Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tom was walking though Diagon Alley, gloved hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trench coat to keep them warm. Snow was falling softly, coating everything in a thin layer.

To anyone other than Tom, it would be beautiful. To Tom, though, it was awful. The chill sunk deep into his bones, forcing him to fight back the instinctive shiver.

Tom glanced through the window of the apothecary as he walked by it, but as Tom was about to continue, his eyes landed on a small figure, and his feet stopped automatically.

In the warm lighting of the store, a child dressed in a red furred jacket was sitting on the floor near the door. Chubby, rosy red cheeks were puffed out in a pout. Big emerald eyes glistened with angry tears, and the child’s inky black hair was disheveled. He looked to be around two or so years old.

There was an odd throb in chest at the sight, and Tom futilely tried to push down the wave of greed and possessiveness. The child was...adorable, as reluctant as he was to use the word. Tom had never seen such beautiful green eyes, and the angry look made them even prettier. Like the shiny emeralds on the cursed necklace in Borgin and Burkes’, locked behind indestructible glass.

His feet seemed to gain a mind of their own, and Tom took a few steps closer. Through the window, he could see five men further inside, three seemingly arguing. His brow rose when he saw Professor Snape there, one of the three arguing.

Tom glanced between the little boy, and the men. Their backs were turned, all of them focused on whatever they were arguing about. The store’s clerk was nervously watching.

Not a single eye was on the boy.

...No. Tom wouldn’t just kidnap him. There was absolutely no reason to.

But he was so adorable.

Emerald eyes looked out the glass door, locking onto Tom’s lone form in the empty street. They lit up, and a bright smile curled pouty pink lips upwards. The child began waving rapidly at him, as if he knew Tom. He didn’t though. Tom would have remembered such unique green orbs.

His hand rose, and waved back without his say-so.

Green orbs lit up even brighter, if possible. Tom watched as the boy pushed himself onto wobbly, chubby little legs that were clothed in soft gray pants. Tom nearly sent a disdainful look towards the hideous yellow boots the child was wearing.

Something like glee filled him as the boy waddled to the door, and pressed yellow gloved fingers to the glass. Green eyes stared up at him, almost begging Tom to take him away from the boredom the boy was surely facing.

...Who was Tom to deny such a face?

Tom pushed the door open gently, careful not to make noise or push the child, and the child moved back, eyes lighting up. The moment the door was opened enough, the boy ran out as fast as he could on shaky legs, colliding with Tom’s legs. Arms wrapped around his legs, and the child looked up at him, smiling.

Oh. That did it. The boy was his now. It was the child’s fault for smiling at Tom so brightly, looking so happy to see a complete stranger. It was also the child’s parent’s fault for not watching him closely enough.

Tom bent down, a sweet smile on his lips that made the little boy’s face shine brighter, if possible.

“Hello, little one. I’m Tom. What’s your name?” Tom crooned, tucking a black strand of wayward hair behind the boy’s ear. The slight touch sent tingles through his entire body, even though the contact was through his gloves.

“Am Hawwy!” The boy, or, if he guessed correctly, Harry, babbled. “Papa got angwy wiff’ Sevvy.” Black brows furrowed in an angry, adorable pout.

“Oh, dear. That’s awful.” Tom cooed, brushing away the rapidly falling snow that had landed on Harry’s messy locks. “Would you like to go someplace where they are not fighting, Harry?”

Harry nodded rapidly, sending a pouty glare at the apothecary. Tom followed the glare, darkly amused when he realized they hadn’t even noticed Harry’s absence.

Tom held out his hand for Harry, and when the small child placed his gloved hand onto Tom’s palm, he marveled at the size difference. So adorable.

Closing his fingers around the hand with deep satisfaction, he stood. “Would you like to see my home, Harry? There’s toys, and lots of other kids.” Tom sent the boy another sweet smile.

Harry nodded again, waddling along with Tom through the snowy street, towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“’S there treak?” Harry asked with wide green eyes. Tom flipped the butchered word over in his head, struggling to figure out what it meant. What on earth was treak?

“What’s treak, Harry?” Tom asked curiously, tapping his wand against the brick wall that would lead them into the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry puffed his cheeks out in another pout. “Treak-treacle tar’.” Harry huffed out, and Tom finally understood. His lips twitched in amusement as he guided Harry into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, and opened the door that lead inside.

“No, there isn’t any treacle tart,” Harry looked about ready to throw a fit, so Tom hurried to say, “But we can make some.”

Harry instantly lit up again, gaining a little hop in his step as he followed Tom towards the door that led into London. The bartender, another Tom, barely sent them a glance. None of the customers looked up.

Dark glee and possessiveness filled him. Harry was as good as his, at that point.

A few steps down the sidewalk, Harry stopped, feet planting on the sidewalk. He was pouting again.

“Harry?” Tom said softly, kneeling next to Harry. “Is something wrong?”

Harry’s lower lip wobbled, and Tom’s chest gave an unexpected, sharp throb. “Feet huwt. Cawwy?” Harry asked, emerald eyes glassy with tears that threatened to spill. Tom’s heart felt like it would shrivel up if Harry cried. How odd.

Tom smiled sweetly again. “Of course, Harry.” He stood, easily picking up the slightly chubby child. Arms wrapped around his neck, and Tom felt dark satisfaction curl in his chest when Harry hid his cold face in Tom’s neck.

“Cold.” Harry complained, and Tom wordlessly untied the front of his trench coat. He pulled it so that it covered most of Harry, minus his shoulders and all above, and tied it once more. Tom’s arm wrapped around the boy’s middle so that he wouldn’t fall.

“Thanky.” Harry said happily into his neck.

Tom chuckled, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. He was sent a few odd looks, but never a second glance. “It’s ‘thank you,’ Harry. Not ‘thanky’.”

Harry nodded seriously against his neck. “Thanky,” he said again, and Tom bit back an uncouth snort.

Soon enough, they arrived in front of Wool’s Orphanage. Tom strode inside, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Some newer kids sent him a bewildered glance, but the older ones that had learned better didn’t so much as look his way.

At the top of the steps, he was stopped by a strained, “Tom Marvolo Riddle, who is that you’re carrying?”

Tom sent Mrs. Cole, whom was standing a bit down the hall to their left, an unamused look. “Mrs. Cole, this is Harry.” his lips twitched upwards when Harry waved rapidly at her. “His parent’s are...indisposed. He just showed up.” Tom lied easily. Harry was entirely clueless as to what he was insinuating.

Her face twisted, unable to settle on either annoyance or pity. “There aren’t enough rooms, Tom. We’ve just gotten five more-”

“He will sleep with me, of course.” Tom cut in, amused at her confused and slightly horrified expression. He could only imagine what she was thinking, as he would not enter the unworthy mind of a Muggle.

“Well, then,” she said stiffly. “He’ll be your responsibility.”

Tom smiled sharply. “That was the idea, Mrs. Cole.”

He turned dismissively, and walked towards his room at the end of the hall. Harry had his little gloved hands in Tom’s hair, playing with the soft strands, entranced.

Tom entered his room, closing the door behind him. Tom locked it to be safe, then untied his trench coat with one hand. It fell open, and he gently sat Harry down on his bed. Reluctantly, Harry released his hair, so that he wouldn’t be pulling on it.

“Let’s get that jacket off before you get too hot, alright?” Tom said, and Harry nodded, legs kicking back and forth on the edge of the bed.

He unzipped Harry’s jacket, and slid it off, revealing the red shirt beneath. Tom gently took Harry’s small hands in his own, and slipped the gloves off. The sight of such small, soft hands caused an odd, but not unpleasant, pang in his chest.

Tom knelt down and slid off Harry’s hideous yellow boots, allowing them to fall to the wooden floor with two small thuds. Harry’s feet were clothed with yellow and orange lion socks. The sight was...oddly adorable.

“Treak?” Harry piqued curiously. His emerald eyes were wide and pleading.

“Alright.” Tom agreed easily. He was sure there was a recipe down there somewhere, and the matrons wouldn’t argue with him. They all knew better, now.

Harry smiled widely, and Tom felt another odd pang in his chest.

Adorable.

Chapter Text

Tom shifted slightly, quietly placing the book he had been reading aloud earlier onto the old desk beside the bed. Settling back, Tom ran his long fingers through Harry’s messy hair. Harry was lying on Tom’s front, cheek pressed to Tom’s chest. His eyes were shut, and his breathing even. Harry had fallen asleep before Tom could finish the story.

Tom allowed his lips to twitch upwards at the sight. Harry looked so innocent and peaceful. Tom didn’t know what he would do when he had to return to Hogwarts in a few days, the holidays ending. The mere thought of leaving Harry alone in such a place without Tom there was maddening.

And he couldn’t take Harry to Hogwarts, could he? Tom was sure people would be on the lookout for the missing child. Especially one as adorable as Harry.

He pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of Harry’s head, earning a few sleepy snuffles, before Harry snuggled closer and settled down.

Tom carefully laid down, Harry fast asleep on his front. He tugged the threadbare blanket over both of them, making sure Harry was completely covered. Tom couldn’t bare the thought of Harry becoming ill.

He sent the dim bulb on the ceiling a glare, then relaxed, satisfied, when his magic shut it off for him. Tom would’ve hated to wake Harry up for something as simple as turning off a light bulb.

He absentmindedly stroked Harry’s hair. All of his instincts screamed at him not to leave Harry behind when he went to Hogwarts, but Tom didn’t exactly have a choice. If someone saw Harry, and they took him…

No. That wouldn’t, couldn’t, happen. Harry would have to stay here, where he would not be taken, no matter how terrifying the thought was. Tom would ensure Harry was left alone by the other children, and that the matrons fed and clothed him well. After his entrance with Harry earlier, everyone already knew Harry was his. They would not dare cause him harm, or neglect him.

Making up his mind, he drifted off to sleep, still stroking Harry’s hair.

Tom woke to cold little fingers on his cheeks, and he fought back the instinctive urge to slap them away, quickly realizing it was just Harry. Instead of removing them, he leaned into them, allowing a small smile to curve his lips. He had been smiling an awful lot around Harry. Only for him, though.

“Tom, Tom. Cold ‘n hungy.” Harry whined, snuggling up against his side, where it was warmer.

Tom wrapped an arm around Harry, burying his face in the child’s messy black locks. He was awarded with an indignant squeal, and little hands pawing at his shirt.

“Tom!” Harry complained, and Tom hid a grin in his hair.

“Shush, Harry. Let’s sleep for...hmm...a week?” Tom teased, and Harry gasped, horrified.

“No! No! Hawwy cold and hungy.” Tom pulled back in time to see Harry’s lower lip wobble, and tears well up in emerald orbs. He instantly sat up.

“Alright. Let’s get you into some warmer clothes, then we’ll go eat. And it’s ‘I’m cold and hungry.’” Tom corrected, sliding out of bed. He ignored the instant chill that seeped in, and walked to the old wardrobe.

Tom scowled in annoyance when he realized that no clothes would fit Harry. Harry was so tiny, and Mrs. Cole had taken all of his old clothes for the younger children a while back. Not that Tom had cared at the time. He had grown out of them.

He send Harry a glance. The child was curled up under the thin blanket, trying to stay warm. Tom turned his attention back to the clothes.

Tom paused, a smirk curling his lips when he realized that it was the 31^st. He was 17, so he would just shrink his clothes for Harry. Tom took one of his long-sleeved shirts out, then his softest pants.

He walked back to the bed, and sat on the edge. “Harry, sit up.”

Harry made a huffing noise under the blanket. “Nuh. Tom come in! Cold out.” Harry said, clearly pouting.

Tom sighed. “No treacle tart for you tonight, if you don’t come out.”

Instantly, Harry was scrambling to get out from beneath the blanket. “Treak! Treak!” Tom watched in amusement as he crawled close to Tom, arms up in a gesture that demanded he be clothed.

Tom hummed. “I don’t know… You took a while to obey. Maybe I’ll make some, then eat it all up by myself.”

Harry’s lower lip trembled, green eyes becoming glassy. “N-no! Hawwy want treak! Want treak!”

Tom leaned over and brushed the messy black strands of hair back off of Harry’s forehead, but they fell back down instantly. He gave Harry a sweet smile. “Then you’ll be good?”

Harry nodded rapidly, arms still up. Tom shrunk the clothes and dressed him, fussing over Harry until they fit perfectly, and Harry was warm and satisfied. He made Harry wear his hideous yellow boots, despite Harry making pouty complaints. Tom didn’t want him walking around in the filthy place without shoes, if Tom even allowed him to walk.

After dressing himself, he took Harry downstairs, carrying Harry the entire time. Harry didn’t complain, enjoying the attention.

He and Harry sat at the end of the table, Harry pouting when Tom sat him down on his lap.

“Hawwy sit.” Harry insisted. Tom just sent him an amused look.

“You are sitting.” Tom said, and piled food onto the plate. Harry’s face lit up when he saw the eggs, sausage and toast.

“Eggs, eggs!” He demanded, looking up at Tom with big eyes.

Amused, he began feeding Harry, taking bites of his own as Harry chewed.

After eating, he carried Harry back upstairs. Harry snuffled, hiding his face in Tom’s neck.

“Where mama n’ papa?” Harry asked, little fingers curled in Tom’s shirt. Tom stopped at that, holding down the possessiveness filling him.

“Why do you ask, Harry? Do you not want to stay with me?” Tom asked, carefully keeping his tone soft. If Harry wanted to leave, Tom would not let him. Harry was his.

“Want Tom!” Harry said quickly, pulling his head back and staring up at Tom, wide eyed. “Tom give Hawwy treak.”

Tom slowly settled, continuing to walk back to their room. “Yes. We’ll make lots of treacle tart tonight, Harry.”

That seemed to be good enough for Harry, for he became silent, resting his cheek on Tom’s shoulder.

Tom played absentmindedly with Harry’s hair, the child sleeping soundly next to him on the small bed.

Something in him was terrified. He would be leaving Harry tomorrow, and wouldn’t be back until Easter holidays. Tom had only had Harry for a few days, but the mere thought of separation was maddening.

He pressed a light kiss to the top of Harry’s head. Harry would be fine. Tom had ensured Harry would be taken care of, using some...technically illegal methods.

His wand seemed to hum beneath his pillow in satisfaction.

Holding Harry’s small form close, he allowed himself to fall asleep, reassuring himself that Harry would be fine.

Chapter Text

Tom held Harry’s still sleeping form close, the sun barely peeking over the horizon outside.

He couldn’t do it.

Tom would have to take Harry with him. What if something happened to him while he was away? What if Harry was found? He was sure there were spells that could track him. Perhaps the wards at Hogwarts would keep Harry undetected?

The mere thought of someone snatching Harry away from him was almost enough to throw him into a fit of rage.

No. Harry would have to come with him, despite the risks. In the many, many hours Tom had spent in the Restricted Section in Hogwarts’ library, he had come across a transfiguration spell that would force someone into a chosen animal form until the spell was lifted. Tom had not seen any side-affects caused by the spell listed in there, except for some very minor discomfort for a few hours after the spell. Harry would be fine, though.

Tom gently got up, careful not to disturb the peacefully slumbering toddler. He began packing his things as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Harry too early.

After he finished packing his trunk, and slipped his wand out from under his pillow, staring down at Harry. Tom rolled the handle of his wand between his fingers contemplatively.

The spell wasn’t that hard. Perhaps for a lesser wizard it would be, but not Tom. He would not mess up and harm Harry, either.

With that, he quietly said the incantation, and performed the wand movements perfectly.

Tom watched as Harry began changing before his eyes, not once stirring in his slumber. Harry shrunk, body shifting in a manor that would be disturbing to some, but Tom wasn’t phased. Harry wasn’t waking, so he wasn’t hurting.

After only a few seconds, Harry was completely changed. Instead of a toddler lying there, there was a snake the size of Tom’s arm, with glistening black scales, and bright green eyes. Tom felt pride well up in him. He had done it flawlessly on his first time, and Harry hadn’t even noticed the transformation.

Harry squirmed, likely beginning to wake. Tom wasn’t sure, as snake’s didn’t exactly have eyelids.

“Tom?” Harry hissed sleepily, and Tom held down the spike of greed and possessiveness shooting up in his chest at the sound of Parseltongue.

“Harry. How do you feel?” Tom hissed softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and stroked a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the sleek scales.

“Why Tom big?” Harry asked, confusion evident in his tone. Tom wasn’t able to explain the situation, before Harry coiled in on himself, hissing in fear. “Hawwy small!?”

Tom scooped Harry up, much to the confusion and terror of the formerly-toddler.“Calm down, Harry. It’s alright. It’s only for a while.” Tom soothed him, scratching the scales below Harry’s chin gently. He nearly purred in satisfaction when Harry visibly relaxed at the feeling.

“Hawwy no stay small?” Harry asked slowly, hissing contentedly when he was scratched beneath the chin again. Harry really was easily contented. Tom wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.

“Only for a little while. We’ll find somewhere safe for you to change back to normal occasionally, and after that, you can have as much treacle tart as you want.” Tom promised, and that seemed to be enough for Harry.

Tom stroked Harry’s head soothingly as he tensed around Tom’s neck, the train’s whistle surprising him.

Tom was attracting more attention than usual, what with having a snake the length of his arm wrapped around his neck, leaning into the gentle petting Tom was giving him.

“Scary.” Harry hissed into Tom’s palm. “’n cold.”

“We’re getting on the train now. It’s warm in there.” Tom reassured him, boarding the train. He tracked down an empty compartment, and instantly set up wards so that no one would enter, or even notice the compartment.

Finally allowing himself to relax, Tom flicked his wand, floating his trunk onto the luggage rack.

“Hawwy get big now?” Harry hissed questioningly, bumping his nose against Tom’s chin. He had quickly grown accustomed to his temporary body, perhaps even finding it easier to wield than his chubby little toddler body.

“I’m sorry, Harry. Not yet.” Tom said apologetically, booping Harry’s nose. He was awarded with a hissy giggle.

“Again.” Harry demanded. Amused, Tom complied.

The compartment was filled with hissy giggles for the next four hours, until Harry decided to take a nap. Tom wasn’t sure how Harry was so easily amused, but he wasn’t complaining.

A few days ago.

“You did what?” Lily whispered, voice deceptively calm.

James flinched. “We lost Harry.” He croaked.

Lily felt as if her world had shattered around her. Her baby was either alone in Diagon Alley, lost and cold, or he had been taken.

She cradled her face in her hands. James had sent her a Patronus earlier saying the exact same thing, telling her that he had the Aurors looking, and for her to stay home. She had hoped it was a cruel joke.

Her baby was gone.

Lily knew she was trembling, both with rage and fear. James had lost her baby, her Harry.

“What were you THINKING!?” Lily snarled, hands slamming onto the table, emerald eyes blazing.

James flinched again. “Lily, Snivell-”

“SEVERUS?” She shrieked. “Did you lose my baby while you were fighting with Severus!?”

James was as white as a sheet. That was a yes.

Her energy seemed to vanish from her, and Lily collapsed back into the chair. A half-sob escaped her.

“How could you lose him?” Lily whispered, pressing her hands to her face again. Harry…

“I’m sorry.” James said faintly. “There are Aurors everywhere, right now. They’re all looking for him. They’ll find him soon.”

Lily raised her head, tears threatening to escape her. “They had better.” She whispered, a silent threat in her voice.

Chapter Text

Tom set Harry down on his bed gently, climbing in afterwards. He pulled the curtains, ensuring their privacy with a few wards.

“Tom, hungy.” Harry hissed, snapping playfully at Tom’s fingers. Tom managed to jerk his hand away just in time, amused by the annoyed child(snake?).

“What would you like to eat then, Harry?” He would have to sneak into the kitchens, but it was a small price to pay. His Knights would not report him for going out after curfew.

“Treak.” Harry said instantly. Tom should have expected that.

“No, Harry. No treacle tart until after supper. Would you like soup?” He asked, scratching the scales beneath Harry’s chin. Harry gave a pleased hiss.

“Chicky soo’?” Harry hissed out lazily, tongue flicking.

“It’s ‘chicken soup,’ but yes.” Tom replied, pulling his hand away, much to Harry’s annoyance. He dodged another attempted nip. “I’ll need to reverse the spell after I return. Stay on the bed.” When Harry coiled up, looking ready to throw a fit, he continued, “I’ll be back soon, alright? Please?”

Reluctantly, Harry settled down, clearly pouting. Tom rewarded him with a boop, which was met with a hissy giggle.

After warding the bed with enough spells to keep even a teacher out, Tom left, nobody questioning him on his destination as he left the common room. Slytherins knew better than to question someone who would so obviously be important in the future.

After charming the house-elves into giving him some chicken soup(“I’m sorry, I was nauseous earlier and couldn’t eat. Could I please have some chicken soup?”), he hurriedly returned to his dorm room with a container of magically warmed soup and a spoon, a Notice-Me-Not charm on him. Tom couldn’t have a professor becoming suspicious, after all.

Tom toed off his shoes, and pushed the curtains aside. Harry was half beneath the pillow, assumedly dozing. He sat in the center of the bed, setting the container of soup next to him, the spoon setting on the lid. He softly nudged Harry with two fingers. “Harry.”

Harry released a sleepy hiss, bumping his head against Tom’s fingers. “Chicky soo’?” Harry questioned sleepily.

“Yes. I’m going to reverse the spell.” Harry just hissed noncommittally in reply.

Tom pulled his wand out of his pocket, and began the wand movements and incantation. In seconds, Harry was lying face-down on the bed, still clothed in what he had been in earlier that morning. Did his clothes get dirty whilst he was in his snake form? Tom doubted it. Still, he would change Harry’s clothes each time he took a bath.

Harry squirmed a bit, then began pushing himself up. It took a few tries, but he succeeded after a moment, his body likely feeling odd after being a snake for hours.

Amused, Tom pulled Harry sideways onto his lap. He ignored Harry’s visible pout, and picked up the container. Taking off the lid, he dipped the spoon inside. It wasn’t hot, nor cold. Tom wouldn’t have to blow on it for Harry. It was the perfect temperature.

“Say ‘aaaah,’ Harry.” Tom teased, and Harry’s eyes lit up at the sight of the delicious looking soup.

