Chapter Text
Tom Marvolo Riddle hates waiting. His pale, spindly fingers produce a cigarette and a battered lighter from the folds of his robes. He brings it up to his lips and lights his cigarette, exhaling a huff of smoke into the empty classroom before returning the items to their obscure pocket. Dark eyes flick over to one of the windows, showing what some might consider a beautiful sunset bathing the room in fading golden light. But to Tom, it was merely an indicator that his 2nd in command was going to be late.
He had told Avery to pass the message on to his 2nd earlier that day. It wasn’t a particularly difficult task, but knowing Avery... Tom briefly considers which hex is most appropriate as he impatiently examines his immaculate fingernails.
“You summoned me?” Tom glances up at his thoroughly annoyed housemate, arms crossed and scowling as if this was the last place he wanted to be. His vibrant green eyes narrow in a half-hearted glare.
“Harry,” Tom’s smile stretches a little too wide, bordering on the predatory, “How nice of you to join me.” The disgruntled teenager scoffs, green robes swishing as he weaves through the rows of empty desks.
“Fuck off with your pleasantries, Tom.” His tone doesn’t carry as much of the venom he usually reserves especially for Tom. Fully taking in Potter’s unkempt appearance, Tom barely contains an undignified snort of amusement. Mud and grass stains are splattered across Harry’s trouser legs and his perpetually messy hair has a small twig sticking out at an odd angle between his dark locks. Tom raised an incredulous eyebrow at the sight.
“Were you attacked?”
“I was actually. A certain someone tried to jinx me when I wouldn’t stop to talk to him.” Harry sneered, annoyance rolling off him in waves.
“Avery can be rather…overzealous.” Tom concedes as Harry settles on the nearest desk, the two just barely brushing shoulders.
“No,” Harry drawled, “He’s lovely on the rare occasions he manages to remove his head from his arse.”
“Charming as always.” Tom tips his hand, wordlessly offering Harry a drag. He lightly shakes his head and Tom takes another drag, admiring the way golden light catches in his perpetually unruly hair and reflects off of round spectacles.
“Yeah well, I’d be more worried about finding a replacement for him.”
“What did you do?” The corner of his mouth twitches upward at the little smirk Harry tries and fails to keep off his face.
“Let’s just say he’s going to be in the hospital wing for a few days getting his ears un-shrivelled.” Tom gives an appreciative little hum. Pride and something akin to fondness fills his empty chest. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the sun continue to sink behind the trees before Harry speaks up.
“Is this going to take long? I need time to study before dinner.”
“Don't fret, love. This shouldn’t take long.” Tom checks the silencing charm and secrecy wards again. “I need you to open the Chamber of Secrets tonight and retrieve a certain scroll from Salazar Slytherin’s personal library.”
Harry says nothing.
Normally, he would offer some kind of token objection before ultimately agreeing with a casual shrug. But now there’s not even a scoff. Tom raises an expectant eyebrow. It’s not like he’s asking Harry to kill someone. Not yet, anyway. He can practically see the gears turning in Harry’s head. The silence stretches out in a long pause.
“Why?” Harry finally asks. Concern and suspicion line his brow. Tom tries to stamp down his annoyance, because really, it’s a simple request. He hasn’t needed to cajole Harry into doing menial tasks for him in several months. Tom takes another slow drag.
“I need it for a certain ritual.” Tom responds evenly, smoke curling upwards as he tries to keep the mounting irritation from his voice.
“What kind of ritual?” Harry presses, ignoring the way Tom’s nostrils flare and his fingers tighten imperceptibly on the cigarette.
“It’s nothing you need to be concerned about” Tom coldly bites out in a tone that he knows makes lesser men flinch. But this is Harry Potter he’s talking to.
He narrows his green eyes, jutting out his square jaw in defiance as he glares at the older teen. Tom draws himself up like a snake prepared to strike.
Neither says a word. The silence is agonizing.
