Chapter Text
‘And Harry, I think I want you.’
The boy’s- Tom’s words hung heavy in the stale air of the confining cupboard and Harry couldn’t begin to understand what he meant by them.
“What-“
Tom interrupts with a soft shushing.
“Wh-“
This time a frigid finger pressed gently to Harry’s lips
“Shhh, it’s time to go to sleep now Harry.” his voice soft now trying what seemed like a flimsy facsimile of tenderness.
The boy looming over him grabbed his wrist, not to hold him down this time but to guide him. Harry didn’t resist as he was led back under his blanket, the pillow slipped under his head as Tom slipped in and shared it with him.
Harry stayed stiff as a board as the other’s body tucked itself in beside him under the thin blanket. The worn thing, truly useless now as the parasite clung tight to him, seeping off all the warmth Harry had to give.
Tom had fit himself in against Harry like a puzzle piece. His jaw crowning Tom’s head, the silk curls tickle his chin. Even the boy’s shallow sporadic breaths against his chest lacked any heat.
His unbidden bedfellow kept Harry’s arms caged at his sides in an unyielding mockery of a hug.
Harry kept his wide eyes firmly on the darkness that swathed the unreachable exit, the monster between him and while he was pushed up against the wall.
As the seconds ticked on and the unused adrenaline rubbed all his nerves raw faded, replaced with bone deep tiredness. There was no way he was going to sleep like this. The danger was still here, even if his body was now blind to it.
He’ll just count the seconds until morning…
But could this nutter at least make the position even slightly comfortable? His attempts to wriggle in the other’s grip go nowhere, except to tire him out further.
Eventually he had no more fight to give that night and had to resentfully give up. He let his tense frame loosen letting his weight fall onto the other. As time crept on, Harry began to notice he was no longer pressed against a marble statue, the embrace slowly softened and started to share its heat instead of robbing him of all his.
The voice rang out for the last time that night.
“Sleep.”
Harry did, he could not fight the pull any longer and he drifted. Drifted into that hazy moment between wake and sleep and he thought for a moment warm lips had pressed against his cheek.
˖°⚘𓁹⚘°˖
That morning, like all mornings, Harry woke up alone.
Unlike other mornings where he’d wake up in his cupboard all alone today he was truly alone. Shaking off the night before as a bad waking dream he’s glad was over, he got ready for the day he sat waiting for someone to come and release him, only for time to keep ticking along. No one came. He tested the door only to find it was already unlocked. Cautiously he opened the cupboard door to an empty living room, and every door closed.
Each sound he made brought an odd anxiety, the once familiar house now Tom’s territory. Every creak in the wood- a pluck of the spider's web. He made his way to the kitchen to swipe another apple, his eyes lingered on the sink tempted to check for any sign of their guest. He thought better of it and left as quickly as he had come.
As he walked to the front door he stopped by the stairs one last time.
Watching the top expecting something.
Anything.
Nothing emerged from the shadows not yet lit by the morning light.
But he knew he was there, somewhere.
Opening the door to leave, he was stopped in his tracks, his breath arrested at the sight. On their welcome mat laid Dudley, who had never truly left.
But as he watched the slow rise and fall of his cousin’s chest- he could breathe again too,
He nudged the poor sod on the shoulder, Dudley looked up at him with tried red eyes. He was in no condition to go to school today, he’d have to stay home. Harry considered the same for a moment- But he just couldn’t stay here.
Dudley on shaking legs, let himself be led back inside and over to the couch. He was cool to the touch but nothing was blue at least. Harry was determined to ignore the memories that had been brought back to him.
Collapsing onto it, his cousin was out like a light the instant his head hit one of the decorative pillows.
The linen closet was upstairs.
He didn’t want to go up there. He didn’t want to be anywhere near-
But… he couldn’t leave Dudley like this. His own blanket wouldn’t be of any use, so Harry made his way up.
Each step filled him with nauseating dread that just built more and more within him, making his limbs unsteady, his steps now uncoordinated, as if begging him to go no further. And each squeaky step announced his arrival.