“Aaaah.” Harry opened his mouth, silently demanding he be fed. Spoiled.

So, Tom fed the happy toddler, feeling oddly satisfied at having Harry back in his normal form. Sure, Harry was still himself when he was a snake, but it felt wrong somehow.

Tonight, Tom would ward his bed until it was nearly untouchable, and wake up early. He would keep Harry in his human form in the night, then transfigure him back into a snake in the morning. He had seen others bring their pets into class, receiving no complaint from the teachers, so Harry would surely be allowed.

After Harry finished the entire container of soup, Tom set it on the bedside table to be retrieved by the house-elves in the night. A glance out the curtains told him everyone was asleep, as they only closed their curtains when they slept. Tom would know, as he roomed with them for many years.

Shushing Harry, Tom carried him to the bathroom after gathering some clean clothes, the rest of the necessities always being provided by the house-elves.

Firstly, Tom warded the bathroom so that no one would enter if they woke, then ran a warm bath for Harry. He would take his own after tucking Harry in.

Tom helped Harry out of Tom’s shrunken clothes, much to the annoyance of Harry. He left the clothes in the basket nearby for the house-elves to wash. Tom ignored the adorable pout, lifting Harry into the warm tub. Still, Harry continued to pout as he was washed.

To appease the spoiled brat, he conjured bubbles that changed colors, and smelled like strawberries when they popped. Harry immediately began playing with them as Tom washed them, filling the bathroom with overjoyed giggles.

After Tom took Harry out, dried him off, then dressed him in fresh, newly shrunken pajamas, Tom opened a new package of multiple toothbrushes, and helped Harry brush his teeth. Harry went with it, happy and feeling sleepy after the bath.

Tom tucked Harry into bed afterwards, returning to the bathroom after double checking the wards, reassuring himself that no one other than Harry and himself could even touch the bed. He ran himself a bath, disrobed himself, then sunk into the hot water.

As he bathed, Tom mused over his day. He and Harry had gotten off the train with only a few glances from the other students, and thankfully nobody mentioned Harry’s presence. After that, he ate a light dinner, then quickly returned to his dorm with Harry.

The day had gone by quite quickly, in his opinion. And thankfully it was uneventful. Harry had not triggered any kind of wards, and his presence was written off as a new pet.

Perfect.

Tom absentmindedly went through the motions of getting ready for bed. If all went well, Harry would stay undetected, and would not be taken from Tom.

The thought made him twitch, rage welling inside of him.

Losing Harry was not an option. He would burn anyone who touched his Harry to ash.

Tom hurried back to his bed, gently moving in next to Harry’s sleeping form. He stroked the toddler’s hair, finally allowing himself to relax with the familiar warmth pressed to his side.

If anyone dared to try and take Harry...Tom would fight till his last breath. They would have to pry Harry from his cold, dead fingers.

No. If he were to die, Harry would be coming with him.

Where he went, Harry had to follow.

Chapter Text

A few days ago

Severus took a long swig of his firewhiskey, slamming the mug onto his desk with a loud thump.

Lily was...angry with him, to say the least. He sent the letter he had been sent a grimace.

It wasn’t his fault that Potter had decided to turn his back on his brat. Mini Potter was not his responsibility. So why was Lily angry with him?

He took another sip out of his mug.

Severus didn’t care about Potter, but the brat…

The brat, Harry, was Lily’s child. Not just James Potter’s. He may be the spitting image of James in most features, but he had Lily’s eyes. On the rare occasions he would see the brat, every time he’d look into his eyes, he saw Lily. Not James Potter.

He took a long, long sip from his firewhiskey, drowning away the guilt he had begun to feel.

James stared up blankly at the ceiling, a grimace on his face.

Ever since Harry had gone missing, he had been kicked out of his and Lily’s room, and took to staying in the guest bedroom. Lily hardly spoke to him now, only doing so when necessary. Cold looks were often sent his way.

They were well deserved.

James breathed out a shaky sigh. He had fucked up. He had fucked up badly.

All because he couldn’t get over his goddamn grudge he had against Severus fucking Snape.

He had lost his son over it. The Aurors on the case had found nothing. It was like Harry had vanished off the face of the earth.

James squeezed his eyes shut.

He wouldn’t be sleeping that night, either.

The days passed by, thankfully uneventfully. Tom would go to breakfast early in the morning, return with food for Harry, feed him, then turn Harry back into his snake form. After that, he would take Harry to class with him, gaining a few glances, but no one complained.

During lunch, he would take food down to his dorm, and feed Harry in privacy, before returning to classes with Harry in his bag. Then, after dinner, he would repeat his actions. If Harry ever needed to use the restroom, Tom would excuse himself, and take Harry to do just that.

It was all going perfectly fine.

It was Saturday, now, and Tom was watching Harry run around the Room of Requirement, chasing after glowing, color changing bubbles Tom had conjured. Each time they popped, two would take it’s place, giving Harry an unlimited supply of amusement.

The area around them was large, with open windows that looked out at the lake. Tom knew no one would be able to see them, thanks to the room’s magic. He was lounging on a soft couch, watching Harry run around, small bare feet padding on the soft gray carpet.

Harry grew bored after a while, and stumbled over to the couch, climbing up next to Tom. Tom made a move to pull Harry onto his lap, but froze when Harry asked, “Where mama ‘n papa?”

Tom stroked Harry’s hair back, fighting back the possessiveness that threatened to consume him. How should he answer that question?

He gave Harry a sweet smile. “Why don’t I go get you some treacle tart, Harry?” He said instead, intent on bribing Harry away from the subject.

Harry’s face twisted, conflicted. Parents, or treak?

“Where mama ‘n papa?” He repeated, and Tom’s smile slipped.

“Harry, let’s not talk about them.” Tom cupped Harry’s round cheeks, tilting his head up to meet Tom’s red gaze. “It makes me sad when you do.”

Harry’s emerald eyes widened, and little hands pawed at Tom’s robes. “No sad! Tom no sad!” Harry said insistently, shuffling onto Tom’s lap. Tom allowed himself to relax when Harry hid his face in Tom’s neck.

“Then you won’t ask again?” Tom asked softly, stroking Harry’s back. He felt Harry nod.

Tom allowed a sharp smile to flit across his face for a split second, before hiding it. He couldn’t have Harry becoming suspicious, now, could he?

His darling was so easily manipulated.

Tom pressed his face into the messy strands of inky black hair that sat atop Harry’s head, satisfied.

Lily stared blankly down at the letter in her hands.

Nothing.

Dozens of highly trained Aurors were on the case, and they had found nothing.

Incompetent wasn’t enough to describe how utterly useless they were.

Her baby was out there somewhere, and there was no way he had just wandered off. Someone had taken him.

Lily crumpled the letter in her hands.

If they wouldn’t find her Harry, then she would.

Tom stroked Harry’s hair, the toddler sleeping on Tom’s front, cheek pressed to Tom’s chest. Tom was propped up in bed, reading a book using the dim lighting from his wand.

The book had many rituals that were considered Dark by the Ministry. Draco Malfoy, one of his more useless Knights, excluding the books he supplied Tom with, had gifted him the book as a Christmas gift.

The thing that caught Tom’s attention the most was the Tracking ritual.

The Tracking ritual would make it so Tom would always know where Harry was, no matter what wards someone tried to put up to keep Harry hidden inside of. It would work the same for Harry, so he would always be able to find Tom.

The only downside?

He’d have to carve runes into Harry’s smooth skin, marring it with awful scars.

Tom pressed his face into Harry’s hair, inhaling. The scent of strawberries and something sweeter assaulted him, and he allowed a small smile to curl his lips upwards.

Tom would try to find a spell or ritual that didn’t require harming Harry. He couldn’t bear to hurt him.

An image flashed in his mind.

Harry, tears spilling down his round cheeks, emerald eyes bright with pain. Blood was dripping down his arm, a knife carving symbols into his skin. Tom was gripping Harry’s elbow to keep his arm still, hurting him-

Tom held Harry tighter to him. No. He would not do that to his Harry. Never.

After setting the book on his bedside table, Tom settled down, Harry held tightly against him.

That night, he was haunted by nightmares filled with shuddering sobs, teary green eyes, and blood slipping between his fingers.

Chapter Text

Small fingers clawed desperately at his bare arms, but Tom didn’t offer any help to whoever was seeking his help in the darkness. If anything, he was annoyed. A warm liquid was smeared on his arms where the little fingers touched.

Tom took a few steps back, a sneer forming on his face. Whoever that was, they were pathetic, thinking Tom would help them.

He fished his wand out of his pocket, and swished it. Light erupted in the darkness, blinding him for a moment.

After blinking rapidly, adjusting to the brightness, he squinted over at where he had felt the person.

His wand clattered to the floor, the light dulling slightly, but it determinedly stayed lit.

“Harry?” Tom rasped, taking a shaky step forward.

A small form was crumpled up on the floor, blood splattered across a formerly pale blue shirt, and soft gray pants. He could see the blood pooling around a small arm, jagged runes carved deeply into the once smooth, flawless skin.

His legs gave out next to the still form, warm liquid quickly soaking into his pant legs.

“Harry,” Tom tried again, desperation seeping into his tone. He cupped Harry’s cheeks, turning his head so that he was looking at Tom. Emerald eyes were wide and empty, and pouty pink lips were parted. “Harry!”

Tom dragged Harry onto his lap, holding the still toddler tightly to his chest. Why was Harry so cold?

He unzipped his school robes, taking them off, and draping the soft fabric over Harry, hoping to warm him up. Why wasn’t Harry talking? Harry was always talking.

He stroked Harry’s cold, pale cheek with a trembling hand. “Harry, darling. Wake up. You can have as much treacle as you want, alright? I’ll have the house-elves make you boxes filled with it, if you wish. Just wake up?” He pleaded, feeling something wet dripping down his cheeks “Harry?”

Harry was unmoving and quiet. Tom could feel the chill from Harry’s body seeping into his own.

His hand automatically slipped down to Harry’s throat, two fingers seeking his pulse.

Nothing.

His hand dropped, wide red eyes staring unseeingly down at Harry’s pale, blood splattered form.

Harry. His lively, bright Harry. Snuffed out like a candle, instead of burning brightly forever, like the sun.

Had Tom done this? His eyes went to the runes carved into Harry’s wrist, and he felt madness welling up in him.

Harry had clawed at him desperately for help earlier, but Tom had backed away, disgusted-

It was his fault.

His lips parted in a scr-

-eam, fingers curling into claws. He distantly heard a pained cry, but didn’t focus on it.

Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry Harry his Harry-

His Harry was gone. Cold, dead and still. Lying on Tom’s lap with wide, unseeing, dull green eyes. Never to hug Tom again when Tom was stressed from studying, or to snuggle up against Tom in his sleep. Never again would he plead for more treacle tart, eyes lighting up when Tom inevitably gave in. Never to pop strawberry scented, color changing bubbles as Tom bathed him.

Little hands were pushing at Tom’s chest, reminding Tom so much of Harry that he snapped out of the madness, red eyes wide and wild, focusing in on the toddler desperately trying to escape Tom’s death grip.

“Harry,” he breathed, pulling Harry closer, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry seemed to know Tom needed this, though, so he allowed Tom to hold him tightly against his chest, as if trying to meld them into one being.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Tom repeated Harry’s name like it was the last thing tethering him to his sanity. Perhaps it was.

“Tom huwt Hawwy.” Harry complained, and Tom jolted, pulling away quickly. His red orbs scanned Harry’s bare arms, but there was nothing. No runes, no blood, no wounds. Tom pushed Harry’s shirt up, ignoring the unhappy whines.

Red marks littered Harry’s front in the shape of fingertips, and they would soon bruise. Tom keened, brushing an apologetic kiss across Harry’s temple.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He murmured, and he meant it. Tom had hurt Harry, covering his front with likely painful marks.

“Tom okay.” Harry reassured him, pressing close to Tom. He was trembling, Tom absently thought. He had been so afraid. Afraid that Harry had left him. Afraid he had killed his Harry-

“You’ll always stay with me, won’t you, Harry?” Tom asked, voice unsteady. He let Harry’s shirt drop down again, raising his hand to stroke Harry’s hair. He couldn’t bear to not touch Harry, for even a moment.

“A’ways.” Harry promised, and Tom’s eyes flashed.

Harry had promised, and that was that. He would stay with Tom until the end.

The end…?

No. There wouldn’t be an end. Tom would make Harry immortal. And Tom would make himself immortal as well. They would stay together forever.

Until the world turned to black around them, and the universe went cold and dead, every single bit of warmth burnt out except for Harry.

And Tom would be there to protect that warmth, holding it tight to his chest, blowing on the embers until there was a roaring blaze.

No. Harry would never die, and neither would Tom.

Tom held Harry close, and when one of his Knights knocked on his bedpost, asking if he was coming to class, he allowed his silencing ward to vanish for a second to say, “I’m sick.”

That day, he stayed in bed with Harry, only getting up to use the restroom, or let Harry use it. The house-elves delivered food to his bedside table after hearing he was ‘sick’.

The entire night, Tom stayed awake, not once parting from Harry’s sleeping form.

Harry would never leave him. And if he tried?

Tom would drag Harry back, and lock him somewhere deep in the earth where no one but Tom could find him. Harry would be allowed out once he came to his senses, even if it took millennia.

Harry was Tom’s warmth, and Tom’s alone.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks went by with Tom increasingly becoming more anxious. It felt like his fragile peace would shatter at any moment. He didn’t want to leave Harry alone for even a minute, so he began taking Harry almost everywhere with him. The toddler didn’t mind, thankfully.

Tom jerked his hand away just in time to avoid Harry’s playful snap. He sent Harry a warning look. They were both in the Room of Requirement, lazing around on the couch, and Harry wasn’t even in his snake form. Yet, he still snapped at Tom’s fingers like an animal.

“No treacle tart for you tonight if you try that again.” Tom warned, and Harry stilled.

Tom wasn’t prepared for wide, teary green eyes to look up at him sadly. “Tom no want Hawwy?”

Tom lurched forward, fingers dancing across Harry’s ribs. Tom’s ears were met with delighted shrieks, the toddler squirming and thrashing beneath him as he was assaulted with tickles.

“Manipulative brat. Who taught you that?” Tom teased, delighting in the shrieking laughter. It filled a cold space in his chest with warmth.

“Tom did! Tom did!” Harry gasped, releasing another bout of laughter as Tom continued his attack.

“Did I?” Tom drawled, jerking away when Harry nipped at him “Brat, that’s it. No treacle tart.”

Harry froze.

“...No treak?” Harry said, eyes slowly becoming wide, and Tom could see actual tears welling up in his eyes. An angry flush was rising to Harry’s cheeks, and Tom took a moment to wonder-

Was Harry about to throw a tantrum?

But nothing seemed to happen, except for Harry’s cheeks puffing out, and silence filling the room.

Seconds ticked by, and Harry’s cheeks got redder every second. Tom was becoming nervous.

“Harry, don’t hold your breath like that.” He chastised, moving to pull Harry close, but Harry pulled away.

Tom’s eyes flashed, and something like anger burnt in his gut.

“Harry. Breathe, now.” He hissed, words bordering on Parseltongue.

Harry didn’t obey, still holding his breath, his entire face red and strained.

“Okay! You can have treacle!” Tom hissed frantically, visibly relaxing with relief when Harry inhaled sharply.

He yanked Harry onto his lap, ignoring the indignant squeak he got. Tom pressed his face into Harry’s locks, inhaling the soothing strawberry and unidentifiable sweet scent that Harry always had. The scent calmed him, and Tom just held Harry there, slowly relaxing.

“..want snug.” Harry mumbled, and Tom had to strain himself to catch it.

“What did you say?” He asked softly, leaning back against the couch.

“Want snug.” Harry repeated.

“Snuggles?” Tom asked curiously, fighting off the urge to smile sharply. Harry was coming to him, asking for snuggles now? It was perfect. The more attached Harry was to him, the harder it would be for anyone to take Harry from him.

Harry nodded, the back of his head bumping back against Tom’s chest.

“Alright.” He murmured, shifting so that they were lying on the couch. He allowed Harry to wiggle around, so that he was facing Tom.

“Treak?” Harry asked innocently.

“Later,” Tom said, amused. He should probably cut back on Harry’s sugar intake. That much couldn’t possibly be healthy.

Lily strode into the Head Auror’s office, head high and eyes sharp. Not a single person turned her away, well aware of her temper, and the case of her missing child.

Scrimgeour looked up, confused, before a scowl turned his lips downwards. “Mrs. Potter, I’m well aware your child is missing, but-”

“I want Harry Potter’s case files.” She said flatly, straight to the point.

His eyes narrowed. “Mrs. Potter, I understand you are the boy’s mother, but even you are not authorized to access his files. If you would kindly-”

“I am his mother! If you won’t do your job and find my son, I will do it myself, and I need every bit of information available!” Lily raised her voice, loudly enough that the entire office could hear. The chatter outside died down, everyone clearly interested.

Scrimgeour’s fingers twitched, as if to grab his wand. “I must ask you to leave. As I said, you are not authorized to access his files. I have multiple Aurors on the case at the moment, and they are making progress.”

“They are making progress.” Lily repeated slowly, “It has been three weeks. Three fucking weeks, and you cannot find a single missing child that was snatched out of an apothecary?”

Scrimgeour stood suddenly. “Mrs. Potter, you will leave now, or I will have you detained.”

Her eyes flashed. “If my child is harmed, or, God forbid, dead, it will be on you and your Auror’s heads, Rufus Scrimgeour.”

Harry yawned, pressing his face into Tom’s neck, muffling his sleepy snuffles. Tom was sleeping, an arm wrapped tightly around him, keeping him held tightly to Tom.

Tom was nice, so Harry was happy. Especially because he got lots of treak. And cuddles. And boops.

He did miss mama and papa lots, though. Would they come visit? Harry hoped so. He missed them.

But, he wouldn’t ask Tom about them. It made Tom sad, and he didn’t want to make Tom sad. So, Harry would do his best to make Tom happy. He would give Tom hugs, cuddles, and boops. And lots of treak, because all of those things made Harry happy, so they would make Tom happy, too.

Maybe he would nip the silly white haired boy’s fingers tomorrow. Tom liked it when Harry did that. It made Tom smile.

Proud of himself, he snuggles closer to Tom, slowly drifting back off to sleep.

Tom spat out his tea, staring at Harry as he snapped at Draco’s fingers. Instantly, the Slytherin table was sent into an over-dramatic panic, everyone thinking Tom Riddle’s pet snake would kill them.

Tom hid a grin behind his cup. “Harry, come here. You cannot bite Malfoy, no matter how annoying he is.”

Proud of his actions, Harry slithered back to Tom, allowing the teen to slip him into his book bag. He had succeeded in making Tom happy.

At the High Table, the Slytherin Head of House, Severus Snape watched the over-dramatic chaos with a blank expression. He inwardly thought his snakes needed to tone it down a bit.

The other teachers were doing a bad job of hiding their muffled laughter. Severus reluctantly agreed inwardly that it was amusing.

Chapter Text

Remus absently stirred his tea, losing track of how many sugar cubes he had put in it. Sirius was leaning against his side, head resting on Remus’ shoulder. He could hear his mate’s soft breathing, so Remus assumed he was sleeping.

Not surprising. They hadn’t slept much in the past few weeks, after Harry’s disappearance.

The thought made his chest throb painfully, and Remus took a sip of his tea. Much too sweet.

He drank it anyways.

James was talking quietly with Peter, likely not wanting to disturb Sirius’ rest. They all understood how rare it was to come by it now.

“How is Lily?” Remus asked James softly, gaining the hazel eyed man’s attention.

“She is… Frantic, to say the least.” James kept his voice low. “Scrimgeour won’t allow her to access Harry’s case files. I’ve tried to gain access as well, but as I’m not on his case, I could not access them either.”

Remus grimaced. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose your own child. Harry was his and Sirius’ Godson, and they were devastated, but for Lily and James?

It must feel like the world is ending.

“And how are you holding up?” He asked, lowering his voice when Sirius shifted.

“I’m fine.” James said automatically, averting his eyes.

Remus took another sip of his too-sweet tea, amber eyes watching James over the rim of his cup.

Liar.

Tom watched as Harry relaxed in the sunlight on a large stone slab out in the courtyard, Tom sitting in the soft grass right next to him. He couldn’t have someone trying to snatch his Harry, after all.

“Tom. Snug?” Harry hissed, and Tom hummed.

Harry had been asking for snuggles a lot lately. Not that Tom was complaining. He was glad that Harry was becoming so attached to him.

So, he pulled Harry onto his lap, scratching the scales beneath Harry’s chin. Tom was awarded with happy hisses, before he had to jerk his hand away to avoid a nip aimed at his fingertips.

“Harry...” He hissed warningly.

“No! Big Hawwy snug!” Harry demanded, tongue flicking angrily.

“Harry, we’re in public. You know you can’t be ‘big’ in front of other people. They’ll take you from me.” Tom sighed as Harry continued to pout. “We’ll go back to the dorm and snuggle.”

“Riddle.” Tom glanced up at the cool voice of Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s older brother, who was in his seventh year.

“Malfoy.” He greeted, stroking Harry’s head. Thankfully, he didn’t try to nip Tom again.

Lucius was a quiet and intelligent person, unlike his younger brother, so Tom didn’t mind him. He was also one of Tom’s Knights of Walpurgis. Lucius was much more helpful than his brother.

Lucius eyed the black snake in Tom’s lap warily. “Your snake pulled a fatal move during supper yesterday, Riddle. Two seventh year boys are planning on arranging an ‘accident’ for it.”

Tom’s face twitched as he held back a snarl. They dared even think of harming his Harry? He’d kill them.

No. Not yet. He would be patient, and guard Harry to the best of his abilities. Then, after graduation, when he was free of school, and the Headmaster’s judging eyes…

Their lives were his.

“Thank you for the information, Malfoy. And their names…?” He questioned, voice deceptively light.

Lucius smirked. “Thaddeus Nott, and Gabriel Flint. Both share my dorm room,” Lucius mentioned, lips twitching when he caught the murderous glint in Tom’s eyes. “Would you like me to…?”

