Chapter Text
The pain was excruciating and all-consuming.
His flesh was nothing more than fuel for it to burn through and every breath he took gave it more strength to torment him. Tom had never felt anything like it. A tortured shriek tore itself free from his lungs, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life. White-hot spikes piercing every inch of his skin and making him wish he was ripped asunder in a spray of guts and gore. It would be so much more merciful than the agony he was feeling now.
God, make it stop, make it stop, makeitstopmakitstoppmakeits – Tom begged until even thinking became too difficult. His surroundings began to fade and the circumstances that lead to this situation was lost to the dizzying haze clouding everything but the pain. He didn’t know if he was still screaming or if he was standing or lying down. Time was slowly unraveling, and he began to lose hope that he could ever escape this.
And then, just when the pain was at its worst, it dissipated, like fog off the ocean.
Tom’s heart was pounding, but his mind was empty, still reeling from the terrible experience. It took him a few attempts to identify the cold floor beneath him, and when he finally forced his eyes opened, dancing dark dots greeted him. There was something almost comforting about that sight; the darkness, making him feel hidden and safe. However, the small flashes of something else in his vison reminded him that he was still in danger and needed to get oriented.
So, Tom blinked, and felt his breathing steady as his surroundings slowly became crisper.
He was in a hallway bathed in subtle light – from the windows displaying the garden, his brain disclosed a tad belatedly. The memory of him walking in, through a door with golden dragon shaped handles, sluggishly returned to him. He had been searching for something or maybe searching for somewhere? Dull, throbbing pain assaulted his head and interrupted his thoughts. Grimacing in pain, Tom tried turned his head, but the movement made him consciously of the unusual way his nose was bending. He must have broken it, perhaps when he had fallen to the ground? Blood was pouring, most prominently from his left nostril, and Tom automatically found himself sniffing. To his surprise, the feeling of blood running down his throat felt good, soothing it after his screams had run it raw.
Unfortunately, the action seemed to catch the attention the person in the hall with him – Harry, the one who had cursed him, mumbled something indistinctly from a distance away. Dimly, Tom became aware of the sound of footsteps walking towards him and he didn’t know if he felt fear or anger.
“Schlampige Arbeit, Gaunt,” a deep voice sighed,” wie enttäuschend.”
Tom felt his body tense, as blurry as his memories was, he was certain he would have remembered someone other than Harry being in the room. He didn't recognize the voice, but that wasn’t saying much considering how he was still having difficulties thinking straight. Suddenly, or perhaps Tom had blacking out for a second, dark shoes appeared a few inches from his face. A warm hand stroke through his hair, first hesitantly, then more certainly as Tom unconsciously leaned his head back towards the touch.
Harry’s voice rang out sharp and clear in the moonlit hall, and Tom would have flinched away from the coldness in it hadn’t the gently stokes reassured him that Harry’s anger was directed towards the unknown man lingering in the room with them. For a split second, Tom allowed himself to wonder if it had been that man and not Harry that had cursed him, but no, the memory of Harry pointing his wand against him was unmistakable.
Harry had been the cause of his agony.
Humiliation, anger, fear and a different kind of pain – one that made Tom think of cold nights in the orphanage, feeling discarded and rejected and small and – pathetic, Tom sneered to himself. Utterly pathetic.
The young slytherin tried to twist away from Harry’s touch, but residue of agony traveled up his spine and a moan of pain escaped his mouth. Harry scooped him up in his arms, holding Tom high against his chest as if trying to shield him from the effects of the curse he cast. Tom wanted to scratch out his lovely green eyes but had only the strength to glare. Harry regarded him warily, like he was holding a wild animal, and yet his grip remained gentle.
The voice spoke again, this time the sound was much closer, Harry’s head snapped towards it. Tom tilted his head to look at the man – a lean, dark haired wearing a hostile and unpleasant expression. He looked vaguely familiar, Tom might have seen him inside the ballroom, but he couldn’t remember his name.
Harry and the man continued arguing in German, frustratedly enough, so the only word Tom understood was Grindelwald. When the man stretched out his hand towards them, Harry hissed and tighten his grip on Tom.