At the top however he was met not with the sight of a red eyed demon or those puppets wearing his family's skin, there was only the same unnerving stillness.
All the doors are shut here as well, and he couldn’t hear any signs of life. Not that he was going to let himself linger long enough to really concentrate on that, he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him.
He rushed to the closet grabbing whatever he first saw and-
Once again he felt that pin prick burn at his back.
His head whipped over to the source but only saw a closed door.
The hallway stayed silent.
He might have imagined it, but again he wasn’t going to linger long enough to find out.
He rushed down the stairs carelessly skipping steps clutching the blanket to his chest.
He rested it on a Dudley who was thankfully already looking better away from the elements.
Harry really had to leave now…he just had to hope he was the only one Tom crept on while they slept.
˖°⚘𓁹⚘°˖
Unsurprisingly he ended up entering the classroom long past the bell, the other kids already in their seats turned their attention to him as he tried to slip in. A few started to taunt him, but were swiftly shut down by the teacher stating she’ll not tolerate any more interruptions today.
His teacher oddly never confronted him for his tardiness, he did however catch her watching him; throughout the day he’d look up during work time only to catch her trying to discreetly look away.
He would have bristled at another pair of eyes on him if they hadn’t looked so worried.
The bell rang before he knew it, ending the school day and his escape from Tom far too soon. He didn’t want to go home, but what could he do? In the hall as he passed by his teacher who wished him a good afternoon, she seemed like she wanted to say more but the moment passed; he appreciated it nonetheless, Harry gave her a small wave and left.
𓁹
Wet brown leaves litter the sidewalk, turning to mush under foot. Against the backdrop of the stormy grey sky, popped the vibrant orange leaves that still desperately cling to bare branches, flickering in the wind like a flame about to be blown out.
The chill bit at his ears and stiffened his joints. And still he didn’t want to go home.
He always heard ‘the more you understand something the less you’ll fear it, it’s the unknown that’s truly scary.’
Well, the horror now had a name and a voice but Harry was no less afraid of his late night intruder. He only had more questions none that he really wanted the answers to, like -
Will he be back tonight?
He shuddered at the thought, phantom touches of silk strands tickle his nose.
But one question still seared deep in his mind like that monster’s eyes, needing to be answered
What is Tom?
Harry’s steps slowed as he came upon a playground. He really didn’t want to go home…
So he walked onto the woodchips and sat himself on the swing set.
His fingers creaked as he curled them around the cold metal chain. He let his feet dangle, toes dragging across the mulch.
Maybe he didn’t have to go home.
He kicked his legs in.
Just because Dudley didn’t go to Mrs. Figg’s last night doesn’t mean he couldn’t.
He kicked his legs out
His cousin probably just didn’t know where to go and just stayed close to home.
In - again l now gaining some momentum.
He could be safe. Maybe for just one night, but for now he let himself free.
A laugh escaped him, the cold burning his throat, as he tried to go as high as he could go.
˖°⚘𓁹⚘°˖
The sun is now dipping past the horizon, and the temperature dropping further with it. But Harry still didn’t care; he was too focused on the blur of an upside down world, as he swung leaning back as far as he could in the seat of the swing. Flying face first towards it until he was pulled and was flung back watching the wood chips pass him and then he’d reach for the sky again.
But rushing back now he saw something else.
In the dim he saw the cool sheen of the twilight reflected on oxfords standing not too far from him.
In his panic to flee he let go of the chain hoping to jump off and run, but he only managed to fall hard onto the floor. Teeth clack together when his skull meets the unforgiving earth, bits of wood digging into his scalp.
As he lay dazed all he could do was listen to his approach. The dusk overhead was soon eclipsed, Tom looming over him once more.
His face twisted into something ugly.
“Harry.” The boy fit so much venom into just his name.
Harry hid his face behind his hands and turned away, refusing to look at him.
There was no escape. Why did he let himself think things could be any different? Maybe it was for the best that his hopes just died here, and not when the puppet, Tom’s power would have made Mrs.Figg into, betrayed him just like everyone else.
Rough hands pulled at his wrists tearing them from his face and slammed down on the sides of his head. He could feel him on him now.