“Nausea inducing spells on their pillows. They’ll be too ill to even think of it.” Tom said coldly, stroking down Harry’s back. The scales were cool and soothing beneath his fingers.

“Why Tom angy?” Harry nudged against Tom’s hand, as if to sooth him.

“It’s ‘angry,’ Harry. And some people were being mean, so I’m making them...nicer.” Tom hissed back, ignoring Lucius’ stare.

Lucius coughed awkwardly. “I have an appointment at Hogsmeade. Is there anything you need me to do, Riddle?”

Tom hardly sent him a glance. “No, thank you, Malfoy. I trust you’ll do as I said?”

Lucius nodded sharply, and turned on his heel, striding away with a dramatic flourish of his silk robes. Tom nearly snorted.

Harry bumped his snout against Tom’s hand. “Snug. Now!” He demanded, and Tom huffed in amusement.

So needy.

Harry chased after pretty, colorful butterflies, bare feet thumping on the soft carpet of the weird room Tom often took him to.

“Tom! Tom! Look!” He stumbled over to Tom who was sitting on the couch reading, one of the butterflies clasped carefully between his hands.

“Yes, Harry?” Tom set down the book, and Harry stopped in front of him, beaming.

“For Tom.” He shuffled his feet, holding his hands out in front of Tom, and slowly opening them to reveal the butterfly.

Harry gasped. He had pretty red dust rubbed on his palms, and the butterfly was fluttering it’s wings. One had torn, and it was unable to fly.

“Hawwy sowwy.” Harry’s lower lip wobbled, tears welling in his eyes. He had hurt it. It was supposed to make Tom happy.

Harry allowed Tom to tug him onto his lap, arms wrapping around him gently.

“It’s alright, Harry. They aren’t real. I conjured them for you.” Tom soothed, running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Hawwy didn’ huwt it?” He asked quietly, fingers curling in Tom’s robes, and his face pressed to Tom’s chest. The butterfly had fallen onto Harry’s lap at some point, still futilely trying to fly.

“No, darling. It’s not real.” Tom brushed a kiss across Harry’s brow, and Harry relaxed against him, relieved it was fake, and he hadn’t harmed it.

After Harry had fallen asleep in his lap, Tom glanced down at the pitiful creature twitching on Harry’s lap, trying it’s best to fly.

He hated lying to his Harry, but it was best if Harry believed it was fake. He knew Harry couldn’t bear the thought of harming an innocent being.

Such naivety.

Tom brushed the insect off of Harry’s lap, onto the floor, left to die slowly. Such a useless thing shouldn’t dirty Harry’s clothes, after all.

He frowned at the sight of the red, dust-like scales coloring Harry’s palms red.

Like blood.

Tom resisted the urge to snarl, and instead conjured a wet cloth.

Gently, Tom began cleaning Harry’s palms, pressing a kiss to each after it was cleaned, as if it would rid it of any lingering trace of the red scales.

He would have to go back to conjuring bubbles, it seemed.

Chapter Text

Tom ignored Harry’s muffled complaints coming from inside of his book bag, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

He would no longer be showing Harry in public. Harry would still accompany him, but he would stay in Tom’s bag, where he was safe.

Tom eyed the two empty seats a bit further up the Slytherin table. Gabriel Flint and Thaddeus Nott were absent today. Lucius had told him that they were so ill, they went to Madame Pomfrey. She had told them they likely had food poisoning, and to stay in the infirmary until it was cleared up.

Tom took another bite out of his sandwich, smug.

Nobody would harm his Harry.

Lily frowned, going through her notes once more.

She had asked the owners of every shop in Diagon Alley which employees had been working at the time of Harry’s disappearance. After gaining names, Lily had then gone to each of their homes, asking them if they had seen anything off at that time, or if they had seen Harry.

The collective answer?

No.

Lily threw the notepad onto the table, running her hand through her hair. She was tired, stressed, and desperate. There were no leads on where Harry could be. It was as if he had vanished off the face of the earth.

It had been weeks since she had seen her baby. All Lily had were pictures and her memories, now.

...What would she do if she couldn’t find Harry?

Lily didn’t want to think about it.

Harry sipped his hot chocolate happily, legs swinging back and forth on the edge of the chair. They were in the weird room again, sitting at a round table, sipping hot chocolate. Harry liked his. It was thick, and sweet, and had baby marshmallows.

“’Mallow not baby?” He asked Tom, to be sure. Harry frowned at the fluffy baby marshmallows.

“Yes, Harry. They aren’t babies. They’re food.” Tom replied, amused. Harry watched him take a sip of his own hot chocolate.

“So Hawwy no huwt ‘mallow?” Harry eyed his marshmallows.

“No, Harry. You won’t hurt them. Besides, aren’t they yummy?” Tom asked, and Harry nodded. It was yummy.

So, he took a big sip of his hot chocolate, reassuring himself that, no, the baby marshmallows were not real babies.

“Tom snug?” He asked after finishing his drink, feeling warm and sleepy.

“You look tired, Harry. We’ll go back to the dorm, then snuggle. It’s nearly bedtime, anyways.” Tom said, and Harry watched Tom stand up, vanishing the mugs that had held their drinks.

Harry pouted when Tom pulled out his wand. He didn’t like being tiny anymore. It made him ache.

“Boops.” Harry demanded before Tom could turn him tiny. Tom raised a brow down at him, then sighed, as if it was something bad. Harry knew Tom liked it, though.

He giggled when Tom tapped his nose, and allowed Tom to turn him tiny afterwards. He hurt a little, but it was okay. Tom said it only hurts for a bit, which was true.

After Tom put him in the warm bag, he fell asleep, body warm and fuzzy from the hot chocolate.

Sirius and Remus were curled up together on the couch, a warm blanket draped around their shoulders. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and across from them, James and Peter were playing cards.

Sirius grimaced, leaning against Remus. Shouldn’t they all be doing something?

After all, they had been the ones to turn their backs on Harry for even a moment, losing him.

The snow had started coming down so quickly, and the combined scents of Diagon Alley were so strong, that even Remus couldn’t track Harry, despite how hard he had tried. They couldn’t even find his little footprints in the snow with how fast it was coming down.

“Lily is working so hard to find Harry. Why is James here? Why aren’t we helping?” He whispered to Remus, voice low enough that James and Peter couldn’t hear. They seemed too carefree.

“I don’t know why James is here. He really should be helping her. Harry is his son, after all.” Remus murmured. “We’ll go see Lily tomorrow, if nothing comes up.”

Sirius nodded slowly, tugging the blanket tighter around them.

Their Godson was out there somewhere, and he definitely hadn’t just wandered off. They would have found him by now, if he had.

No. Someone had Harry, and they were doing a damn good job of keeping him hidden.

Albus fiddled with the hem of his pink robes absentmindedly, sucking on a lemon drop.

The likely abduction of Harry Potter, James and Lily’s child, was a tragedy. He had kept up to date on the case through a few acquaintances that worked in the Auror department, and were assigned to the case.

Apparently, not a single tracking spell or ritual had been able to track the boy, and they had ran out of any hair and blood they had of the Harry’s that they could use to track him. The fact the spells and rituals all failed meant he was behind powerful wards.

Albus frowned. A powerful witch or wizard had likely taken Harry, then. For ransom? Unlikely, as no one had contacted the Potters with one, to his knowledge. A grudge? He didn’t know, but having the Potter heir as a hostage was likely beneficial to them in some way.

A Dark family that wanted one of the Light main families to die off? It could be. But which Dark family would want to be rid of them?

A lot, was the answer.

Albus popped another lemon drop into his mouth, brows furrowing.

Perhaps he’d just leave the investigation to the Aurors.

Tom sighed against the top of Harry’s head, the exhale causing the messy strands to tickle his face.

He was relieved that both Nott and Flint were confined to the infirmary. Two threats were now gone.

Tom shifted, pulling the covers over him and Harry. School ended in a few weeks, so they would be going back to the orphanage until Tom could get a job, and save up enough to get them an apartment or house.

He scowled, holding Harry’s slumbering form closer. Tom hated the idea of leaving Harry for even a moment, as he would likely have to do when he got a job. And he couldn’t get a place in the wizarding areas, as someone might identify Harry.

So, he would just have to get them a place to live in the muggle parts. Maybe in the country? Harry would love to be able to run around outside. Would Harry like a pet? He seemed to be the type to love all animals.

He drifted off to sleep, thinking of what things would be like with only Harry and himself.

Chapter Text

Remus knocked on the door to James and Lily’s cottage, Sirius at his side.

There was a muffled, “Coming,” from somewhere on the other side of the door, and they waited in silence.

The door opened, revealing Lily. She looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, and her skin had an ill look to it. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and Lily was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants.

Lily’s lips curled down in a frown, and she made a move to shut the door, but Remus hurriedly spoke up.

“We want to help find Harry.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed, and her face gained a stony look to it. “You both are also responsible for his disappearance. Just g-”

“We are. And we regret it every day. Please, let us help.” Sirius said, and the desperation in his tone made Lily pause.

Her face fell, and her shoulders slumped. “There’s nothing to help with. I’ve checked every possible lead. No one saw him leaving. I don’t know how. And the tracking spells all failed- There’s nothing left of him for us to track him with now! Everything has been used up, and James is doing nothing, and I’m so worried.” Her voice broke, and Remus stepped forward, pulling Lily into a hug.

Lily was stiff for a moment, before she melted into it. He could feel her trembling.

“What if he’s dead? Th-That could be why they couldn’t track him. What if my baby is dead?” She choked out, and a sob ripped free from her.

Remus just held her closer.

Harry scowled, pressing his face into Tom’s neck. “No.” He said.

“Harry. If you don’t cut back on the treacle tart, it will cause health problems. You’ll still get it three times a week…For now,” Tom added, and Harry shook his head stubbornly.

“No! Treak stay!” He insisted, turning his face up to Tom. He made his eyes wide, and his lip wobble, in the way that always makes Tom give him what he wants.

Tom didn’t budge. “No. Three times a week, and no more. If you complain, I’ll lower it to once a week.” Harry’s mouth snapped shut.

This time, Harry’s lip really did begin to wobble, and his eyes stung with tears. “Why?” He whimpered.

Tom sighed, petting Harry on the head. “Because it’s bad for you. It’ll make you feel bad in the future.”

Harry sniffled, pressing his face into Tom’s neck again. “An’ baby ‘mallows?” He asked quietly.

Tom paused for a moment, then said slowly, “You can have them every time we have hot chocolate.”

Harry beamed at that, snuggling up to Tom. “’Kay. Thanky.” He said happily. Tom just huffed in amusement.

“Let’s go back to the dorm, Harry.” Tom shifted, making a move to get up, but Harry held onto him tightly. “Harry?”

“No. Tiny huwt.” Harry scowled, holding on tightly to Tom.

Tom ran his fingers through Harry’s messy hair. “I told you that’s normal, Harry. It goes away after a minute, right?” Harry nodded reluctantly, still clinging to Tom. “Let’s go, then. You ate enough, yes?” Harry nodded again.

Tom smiled at him. “Then, let’s go.”

Lucius glanced over at the two beds across the room. The green velvet curtains were closed, hiding the occupants inside.

Gabriel Flint and Thaddeus Nott had returned from the hospital wing that evening, feeling better after being away from their unknowingly cursed pillows for two days.

He rolled his wand between his fingers. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

His Lord was relying on him to keep them out of commission. Lucius could see that he was attached to his pet, or possibly, familiar. So, he would help his Lord keep the snappy little reptile safe.

Lucius smiled. He had enjoyed the peace and quiet with those two troll-brained fools gone. It was a shame they were back.

Not for long. They’d soon be back in the hospital wing with another case of ‘food poisoning’.

Tom massaged the strawberry scented shampoo into Harry’s head, ignoring Harry’s squirming. The toddler was trying to pop all of the bubbles floating about.

“Close your eyes, Harry.” Tom said, and he waited until Harry obeyed to rinse his soapy hair. After that, he began to massage in the conditioner, much to Harry’s annoyance.

After bathing Harry, helping him dress, and letting Harry brush his teeth, they went to bed, Tom already having gotten himself ready for bed. Tom was grateful for how early his roommates went to sleep. It meant he and Harry would get ready for bed in peace.

Harry was curled up against Tom, likely seeking warmth. It was quite chilly in the dungeons, after all. He had always wondered why they didn’t cast heating charms into the walls and floors. Students often got sick because of the chill. Wouldn’t it be better to cast them, and get rid of that problem?

No matter. The blankets and duvet were thick enough to keep away most of the chill, and having Harry so close to him kept away the rest.

His lids felt heavy, but he held them open for a moment, staring at Harry’s peaceful face.

Everything had been going so well. Tom hoped it would stay that way forever. He liked having Harry with him. The toddler’s mere presence made something in him that previously felt cold and hollow feel warm.

“Tom?” Harry mumbled sleepily, and Tom blinked the looming promise of sleep away.

“Yes, Harry?” He asked softly, stroking Harry’s hair. The action was oddly soothing.

“Want snugs.” Harry said sleepily. Amused, Tom pulled him closer.

“You often want to snuggle, Harry. Why?” He asked curiously.

“Make Tom happy.” Harry mumbled, half-asleep. Tom was still and silent.

So...Harry wanted to snuggle because it made Tom happy?

He wondered...what else would Harry do to make him happy?

With that on his mind, he slowly gave in to the insistent tug of sleep, the duvet and blankets pulled over them both, keeping the dungeon’s chill away.

Chapter Text

Lily cradled her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

There were absolutely no leads, and no way to track Harry down after using up all lingering DNA left by him.

Lily held back a scream of frustration. There was nothing that she could do. The only way she could see that she’d find Harry was if the person who took him messed up, revealing Harry to the public, or to someone that would report him.

She grimaced, rubbing her temples. Lily had long since run out of tears. There was no time for them, anyways.

She should go clean herself up, and rest. Perhaps she’d think of a solution after getting some sleep?

Tom absentmindedly stroked Harry’s head through the opening of his book bag, trying to focus on Professor McGonagall’s lecture. He wasn’t making much progress with that, though. The rain pounding against the windows outside was distracting, as was the roaring thunder in the distance.

There hadn’t been a storm like it in a few weeks. Tom quite liked the way the lightning would flash in the sky, lighting everything up for a split second, before the sky darkened again.

He pulled his hand out of his bag to write notes, finally focusing in on the lecture. Harry hissed in displeasure in his bag after the petting stopped.

After class, Tom put his notes back in his bag, quickly pulling his hand out to avoid Harry’s nip. He picked up the bag, and headed back to his dorm quickly. Tomorrow, they were going back to the orphanage, as school was being let out. Tom was glad he would be able to have Harry with him in human form constantly.

Then, remembered he would have to get a job, and wouldn’t be able to take Harry with him.

...Or could he? If they didn’t mind a snake, that is. Harry could just continue posing as his pet in the wizarding areas.

Satisfied with the potential solution, Tom sped up, heading towards his dorm once more. He needed to gather all of his stuff and put it in his trunk, so that nothing would be forgotten.

Harry blinked sleepily, slowly waking. It was dark, and Tom was holding him tightly against him, sleeping. He didn’t usually wake up before Tom, so why now?

He flinched, snuggling closer to Tom when he heard soft footsteps on the wooden floor. Suddenly, a board creaked loudly, and Tom’s eyes snapped open. Harry could see the red, even in the dark. The color always reminded him of yummy red apples.

Within seconds, Tom had his wand out, and Harry felt himself suddenly aching, and everything around him grew bigger. He didn’t complain, though. He knew Tom didn’t want anyone to see Harry. Harry didn’t know why, but if it made Tom happy, that was okay.

Harry was sleepy, and a bit scared. No one had made Tom act like this before when someone in the room woke up. What was wrong?

Everything went dark when Tom pulled the covers over Harry, hiding him.

Tom sat up, wand held tightly between his fingers. Harry was hidden beneath the covers, and Tom knew he was smart enough to stay there.

His eyes narrowed at the curtains. Someone was out there, and it was not one of his roommates. Someone had triggered the wards entering the room, but they were only skilled enough to delay the alarm that went to him.

Pathetic.

Tom slid himself out from under the covers, preparing to stand if needed.

Then, he threw the curtains to the side.

Flint and Nott froze, eyes wide. They had been approaching his bed.

“Oh my. Why are you in our dorm?” Tom questioned, forcing his voice into a bewildered tone. He made his face match the tone. “Y-you aren’t trying to steal anything, are you? Or- are you perverts?” He made his eyes go wide, and their faces twisted in confusion, then horror.

“I’m going to tell Professor Snape!” He made a move to stand, but they panicked.

“No, no! There’s no need. We were just- waking Gabriel’s brother! Marcus Flint. He forgot something in our dorm. He’s in this room, yes?” Nott scrambled to say, and Tom had to admit, that was quite a good lie they came up with on the spot.

“He’s five doors down! You’re lying!” Tom said loudly, and he could hear sleepy mumbles of confusion behind the curtains of the other beds.

“We aren’t! We’ll be going now.” Nott said quickly, and grabbed a gaping Flint’s arm, yanking him out of the room.

Blaise peeked out of the curtains, watching them hurry out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them.

“..Was that Gabriel Flint and Thaddeus Nott, my Lord?” Blaise asked, confused.

“It was.” He spat. “I’ll be telling Professor Snape before we leave tomorrow. Hopefully he will keep them away from us on the train. Thank Salazar this was their last year.”

He yanked the curtains shut, ensuring the wards on his bed were still there, before Tom pulled back the covers.

Harry was coiled up tightly, hissing softly with no real meaning. Suddenly, Tom felt relieved that they weren’t skilled enough to take down the wards. What if they had somehow managed to get in without waking Tom, and somehow got through the wards on his bed, and Harry was harmed?

Tom reversed the spell, watching Harry shift back into his human form. Instantly, the toddler threw himself at Tom, pressing close to him.

“Tom, was scawy.” Harry said quietly, fingers curling in Tom’s nightclothes. Tom could feel him trembling. Had Harry really been that scared?

Carefully, he maneuvered them so that they were lying down on their sides, Harry curling up against Tom.

“It’s alright. They’re gone, and won’t come back.” He soothed, booping Harry gently. He was awarded with a tiny smile.

“P’omise?” Harry mumbled, fingers still clinging to Tom’s clothes.

“I promise. And if they try, I’ll protect you again.” He promised, stroking Harry’s hair. He felt Harry relax, and after a few moments, the toddler’s breathing evened out.

Tom didn’t sleep that night, stiff and inwardly raging at the audacity those two had.

Chapter Text

Tom held his bag close to him, his shrunken trunk in his pocket. Before heading towards the station, Tom had told Professor Snape about the incident last night. Thankfully, the man had arranged it so that Flint and Nott would be staying in the compartment at the very end of the train, with the prefects keeping an eye on them.

He walked through the train, seeking an empty compartment. After a few minutes, he finally succeeded, and entered. Tom put up the same wards he had put up last time, so that no one would try and enter. The windows blurred, making it so that no one could see inside if they somehow did notice the compartment.

Tom pulled out the shrunken trunk, placed it on the luggage rack, and enlarged it once more, in-case they somehow needed it.

He sat back down, and took a sleepy Harry out of his bag.

“Do you want me to make you big again, Harry?” He hissed, scratching beneath Harry’s chin.

“Hawwy big!” Harry said, bumping his snout against Tom’s palm.

Tom reversed the spell, and Harry leaned against Tom, still tired. “Wanna sleep.” Harry mumbled, hiding his face in Tom’s neck.

“Sleep, then.” Tom said softly, stroking Harry’s back. He felt the toddler relax against him, and after a few minutes, Harry’s breathing evened out.

Tom relaxed, closing his eyes. He was also tired after staying up the entire night. With the wards up, he and Harry would stay unseen, so a nap should be fine.

He drifted off, holding Harry tightly against him.

After exiting the platform and entering the muggle train station, Tom entered London, gripping his bag tightly. Harry was still inside, so it wouldn’t do to accidentally bump into someone and drop his bag.

His wand was tucked in the waistband of his pants, his shirt covering it, and his trunk was shrunken in his pocket.

Tom entered an alley near the orphanage, careful not to attract attention. When he was sure no one was looking, he pulled his wand out, pulled Harry out of his bag, then reversed the spell. Tom caught Harry right before the toddler could tumble over, limbs confused at the sudden change.

“You won’t have to be a snake often now, Harry.” He told Harry, who lit up.

“No tiny!” Harry cheered, allowing Tom to pick him up after Tom shrunk his bag, placing it in his pocket with the trunk.

“No tiny,” Tom agreed. “But we may have to do it again when I get a job, if they allow me to bring an animal.”

Harry nodded, clinging to Tom as he walked out of the alley. There were a few glances, but they were written off easily as siblings.

“...Treak?” Harry asked hopefully, staring up at Tom with big, pleading eyes.

Tom sighed. “Fine. One slice.” He said firmly, and Harry smiled brightly.

Tom blinked, pausing in his steps for a moment when Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek.

That...was new.

But not unwelcome. The exact opposite, in fact. Tom quite liked it.

He allowed a small smile to tilt his lips, and continued on towards the orphanage.

Harry allowed Tom to dress him, pouting. Tom had just bathed him, then dried him with magic. His skin felt itchy from the spell, and his hair was going everywhere.

“Tom, itchy.” He complained, scratching his chest through the shirt. It felt like there were bugs crawling on him. Ew.

Tom pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Harry huffed. “It’ll only itch for a moment. It’s better than getting in bed with wet hair, isn’t it?” Tom soothed him, pulling Harry’s hand away from where it was scratching at his chest.

“Mhm...” He agreed reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Tom’s neck when he was picked up. Harry pressed his face into Tom’s neck, trying to ignore the itch.

A few minutes later, he was tucked into bed, curled up against Tom’s side. The itch had gone away, thankfully.

He squirmed a bit. Tom’s arm was wrapped tightly around his middle, holding him firmly against Tom. Harry wasn’t tired after napping for almost the entire train ride, but Tom had already fallen asleep. Even asleep, though, Tom was holding him like Harry would run away.

Harry wouldn’t run away, though. Why would he? Tom was sweet to him, like mama was. They both gave Harry treak, and snuggles. But Tom gave him more.

He gave Harry boops, snuggles, treak, and baby marshmallows. Did that mean Tom loved him more than mama?