“I’ve punished him, there is no need for anyone else to be involved,” Harry snarled in parseltongue, which startled both the man and Tom, though for two completely different reasons.
It been a while since I heard him speak it, Tom thought, his anger momentary forgotten, our language.
The man said something else, but Harry ignored him, eyes returning to Tom. A faint, sad smile tugged his lips, and Tom thought he looked beautiful. The air around them hummed with energy, and Tom felt his eyes closing even before Harry said; “Sleep.”
There was that effortless display of wandless magic again. And that was the last coherent Tom had before darkness invaded his eyes and dragged him down, down, down into oblivion.
-
“What are you doing?”
“Is it for Grindelwald?”
“Crucio.”
Tom awoke with a start, memory of a ball of red light and pain chasing after him. Sweat poured down his pale face, and the beating of his heart matched the unevenness of his breathing. His eyes flashed around, and he felt a little reassured when he recognized the familiar walls, the tapestry and soft bed he was laying in. He was back in the Peverell castle, while it wasn’t home, well, Tom wasn’t certain what he considered home anyway, it felt much safer than Grindelwald’s manor.
And he wasn’t alone.
Harry was sitting in a chair next to the bed, one leg tucked up against his chest and his chin rested on his knee as he watched Tom. Only Harry could make such an ungraceful pose look so elegant. Tom both envied and adored him for it, even after all that happened. Then again, Tom had also once loathed Harry for the same traits, or something like that. It felt like lifetime ago, obsessing over Harry from the distance – plotting to send a snake after him. Like most things with Harry, it had ended with unexpected results. Tom didn’t regret meeting the older boy, but after what happened, Tom was tempted to make Harry regret their meeting.
If he already doesn’t, a small voice whispered inside his head, and Tom felt infuriated by the suggestion, maybe he hurt because he is sick of you, like everyone else.
They regarded one another in silence a little while longer, both lost in thought. In the end, Harry spoke first, the sound of his voice causing Tom to flinch, and then flush in embarrassment. Things were bad enough without him displaying his weakness so openly. Of course, Harry noticed it, and paused before finishing the word he started on. His eyes became distant and cold, which was why Tom was surprised when Harry said; “I’m sorry.”
“You’re…sorry,” Tom repeated slowly.
Harry nodded briskly, “For hurting you, I was equally, if not more, responsible for the situation, yet you had to endure all the pain.”
Tom struggled to process Harry’s words for a long moment. He didn’t fully understand what he was trying to say, and he certainly hadn’t expected him to apologize. Narrowing his eyes, Tom said, “How are you responsible for me trying to…,” Tom paused, half-fearing Harry would throw another curse at him again if he fully admitted the crime, “do what I did?”
Harry leaned back against his chair and looked away, when he answered his voice was strange. Hollow and emotionless, and something about it set Tom on edge, “I should have kept a better eye on you, stopped you befor- no, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. We’re family, I regret that I have given you reason to fear me.”
Tom blinked, almost too flabbergasted to response, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
Harry’s eyes snapped towards him. This time however, Tom stared him down, calm and steady.
“I would prefer if you weren't sorry, what bloody use do I have for your guilt if it isn’t enough to stop you from torturing me?” Tom sneered,” and why would it matter to me that you consider me family if your bloody Dark Lord means more?”
You would think a lifetime of secondhanded things would learn Tom Riddle to settle, but all it had done was make him crave things more intensely. He might have sort of accepted Grindelwald ranking above him in the eyes of Harry, but only because he was already planning to kill him. But now, presented with Harry’s apologize and guilt that stank of pity, Tom felt enraged.
“It’s not a matter of what means more. Your actions demanded punishment, if I hadn’t done what I did the Dark Lord wou-“
“What a loyal dog you are, tell me do you crawl usually before your master? Beg for him to pull you into his lap?” Tom practically spit the words through barred teeth, hot jealousy making him murderous.
The words visibly stunned Harry, who’s mouth moved up and down as if he was grasping for something to say.
Tom didn’t wait, he threw the blankets aside and jumped out the bed, standing next to Harry, using the lingering pain in his bones to fuel his anger further. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you ask, Tom’s wand wasn’t in his sleeves, so he couldn’t return the favor of, what had Harry said? Ah, yes, the Crucio.
