an empty classroom and kiss him. The boy at first moaned and snorted, but eventually melted under his touch, even when Tom squeezed his hair between his fingers or squeezed his hips so tightly that he left nail marks. One evening he noticed with satisfaction how those marks were slowly becoming bruises, when Harry could safely ask for an ointment and make them disappear. Tom felt so lucky to have Harry.

But summer came too quickly for their tastes and both found themselves facing the reality of the Muggle world. Everything turned upside down because of the war and the bombs that were dropped more and more often by the Nazzisti. The two returned to the orphanage, only to be greeted by tired looks and increasingly rare food for all the children there. The kissing and tapping sessions were abruptly stopped, to make way for sleepless nights due to sirens, the constant fear of being hit by a bomb and the heavy cold of the ground on the subway.

Tom couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. Come back and be able to sleep properly. Coming back and being able to eat more than a watery soup. To return and be able to touch Harry without the fear of being discovered. Yet something happened before their return to Hogwarts. On July 31, Harry's 12th birthday, a letter arrived stating the arrival of some people who wanted to meet the younger boy. He found out because he told her, after talking to Mrs. Cole about the letter he had received.

Harry looked hopeful. His eyes lit up with joy and he could hardly stay still. Tom, on the other hand, was seething with anger. He didn't even know these people, yet he was already thinking of leaving? To leave him there in the Muggle world? With the fear of not making it through the night? Tom was already about to carry out a plan to ruin everything, when he felt Harry take both his hands in his and tighten his grip, almost desperately.

"I'll tell them about you. I won't leave knowing that I have to leave you here."

And Tom smiled. A light and gentle smile, even if inside he was rejoicing. He wanted to take that little boy and kiss him as hard as possible, not caring about the prejudices that those stupid Muggles had. Tom was so happy. He had managed to get under Harry's skin and now he would not come out, for nothing in the world, he would stay, holding him tooth and nail next to him. He simply hugged him, unable to find suitable words to express his joy.

The meeting took place a week later, on August 8, two people arrived at Wool's orphanage. People who were definitely magicians, not even bothering to disguise themselves among all those muggles. The woman wore a well-pulled hairstyle on her head, blonde and with eyes so clear that they looked like a mirror. While the man had hair so similar to Harry, that he almost mistook him for an older him, but this is the only thing the two have in common, because his hair was brown and not raven, his eyes were brown and not green. These two people did not look like Harry, yet they seemed to recognize him.

"When I received that letter... I almost found it hard to believe it... And yet here you are, alive and well!" said the man, still unknown.

"I'm sorry but... I don't know you," Harry admitted, as he squeezed Tom's hand tightly. Tom smiled cordially at the two adults in front of him.

"You're right, sorry for my husband's outburst. My name is Euphemia, he is my husband Fleamont. What about you... You should be Harry, right?"

"Yes... Yes! It's me."

The woman finally loosened her cold expression and smiled, blinking several times to avoid crying. Which her husband didn't seem to do, because he began to cry freely and held Harry tightly in his arms. He held it so tightly that Tom feared he heard a few clicks of the bones. When he freed him, Tom quickly brought Harry to his side and watched the two adults warily.

"We've been looking for you for so long, Harry, we were afraid you were dead. To think that we took you to a Muggle orphanage, hah! What a shame for the Potter family name."

"I... I don't understand."

"It's understandable, dear, unfortunately Fleamont is not good with explanations, how about we sit down? Your friend can come too, if you prefer."

Harry looked at Tom with hope and how could he say 'no' to that doe eyes? He nodded quietly and the group moved towards the cafeteria. The two adults looked around with obvious disgust, but left comments for them, which both boys appreciated. How could they explain all that squalor? Tom definitely wouldn't make excuses, since Muggles were greedy assholes even during the wartime. They sat down at one of the tables, the two adults on one side, while the two boys on the other. Not far from them there were children playing with each other, but they were not paying attention to the strange group.

"Well, where to start...?"

"Why not from the beginning?" asked Tom ironically, receiving an elbow from Harry and a smirk from the woman, Euphemia.

"You're quite right, Slytherin, right?"

"Proud of it."

Tom stood straight on the spot and the woman smiled at him. Then his expression grew slightly darker and he looked carefully at the two boys, even if he didn't seem to be looking exactly at them, but rather at something even further away. In the meantime, the man was calm in his chair and offered reassuring smiles to both of them, he remained silent, so as not to spoil his wife's speech.

"Well. Fleamont and I got married right out of Hogwarts, an arranged marriage, you know? But the two of us fell in love during our school years, so the news didn't bother us at all. We then started trying to have a baby, but nothing seemed to work, not even the positions."

The woman took a deep breath, almost trembling. She tried to regain her composure, looking up at Harry, smiling slightly.

"It was 17 years before Fleamont and I had the happy news of being able to become parents. The pregnancy was going well, the Healer stated that the baby would be born in July, exactly at the end of July. We named that child 'Harry', in the name of Fleamont's father. Then, two years after his birth, a thief managed to break into the Potter mansion... We had assumed that he was looking for a hereditary object of the Potter family, instead... Instead..."

"Instead he had taken Harry.", Tom finished the sentence in his place, receiving a positive nod from the woman.

"We didn't know what he wanted to do with it. We were desperate, our only child, who disappeared on the night of his birthday... We thought he wanted blackmail, we were ready to receive a letter at any moment while the Aurors were looking for him. It was never like this... That scar, do you remember how you got it?"

"I... No, I'm sorry..."

Euphemia nodded slightly, smiling affectionately at Harry. The look she gave him gave Tom a jolt, a look that he had always hoped to receive but that he stopped looking for as soon as he was five years old. Now he couldn't imagine anyone trying to pull him away from Harry. His Harry. He tightened his hand, hoping to leave marks on it. Harry didn't seem to care about the nails digging into his hand, but he smiled slightly at both adults.

"I'm glad you told me this story... But I don't remember you and I can't leave Tom alone, not with the war going on."

"Oh, we get it.-", Fleamont intervenes for the first time, smiling amused at both. "-It was Dumbledore who told us of your arrival at Hogwarts, you know? He had also warned us that you had a friend, here, at the orphanage. It seemed wrong to separate you, the Muggle war also affected a war in the wizarding world, so you couldn't have seen each other except at Hogwarts."

"Then the danger... How can Hogwarts let children go in the middle of a war?", well... Tom wondered too.

"So we were thinking about adopting you both, in Muggle cards, but in the wizarding world we will actually be your biological parents, Harry, and your new magical guardian, Tom."

"So can we both come?!"

Fleamont and Euphemia both smiled, nodding to Harry's question. The youngest boy turned to Tom, sharing his most beautiful smile with him. Tom would have jealously guarded it, like all Harry's other reactions.