The thought made him both happy and sad.

He knew Tom loved him more than papa, because papa never gave him any of those. Except for snuggles when he was smaller, but still.

Harry snuggled closer to Tom, closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

James opened the door, Auror robes still on. He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, and walked into the living room.

He paused, a brow raising. Remus and Sirius were on the couch, sitting on either side of Lily. They had a giant, fluffy green blanket draped over their laps. Remus and Sirius were sipping hot chocolate, whilst Lily’s was on the coffee table in front of them. She was asleep, leaning against Sirius’ shoulder. Their cat was curled up on her lap, asleep.

Remus raised a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion, and James nodded.

He knew Lily hadn’t slept much in months. Right now, she looked peaceful and relaxed.

He quietly left the room, going upstairs to the guest room. He needed to take a shower after the latest job he had been sent on. Why on earth had that lady let so many boggarts stay in her closets and trunks? There had been at least 10.

He grimaced. James didn’t think he would be forgetting the sight of his son’s corpse anytime soon.

After taking a shower, he got in bed, and laid there until he fell asleep.

He was haunted by dull green eyes that night.

Chapter Text

Time Skip of about a week

Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably, staying hidden behind Tom’s legs.

Tom had done something to the lady that lived in the pretty cottage, and she had just walked off after her face went blank, dropping some keys in Tom’s hand as she passed them.

“Look, Harry. This is our new home.” Tom said, stepping to the side so that Harry was no longer hidden behind him.

The cottage was cute. It was made of white and gray stones, and the roof was thatched. There were vines crawling up the walls, and colorful flowers surrounded the cottage.

Surrounding the property was a wooden fence, wisteria growing along the entire thing. It looked like something out of the pretty picture books mama use to show him.

Tom had said our new home.

They were going to live there?

He absently allowed Tom to guide him towards the house, the wooden gate swinging shut behind them.

“Our home?” Harry asked, just to be sure. It was so pretty. It was really theirs? Just his and Tom’s?

Tom sent him an amused look. “Yes, Harry. Ours. Would you like to look around inside first, or outside?”

“In!” Harry said instantly, his excitement suddenly spiking. They had their own home. They didn’t have to go back to the place with thin blankets and icky soup.

Harry grasped Tom’s hand and tugged him towards the door insistently, Tom following him languidly. The teen had an amused look on his face.

The cottage was quite small, but comfortable. The living room and kitchen were in the same area, right when you walk through the door. To the left was the living room, which had a fireplace, a fluffy gray rug on the floor, a coffee table, and a few squashy looking couches. Harry wanted to flop on them to see how soft they were.

To the right was the kitchen. It was a traditional style, with a bar in the center. It looked as if it had been remodeled recently. The countertops were marble, and the cabinets white. Harry thought that the kitchen looked cold, unlike the living room and outdoors.

There was a hall between the kitchen and living room. On both sides there were two doors. On the right were two cozy bedrooms, and to the left was a bathroom, and a storage closet. At the end of the hall was a door leading outside.

“Out,” Harry said excitedly, dragging Tom outside. The backyard was large, and encircled by the pretty fence. The green grass was cut short, and Harry wondered what it would feel like if he went barefoot.

In the corner of the yard, there was something that looked like an odd little house, with a wire fence around it and on the top. And inside-

“Chickies!” Harry gasped, rushing towards the coop. Inside, there were a few chickens pecking at the ground.

Behind Harry, Tom was staring at the coop in horror. He hadn’t thought that lady would have chickens. They were ugly little things, with beady black eyes, and fluffed out feathers. The rooster gave him especially bad vibes. They were also taking Harry’s attention away from Tom.

He did not like that.

Tom’s brow twitched as Harry cooed at them from outside of the coop, fingers poking through the wire in an attempt to pet them. Of course, they ignored him.

“Harry, why don’t we go inside now? We’ll just leave the chickens alone, and-” He was cut off as Harry began chattering happily.

“Chickies cute! Thanky, Tom.” Harry sent Tom a blindingly bright smile, and Tom was sure his insides had all melted in that moment. But in a good way.

“Of course, Harry.” He said, forcing a smile on his face. Fine. He would put up with those feathered fiends for the time being.

After practically having to tear Harry away from the coop, Tom took the toddler inside to eat. It was time for supper, anyways. It wasn’t just an excuse to get Harry away from the feathered demons that tried to take Harry’s attention from him.

Thankfully, the muggle lady had kept her cabinets stocked to the brim.

“What would you like to eat, Harry?” Tom asked, exploring the cabinets so that he would know where everything was. Harry was sitting on one of the bar stools, legs kicking back and forth.

“Um...Dunno.” Harry mumbled, fiddling with his sleeves.

Tom hummed, continuing to look through the cabinets. There was cereal, canned foods, marinara sauce, packaged spaghetti-

“How do you feel about spaghetti?” He asked Harry, eyeing the package. Tom has never tried cooking spaghetti, but the matrons had once made it for the children at the orphanage, and it was good.

“...Wha’s that?” Harry asked, leaving his sleeves alone and turning his attention back towards Tom.

“Noodles with a sauce made with tomatoes.” He explained, opening the freezer. No hamburger meat, so no meatballs. That was fine.

“’Matos yummy.” Harry said, and Tom took that to mean he did want spaghetti.

Tom pulled out the package, read the ingredients, and began cooking.

Harry watched, barely hiding his giggles.

Tom was trying to clean up the sauce that had splattered everywhere. Tom had put the heat up too high, is what he said, and it went everywhere.

Harry pointed at the noodles. The water was bubbling over. “Tom.” He said, and Tom scowled, turning-

“Fu-” Tom hissed, picked up the pot by it’s handle. He took it to the sink and dumped it into the strainer, draining the water.

Behind Tom, the sauce was once more bubbling violently, splattering sauce everywhere once more.

Tom watched Harry eat the spaghetti he had somehow managed to succeed in making. It had kept slipping off his fork, and Harry had begun getting frustrated, so Tom had helped him.

“Yummy.” Harry said happy, and Tom preened. All that work wasn’t for nothing.

After dinner, he bathed Harry, then tucked him into the bed in the larger room. After doing so, Tom took a shower, feeling disgusting after being assaulted by sauce.

A few minutes later, he was wrapped around Harry, easily slipping off to sleep.

Tom exited Borgin and Burkes, smug. He had been hired the moment he showed his OWL scores. All O’s, of course.

And they would let him bring Harry along, as long as he didn’t attack any customers. Of course, Harry would be in his snake form, as no one could know about Harry.

Harry had thrown an utter fit when Tom tried to put him in his bag today, though. He had the two puncture wounds beneath the bandages around his finger to prove it. Thankfully, Harry’s snake form wasn’t venomous. But it hurt like hell.

After that, Tom gave in, and allowed Harry to curl around his neck. They gained a few glances, but not many. It wasn’t too unusual for wizards or witches to have snakes as pets, after all.

They were walking down the street, when Harry suddenly swerved around, nearly falling off of Tom. He gripped Harry before he could, though, pulling him tightly to his chest.

“Mama!” Harry hissed, squirming in Tom’s grip.

Tom felt the blood drain from his face.

No. No. There was no chance she would notice Harry. After all, he was just a snake at the moment, to all who saw him.

He chanced a look over his shoulder. The only person who stood out to Tom was a lady with red hair, staring at a flier plastered on a billboard outside of a shop.

Tom turned his gaze to the flier, growing paler, if possible.

A familiar face was printed on it, smiling brightly and waving at the red haired woman. Below the photo was the name “Harry Potter”.

Oh.

Oh.

Tom just had to kidnap a Potter, hadn’t he?

Harry was still hissing, but he was slowly settling down, thankfully.

The red haired lady turned, not looking at Tom, but he caught sight of her eyes.

Green like emeralds. Like Harry’s eyes.

He continued walking as if nothing happened, stroking Harry.

“Tom. Why mama no see?…” Harry bumped his head against Tom’s palm. Tom could hear the confusion and sadness in his tone.

“Harry, we’ll talk later.” He replied quietly. No one heard his hissing over the bustle of Diagon Alley.

Harry didn’t reply, just pressing his head firmer against Tom’s palm.

Harry was pouting.

Tom tried everything to cheer him up. He made him treacle tart, hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and gave him boops. Tom was honestly about to drag Harry outside and unleash the chickens upon him, just so that he’d smile.

Now, they were in the living room, sipping the hot chocolate Tom had made. Harry still wasn’t smiling, staring down into his drink.

“Harry,” Tom sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Why are you sad?”

Harry started trembling, and Tom hurried to take the mug. He set it down next to his own, and pulled Harry into his arms.

Instantly, Harry began crying, fingers grasping at Tom’s shirt. “Mama di-didn’ see Hawwy. Didn’ care.”

Tom rubbed Harry’s back, soothing him. He didn’t point out that she wouldn’t recognize Harry as a snake.

It was best if all of Harry’s ties to his family were cut.

He held Harry close, allowing him to cry into Tom’s shirt. “It’s alright, Harry. You have me.” Tom cooed, ignoring the dull throb in his chest at the sight of Harry sobbing.

It was for the best, he told himself.

Chapter Text

The moment the clock struck 5, Tom was on his feet, Harry hissing his displeasure as he was scooped up into the usual bag.

With a flick of his wand, anything out of place was instantly back where it was supposed to be. He wouldn’t risk touching the objects. It would be a foolish mistake.

“I’m leaving now, sirs.” Tom called, and he heard two affirmative noises from the back. He flipped the sign on the door to closed, locked it from the inside, and walked to the floo with his bag hanging from his shoulder. Harry had gone silent, resigned to being stuffed away for the next few moments.

For the past month, he had worked in the shop. The pay was quite good, and the customers loved him. Mr. Burke and Mr. Borgin both had begrudgingly warmed up to Tom after he began charming the customers, and had them coming back time and time again.

He flooed back to their house, which Tom had payed someone to connect the floo network to. They charged quite a ridiculous price, in his opinion.

Tom immediately vanished the soot that went everywhere, disgusted. Such a messy method of travel. Apparation was better, but it made Harry feel incredibly ill for an hour or so, so that was not an option.

An hour later, he was sitting at the dining table with Harry, eating supper. They were having chicken soup, one of Harry’s favorite foods.

Speaking of that, it was a wonderful idea to cook up those foul beasts that inhabit their backyard. The perfect way to get rid of them.

Tom frowned slightly. No. Harry wouldn’t eat them, sadly. It’d just be a waste.

He continued eating, currently the closest Tom could be to pouting. Damn chickens.

Harry pulled out blades of grass, comparing their lengths. The one on the left was longer than the one on the right, so Harry would name it Tom. And the little one was Harry.

Proud of himself, he proceeded to play house with the blades of grass, using his yellow boot as the house.

Tom was behind him, using his magic to make a garden. Harry had asked why he didn’t use his hands, like mama, but Tom had just said, “Digging my fingers in the dirt is beneath me.”

Harry looked up at the chicken coop, pouting. Tom always kept them locked in, which Harry thought was mean. The one with red on it’s head and hanging around it’s mouth looked sad.

Speaking of that one, it was on top of another one. Was it having a fight? Harry didn’t want them to fight.

“Toooom, chicky figh’.” He whined, and Tom glanced over, only to cringe.

“For fu-Merlin’s sake. Just- don’t look at them. They aren’t fighting.” Tom insisted, and Harry nodded slowly.

He went back to playing house with his blades of grass, but a mere minute later, he looked back at Tom.

“Tom, why chicky no out?” Harry asked.

“Because they’re stupid, and will get los-” Tom paused, then turned towards Harry, a bright smile on his face. “You know what? Let them out, darling. They can play outside with you until tonight.”

Harry perked up, and dropped the blades of grass, hurriedly pulling his boot back on. He stood quickly and stumbled over to the coop, unlocking the coop’s door easily. Harry tugged it open, watching the chickens immediately run out.

Happy, Harry began to chase them around the yard, unaware that one crossed the fence and hurried out towards the woods.

Tom just sent it a darkly amused look.

Tom begrudgingly levitated all of the chickens-minus one- back into the coop, after Harry had nearly started crying when Tom said they could just stay out all night.

“Wha’ if you lef’ Hawwy out?” Harry had mumbled, and that had been it for him. Tom had sent them all levitating into the coop, frantic squawks coming from the feathered demons.

Harry was now pressed against the fence, counting them slowly, before the toddler’s face scrunched up.

“Where Kitty?” Harry asked, looking up at Tom with wide eyes.

..Fuck. Harry had counted them, and named them?

Tom smiled gently, guiding a confused Harry back to the cottage. “Oh, I’m sure they’re all in there.” He soothed, and Harry just nodded.

A few weeks later, Harry was looking around the backyard for fairies, because Tom said that they liked hanging around pretty flowers, and there were lots on the bush in the left corner of the garden. So, Harry was crouching, about to rummage through them, when he heard soft chirping.

He peeked through the leaves, and gasped.

Kitty had come back, and was laying in a little nest she had made beneath the flowery bushes.

He scrambled to his feet, and ran towards Tom, who was reading a book in one of the two chairs on the porch. “Tom! Tom! Kitty home!” Harry said happily, stopping by Tom.

Tom sent him an unreadable look, before he sighed. “Alright. Let’s go see...Kitty, Harry.” Tom said, and allowed Harry to drag him to the corner of the yard.

Sure enough, in a little nest, “Kitty” was laying, chirping happily.

“Tom. Tol’ you Kitty was gone.” Harry huffed, and tugged on Tom’s pant leg. “In coop.”

With a sigh, Tom levitated the chicken, sending the two eggs in the nest a look. As the chicken floated towards the coop, he prepared to vanish the eggs to their fridge, when Harry gasped.

“Babies!” Harry cooed, and began crawling through the brush towards the nest. Tom sent him a horrified look.

“Harry, get out of there! There could be something in there, and- for Merlin’s sake nobody listens to me.” He hissed as Harry continued in towards the nest.

A moment later, Harry was crawling back out using one hand, the other cradling the eggs surprisingly securely to the toddler’s chest.

“Tom! Look!” Harry exclaimed, sitting next to Tom. He showed Tom the eggs, one in each hand now.

“Lovely, Harry. Now, let me just get rid of them-” He began, but Harry hissed.

“No! Babies!” Harry’s face scrunched up, and Tom grimaced as Harry cradled them to his chest.

“Harry, darling, what if they don’t have babies in them?” Tom prodded, brows raised.

Harry huffed. “See!”

Amused, and highly doubting they were, in fact, fertilized, Tom ran a pregnancy scan on them.

His face went blank when it showed up as positive.

Fuck. Not more of those feathered demons.

Chapter Text

Tom sent Kitty a look full of loathing. Harry had placed the eggs in the top part of the chicken coop a moment ago, where there were little nesting boxes, and she had gone straight to them and sat on them.

Damn birds.

“Harry, let’s go inside. I need to get ready.” Tom said, and began guiding Harry back to the house. The toddler sent him a confused look.

“Where Tom goin’?” Harry asked, slipping his little hand into Tom’s large one. Tom noted that it was warm, and soft. Cute.

“I need to go shopping for supplies. School starts up soon.” He said softly, and Harry’s face twisted.

“No wanna go s’ool. Stay.” Harry insisted, staring up at Tom with big, pleading eyes.

Manipulative brat.

“I can’t, Harry. We have to go for a while, but this will be the last time.” Tom promised, then immediately wanted to take it back. He had wanted to become a professor at Hogwarts eventually, but it didn’t seem likely with Dumbledore as headmaster.

Harry pouted, little boots shuffling on the grass. Tom helped him out of them when they reached the door, and left them on the porch next to his own shoes.

Once in their room, he changed into some day robes. The fabric was green silk, a gift from Lucius. The sleeves clung to his arms, ending at his wrists. The lining was silver, and Tom quite liked it. It showed off his Slytherin heritage nicely, despite not many knowing of it.

He sent Harry an amused look. Harry was still pouting, pressing his face into a pillow.

“Harry, why are you pouting?” Tom asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stroked Harry’s hair, satisfied when Harry shuffled over to him and hid his face in Tom’s lap instead of the pillow.

“Don’ wanna go. Wha’ ‘bout the babies?” Harry asked, turning his face so he was staring up at Tom with big eyes.

Tom hid his grimace. He hated those fucking birds. And the soon-to-be-birds.

“Darling, they’ll stay here with their mother.” He said, nearly jolting when Harry sat up suddenly.

“Who gonna give chickies food?” Harry questioned, fingers grasping Tom’s robes. Tom tried to ignore the pitiful look in Harry’s eyes. He would not pity those birds.

“The neighbors will.” He soothed, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Tom would just have to use the Imperius curse. The nearest house was a mile away, but the owner would be able to drive there every day and night to feed the damn birds.

“And...Can babies come to s’ool?” Harry asked, voice turning soft and pleading. Tom sent him a horrified look.

“Harry, darling, no. There are cats there.” And he didn’t want to take care of the feathered fiends.

Harry’s face fell, and Tom sighed, pulling Harry close. “They’ll be fine here. Kitty will look after them.”

Harry nodded slowly, and Tom pulled out his wand. “Now, we need to hurry before it gets dark. I’m going to turn you into a snake again.”

Harry scowled, but allowed Tom to do so. Afterwards, Tom grabbed the usual bag that held his wallet, and was the most comfortable for Harry. He put a pouty Harry inside, and headed towards the floo.

Lily sipped her tea. It tasted like ash on her tongue, somehow.

James sat across from her, mimicking her motions with his own tea. His eyes were glued to the papers on the round table between them.

“Just sign them, James.” Lily sighed, setting her teacup down on the saucer with a small clink.

James lips were pulled in a tight, flat line. “Are you sure you want this, Lily? I can-”

“James.” She said, exasperated, and he went silent.

With great reluctance, he picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and signed his name on the bottom line of the paper, next to Lily’s own.

Lily stood smoothly, and cast a spell to instantly dry it. She gathered the papers together neatly, and placed them in her bag. “Then, I will be going home.” Lily said, and without a glance back, she left.

Behind her, James stared at the table in front of him that held two teacups and saucers, now missing the divorce papers.

Tom stared at the children’s clothing isle, feeling out of place. Harry didn’t need clothes, as he used Tom’s shrunken ones. Tom quite liked Harry wearing his clothes. It was like a claim of ownership.

But that little yellow waist-length cloak would go nicely with those damned yellow boots.

Tom’s attention was caught on the yellow boots below it. Yellow chicken boots.

He turned his eyes back to the cloak, and Tom took a closer look. It wasn’t just a yellow cloak. It had a damn red comb atop the hood, like a chicken. It was a matching set to the yellow boots. And the front tied together with a bow.

…

Tom bought them, much to the utter delight of the cashier.

Tom fussed over Harry, dressing him in the new yellow cloak and boots. He looked adorable, and Tom would loathe to allow anyone to look upon the toddler. They may get ideas.

“Am chicky?” Harry asked, tugging at his cloak as he stared into the full-length mirror. His green eyes were wide, inspecting the new outfit.

“Well, not exactly. But you look adorable.” Tom said, and Harry beamed up at him.

“Tom be chicky too?” Harry asked, blinking up at Tom innocently.

“Ah...No. Just you. Oh, I think Kitty is calling for you! Hear that?” He gasped dramatically, intent on steering Harry away from the subject. He would not allow Harry to manipulate him into wearing a damn chicken cloak.

It looked adorable on Harry, but Tom would rather eat a frog. Raw and alive.

Harry grasped Tom’s hand, tugging him towards the door. “Then les’ go see Kitty!” Harry demanded, and Tom followed after him towards the backdoor.

Despite Tom only using it as an excuse, the damn bird was chirping loudly. Outside of the backdoor. Right there.

Tom stared at it as Harry hurried to open the door and fawn over it.

He was going to kill it one day, Tom swore to himself.

Kitty just stared at Tom as Harry picked her up. Tom would call the look almost smug if she wasn’t a dumb bird.

Yes. He would kill it brutally.

Chapter Text

Harry snuggled closer to Tom, sighing sleepily. They had been back at Tom’s school for a few weeks, and almost every day Harry had to hide in Tom’s bag as a snake.

Tom had asked their neighbor to feed the chickies every day, so that was good. Harry was sad that he wouldn’t see the eggies hatch, though.

He released a small oomph when Tom rolled over, an arm and a leg curled over Harry's small form. For the past few weeks, Tom had started trying to move closer to Harry every night in his sleep, if that was possible. It often kept Harry awake.

Harry closed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him. Tomorrow was Saturday, so Tom probably wouldn't turn Harry into a snake for long.

He quickly drifted off

Tom held Harry on his lap, with Harry in his snake form. They were in the Quidditch stands, sitting on a bench. Harry was asleep, as he often was nowadays in his snake form. Tom wondered if it was a side-effect of the transformation that hadn't been important enough for the book to list.

The Slytherin team was practicing, but Tom wasn't watching. He had only come out to get some fresh air, as he and Harry had been mostly stuck in the castle for weeks. Halloween had come and gone uneventfully, and now Christmas was rapidly approaching.

The air was surprisingly warm, though. The sun had made an appearance for the first time in days, though Tom could see clouds rolling in slowly. Soon, it would snow again.

It had been nearly a year since Tom had found Harry. The thought made him glance down at Harry, who was still sleeping.

He allowed his lips to twitch upwards. Harry hadn't once asked about his parents since the time Tom had said it hurt his feelings when Harry asked about them. Perhaps Harry had forgotten about them?

Tom had been doing research on Pureblood family trees. He had found a book that listed birth dates, and on the Potter family tree, he had found Harry.

Apparently, his darling was born on July 31st, 1980. Tom had missed celebrating his birthday, regretfully. But now he knew that Harry was 3, and he would be able to celebrate Harry's birthday next time.

Gently, he placed Harry back into his bag, and stood. It was getting late, and Tom would rather have dinner with Harry in the Room of Requirement than have dinner with the students, so he needed to ask the elves for some food.

Weeks passed uneventfully, with every week seeming to be identical to the last. Though, Tom had managed to sneak into the Chamber of Secrets whilst Harry was sleeping, and had checked up on the basilisk, Ansa("My name is Bessie!" She would always hiss). She was doing well, though she was annoyed at the lack of prey in the forest, due to it being winter.