Still he refused to look.
“Harry.” Still dripping with contempt.
Harry began to shake, from fear or rage he did not know.
“Why didn’t you come home, Harry?”
Was that hurt in his voice?
That got Harry to look up, to see the gleam of tears in those vicious eyes.
When he didn’t answer Tom yanked him up by his wrists, holding them now in a punishing grip and dragged him along not caring if Harry could keep up.
He tripped on his own feet and was given no time to catch himself, his shoes scraping along the woodchips- then his knees.
Tom stopped when they got to the sidewalk. He released his hold on a wrist just so he could grab a chunk of his hair forcing Harry to look at him.
“I thought I made myself clear, Harry. You are mine. You don’t get to leave.“ every word its own threat.
“Tom-“
He didn’t let Harry finish, he let go of his hair and yanked him by the wrist he still crushed in his grip. Harry now at least found his footing, as he was dragged along like a misbehaving dog.
Even as his hammering heart threatened to burst from his chest, fear wouldn’t stop him “Tom- stop! Tom, what does that mean?! That ‘I’m yours’?”
Their bodies collided, Harry hadn’t predicted that the other would stop so abruptly, yet the older boy hadn’t budged at all.
“Say that again.” He couldn’t see the boy's face but there was an odd fervency to his demand.
“What-”
“ You know which part.” He bit out coldly, now facing him. He tried wearing a cold mask that failed to hide the heat in his eyes. His grip on Harry changed, making sure to keep him close. “Say it again, that last part.”
“…I’m yours?”
A smile spread across his face like cracks on a frozen pond, “Again.”
“No!”
“Say it!!”
“I’m not yours! Stop being crazy! I will neve-“
A hand slaps over his mouth, nails digging painfully into his cheek.
“I don’t want to have to hurt you Harry.”
His knuckles hurt as they cracked against the prat’s nose. Tom’s head cocked just a little to the side now but he stayed silent.
He released his grip on Harry and clutched at his face. The blood didn’t look right, even in the dark of night he knew it shouldn’t look that black and it was too thick, slowly it dripped onto that pale hand.
His eyes now looked wild and hungry like something feral. Nails now deep in his scalp as his head was pulled towards the other’s, dragged into-
a kiss.
It was quick but the smell of stale blood made it nauseating, he was just lucky enough that it smeared away from the lips.
The kiss left him more out of sorts than when he almost cracked his head open and Tom again took advantage of it pulling Harry along again with no more fight.
They finally arrived home with no more fuss or interruptions. Petunia opened the door for them, ecstatic to see Tom. She seemed like she was about to say something but Tom pushed past her, guiding Harry with him up the stairs.
Bringing him to his room.
It felt weird how quickly that became true, even if their ‘guest’ ever left he doesn’t think it will ever feel like Dudley’s room again. It’s been stained. Tainted.
Tom made Harry enter first, staying in the door frame until Harry was near the bed.
“You’ll be staying here now. Try and get comfortable.” Despite the horror the words evoked in Harry, the older boy's tone was warm and for once truly welcoming.
Not waiting for the younger to respond he bid him farewell with a soft “I’ll go get our dinner.”
And with that Tom was gone, the door locking with a click behind him. Harry rushed to try it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He still tried with all his might, as if that would do anything- besides wear him out again.The lock seemed to be on the other side now? When was this done? How long had this been Tom’s plan?! Was it just after he left or was it when he didn’t come back.
It didn’t feel right being here, not just because he had never been allowed here, but what he had seen the last time he had been. Left with nothing else to do however, Harry let himself take inventory on all the changes Tom’s made to the room.
Clearly Tom had Aunt Petunia busy, the bedding was brand new, The sheets a deep green silk covered by a thick comforter that would surely keep him warm.
The books that now practically filled the room. Book piles filled his desk and what didn’t fit were in neat stacks on the floor, Dudley never had a need for bookshelves before, maybe a bookcase will arrive soon. Hopefully they'll keep him busy.
He recognized one from earlier, the thin white picture book with a striped hat was now laying on the bedside table titled
“The Cuckoo Bird”