After several minutes, Harry pulls back, smoothing over his expression.
“Fine.” Tom just barely managed to contain his sigh of relief, feeling the tension roll off his shoulders. He had really hoped they were past the point of these ridiculous stand-offs. Especially since he always gets what he wants. One way or another.
“Good. You need to sneak out after curfew, and-”
“I’m not getting your stupid book.” He says it with all the nonchalance he can muster but Tom can hear the mocking, spiteful edge. He doesn’t even give Tom the courtesy of looking at him. Tom can’t remember ever wanting to smack him more.
“Harry,” The implicit warning seeps into Tom’s voice, but goes unheeded by Harry. Merlin, he never did learn when to shut up.
“Or what, you’re gonna sic Avery on me again? Oh wait-”
“Harry,” Tom seethes.
“No!” Harry shouts pushing away from the desk “Fuck you, I am not one of your minions you can just order around. You may have my hands tied right now, but I will never stop fighting you. I was sent here with one reason. You’re bloody delusional if you think I’m going to-”
“Harry.” The sibilant hiss of parseltongue stops Harry in his tracks. Drawn to his full height, Tom towers over him with a look that has the younger man paling. The rest of Harry’s scathing response dries up in his throat.
“Give me your hand.” Raising an uncertain eyebrow, Harry slowly uncurls his shaking fingers, revealing his palm. Tom languidly takes another drag from his dwindling cigarette, dark eyes boring into Harry’s skull.
Before the anxious teen could even blink, Tom viciously stubs the burning end of his cigarette into Harry’s open palm. With a pained shout, Harry recoils away, using his good hand to try and pry Tom’s fingers off of his wrist.
“What the fuck, get off me!” Tom uses his considerable height to crowd Harry back into the desk, pinning his wrists down. Harry prepares to kick Tom in the shin, but completely stills as emerald eyes meet dark irises, now swirling with vermillion leeching outward from bottomless pupils. A cruel smile spreads across Tom’s face, contorting his aristocratic features into something that closer resembled the monster Harry knew he would grow into. Harry’s breath stutters to a halt.
“The only reason I allow you to speak to me this way is because I find it mildly amusing.” Tom’s spindly fingers gently caress the bruises blooming on Harry’s wrists. “Have you forgotten how easily I can rip my way into that pretty head of yours?” Tom leans forward closing what little space was left between them. He noses along a strong jaw, mouth resting against the shell of Harry’s ear, eliciting a shiver.
“I could make your life a living hell. I could break you.” He pauses to drink in the terror rolling off of Harry, practically tasting it in the air.
“But I won’t.” Tom pulls away to better appreciate the look on Harry’s face. He releases one of Harry’s wrists to firmly grip his jaw, forcing the younger man to look at him.
“Because I take care of what’s mine.”
Satisfied with his little display, Tom extricates himself from Harry’s personal space, leaving him to nearly collapse. Tom thinks he looks quite the picture; pupils dilated, shaking like a leaf, and so nearly hyperventilating. But the cherry on top is the unshed tears swimming in Harry’s eyes. Tom huffs out a laugh, turning on the poor teenager with a vicious smirk.
“Have I upset you, my darling?” Tom croons in mock sympathy at the unconcealed hurt that pulls Harry’s mouth into a deep frown.
“Let me make it better.” Pale fingers wrap around Harry’s wrist to bring the burned palm up to Tom’s mouth. In a deceptively tender gesture, Tom places a gentle kiss to the angry welt that will surely scar over.
Harry sucks in a surprised breath, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. Tom murmurs “My horcrux.” into Harry’s palm, lips delicately brushing over the afflicted area.
Harry forcefully shoves Tom’s looming figure away, bumping into desks and throwing several colorful curses over his shoulder as he practically runs out of the room. Malicious laughter rings through the empty classroom along with the promise to see Harry at dinner. The sound carries even after he slams the door shut.