It was Christmas Eve, and Tom was lazing on the couch in the Slytherin common room with Harry. Every single Slytherin, excluding himself, had gone home for the holidays. Slughorn was also gone, so there was no chance anyone would stumble upon them.

"Harry, are you awake?" He asked softly, glancing down at Harry. The toddler was leaning heavily against Tom's side, the blanket wrapped around both of them keeping Harry warm.

"Mm...wake..." Harry mumbled sleepily, before going silent once more. Tom assumed he was asleep.

He was worried that the near constant transfiguration was affecting Harry, but Harry only seemed to be tired often. He didn't complain of any pains, so perhaps Tom was just paranoid.

They stayed like that for hours, until Harry stirred, and mumbled that he was hungry.

On Christmas morning, Tom woke to the feel of little fingers attempting to tickle him. Good thing Tom wasn't ticklish.

He cracked open an eye, staring at Harry, who froze.

As if sensing the imminent danger, Harry made a move to scramble off the bed, but Tom pounced on him, attacking him with merciless tickles.

He was awarded with shrieking laughter, and Harry's arms and legs thrashing about.

"T-Tom, Tom!" Harry wheezed, breaking into another fit of giggles. "No!"

Tom pulled away, but not before pressing a deliberately wet and obnoxiously loud smooch right on Harry's cheek. Harry gasped in horror, and began scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve.

"Tom, that icky." Harry scolded, nose wrinkling. Tom just sent him a smirk.

"You were the one who woke me up. Now, what's so important that you disturbed my sleep?" He said, sitting up. Tom straightened his clothes, which had become rumpled in his sleep and the tickle attack.

"C'ismas." Harry said cheerfully, looking up at Tom with wide eyes.

Tom hummed, then said slowly, "What if I didn't get you anything?"

Harry just continued to stare, unphased. Smart brat.

He huffed. "It's under the bed." Tom said, and with happy cheer, Harry scrambled off the bed.

Tom waited for Harry to get back on the bed, now holding a medium sized gift wrapped with yellow wrapping paper.

When Harry sent him a pleading look, Tom hummed. "Go on." He urged, and Harry immediately began pulling off the paper.

There was a box sealed with tape beneath the paper, and Tom had to cut through the tape with a severing charm for Harry. When Harry opened it, he gasped excitedly.

"Chicky!" Harry cried, pulling out the stuffed animal. It was about the size of Tom's hand, which in his opinion wasn't that large, but in Harry's little hands it looked huge.

Harry sent Tom a large, beaming smile. "Thanky."

"You're welcome." Tom said softly, and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. Harry allowed it.

For Tom, having Harry there with him was the best gift he could think of.

He closed his eyes, resting his chin on Harry's head as the toddler fawned over the stuffed toy.

Chapter Text

The months went by quickly with no problem. Tom left Hogwarts with no little amount of relief, riding in one of the annoyingly small boats as all newly graduated students do. He no longer had to deal with a bunch of children, and he could finally spend most of his time with Harry, outside of work.

And now, they were home. And instead of being inside with Tom, Harry was outside with the damn chickens.

There were two new ones that Harry immediately spotted, and began fawning over. They were named Big Bort and Chick-Bert, for whatever inconceivable reason Harry had to name them so.

And then...there were the new eggs.

Eggs everywhere. And Tom was terrified that they’d all be fertilized, and he wouldn’t be able to lie to Harry and just vanish them because he hated lying to his darling.

And so, the next day, Tom painstakingly checked each one, nearly crying with relief with each one that wasn’t fertilized.

And then there were those that were.

Tom did not want to speak of those. He sent them a livid look. Harry was petting the fertilized eggs Tom had put to the side, vanishing the non-fertilized eggs away because Tom never wanted to see one again, and they could’ve gone bad by then. Why hadn’t Tom had that man take the eggs while they were at Hogwarts?

Tom’s brow twitched.

Should he crush all of the eggs whilst Harry is sleeping, tonight?

No, no. His darling would be devastated. Tom wasn’t stupid. He knew Harry was already attached.

He would...put up with them. For Harry. To make his darling happy.

Yes. Anything to make Harry happy.

Almost anything, Tom corrected himself.

Lily smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress, looking in the mirror.

The bags under her eyes were visible for all to see, and her red hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, new strands of growth having fallen out of the ponytail and were framing her face.

Lily had decided to go to a therapist. A muggle one, as the wizard ones were terrible, she had heard. She had no desire to have her mind invaded by a Legilimens, even if for therapeutic purposes.

Her shoulders slumped when she remembered why she was going, before Lily steeled herself.

She would make herself better. For Harry. And if Harry was really gone…

Then Lily would do it for herself. She loved her child with all of her heart, and nothing could change that. But she would not sink into depression once more, and live her life in days filled with sorrow, lacking the will to even get out of bed.

That would fix nothing, and it would do nothing for Harry, or herself.

Lily picked up her bag, and left to her appointment.

James slumped forwards, forehead thumping dully against the wood of the table. His mind felt sluggish from the alcohol he consumed, but not in the good way it used to be.

Maybe he had drank too much? James turned his head, looking at the empty bottle of Firewhisky.

...Probably.

He grimaced, turning his face back down to the table, closing his eyes.

He missed Lily. She had always been there to comfort him when he felt down. But now, James felt down because Lily was gone. And Harry.

Where was Harry? It had been so long… Harry seemed to just be a hazy memory in his mind, a tiny figure with a beaming smile that had made something in his chest warm each time James had gazed upon it.

It had been so, so long since he had seen that smile.

James had just had to pick a fight with Snivellus, hadn’t he? If he hadn’t done that, then Harry would be here, still smiling, and Lily would be there, too.

They’d be happy, wouldn’t they?

James closed his eyes, and imagined what it would be like if Lily and Harry were still there.

Tom watched, exasperated, as Harry stabbed at his broccoli, clearly pouting at the fact he had to eat his vegetables.

“Is icky.” Harry insisted, lip curling in disgust at the carrots and broccoli.

Tom sighed. “Darling, just half? Don’t you want to get tall, like me?” Harry likely wouldn’t grow to be too tall, as from what Tom had seen in photos, Harry’s parents weren’t very tall.

Good. Tom wanted Harry to stay small forever.

...What would Tom do when Harry was bigger, though? When Harry was older, and smarter, and could get ideas.

Such as leaving Tom.

The fork nearly slipped from between his suddenly slack fingers.

Would Harry want to leave Tom in the future?

No. Harry would never want to leave Tom. He wouldn’t allow it. Harry would get smarter, yes, but Tom would just have to make Harry love it here so much, love Tom so much, that he never wanted to leave.

Love.

Tom was staring into space, now. Did Harry love Tom? Did Tom love Harry?

Tom...thinks he does. Doesn’t he? He wanted Harry to stay with him, always. He wanted Harry to reciprocate whatever Tom was feeling. Tom wanted to curl around Harry, to protect him from anything that ever seeked to harm Harry or to steal him from Tom. To latch onto Harry and never let go. To merge with Harry, and become one entity.

That was love, wasn’t it? Not romantic, of course. His darling was a mere child, and even Tom wouldn’t stoop that low.

Perhaps familial love? That didn’t seem right, either. As a friend? No.

It...was a love that didn’t have a label.

That was fine. That was good. The love Tom felt for Harry shouldn’t be labeled. It should be unique; not to be shared by anyone else. Only for Tom and Harry.

“Finish your vegetables.” Tom said automatically, still lost in thought.

Pouting, Harry began eating a little carrot, nose scrunched up in visible disgust.

Chapter Text

Tom stared, horrified, at the tiny chicks sleeping in the nesting boxes Harry had placed the eggs into gently. They must have hatched in the night.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

Tom felt lightheaded.

Eight new little demons. He hoped that the older chickens would attack them, or something would get in the pen and get them, or they’d get some sort of disease.

Anything. Just get rid of them.

Harry, his little darling, was cooing over them, a soft look on his face that Tom wanted to keep for himself. He hated that it was aimed at those feathered fiends.

“Harry, darling, why don’t we go inside and eat? They’re sleeping, and Kitty is doing a good job taking care of them.” Despite it being highly unlikely they were all hers, she seemed to be the only one paying attention to the fluff balls.

Harry pouted, but reluctantly allowed Tom to guide him back to the house. Tom sent Harry’s bare feet a grimace. He’d hate to have Harry track mud in the house, or worse, have Harry accidentally step on something and hurt himself. Tom would have to teach Harry not to do that.

Harry shuffled his feet, staring guiltily at the floor. There were muddy footprints trailing behind him, coming from the backdoor.

“Harry.” Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just track mud inside. We’ve talked about this.”

Harry’s lower lip wobbled. “But chickies…” He began, but Tom cut him off.

“They’re fine, Harry. They can wait long enough for you to put on your boots.” Tom bit out. His eyes were a bright red, and the visible annoyance and anger scared Harry. Tom tensed when Harry’s eyes shone with tears.

Harry sniffled, fingers curling in his yellow chicky cloak. “Tom i-is angry at Hawwy?” He said, tears beginning to overflow. Harry hiccuped, face scrunching as he did so.

Tom knelt in front of him, and Harry let him hug him. He buried his face in Tom’s neck, crying.

“Darling, don’t cry. I’m sorry for getting angry.” Tom murmured, and Harry sobbed. His fingers grasped Tom’s robes. Tom had never been angry at him before, that Harry could remember. Why did Tom get so angry? It was just mud.

“’M sorry. Won’t do it ‘gain.” Harry sniffled, trembling. He wouldn’t do it again. Ever. He’d try never to make Tom mad again, because his red eyes looked scary. Not pretty, like red apples, or the red thing on the chickies’ heads.

Harry blinked back another wave of tears as Tom pulled away, and kissed his cheek, ignoring the salty tears. “We’ll make some treacle tart, alright? And chocolate milk.” Tom said softly, and Harry nodded mutely.

Tom’s eyes still scared him.

Harry didn’t look Tom in the eye anymore.

Tom would constantly try to initiate eye contact, but Harry always turned his gaze away, something like fear on his face.

Tom stared at Harry, who had shuffled away from Tom when they went to bed. Tom would be able to reach out and touch him, but Tom got the hint.

Don’t touch me. I’m scared.

Confusion, annoyance, and something like fear roiled in his chest. Would Harry try to leave him, now? Why was he afraid of Tom? Tom didn’t think he had done anything to make Harry afraid of him.

This had all started earlier that day, when Harry had tracked in mud from the backyard. Tom found it annoying that Harry did it again, despite Tom already having told him not to. It was easily cleaned, but Harry had disobeyed Tom’s order, and did it again.

So, he had gotten mad.

Ah…

Was that why Harry was afraid? Because Tom had been angry at him?

Well, Tom would try to control his anger better from now on. He still needed Harry to love him enough to never want to leave, after all.

“Harry?” Tom murmured, and Harry made a tiny noise of acknowledgment. “Come here, darling. I’m sorry for getting angry.”

Reluctantly, Harry turned around. He kept his gaze away, though.

Sighing, Tom moved closer, and wrapped an arm around Harry’s middle. He pulled him close, pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Why are you afraid?” Tom asked gently, ignoring Harry’s tenseness.

Harry fidgeted a bit, fingers twisting in the sheets, before he spoke quietly. “Tom’s eyes got scary.”

Tom blinked, and his lips tightened into a flat line. He had been told often in the orphanage that his eyes were scary, because of their unusual color. He also knew that they looked scarier when he was angry or annoyed.

So, his eyes had scared Harry?

Gently, he grasped Harry’s chin and tilted his head up. As expected, Harry tried to turn away, but Tom didn’t allow it.

He met Harry’s eyes. “Darling, are they scary now?” He asked, softening his expression in hopes that it would put Harry at ease.

Harry was trembling slightly, but Tom held him there, intent on vanishing the ridiculous fear Harry had of Tom’s eyes. Harry would, after all, be looking into his eyes every day, for the rest of their lives.

Tom held him there for a few minutes, until Harry stopped trembling, and no longer tried to avert his gaze.

“Better?” Tom asked, his grip on Harry’s chin loosening.

Harry nodded slowly, glancing away for a second, before looking back at Tom. “’M sorry.” He mumbled.

Tom pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “No, I’m sorry. I scared you.” He murmured, the confusing mess of emotions in his chest vanishing as Harry snuggled closer of his own will.

“...Treak for breakfast?” Harry asked quietly, and inwardly Tom groaned.

“Yes, Harry. You can have some treacle tart with your breakfast.” He sighed. But, it was worth it when Harry beamed at him.

He was going soft, wasn’t he? What would his Knights think of him if they saw this?

Not that he’d ever let them see Harry. And their opinions were practically dirt to him.

Chapter Text

Tom woke up with the feeling that something important was supposed to happen, but he couldn’t place it.

He sent a glare out the window. The damn rooster was crowing in the backyard. The sun was only just rising, and it was a weekday.

Tom took his wand out from under his pillow and cast a silencing spell on the room. Instantly, the obnoxious crowing stopped.

Merlin, if it wasn’t for Harry, Tom would have gutted the thing with his bare hands, then left it’s corpse to be fed on by wild animals in the woods.

Speaking of Harry, he was sleeping, snuggled up to Tom. His yellow pajamas were rumpled from sleep, and his lips were parted, some dried drool visible on his chin.

Adorable.

Tom may or may not be a bit biased. He did not care.

He stroked Harry’s hair, enjoying the peace. Harry still smelled like strawberries and something sweeter that he could never seem to identify, despite Harry taking a bath with pine scented soap and shampoo.

That was fine. Tom liked Harry’s scent.

Tom relaxed, nose nuzzling into Harry’s hair. He couldn’t remember what was so important. What was the date, anyways?

29th, 30th, 31st…

July 31st.

It was Harry’s birthday.

His darling was four now. How could Tom have forgotten, for even a moment? He had even gotten Harry a gift last week.

He had had Harry for a year and a little over a half. Time passed quickly.

Tom needed to make Harry treacle tart, as he would like that much more than cake. What would Harry like for breakfast?

Treacle tart, obviously. But he wasn’t about to do that. Tom didn’t care if Harry got a bit chubby-It’d be cute, actually- but it would affect Harry’s health.

So, no treacle tart for breakfast.

After Harry woke up, Tom fawned over him after telling him “Happy Birthday,”, feeding vanilla yoghurt with sprinkles to the groggy toddler.

Afterwards, he dragged Harry to the couch to snuggle. Tom was met with no resistance, and the moment they laid down and started snuggling, Harry fell back asleep.

Tom was too comfortable and content to go out and feed the demonic birds. They could wait until later.

He stayed there, eyes half-lidded with bliss, and Harry curled up between him and the back of the couch. Tom wished they could stay like this forever.

After Harry woke up sometime after twelve, he let Tom hold him on his lap, the older boy’s chin atop his head. Harry was still a bit sleepy, but was slowly becoming more aware.

“Darling, would you like to open your present now, or later?” Tom asked, nuzzling the top of Harry’s head. Harry allowed him to do so, blinking sleepily.

“Mm. Now, please.” He said, but made no move to get up. In fact, Harry leaned back against Tom, still groggy after his nap.

Tom huffed in amusement. He flicked his wand, and a small box wrapped in yellow paper with chickies on it came flying into the room. It landed gently on Harry’s lap.

Harry waited for Tom to tell him to open it, before he eagerly tore into it.

Inside, there was a box filled with small outfits. Harry looked up at Tom, confused.

Tom’s lips twitched. “They’re costumes for your chickies.”

Harry beamed. “Thanky, Tom! Kitty gets this-” Harry held up a little tuxedo. They were all designed specifically for chickens, and Tom hated wasting money on the demon birds, but again, anything for Harry-”And Cock gets this!” Harry held up a frilly red dress.

Tom’s mind was blank for a few moments, before it slowly caught up.

Harry had named one of the birds Cock.

Where had he heard that word? How had his Harry been exposed to such a lewd thing? Did this house have those kind of books?

“Harry,” he began, voice light. “Where did you hear that word?”

Harry looked up, green eyes wide and innocent. “From the chicky book.”

Tom would admit to no one that he had begun to sweat.

“Oh, that’s good, darling. Did you understand it well?” He asked, hiding his relief.

Harry nodded rapidly. “Hen is girl chicky, Cock is boy chicky. So Cock is Cock. Did Tom know chickies eat bugs?”

Tom just nodded along, inwardly horrified at the thoughts creeping in. What if the house had books that could corrupt Harry’s innocent mind? That was unacceptable. Harry would stay innocent forever.

Later, after Tom had fed the chickens and watched in amusement as Harry dressed them up, he made treacle tart with Harry’s “help”. Outside, the sun was setting, coloring the kitchen and living room in a slightly red tinted light.

Harry had asked for spaghetti, so Tom made that while the treacle tart was in the oven.

When they finished supper, Harry happily began eating his treacle tart. Tom watched in horror as Harry practically inhaled the dessert.

He would have to crack down on Harry’s table manners. They were terrible.

After Harry finished, Tom took him to the bathroom for a bath, amused at Harry’s blissful expression. If only Harry’s face was like that all the time.

He ran his fingers through Harry’s wet hair, now freshly rinsed. The toddler didn’t want to get out, since Tom had spelled the water in the bath red, and Harry thought it was pretty. “Like apples”, he had said.

Tom thought it looked more like blood.

With that thought, he hurriedly vanished the red water, then washed Harry off with fresh, clear water. Harry had protested, but Tom ignored it.

He didn’t think he liked Harry covered in anything that looked like blood.

After drying Harry off and getting ready for the night, Tom took him to bed and tucked him in. When he was sure Harry was asleep, he left to take his own shower.

Tom tapped his finger under a word on the book’s page, amused. “No, darling. Not ‘rond’. Read it again.” Tom said gently.

Harry huffed. He was on Tom’s lap, learning to read. He was progressing well, in Tom’s opinion. He could read most words in children’s books, but sometimes had a hard time sounding them out.

“R-round?” He asked, looking up at Tom.

Tom nodded. “Very good. Now, how about this?” Tom chose another word on the page, and Harry perked up.

“Dragon.” Harry said happily, and Tom’s lips turned upwards.

“Very good, Harry. And this?” He tapped below another.

His darling was learning quickly. Tom was proud. He would admit to having been reluctant to teach Harry to read, as it would take away one more thing that made him dependent upon Tom, but Tom didn’t want Harry entirely helpless.

He kissed the top of Harry’s head.

No. Not entirely helpless. Enough to keep him dependent on Tom, though.

Chapter Text

Tom spent the next day sorting through every single book in the cottage, trying to sort out any that were inappropriate.

Once he was finished, Tom was horrified by the fact he had found five. Four adult novels, and one magazine. They contained things his innocent Harry would never learn the existence of.

So, he threw them into the fireplace, using them to light a fire, despite it being warm outside.

Tom was relieved that Harry hadn’t asked why he was looking at so many books. The toddler had mostly played around in the backyard with the feathered demons, torturing them with frilly dresses, suits, and jewelry made from the flowers in the garden.

He sent all of the books floating back onto the bookshelf pressed to the wall, this time organized alphabetically, as the lady that used to live in the cottage had left them in random places.

Tom hated that.

Harry scowled up at Tom, who was staring down at him calmly.

Tom wasn’t letting him go out to play with the chickies, as it was snowing, and Tom said he didn’t want Harry to get sick.

Completely ignoring the fact that Harry had a jacket, boots, gloves, and warm socks.

“I wanna go out!” Harry complained, tears threatening to spring forth. He was mad. “You’re being mean!”

Tom’s lips turned down in a frown. “I’m not being mean. I’m being realistic. You’ll get sick if you go out there, darling. It’s snowing so hard, you can barely see out the window-” Tom was cut off as something shattered behind him. He turned, eyes locking on the newly broken glass picture frame.

Harry paled when Tom turned to him, red eyes narrowed.

“’M sorry. ‘Didn’t mean to.” Harry said. He really hadn’t meant to. He had just been so angry, and then the glass shattered-

“It’s alright, darling.” Tom said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Harry stared in confusion. “How about this? If the snow lightens up, we can go outside.” Tom said gently, and Harry fidgeted.

“Okay.” He mumbled, eyes downcast. “Are the chickies warm?”

Tom patted him on the head. “I cast a charm on their coop to protect them from the snow. They’ll be fine.” Tom soothed.

Guess what? Time-skip, darlings. 3 years. Harry is 7, Tom is 21.

Harry held Tom’s wand in his hand, giddy. It was the first time Tom was allowing him to touch it, and it was so warm. It was practically thrumming in his hand.

He looked up at Tom, wide eyed. “Tom, can you teach me a spell?” Harry asked excitedly, fingers wrapped tightly around the pale wood. He didn’t want to let go.

Tom hummed, head tilting. “You’re only seven, darling. Why don’t we wait until you’re eleven? Then I’ll teach you all the spells you want.”

Harry’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Tom. That’s four years! I wanna learn now.” He huffed. He debated on biting his tongue to make his eyes water, as he usually did when Harry wanted something from Tom, but the idea made him feel guilty all of a sudden.

Tom might have a reason for waiting, after all. And four years wasn’t that long…

And, when he was eleven, he could learn all the spells he wanted.

The thought made him jumpy with excitement. Harry supposed it would be alright to wait a few years. He could read books until then, and learn all he could.

Tom raised a brow, and Harry averted his eyes for a moment. “Okay. I’ll wait.” He said, and felt his chest warm when Tom patted him on the head.

“Thank you for not arguing, darling. Why don’t we go get some ice cream from that muggle shop a few miles away? I know how much you like it there.” Tom said, and Harry lit up.

“Okay! Thank you, Tom.” He beamed, unfazed when Tom ruffled his hair, further mussing it up.

“Of course, darling.”

Tom ate his ice cream absently, more focused on Harry, who was licking his chocolate ice cream, legs swinging back and forth on the bar stool.

He often took Harry here for ice cream. It was muggle, and only a few miles away, so Tom could take Harry there freely without worrying about a wizard seeing Harry and getting suspicious.

Not that Tom worried too much, nowadays. Harry had changed a lot since he was two, and last seen by any wizards. Taller and leaner, but he was still a bit babyish. His eyes were still big, and a vibrant emerald color. Tom had to take Harry to a barber often, though, as Harry’s hair grew fast. The thick black strands were still defiant, though, and constantly resisted Tom’s attempts to tame them into submission. Not even gel could hold it down.