Another time then, for now Tom settled with grabbing Harry’s hair and pulling his head back, “Was the thought of me killing him so unbearable that you couldn’t help but to react?”
Fury, the kind that could shake a room entered Harry's eyes. Instead of trying to escape Tom’s no doubt painful grip on his hair, Harry snatched Tom’s shoulder and pulled him closer so that they were eye to eye.
“Are you truly this stupid? Wait don’t answer that, the fact that you went inside Lord Gellert Grindelwald manor with a cursed item reeking so strong of dark magic that no Dark Lord could miss it, and then wandered off when literally every person in the room was watching you like a hawk,” Harry hissed into parseltongue midway through his rant, “I assumed my mother manipulated you into it, but now I see your idiocy did much of the guiding.”
“Evidently, I hadn’t needed to worry about the people watching me in the room, my mistake was not watching out for you. Really, your mother did me a disservice not warning me,” Tom shoot back.
Harry’s grip loosened and he threw his head back and laughed. It was a cruel sound. In another circumstance, Tom might have enjoyed it.
“Yes, ten seconds under the Cruciatus Curse was certainly the worst way your night could have ended,” Harry said, ”how unfortunate that you weren’t caught by any of the other followers of Grindelwald, they would have been so much more merciful, after all, you had only been trying to harm their Lord.”
The back of Tom's neck heated with humiliation, but he refused to concede, “So I should be thanking you for nobly torturing me? What happened to being ‘sorry’ and having ‘regrets’?”
Harry stood up, forcing Tom to let go of his hair, and he loomed in way that had nothing to do with height, “You would have preferred to end up dead? Because that was a real possibility, the man you saw with me certainly thought it was deserved and he wasn’t the only one. He is probably trying to convince the Dark Lord right now.”
Death. The possibility was too frightening to even consider, Harry had to be bluffing. He had to be.
“I’m your cousin, surely Grindelwald wouldn’t risk alienating the Gaunt family by killing me,” Tom’s voice came out weak and uncertain despite his best efforts.
“Oh, believe me, killing my family is not something the Dark Lord ever hesitate to do, my grandparents, some uncles, my…siblings” Harry said with a mirthless smile, “you could say it’s how we became acquainted.”
Something about Harry’s expression seemed dangerous, and Tom couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be walking a dangerous line if he asked more. And yet, between the endless mysteries and the threat of death, Tom couldn’t let this go either.
“I suppose those family members couldn’t have meant much, if you are serving the man that murder them,” Tom said, uncertain if he wanted Harry to deny or confirm it, and afraid what it would mean for his own survival.
It proved to be the wrong thing to say.
The room turned darker, darker and even darker still. The only light that remained was the unholy glow from Harry’s eyes, and never had it looked more unnatural. A tense silence hung between them, heavier and more frightening than Tom had ever heard before. In his hand, he clutched a few stands from Harry’s hair like a lifeline. Before him stood something…something ancient and mighty, and yet it was also undoubtedly Harry. Tom felt certain that he would be cursed again and braced himself for the pain, which seemed to snap Harry out of the oddness.
Clearing his throat, Harry was himself again and nothing else. It was as if Tom imagined the otherness.
The older teen spoke softly, “That’s a story for another time. I suppose I can’t blame you for thinking so, I knew speaking of your death would provoke a reaction “ Harry sighed, “while is true that he might not consider what I did enough when he hears of it. It doesn’t matter, I won’t allow anyone else to touch you, even if it means raising my wand against you again.”
Those words shouldn’t be reassuring, and yet Tom felt his heartbeat slowing. Then Harry smiled at him, looking so pretty that Tom couldn’t help but to flush with pleasure. There was something infuriating with that reaction. Tom should feel furious, loathe Harry for pulling him through all these different emotions in one night and then reducing him to a blushing child at the end of it. But Tom feel most acutely was tiredness, that and hunger, so painfully sharp that he had to find a way to sate it. He needed to rest, clear his and take control over himself. But before that he needed Harry to feel like his again, for this nightmare to matter less.
So, he leaned in and kissed Harry.