If Tom and Harry were to walk into Diagon Alley, they likely wouldn’t gain a second glance from anyone. Harry may resemble his parents, but no one would look at Harry and say, “Oh, he looks like the Potter heir!”

Well, aloud, at least. Let them think, but it shouldn’t be spoken of.

“Darling, you’ve got some ice cream on your cheek.” Tom said, amused. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it off Harry’s cheek, ignoring the coo coming from the owner. She had taken a liking to Harry, and Harry to her.

Tom often had to resist the urge to murder her in her sleep, though. Harry would be sad if she died. No matter how much he hated sharing Harry’s attention, he would never do something to make Harry sad.

Unless it was for his safety, of course. That was an entirely different matter.

After they finished, Tom and Harry left, the latter waving cheerfully back at the owner as they exited the shop.

“Tom?” Harry said, little fingers clutching at Tom’s sleeve as usual. Tom would prefer to hold Harry’s hand, but the brat was going through a phase in which he thought it was embarrassing to hold Tom’s hand.

Tom resisted the urge to pout.

“Yes, darling?” Tom asked, guiding Harry towards the alley they usually apparated in and out of when they visited the small town.

“I like going to town with you.” Harry said, beaming. “It’s really fun.”

Amused, Tom placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, preparing to apparate. “And I enjoy it, as well.”

A slight lie, as Tom hated showing Harry to others, but he always loved being with Harry.

So, not entirely a lie.

Chapter Text

Tom held Harry’s hand, much to the younger boy’s embarrassment. Harry was still going through his no hand-holding phase, but Tom didn’t care at the moment.

They were at the park. His darling had begged to go after seeing it in town, and Tom had slowly given in.

The book he had read said that children should socialize with others their age. So, despite being incredibly reluctant, Tom had decided that he would take Harry out more often, unless something went terribly wrong.

With an ache in his chest, Tom let Harry’s hand go when the child tried to tug his hand away, wanting to go play.

Why did it hurt so much to see Harry walk away?

Harry’s feet swung back and forth gleefully. He had climbed on the top of the monkey bars, and was sitting up on one of the bars. It was uncomfortable, but worth it.

Tom looked like he was about to have a heart attack, though. But, Harry was grateful that he didn’t try to approach. Tom was sitting on one of the wooden benches, with some ladies nearby eyeing him.

“You should get down. You might break something!” Someone said, and Harry looked down curiously.

Whoa. She had fluffy hair. It was brown, and seemed to frizz up everywhere. Her brown eyes were narrowed disapprovingly, and her foot tapped the dirt rhythmically.

She reminded Harry of a tiny Tom, but not as pretty and sweet. Tom was always prettier than everyone else, Harry had observed.

“Okay.” Harry said, knowing how people (Tom) could get if you ignored them.

Slowly, he climbed down, noticing with amusement that Tom had relaxed, expression softening out. The ladies near him seemed to be blinking an awful lot. Did they get bugs in their eyes?

He dusted off his clothes, not wanting to get them stained. Harry didn’t want to bother Tom with the stains.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked curiously, looking up at her. She was a bit taller than him, but thankfully not too much taller.

Her nose wrinkled. “It’s rude to ask someone’s name without giving your own, first.” She said sternly, and Harry pouted.

“I’m Harry.” He said, emerald eyes wide and expectant.

Her face scrunched, as if trying to keep a stern expression, but it inevitably softened. “I’m Hermione.”

Harry lit up, beaming. “That’s a pretty name.” He said, and her face flushed.

“Thank you.” She said, smiling back.

Harry wanted to ask her to play, but didn’t know what they’d even do, so he shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Hermione seemed to sense his discomfort, frowning for a moment, before she beamed. “Do you want to go read with me? I brought two books. They’re about chickens, and their anatomy. Did you know-”

Harry listened, wide eyed and overjoyed. Another kid who loved chickens, like Harry did? He was so lucky.

Tom watched, ignoring the jealousy in his chest. He would not be jealous over the tiny muggle girl who had just so happened to catch his darling’s attention with, by the looks of it, chicken books.

Tom wouldn’t be jealous, because he knew Harry cared more for him. He had been with Harry for many years, after all.

He settled back against the bench, the jealousy leaving him abruptly. Harry cared for Tom more than he would anyone else. Of that, Tom was sure. So there was no need for jealousy.

Tom allowed a small smile to cross his lips, ignoring the dramatic gasps and hands fanning flushed faces nearby. Those women held none of his attention.

Nothing could compare to Harry, the brightest person on the planet. Everyone else was a dying candle in comparison to Harry’s flame.

His smile widened.

And he must be the wick that Harry was burning upon. Always supporting his darling, and keeping him from dying off like the rest of the dim candles.

His lashes lowered, red eyes locked on Harry’s happy form. Harry was sitting beneath a tree with the bushy haired girl, reading a book.

Harry wouldn’t die off like the other candles, as his darling would be immortal. Tom had already found something that he was quite sure would give them both eternal life, and tie them together.

In some of the books Lucius sent him, a ritual had been mentioned, long forbidden and forgotten. A way to tie two souls together for eternity.

And if Tom’s theory was correct, if one of them were to do the unthinkable and die, they would be dragged back from the dead as their souls were tied together, forced back into their body time and time again until the vessel was patched up and functional once more.

Of course, Tom would only use it once he was sure there were no repercussions, and that it would ensure immortality. Such a thing could not be taken lightly.

Tom’s eyes lowered, lips curling downwards.

And...Tom would ask for Harry’s permission, first.

That night, Harry went home with a skip in his step, beaming at Tom.

“-and did you know that the eggy yolks are made in the over-airies?” Harry chattered, not minding that Tom was holding his hand now. He had seen lots of kids at the park holding adult’s hands, so it wasn’t embarrassing now.

Tom just nodded, guiding him towards the door. Harry toed his shoes off once he was inside, carefully setting them by the door.

Then, Harry frowned, thinking.

“Tom, where do babies come from?” Harry questioned curiously, wide emerald eyes turning to a stiff, still Tom.

Tom turned to him, movements stiff. “Storks fly around holding baskets with babies in them, and they drop them upon both expecting and unexpecting people.”

Harry blinked. “Did one drop me on you?”

Tom slowly relaxed, lips twitching upwards. “No. You were dropped on other people, first, but then you came to me.”

Harry hummed, feeling tired. “I’m glad I came to you. Love you, Tom.”

Tom paused for a long moment, before he responded. “I love you, too, darling.”

Chapter Text

Harry stroked Kitty’s head absently, back pressed against a fence-post from where he sat on the ground.

The chickens were swarming the yard, pecking around in search of bugs.

As usual, Harry counted them out to make sure they were all there. Five, ten, fifteen. All of them were there.

He pouted, scratching beneath Kitty’s chin, where she always seemed to enjoy getting scratched at. After the first baby chickens they had when Harry was little, there had been no more. Harry suspected that Tom had something to do with that.

His nose scrunched up. Harry knew Tom didn’t like the chickens, since Tom liked to keep Harry to himself, but he wished Tom would let them have just a few more babies. Harry had loved petting the fluffy babies, from what he could remember faintly.

Big Bort and Chick-bert were being weird, and making crowing noises that made Tom get annoyed. Harry thought they were funny, though.

Harry hummed a song he had learned from the radio Tom had found in the storage closet. He loved the radio. The music was fun, but Tom wouldn’t dance with Harry, for some reason.

“Kitty, do you think Tom can’t dance?” He asked Kitty, curious.

She clucked, her head smacking against Harry’s palm in demand of pets.

“I don’t, either.” Harry sighed, stroking her feathers. His lashes lowered, emerald barely peeking out from beneath them. “Maybe he needs a better song to dance to?”

Kitty clucked again, nibbling on his pinkie finger. Harry let her do so, hardly registering the ticklish feeling.

“I think so, too.” He said. “I’m gonna go play some music!” Harry set her down on the ground, ignoring her squawk of displeasure, and rushed inside.

Harry fiddled with the radio, ignoring the white noise that came from many of the channels. He went straight to the channel he usually went to.

From the couch, Tom eyed him over his book, an amused glint in his red eyes. His darling always went to that one, much to Tom’s vague horror. Why couldn’t Harry just choose classical music?

Harry stopped on his channel, looking up at Tom with wide, pleading eyes.

Queen’s Somebody To Love began to play from the radio, much to Tom’s displeasure.

“Darling, you know I don’t like dancing.” He sighed, trying to ignore the emerald orbs staring up at him.

“But Tom. I wanna dance with you. Please?” He asked, tone sweet and irresistible.

Damn those green eyes.

He set the book to the side, sighing. Just once was fine. Tom was sure he could dig up some information in his mind about dancing that he had undoubtedly read in a book once.

“Each morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet-”

Harry beamed, standing quickly and hurrying over to Tom.

Tom stood slowly, ignoring Harry’s pout. He dug up whatever information he could find, and was vaguely horrified to find that there was hardly anything. The only thing he could remember was where he was supposed to put his hands.

...Oh, well. It was just him and Harry, anyways.

“Take a look in the mirror and cry. Lord, what you’re doing to me-”

Harry held out his hands, beaming.

Confused, and slightly curious, Tom placed his hands over Harry’s. He marveled for a moment at how quickly Harry’s hands had grown. He could hold them, now. Tom wouldn’t just be engulfing his darling’s hand within his own. Though, they were still small.

Harry held Tom’s hands, and began to pull Tom around, spinning them in a slow circle. Amused, Tom went with it.

It seemed his darling had no idea how to dance properly, either.

Tom ignored the music playing, instead allowing Harry to guide their movements to the best of his abilities. Tom mimicked his darling’s movements, and slowly began to take the lead as he learned Harry’s pattern.

Two steps back, one to the right, two steps straight forwards, one step left. Spin. Repeat.

Harry was beaming, happy at finally being able to dance with Tom. It warmed something in his chest, knowing his darling enjoyed doing such small things like this with Tom.

...If Harry asked him to dance again, he’d be fine with that.

Harry ignored Tom’s stare. He and Hermione were lying on the grass at the park, reading a book.

“And this is the reproductive system-” Hermione pointed at a picture on the page, showing some organs that were printed onto it.

“What does “reap-ro-duck-tive” mean?” Harry asked, squinting at the pictures.

“It’s reproductive. The reproductive system does…” Hermione’s eyes scanned the page, reading further down. “It lets you produce offspring, it says. Offspring means babies.”

Harry’s face twisted in confusion. “Tom said babies come from storks that carry big baskets filled with babies, and they drop them on random people.”

Hermione sent him a horrified look. “That isn’t true!”

Harry sat up, and turned to look at Tom, who was on a bench a few feet away. “Tom! Babies come from storks that drop them on people, right? Hermione’s book says-”

“Oh, darling, look at the time! Three thirty. We need to get home, or your chickens will starve.” Tom said quickly, standing and moving over to Harry. Harry felt himself being led away.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “But we usually feed them at six?” Harry said, as Tom guided him out of the park, to somewhere they could apparate.

“Shush, darling. I forgot to feed them today. Now, pay no attention to that silly book. It was probably written by an insane person.” Tom said lightly. “Now, do you want treacle tart for dessert?”

Harry lit up, forgetting all about the book. “Yes, please. Can we have spaghetti for dinner?” He asked hopefully.

“Of course, darling.” Tom said, hand on Harry’s back as they entered an empty part of the park where no one would see them. “I’m going to apparate us, now. Hold on.” He warned.

Nodding, Harry hugged Tom, dreading the feeling of apparition.

Chapter Text

Harry blew out the candles on his cake, emerald eyes wide with excitement and happiness. Tom was watching him, eyes lidded and content.

It was his darling’s eighth birthday. He was growing up so fast. Time was slipping through Tom’s fingers like sand that couldn’t be held in his palms. Harry would grow up, soon enough. The thought made Tom’s chest ache.

He didn’t want Harry to grow up. Harry might want to leave Tom, despite how good Tom tried to be to him.

Tom wanted to hold Harry back if he decided to leave. To chain him to their bed, so that he could never leave Tom.

But Tom wouldn’t. Harry was growing, and so was Tom. If Tom couldn’t keep Harry happy enough to stay with Tom of his own free will, then what right did he have to keep Harry?

No. Tom would never take that choice from Harry. He would do whatever he could to make Harry want to stay, but he would never force his darling to stay.

What was that saying again? If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours. If they don’t, they never were.

His lips quirked as Harry gave him a hug, and Tom ruffled his hair, further mussing it.

Such a cheesy, cliche quote.

Tom would take it to heart, though. Harry was free to do as he wished, once he was of age and prepared for the world.

And if he left Tom and never returned, Tom would grieve, but not chase after him.

“Tom, have some.” Harry commanded, pointing at the chocolate cake. Tom raised a brow at him.

“And if I’m not hungry?” Tom said lightly.

Harry’s lower lip pushed out in a pout. “It’s lonely being the only one eating.” Harry mumbled, eyes lowered to the bar.

…

“Alright.” Tom sighed dramatically, and Harry looked up, triumphant. Tom was cutting himself a small slice.

“Um, Tom…?” Harry spoke, looking up at Tom with big green eyes. “I have an idea for a birthday present.”

Tom hummed, cocking a brow at him. His mouth was full of cake, so Harry took it as a signal to continue.

“I want more baby chickens.” Harry said, voice firm.

Tom’s face went blank.

More of those foul demons?

Tom had put up with them for, what, was it four years now?

Harry was staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Tom both wanted to say no and yes.

They had fifteen of the damn things. Tom knew that fact intimately, as every day he counted them, hoping that some would be gone. They never were.

Tom swallowed his cake, then smiled softly. “Darling, you have fifteen. Why would you want more?” He asked, reaching out to cup Harry’s cheek. It was soft and warm in his palm.

Harry leant into his his touch, eyes half-lidded. “Because they’re soft, and cute. They make me happy, and Kitty loves babies, too.”

Tom’s chest clenched at that. They had so many, though…

“Darling, why don’t we wait a while, hmm? You may change your mind.” Tom murmured, thumb rubbing circles beneath Harry’s eye.

Harry’s face twisted, and tears sprung up in his emerald eyes. “Tom.” He pleaded.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. Harry was manipulating him. He knew his darling was good at it, but this was getting out of hand.

“No. Ask for something else.” Tom said firmly.

Harry bit his bottom lip, and the tears spilled.

Tom’s mind went blank.

“Shhh, darling. Stop crying, please.” Tom cooed, but Harry didn’t listen.

Tom hardly ever told him no. He didn’t like it. Tom usually did whatever Harry wanted, especially on his birthday.

Harry hiccuped, tears still spilling down his cheeks. Tom was futilely trying to wipe them all away, but they were quickly replaced.

“Darling. Calm down. I’ll get you anything else, okay? Just please stop crying.” Tom pleaded, kissing Harry’s temples.

Slowly, Harry’s sobs tapered off. “C-can I bring Kitty i-inside, then?” He sniffled, blinking away tears.

Tom’s lips pulled in a flat line. “Anything reasonable.” He corrected.

Harry lowered his eyes to the floor. Guilt suddenly welled up in him.

He had bothered Tom. Harry was acting like a baby; crying over being told no. Harry had fifteen chickens already, and he loved them all. He didn’t need anymore.

“’M sorry.” He mumbled, lower lip wobbling. He blinked back another wave of tears.

Harry felt himself being pulled into a hug, and his fingers curled in Tom’s shirt.

“Oh, darling. It’s alright. Please don’t do that again, though.” Tom murmured, pressing kisses along Harry’s brow. “Why don’t we go to the park tomorrow? We can get ice cream, as well.”

Harry sniffled, hiding his face in Tom’s neck. “Okay.” He said quietly.

Tom held Harry close, trying to push away the exhaustion he felt creeping in.

Inky black locks tickled his face, but Tom held himself still, breathing in Harry’s usual scent of sweetness and strawberries.

Earlier, they had gone to get ice cream, then they went to the park. Harry had perked up considerably, and was almost back to his usual cheerful self.

Tom ached to get Harry whatever he wanted, but he held himself firm. Harry needed to learn that no meant no, and Tom would not be manipulated.

Little fingers were curled tightly in Tom’s nightshirt, clinging to him. Harry’s face was peaceful, with no sign of any turmoil.

Good. He didn’t want his darling to be anything other than happy.

Harry stirred slightly when Tom moved to get more comfortable, making a noise of displeasure. Tom settled back down, and Harry instantly reattached himself to Tom.

Amused and pleased with how Harry wanted to be close to him, Tom pulled Harry closer, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.

Slowly, Tom drifted off to sleep, clinging to Harry just as tightly as Harry was clinging to him.

Chapter Text

Time-skip of 2 years. Harry is 10, Tom is 24.

Harry stared at the coop. The wire had been torn open on one side, and-

He felt sick. His eyes blurred with tears, and his ears rang.

Harry heard the door creak open behind him, and Tom called his name. Harry didn’t answer. His tongue felt too thick and heavy to speak.

He swayed dangerously, but right as he was about to fall, gentle hands steadied him. One of the hands covered his eyes gently.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.” Tom murmured. Harry felt like he was falling, but this time Tom wouldn’t catch him.

“Tom,” Harry rasped. He was trembling. “Are- are they-?” He couldn’t finish his sentence, trying to hold back the tears that stung his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Tom repeated.

Harry wailed.

Tom cradled Harry in his arms. Harry was trembling violently, emerald eyes wide, as if afraid to close them.

Tom had never warded the coop to keep other animals away. Should he have? Deep inside, he was happy that they were gone. But Harry…

Harry looked devastated.

Tom summoned one of the Calming Draughts from the potion cabinet in the kitchen, and uncorked it. Carefully, he tilted Harry’s head back. Harry didn’t seem to register it.

“Darling, I’m going to give you something to help you feel better, alright? I need you to drink it for me,” he crooned, and pressed the glass rim to Harry’s lips. Harry parted his lips automatically, and Tom slowly helped him drink the entire vial.

Instantly, he felt Harry go slack against him, eyes becoming lidded.

...Perhaps he should’ve used half a vial? Harry was still quite tiny, after all.

Tom usually didn't recheck the warnings and instructions on the back, but he did so to make sure. One vial for extreme situations, a half for things such as stress, etc. Don’t feed to animals, don’t give to children under the age of five, don’t drink more than one vial, contact an apothecary and St. Mungo’s immediately if there are any adverse reactions.

Nothing about how Harry was reacting to it. Perhaps it was normal? Tom wouldn’t know, as he had never had a reason to use any. It didn’t seem to be an adverse reaction. In fact, it seemed as if Harry was incredibly relaxed; all troubles nonexistent.

Tom set the vial aside, and relaxed back against the couch. He stroked Harry’s hair, closing his eyes.

Tom would need to ward the house against animals, now. It would be annoying to have whatever killed the chickens come back and destroy anything else. And if Tom somehow found that it was something the could be dangerous for Harry?

Tom would track it down and slaughter it.

He cooed soothingly when Harry tried to move, and held the younger male closer. Instantly, Harry relaxed back against him.

“Tom?” Harry slurred, struggling to keep his eyes open. It was dark out, now, and Harry had just started to regain his senses. Everything felt odd and detached. He could hardly even get his fingers and toes to twitch.

“Shush, darling. Relax.” Tom said soothingly. It sounded far away, though.

Harry remembered what he had seen vividly. Bloodied feathers thrown around the coop, as well as Kitty-

Harry wanted to be sick, but he couldn’t feel anything.

His head lolled to the side, cheek against Tom’s chest. “Feels funny.” He murmured, struggling to speak clearly. Why did he feel so weird?

“You’re fine. Just don’t move much.” Tom murmured. “I gave you too much Calming Draught.”

Harry made a soft noise at that. His eyes felt extremely heavy, so he let them slip shut.

“Sleep, darling. It’ll be better when you wake up.” Tom said softly.

Harry made another noise, and relaxed further against Tom. He felt himself quickly drifting off to sleep.

Harry was staring off into space, leaning back against the pillows propped against the headboard. Tom was certain the Calming Draught was wearing off, but it’s affects still lingered even after a day.

Tom had vanished the coop, as well as the blood and feathers. Kitty’s body had been the only one left in there.

After much consideration, he had buried her in the corner of the yard using a few spells. Harry seemed like the type to appreciate that.

Now, Tom was trying to coax Harry into eating some soup. Harry had said he wasn’t hungry, despite not having eaten since breakfast yesterday.

Tom’s lips pulled in a tight line. “Darling, if you don’t eat, I’ll be worried. I have to go to work tomorrow, so please.”

Slowly, Harry’s gaze turned to Tom. Tom watched as Harry nodded once, and slowly tried to sit up straighter.

Tom began feeding him, ignoring Harry’s weak attempts to take the spoon. Tom wanted to take care of Harry, as he had never seen Harry look the way he had yesterday, when Tom found him outside.

It made Tom feel odd. There was an uncomfortable, tight sensation in his chest that refused to go away.

After feeding Harry, he flicked his wand and sent the dishes flying into the kitchen to be washed later. Tom stared at Harry.

“You’re going to take a bath, and I’m going to help so that you don’t accidentally drown yourself.”

A bit of life finally returned to Harry’s face as his lips curled down. “I can do it.” Harry mumbled. “’M just sleepy.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an offer, darling.” Tom drawled, standing. He yanked the covers off of Harry, who’s lower lip had gone out in a pout. Tom was relieved by the emotions Harry was showing. He had worried that the Calming Draught had backfired.

He left Harry there with the blankets pulled off of him, and started the tub’s water in the bathroom. Thankfully, it filled quickly, and he helped a reluctant Harry into the bathroom.

After vanishing Harry’s clothes into the laundry basket, Tom ignored Harry’s dulled mortification, and helped him into the tub.

“Tom, I can do it.” Harry muttered, eyes downcast.

Tom hummed, immediately beginning to wash Harry, ignoring the child’s attempts to wash himself. “I don’t care. And it’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen.” Tom drawled.

Slightly flushed with vague embarrassment, Harry allowed Tom to bathe him, then dry him off after the bath. Tom could tell he was tired, so he returned him to their bed after Harry brushed his teeth.

After Harry fell asleep, Tom placed a kiss on his forehead, and went to set up more wards.

He didn’t want any more annoyances finding their way into his yard.

Chapter Text

Harry leaned back against the fence next to Kitty’s grave. The grave that Tom had made, surprisingly. Harry was grateful that he had at least been given a place to grieve.

Harry had marked the grave with a big stone he found in the woods, selecting it for it's large, flat surface. Tom, reluctantly, had used his magic to carve Kitty’s name onto the top.

It had been a week, and Harry still felt awful. A bit better, but awful. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. It always made Tom sad when he cried. 

Every day, he left fresh flowers at the grave. Some Harry had picked in the woods where wildflowers grew-with Tom watching him-, and some he picked from the garden.

He missed his chickies terribly.

Gently, Harry patted Kitty’s stone, and stood. He brushed the dirt off of him, and went inside, where he knew Tom was waiting for him.

Harry didn’t have his chickies anymore, but he had Tom.

Tom watched Harry eat his melting ice cream at a table with the Granger brat, chattering on and on over some book she was reading. Tom was sitting at a separate table with her parents, Hugo and Jean Granger. He and Harry had met them at the park many times, as Harry had become friends with the brat, but Tom had avoided interacting much with her parents until now.

“Mr. Riddle, I don’t mean to pry, but-” Jean started, but Tom cut in with a charming smile.

“Call me Tom, please, Mrs. Granger. I feel old when addressed in such a formal way.” He said lightly, waving her off.

Flustered, she continued. “Tom, then. Feel free to call me Jean. If I may ask, is Harry your biological son?” She asked. Hugo looked curious as well.

Tom resisted the urge to scowl, and kept his friendly mask on. “No," he said shortly, "Harry is an orphan, like myself, so I felt a connection. I may have also been.. a bit lonely," Tom admitted. He continued, "So, I adopted him.” To his surprise, some of what he said rang a bit true. Had Tom really been lonely before Harry? 

Her face softened in sympathy. “That’s very sweet of you. He seems very happy.” She said softly. Tom’s eyes automatically went to Harry, who was frantically trying to finish his ice cream that was melting and dripping down his cone.

Tom was glad Harry was cheering up. It had been two months since his chickens died, and he was slowly getting better.

Tom was getting much more of Harry’s attention now, which he couldn’t help but be darkly satisfied with.

He just hoped Harry’s attention wouldn’t stray in a few months, when Harry turned eleven, and Tom started teaching him magic. Harry wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts, after all.

That thought almost made him jolt. Hogwarts. Those two boys that had entered their dorm at night, intent on harming Harry- what had their names been?

Tom wanted to snarl when he remembered. Flint and Nott. He wanted to gut them open and feed their innards to the Giant Squid-

“Tom?” Jean said, concerned when he spaced out.

He blinked, pushing away thoughts of murder. They had likely forgotten all about Harry and Tom. They weren’t a threat, so Tom should just treat them like the lowly beings they were and forget about them. “Ah, I apologize. I’m just glad he’s happy.” Tom was very glad that Harry was happy. Just not so much that it was aimed at the Granger brat.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be raising a child-” Hugo cut himself off with a yelp. Tom assumed Jean had pinched him or stomped on his foot, as she had an entirely fake smile upon her face.

“Excuse him, please.” She said, false cheer in her voice. “We had Hermione in our thirties, and his parents had him when they were around that age as well.”

Tom nodded slowly, taking a sip of his water. He had opted out of having ice cream. Tom wasn’t craving sweets at the moment.

Tom didn’t think he was too young to raise Harry. He had practically raised himself, and was forced to take care of some of the small children in the orphanage when he was younger.

The sun was setting outside. Tom wanted to go home, curl up in bed next to Harry, and sleep.

That sounded nice.

Tom watched Harry cradle Tom’s wand in his hand, eyes lidded and content. He didn’t often let Harry hold his wand, but Harry was eleven now, and teaching him a spell seemed like a good gift.

They were in the backyard, so that Harry wouldn’t accidentally break anything important if the spell went wrong. Tom had placed a feather on top of a fence post, so that Harry could practice making it float.

“Just swish your wand like this,” Tom guided Harry’s movements from behind him, “and flick. As you do it, make sure you say the incantation correctly.”

Face set in determination, Harry tried to repeat the movement as he said, “ Wingardium Leviosa. ”

The feather trembled, before going still once more. Harry’s lower lip pushed out in a pout.

Amused, Tom fixed Harry’s grip on his wand. “You’re gripping it too tightly, and your movements are stiff. Be gentle. Treat it as if it is alive, because it is. Wands aren’t just twigs. They can feel your emotions, and how you treat them. If you treat it like a stick, it will act like one. I want you to treat it like a companion. Wands are loyal to the one whom is loyal to them.”

Harry nodded, grip loosening. Tom watched as he repeated the spell’s movements, smoother this time.

The feather lifted, and hovered in the air.

Harry gasped, jerking around to look at Tom with wide eyes. The loss of concentration made the feather float to the ground, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“Tom, I did it!” He cried, arms encircling Tom’s waist in a tight hug. “I did it! Thank you!”

Proud, Tom ruffled his hair, further mussing it. “You did well, Harry. I’m proud of you.”

Harry beamed up at him. “Can we do another? I want to learn another!” Harry pleaded, emerald eyes wide and pleading.

How could Tom say no to that?

Chapter Text

Tom had been worried for the past few days about Harry getting his Hogwarts letter but it seemed he had no need.

It never came.

Tom sipped his tea, turning the page of his book. Harry was still asleep in their room, likely replenishing his magic. Tom had taught him the Lumos charm yesterday. It had taken Harry a few tries, but when he succeeded, Tom felt as if he had nearly gone blind.

His darling was powerful.

Tom wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.

On one hand, Tom valued power, and it coming from Harry made it all the better. Harry was strong, and would be able to protect himself if Tom was somehow unable to do so. 

On the other, Harry may think Tom wasn’t enough eventually, and go off to seek other ways to gain knowledge and power.

Tom furrowed his brows, the book he was reading long forgotten. Tom had gotten higher scores on his OWLs and NEWTs than anyone else had in the past century. He doubted he needed to worry. Tom’s mind was filled to the brim with information. Harry would be satisfied.

And if Harry wasn’t?

Tom would deal with it if it came down to it.

Remus brushed Lily’s hair back, pulling it into a ponytail. With it being short, though, a few strands slipped away to frame Lily’s face.

“Honestly, I don’t understand why you cut it. Your hair is beautiful.” Remus stated, stepping back. Lily looked relaxed, emerald eyes lidded contentedly.

“It’s a pain to take care of.” Lily said simply, tucking the strands behind her ears. “Did you hear that James is getting remarried?”

Remus’ lips tugged in a flat, tense line. “I did,” he confirmed, amber eyes narrowing. “Apparently, Fleamont and Euphemia have been pushing him to get remarried and have an heir. Those are just rumors, though.”

Lily hummed, before turning her green gaze to Remus, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “How is Hope?”

As if on instinct, he dragged a hand down his face in frustration. “She won’t eat her vegetables, and Sirius encourages it! I’ve told him she needs them, but he just gets this pitiful look- ” he trailed off when she began to laugh.

It was rare to see Lily laugh, but she seemed to do so more often, now. She was healing, albeit at a painfully slow pace.

“You chose a good one, Moony. She’s precious.” Lily said, a soft smile on her face.

Remus returned the smile. “I didn’t choose her. She stomped on Sirius’ foot, and he was instantly taken with her.” He drawled, before his face softened further. “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Sirius cooed at Hope, who stared at him with a stubborn expression.

“Come on, pup. Eat the peas, or Papa is going to get sad when he comes back.” He whined, the spoon hovering in front of her.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Won’t. Dada is jus’ sayin’ that.”

The pitiful facade fell away, and he set the spoon down in the bowl, gray eyes narrowed.

“Alright, pup. What do you want?” Sirius drawled.

Hope’s pouty lips turned up in a triumphant smile. “Choco. Three of ‘em.”

A look of horror crossed Sirius’ face. “Your papa will kill me.” He hissed, leaning in close. “ Two chocolate bars. No more.”

Her blue eyes narrowed in thought, before she spoke, “Okay. Deal, Dada?”

“Deal.” He sighed. Remus was going to murder him.

Hope ate her peas, smug.

James spat out his tea, coughing violently. It was quickly cleaned with a spell by an appalled Euphemia.

“ I’m sorry? ” He rasped, squinting at Euphemia and Fleamont.

“The wedding date has been set. It will take place next spring. Ms. McLaggen is thrilled, of course. She will be in charge of decorating.” Euphemia said, taking a sip of her tea.

James blinked at them rapidly, taking in what his mother said, before he spoke, incredulousness seeping into his tone. “You must be joking. I haven’t even agreed to this marriage yet!” He spat, hazel eyes narrowed. James was still aching over his divorce with Lily, and he had never even met the McLaggen woman.

Fleamont frowned at him. “You will.” He said. “You are Lord Potter, but I am still in control of our vaults and properties. If you do not marry her and produce an heir, you will be cut off from accessing any of the Potter properties and vaults.” And that was that.

James gaped at them. Euphemia seemed to be perfectly fine with Fleamont’s decision.

Seeing that he had no choice, James scowled, arms crossing. “ Fine, ” he spat. “But I want full access to both the properties and vaults.”

Fleamont nodded. “Of course.”

Harry squinted up at Tom, who stared back down at him, unfazed.

“Why can’t I tell ‘Mione?” He asked, frowning.

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have gone over this twice, darling. She is a muggle, and cannot know about magic.” Tom said, and Harry’s nose scrunched up when Tom cupped his cheeks. “Muggles are dangerous when faced with something they cannot understand.”

“’Mione wouldn’t hurt me.” Harry said firmly, emerald eyes stubborn.

Tom narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know that. Tell me; if there was a strange monster under our bed that didn’t harm you, but you knew was dangerous, what would you do?”

“Tell you.” Harry said instantly.

“And she would do that, as well. Granger would tell her parents, who would keep her far away from you, and they would tell people that could get you taken away from me, or killed. ” Tom murmured, and Harry’s eyes lowered.

“I don’t want to be taken away from you.” Harry said quietly. “I want to stay with you.”

Tom sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Then don’t tell her anything, darling. Just interact with her as you always do; with no mention of magic.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Okay. I won’t tell her anything.”

“Promise?” Tom asked softly, red eyes gentle.

“I promise.” He mumbled, eyes squeezing shut when Tom ruffled his hair.

“Good.” Tom purred. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”

Harry lit up. “Treacle tart.”

Tom’s face scrunched up. “I should’ve known. No, Harry. You cannot have treacle tart for dinner.”

Chapter Text

Harry frowned, placing his book down onto the grass. “What do you mean? You’re leaving, leaving?”

“Until summer. I’ll be back for holidays, though!” Hermione said, trying to cheer him up. “It’ll only last a few years. Then, we can go back to how we were.”

Harry’s lower lip wobbled, and he said, voice trembling, “But I don’t want you to leave. I want it to stay like this.”

Her face softened, and she pulled him into a hug. “I’ll be back. Promise.”

Further away, Tom narrowed their eyes at them, fingers itching to pull out his wand and curse Granger until she never dared to touch his darling again.

“Why were you crying, doll?” Tom asked the moment they apparated home, hands cupping Harry’s cheeks, eyes scanning Harry’s face in search of a hint as to why he was so sad.

Harry sniffled, tears pricking at his emerald eyes once more. “’Mione’s leaving. She said she’s going to a boarding school in Scotland, and she’ll only be back in the summer, ‘n on holidays.”

Tom nearly tightened his grip on Harry’s face. A boarding school in Scotland?

It couldn’t be, could it? Tom had never seen her use a lick of magic. Of course, that could be because she had never been taught it. But Tom would notice, wouldn’t he? He should know things like this.

It was dangerous. If she was a witch, and learned more about their world…

What if she connected the dots between Harry and the missing Potter heir?

“Tom, you’re hurtin’ me.” Harry mumbled. Tom’s fingers had dug into Harry’s jaw in a painfully tight grip.

He released Harry, eyes apologetic. He was overthinking things. Granger wasn’t that smart. “I’m sorry, darling. Why don’t we go inside?” Tom murmured, guiding Harry into the cottage. After taking their shoes off, Tom sat down with Harry on the couch, pleased when Harry snuggled against his side.

“’M gonna miss her.” Harry said quietly.

Tom wanted to grimace. He didn’t though. “You’ll still see her in the summer, darling. Don’t fret.”

Harry nodded slowly. “’Kay. Can we go to the park tomorrow?” He asked quietly.

Reluctantly, Tom agreed.

Harry was curled up in bed, hiding beneath the sheets. Despite it being noon, Harry wouldn’t come out, even with promises of treacle tart.

Why was that Granger brat so important to his darling? Tom was relieved she was gone, but Harry had become depressed.

Wasn’t Tom enough?

Tom sat on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you come out, darling? You’ve been under there for a long time.” He murmured.

“Don’t wanna.” Harry said, voice muffled by the sheets.

Tom’s eyes locked onto where he assumed Harry’s head was. “Why are you so sad? She’ll come back. I’m here for you, though. Aren’t I enough?” He asked, shoving back any insecurity. Tom was not insecure.

Harry was quiet for a moment, before he peeked out from beneath the covers. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. Oh, how Tom wanted to kill her. She made his Harry cry-

“You’re enough. I just feel bad.” He sniffled, reaching out a hand to Tom. Tom immediately wrapped his own around Harry’s, quietly marveling over the small size of Harry’s hand. Bigger than when he was a toddler, but still small.

Tom’s hand was still much larger, though.

Tom brought Harry’s hand to his lips, brushing his lips over Harry’s knuckles affectionately. “As I said; she’ll come back. Just be patient, darling.”

Harry gave him a wobbly smile. “Okay.”

Harry picked the pretty flowers in the garden carefully. They were pink roses, and Harry knew Tom liked them the most, as they were the prettiest of all of the flowers in the garden, so Tom must take better care of them. Tom must be nicer to them than the other flowers, since they grew so beautifully for him.

After he gathered enough to hold together in a poorly made bouquet, Harry went inside, proud and a bit shy. Would Tom like them? He hoped so. Harry usually just gave Kitty flowers.

Tom was in the living room, sipping his tea on the comfy couch. There was an old book in his free hand, his ruby eyes locked onto a page.

“Tom,” Harry spoke, shuffling his feet. Tom turned his gaze to him, a brow quirked in question.

“These are for you.” He said shyly, holding out the pink roses. “Do you like ‘em?”

Tom smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges. “They’re lovely, darling. Those have thorns, though. Did you prick yourself?”

“Nuh-uh. I was careful.” Harry said, still holding out the bouquet. Tom set down his teacup and book, and carefully took the flowers.

“Thank you.” Tom said softly. Harry beamed, rocking on his heels.

Tom stood, and went to the kitchen. Harry watched as he took out a vase, filled it with water, then set the roses inside, placing the vase onto the counter.

“They’re beautiful.” Tom murmured. Harry preened.

Secondhand embarrassment warning. And you should skip if you’re below 18. I don’t think this is suited for children? But it’s not graphic.

Harry woke up panting, clothes sticking to him in some places from sweating. His skin felt hot, and his-

Had he wet himself?

Harry flushed deeply, mortified. He hadn’t, had he? Harry hadn’t done that since he was four, and Tom had been understanding then, but Harry was twelve now, and shouldn’t be doing that.

Harry shuffled off the bed, thankful that Tom hadn’t been clinging to him as he often did. He crept out of the room, careful not to make any noise when he closed the bathroom door.

He flipped the switch, illuminating the bathroom. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden brightness.

Flustered and embarrassed, Harry peeked-

Oh. That wasn’t what he had been expecting.

Should he ask Tom? The blush slowly faded from his cheeks. Tom would surely know what was happening. What if Harry was sick?

Suddenly, he was horrified, and all of his embarrassment was gone. Was he going to die?

Chapter Text

Tom was woken by a nearly hysteric Harry, his wide emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears, lower lip wobbling as it did each time Harry was about to cry.

Tom sat up quickly, hand slipping under his pillow to grasp his wand. Did something happen? Why was Harry crying?

“T-Tom,” Harry hiccuped, “I think I-I’m dying.”

His heart felt as if it had stopped for a moment, before Tom reached out and yanked Harry forwards, onto his lap. Harry didn’t seem hurt. What was wrong? Was he sick?

“What’s wrong, darling?” He murmured, raking his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry’s face had gone red, for some reason.

“I-I just woke up, and it was like that, and I’m scared.” Harry sniffled, gesturing down at his lap, and hid his face in Tom’s neck. Bewildered, Tom looked down-

Ah.

He looked away.

Tom had never experienced such desires, so he did not know how to deal with things like...this.

“You’re fine, darling. It’s normal for teenagers.” Tom soothed. Well, he thought it was normal, anyways. He had heard whispers of things like this in the orphanage, as well as in books.

“It is?” Harry mumbled, clinging to Tom.

“It is. You’re alright.” Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, pleased when Harry relaxed against him.

‘Kay. What ‘s it?” Harry asked quietly.

Tom grimaced. He was not about to taint Harry’s innocent mind with such horrid knowledge. No, Harry would stay oblivious. “It’s nothing to trouble yourself with, darling. Just know that it’s normal.”

What if Harry eventually started seeking out a way to relieve his frustrations though?

No, no. Harry couldn’t do that. Tom would rather cut off his right hand than let Harry seek such things from men or women who could have filthy diseases, as well as take Harry’s attention away from Tom. Harry was much too young to do such things, as well. Harry would just have to endure it, and if he couldn’t-

Tom was sure there was a spell to get rid of such desires.

“Why don’t you go take a bath, darling? I’ll wash your clothes tomorrow.” Tom murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Okay.” Harry said quietly.

Three Year Time-skip. Harry is fifteen, Tom is twenty-nine.

Tom ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry was lying on the couch with his head on Tom’s lap, eyes closed.

Harry was old enough to make some decisions for himself now, right?

“Darling, if you could live forever, would you want to?” Tom asked quietly.

Harry made a contemplative noise. “If I was immortal alone, then no. I don’t want to live forever without you.”

“Then, if you could become immortal with me, would you want to be?” He asked again.

Harry’s eyes opened, emerald orbs blinking up at Tom. “Why do you ask?”

Tom tapped Harry’s nose. “Just answer the question, darling.”

“Sure, I guess. I’d be happy if I could stay with you forever.” Harry murmured.

Tom smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges. Harry sighed, relaxed, when Tom continued stroking his hair once more.

When Harry looked as if he was about to doze off, Tom spoke again. “And if we could be bonded together forever, you’d be happy?”

Harry smiled sleepily. “As long as you’re always with me, I’ll be happy.”

Tom took that as consent.

Of course, he’d wait until Harry was a bit older to do the ritual. He didn’t want his darling to be held back by looking like a teenager forever.

Harry felt...odd.

Every time Tom would touch him, ever if it was just to ruffle Harry’s hair, his stomach felt like there were hundreds of butterflies fluttering around in it. Harry’s face would turn as red as a tomato, and it wouldn’t fade away until Tom was out of his sight, and he calmed down.

It was weird, but Harry didn’t exactly hate it.

He wanted more of Tom’s affection. Harry wanted to snuggle closer to Tom at night, and to give him hugs at random times, and Harry did. It made his face burn with embarrassment when Tom snuggled against him as well, and returned his hugs, but he loved it. Harry ached for Tom’s attention.

A tiny, embarrassed whimper escaped him, and he wanted to press his face into his pillow. Tom was sleeping behind him, arm wrapped in an iron grip around Harry’s waist, with his front pressed to Harry’s back. The closeness made Harry's face, neck and ears burn.

Harry didn’t know why he felt like this, but he wouldn’t be opposed to it never ending.

Tom fought the urge to preen.

Harry was acting different, but in a good way, in Tom’s opinion.

Harry seemed to constantly try to be at Tom’s side. It may be because of Tom’s new job at the Ministry’s Department of Magical Artifacts. Harry couldn’t go, much to Tom’s annoyance, as the Ministry wouldn’t allow him to bring “pets”.

So, Harry had to stay home, alone. Tom was sure the wards were strong enough to protect Harry, as Tom had strengthened them over the years, but he was still anxious. He hated leaving Harry’s side.

Back to the subject; Harry was acting different, and Tom loved it. It was as if Harry was as desperate for Tom’s attention as Tom was for Harry’s.

Of course, Tom gave Harry every bit of his attention and affection. At night, when Harry tried to snuggle closer to Tom inconspicuously, Tom would press as close as he could to Harry, pleased at the extremely close proximity. When Harry gave Tom a hug, Tom would return it just as tightly.

The flush that came to Harry’s face often perplexed Tom, as he could think of no reason for embarrassment. Tom thought it was cute, though, so he didn’t think much of it.

His arm around Harry’s waist tightened slightly. Harry’s breathing was steady, signaling he was asleep, so Tom should sleep as well.

After pressing a kiss to the back of Harry’s head, Tom relaxed, and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Harry sipped his tea, watching Tom over the rim of his teacup. Tom was kneeling on the floor, a piece of chalk in-hand and drawing strange symbols in the open area in the space between the living room and kitchen. Tom had temporarily transfigured the wooden floor to smooth stone, so that the floor was easier to draw on.

Tom had been doing that for the past thirty minutes, not once speaking to Harry.

Harry had no idea what Tom was doing to be honest, but he had grown used to Tom’s ways. Once, he had left their room to get a snack, only to see Tom muttering to himself in the kitchen, sitting at the bar, journals and books laid across the entire thing. Tom had been hastily scribbling at a piece of parchment, oblivious to the ink running down the side of the bar from a spilt ink jar.

Harry had backed into their room silently, not wanting to interrupt whatever had Tom so sucked in.

Finally, after Tom finished a carefully drawn rune, Tom raised his head and met Harry’s eyes.

“Darling, come over here.” Tom said softly.

Curious, Harry set his tea down, and made his way over to Tom. He was careful not to step onto or into the complex circle of runes and symbols that Harry could not decipher.

“What is this, Tom?” Harry asked, eyeing it.

“Do you remember what we spoke of last month, Harry?” Tom said, setting the chalk on the bar. He went to the sink and washed his hands of the white powder dirtying his fingers and palms.

Harry frowned, brows pinching. He leaned against the bar, trying to remember any important talks. Slowly, one came to mind. It was a haze of bliss, lazing around in the living room, Harry’s head on Tom’s lap, with fingers combing through his hair as he dozed off.

“ Darling, if you could live forever, would you want to?”

“ As long as you’re always with me, I’ll be happy.”

Harry’s face went blank, both mortified and confused.

Tom wanted him to become immortal? For both of them to become immortal?

“Tom,” Harry spoke, fingers itching to do something. “Is that…?”

Tom dried his hands, then turned to face Harry. He looked ecstatic. Red eyes were lit up, and there was a smile on his face that he only reserved for Harry.

“It is. We only need to drip a few drops of your blood, and mine, onto the Gebo rune. It should work once we do that.” Tom said, and Harry-

How could Harry deny Tom?

Harry still had his worries, though. “But Tom, won’t it get boring living for such a long time?” He wondered aloud. Tom approached him, and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up.

“You won’t grow bored, darling. You’ll have me.” Tom soothed. Harry felt like he could melt into Tom’s touch.

“But what about ‘Mione? When she-” His words were cut off by a kiss to his forehead, Harry’s mind short circuiting immediately.

“Hush, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” Tom murmured. Harry nodded slowly, cheeks flushed from the kiss.

Tom was inwardly seething. That damn mudblood was one of the silly reasons Harry was having doubts about becoming immortal with Tom? Tom despised her. Every time Harry speaks of her, Tom wants to wring her neck.

Tom won’t, though, because he loves Harry. If Harry wants that mudblood as his friend, Tom will not get in his way.

She’d be gone, soon enough. They would be immortal. Granger would die, and they would live on for eternity.

Tom guided a dazed Harry into the circle, careful not to let Harry mess up the work Tom had worked on painstakingly. With ease, Tom cut his finger with an under-powered slicing charm. The blood welled, and he held his finger above the Gebo rune in the center of the ritual circle. The instant it began to drip onto the white chalk, it began to turn red.

He quickly healed his finger, vanished the blood, then took Harry’s hand in his own.

“This will sting, darling. Is that okay?’ He asked softly, fingers caressing Harry’s palm. Harry made a noise of confirmation, eyes locked onto the movement.

Carefully, Tom cut open Harry’s finger with the same spell, and quickly held Harry’s finger above the rune. When the blood hit, it darkened to a dark red.

After healing Harry’s finger, and pressing a kiss to the slightly irritated skin, Tom began chanting.

Harry watched in confusion as Tom spoke in a language he didn’t recognize, words smooth and silky. The chalk began to glow brightly, and Harry felt a tugging sensation in his chest. It was faint, at first, then grew insistent. It was starting to hurt. Tom’s face was still lit up with a smile, and Harry was hyper aware of the hand Tom had on Harry’s wrist.

“Tom,” Harry rasped, eyes welling with tears. He wanted the pain to stop. “It hurts.” 

Tom cupped Harry’s cheeks, fingers caressing the soft skin. “It’s alright, darling. It’s just your soul. It’ll feel better once it’s patched up.” He crooned.

Harry’s face twisted in confusion. “My soul? Patched up? ”

Tom hummed, eyes not once leaving Harry’s face. “Yes, Harry. We’re swapping shards of our souls.”

Harry’s chest ached painfully, and it felt like his face had drained of color. “ Tom, isn’t that dangerous?” He hissed. Harry’s knees felt like they’d give out from under him when there was a sharp, painful tug in his chest, then an empty feeling where the tugging had been. He had to lean heavily against Tom to keep from falling.

It hurt. Harry hated it.

“Of course not, darling. I’d never put you through something harmful.” Tom murmured, lips twitching in the slightest show of pain, before it vanished. “Once the ritual is done, you’ll feel normal. The only difference will be that we cannot die.”

Slowly, Harry nodded, wincing at the feeling of something pressing at the empty space in his chest; as if trying to fit in. It was uncomfortable, but when it finally slotted in, it felt as if nothing had been missing.

Harry steadied himself, pushing away from Tom, and out of the circle. “That hurt, Tom. You should’ve warned me.” He snapped, rubbing his chest.

Tom gave an absent hum, rubbing his own chest as well. There was a blissful smile on his face.

Slowly, Harry’s anger melted away. How could he be angry at Tom, when he looked so happy?

Chapter Text

Tom admitted he may have gotten a bit hasty. Each time he had thought of Harry saying he’d be happy being immortal with Tom, though, he had felt the urgent need to go through with the ritual. Tom couldn’t stop himself.

He traced Harry’s sleeping features with a finger, a lazy smile on his face.

Tom couldn’t bring himself to care much, though. The ritual was done, and they were immortal. Harry still looked very young, but if luck was on their side, he would keep aging for a while.

Inwardly, Tom hoped that Harry would stay small, but knew it was ridiculous. Harry would be held back by looking like a teenager.

Harry snuffled in his sleep, and Tom watched as Harry tried to get more comfortable, snuggling closer to Tom. He caught sight of the bandage on Harry’s forehead, hiding the jagged wound beneath.

After the ritual, Tom had caught sight of blood on Harry’s forehead, and had instantly checked. A wound had begun to form, much to Tom’s distress, and Harry’s confusion.

Tom had wondered if he had messed up the ritual, but after hours of burying himself into the book containing the ritual, he had found a tiny section in the book that he had written off and ignored.

As a side affect, one of them would gain a mark, signaling the ritual’s completion. How had Tom dismissed that?

He needed to start paying more attention to things he deemed to be irrelevant upon first glance.

Harry rubbed his chest, brows pinched.

He didn’t feel any different, besides the low ache in the new wound on his forehead. How could it be, though, when a piece of Harry’s soul was gone? It had been replaced with a shard of Tom’s.

Harry flushed. The thought was...odd. It sent pleasant shivers down his spine, and made him feel as if there were butterflies in his stomach.

On the bright side; now he always had a bit of Tom with him.

And Tom was becoming more clingy, if at all possible.

His face grew redder when Tom pressed a kiss to his temple. They were in the living room, with Harry practically in Tom’s lap.

“Why are you rubbing your chest, darling? Does something hurt?” Tom murmured, fingers coming up to rub at the spot on Harry’s chest.

“No. It’s fine.” He said, pressing his face into Tom’s neck to hide the redness of his face. These feelings were odd and overwhelming, but Harry liked them.

Tom hummed, long fingers carding through Harry’s hair. “Does your forehead hurt?” He asked worriedly.

Harry huffed, eyes lidded. “Just a bit sore.” He admitted.

Tom’s red eyes looked apologetic. “I tried healing it, darling, but it didn’t work. It seems as if it has to heal on it’s own.”

He hummed, leaning into Tom’s touch. “That’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t ignore.”

Harry rubbed the pink scar on his forehead, irritated. It looked odd. Like a lightning bolt. Tom had said it looked good, but Harry felt self-conscious. What if Tom didn’t really mean it? What if Tom thought Harry was ugly?

He tugged his fringe over the new scar, hiding it from sight.

Harry didn’t want Tom to think he was ugly. It made his chest ache just thinking of it.

Looking away from the mirror, Harry left the bathroom, eyes on the floor.

Tom resisted the urge to frown.

Harry had been acting oddly. He would avert his eyes from Tom each time Tom tried to make eye contact, turning his head away. At night, he slept facing away from Tom.

Harry was in the kitchen, gazing out the window above the sink, eyes fixed on nothing in particular from what Tom could see.

“What are you looking at, darling?” Tom asked, placing his hand on the small of Harry’s back. It slipped lower than intended, but Tom hardly noticed.

Much to his confusion, Harry’s face had gone red. “Harry, do you have a fever?” He asked worriedly, pressing his other hand to Harry’s warm forehead.

“N-no,” Harry gasped out, blinking rapidly. “I-I think I just need to use the restroom.” He squeaked, turning and hurrying towards the bathroom.

Tom frowned, brows pinched.

Nothing graphic, so it should be fine for those under 18? Not sure. But I don’t think it should be skipped :-;

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bath, resisting the urge to scream into his hands.

He had been in there for the past ten minutes, waiting for it to go down, to no avail. Harry was almost afraid it would be stuck that way, but knew from one-too-many nights waking up with it that way that it would go away eventually. It always did.

He jolted when Tom knocked on the door softly. “Yes?” Harry asked, voice thicker than usual.

“Are you alright, darling? It’s been a while.” Tom said worriedly. “Are you ill? We have potions for that, you know.”

Harry desperately tried to make it go away, but Tom’s proximity just made it worse, somehow. “I’m okay. Stomach ache.” He lied through his teeth, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Please go away.

“We have potions for that as well.” Tom murmured. Harry swallowed back a whine.

“I’m fine. It’ll go away in a minute.” Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut.

Tom went quiet for a moment, before he sighed. “Did I do something wrong, Harry? You’ve been avoiding my gaze.”

Harry momentarily forgot about his little problem, frowning. Had he been ignoring Tom?

His scar seemed to itch, reminding him that he had, and of the reason why.

“I haven’t.” He lied once more, ignoring the guilt. Harry didn’t want Tom to have to look at his scar.

“You have.” Tom stated flatly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Harry bit his lower lip, guilt growing and eating away. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“If you’re finished, please come out. We need to talk.” Tom said, and he heard the sound of receding footsteps.

A shift of his thighs told him his problem had most definitely not gone away, despite the guilt gnawing away, and the actual ache in his stomach now. He shouldn’t have lied to Tom. Harry felt awful.

After exiting the bathroom, Harry shuffled reluctantly to the living room, shirt tugged down in an attempt to hide his problem. Tom was sitting on the couch, face blank. Harry felt nervous.

After sitting by Tom, shirt tugged down to his thighs, Harry stared at the coffee table, unable to look at Tom.

“I don’t like you lying to me.” Tom stated, tone unreadable. Harry’s nervousness grew.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, shoulders hunching.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut when Tom’s fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching pleasantly at his scalp.

“Now, tell me why you’ve been avoiding my gaze.” Tom said softly.

Harry bit back to urge to whine. “I-..I don’t want you to have to look at my scar.” He whispered, hand automatically seeking his fringe, tugging it down over the grotesque scar. Tom’s hand slipped down to Harry’s forehead, shooing Harry’s hand away, and a finger traced it.

“What do you mean? I like it.” Tom said, sounding genuinely confused. “It means that we’ve both succeeded in becoming immortal, and that we’re connected.”

Oh.

Harry was stupid.

He released his shirt from where he had been holding it to his thighs to rub at his stinging eyes.

“Darling, are you crying? What’s wrong?” Tom asked worriedly, waving off Harry’s hands to better see his face.

“So you don’t think it’s ugly?” Harry rasped, blinking away the tears.

Tom’s face twisted. “Of course not! What gave you that idea?”

“Dunno.” Harry mumbled, shifting. Harry noticed absently that his problem had gone away.

“It was a ridiculous thought.” Tom snapped chidingly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Even if you were scarred head to toe, I’d think you were beautiful.”

Harry went red as a tomato. That was a bit much.

“Okay.” He said quietly. Harry was unable to say anything else.

Tom tugged him closer, practically into his lap, and nuzzled his face into Harry’s hair.

Chapter Text

 Tom half-listened to Jean Granger chatter on about things Tom had no interest in. He was more focused on Harry, who was at the edge of the park, near a shed that was likely used to store one thing or other for the park.

Harry looked conflicted and tense. As if he were about to bolt. Alarm bells were ringing in Tom’s head.

And then, an arm shot out and grabbed Harry by the arm, yanking Harry behind the shed.

Tom was on his feet and crossing the park within seconds. There was a snarl on his face, and when he turned the corner to look behind the shed-

There was nothing.

Tom turned his gaze to the forest.

He was livid. No. That was an understatement. Who dared steal his Harry? His bonded, and, if he were to speak plainly, soulmate.

Tom threw himself through the bushes along the forest edge. A non-verbal tracking spell pointed his wand straight ahead, towards where Harry was located.

Tom followed, going as quickly as possible, and when that wasn’t enough for him, he sought the small, hardly there thread connecting their souls together. Mentally, Tom grasped it, and apparated to where he now felt Harry was. Not that far, but Apparition was faster than running.

There was a resounding crack, and Tom saw Harry pinned to the forest floor by an unknown man, a glinting blade raised high above Harry-

He saw red. 

Tom’s wand snapped out, and the man above Harry was thrown across the clearing and slammed against a tree. He heard the satisfying snap of bones at the collision, and the man slipped to the ground, unmoving.

Tom was instantly kneeling by Harry, who launched himself at Tom, trembling. Tom felt Harry’s tears on his neck, where Harry had pressed his face.

“Shh, it’s alright, darling. I’ve got you.” He crooned, holding Harry close. His eyes were locked on the unmoving form, in case the man somehow managed to survive. It seemed highly unlikely, but Tom would take no chances.

Filthy muggle. How dare it try to hurt his darling? His precious Harry, who didn’t deserve such a thing, no matter what pathetic reason the thing may have had.

“T-Tom-” Harry whined, fingers clutching at Tom’s shirt. In that moment, Harry felt so much smaller than he actually was. As if he could break if Tom squeezed him too hard. “He-he said there was a hurt bird. A-and when I got close, he gr-grabbed me-”

Tom shushed him once more, not needing an explanation. “It’s alright, doll. He won’t touch you again.” Tom promised, lips brushing the top of Harry’s head. “I’ll take you home, and run you a warm bath. We’ll have some treacle tart and hot chocolate with those little marshmallows you love, then go to sleep. Would you like that?”

Harry nodded mutely, and Tom helped him to his feet, careful not to let Harry turn and see the body.

This incident only made Tom certain that muggles were filth, and needed to be crushed. Like ants beneath his heel.

Tom slowly pulled himself away from Harry’s sleeping form, intent on getting up and ready. The sun hadn’t even risen, yet. Harry would likely wake at around ten, as usual for him on Sundays.

There was a low whine, and then Harry was blinking sleepily at him. “Tom? What’re you doing?” He rasped, voice thick with sleep.

Tom shushed him, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’m just going to the bathroom, darling. Go back to sleep.” He crooned. Harry made a soft noise, and closed his eyes.

Tom moved off of the bed, and watched Harry until his breathing evened out. He hated leaving Harry even for a moment after the incident, but Tom needed to do this.

Tom got ready, then exited from the front door once he was. He double checked the wards, making sure no one other than Tom and Harry would step a foot onto the property, then he apparated.

He landed in Malfoy’s foyer with a resounding crack.

Muggles were filth, and Tom would see to it that every single one of them were either enslaved, or killed. He had his Knights for a reason, and they would finally be put to work.

He would not have another attempting to harm his Harry.

Harry listened to Tom getting dressed.

His sleep had been disturbed by Tom getting up in the middle of the night. Harry had faked being asleep, listening to Tom’s movements. He was getting dressed, as if to go out. Why would Tom leave at such an early hour?

Then, Tom exited the room, and he heard movement in the bathroom across the hall.

A few minutes later, Tom left.

Six days passed, with Tom leaving every other morning, long before the sun rose. Harry awoke on the sixth day to Tom getting up and leaving once more. There was something eating away at his chest; ugly and painful.

Was this jealousy? Why would Harry be jealous?

Because Tom was clearly going to see someone other than Harry, or doing something that distracted him from Harry.

Unable to sleep after Tom left, Harry went to the kitchen, made himself some tea, and sat at the kitchen table.

As he sat there, minutes passed, then hours. The sun was slowly starting to rise. As he sat there, sipping cup after cup of tea, Harry decided he would wait for Tom to return.

The front door opened thirty minutes later, Tom entering. He was dressed in a black cloak that Harry thought was a bit silly, and his eyes glowed an unnatural red. Clearly, Tom had cast a spell on them. As if to make them more intimidating.

Those red, red eyes slid over to Harry, and stopped there.

“Darling, why aren’t you in bed?” Tom asked lightly, too lightly, and stepped inside. Harry watched him toe off his shoes, before approaching Harry. “You look tired. How long have you been awake?” Tom leaned down to press a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“Since you woke up.” Harry said, tone just as light, and took a sip of his tea. He saw Tom tense the slightest bit.

“Oh? You should’ve told me.” Tom murmured, raking his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I had some errands to run. I apologize for waking you.”

Another sip. “I woke up the last few times, as well. You were leaving.”

The fingers stopped.

“Apologies. I’ve been busy.” Tom said, voice a bit stiff. “Let’s go to bed, alright, darling? It’s Saturday, and I’d like to catch up on sleep.”

“Where do you keep going, Tom?” Harry asked softly, not a hint of accusation in his tone. It was not his business where Tom went; he did not own Tom. Harry didn’t like being left alone in the middle of the night, though, with Tom acting as if it were a secret.

Red eyes softened, and Tom leaned down, kissing Harry’s forehead affectionately. “I’m...meeting up with old friends. They are helping me with a project.” Tom’s words sounded truthful.

“Alright.” Harry murmured. “Let’s sleep. I’m tired, as well.”

Chapter Text

Tom continued to leave early, but the times he left became more spaced out; going from every other day, to once a week.

Tom never told Harry exactly what his project was, and Harry never asked. He did not want to pry.

Finally, his sixteenth birthday arrived, and he woke to an oddly nervous looking Tom.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nothing, darling. Why don’t you go get dressed? We’re going out for your birthday.” Tom said, voice a bit stiff.

Curious and confused, Harry got up and began getting ready. He didn’t know where they were going, so he dressed in black trousers, and one of the green button-ups Tom had bought him.

After he was ready, he moved over to Tom. Tom had his wand out, for some reason.

“Darling, I’m going to change your eye color. Look up at me.” Tom instructed. Harry didn’t question it, and tilted his head back, looking up at Tom.

Tom’s white wand tapped his cheek gently, and his eyes tingled slightly for a second. The tingle vanished, and Harry was left feeling the same as usual.

“They’re blue, now. Grab my arm, darling. We’ll Apparate.” Tom said, and Harry obeyed, grasping Tom’s arm with both hands.

The world twisted, and Harry pressed himself close to Tom, trying to ignore the discomfort. He felt as if they were being squeezed through a tube-

There was a crack, and the discomfort vanished. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped away from Tom, looking around.

He nearly gaped.

All around them, people dressed in colorful and unique robes walked around, some going into equally colorful and unique stores. Tom guided him down the street, and Harry’s head swerved left and right, trying to take everything in.

It was magical. That was the only word Harry could think of to describe it.

He saw a store with many odd animals on the other side of the window. Past that, he saw a place that sold potion ingredients. Further down, Tom stopped, and Harry looked at the shop they stopped at. It was narrow, and looked a bit shabby, but still magical and amazing, as everything he saw there was.

Over the door, there was a sign with peeling golden letters that read:

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 383 B.C.

“Tom?” Harry spoke, confused. Tom didn’t answer. Harry was lead into the store.

The shop was tiny. The only furniture visible was a single chair in the corner. There were thousands of narrow boxes, piled high to the ceiling.

Harry loved it.

Tom had a death grip on Harry’s wrist, but Harry didn’t notice.

From the back, Ollivander popped out, white hair as wispy as ever, and eyes wide and silver.

The man had unnerved Tom that time he got his wand, and he still did to this day.

“Tom Riddle, 13 ½ inches, yew, phoenix feather core.” The old man prattled on, speaking to Tom, but his silver eyes were on Harry. “And...I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

“He is my ward. His wand snapped not that long ago; it was his father’s. We’ll be needing a new one for him.” Tom cut in. Harry seemed to understand that Tom had a reason for not being truthful, so he did not show that anything was amiss.

Silvery eyes blinked, going to Tom, then back to Harry. “Which hand is your wand hand?” He asked. Harry hardly managed to squeak out a “right?” before Ollivander was pulling out his own wand. Ollivander flicked it, and a measuring tape flew out from who-knows-where, and began measuring Harry’s arm, hand, fingers, and for some unexplainable reason, the width of Harry’s nostrils.

Then, Ollivander was scurrying off, grabbing random boxes of wands, and dropping them on the counter. He opened one, shoved the pale wand into Harry’s hand, and looked at him expectantly. “Go on; give it a swish!”

More than a bit overwhelmed, as well as confused, Harry flicked the wand. A leg on the chair in the corner snapped, falling to the wooden floor, much to Harry’s horror. Ollivander hardly seemed to notice.

“No, no. Not that one.” He snatched the wand away, and was shoving another into Harry’s hand before he could relax.

And so, this went on for a full thirty minutes, before Ollivander stilled.

“Could it be? Perhaps...Unusual, but…” He muttered to himself, and Tom watched as Ollivander went to a shelf, taking a single box from it. Ollivander hurried back, took out the wand, and placed it in Harry’s hand.

The wand felt as if it were humming. It was warm, and Harry had already grown attached.

He flicked it, and red and gold sparks flew out.

The silvery eyed man perked up. “How curious. 11″, holly, with a phoenix feather core. Even more curious is the fact that it’s brother is right there.” Ollivander gestured to Tom’s hand, where Tom’s white wand was held loosely.

“Brother?” Harry asked curiously.

Ollivander nodded. “Brother wands are rare. When the cores of two wands derive from the same source, they’re called “brothers”.” He gave no more information. He just said, “That will be seven galleons.”

Then, they were on their way after Tom paid. Harry held his wand, fingers clasped tightly around it. He did not want to lose it. It was precious.

“Thank you.” He said to Tom. “I love it.”

Tom sent him a slightly smug look. “I knew you would.”

They passed a small group consisting of a red haired woman that was arguing good-naturedly with a black haired man, and a quiet browned haired man with an amused smile on his face. A young girl was holding the brown haired man’s hand, exasperation plain on her face. They drew Harry’s attention for but a moment, before Tom instructed him to grab onto his arm once more.

This time, when they Apparated, Harry didn’t even mind the squeezing sensation and nausea. It was all worth it, for his wand.

At home, he spent an entire ten minutes just looking at it, before Tom spoke, amused, “You can cast spells with that, you know?”

Harry beamed, and hurried out into the backyard, much to Tom’s amusement.

Chapter Text

Lily and Remus watched as Sirius wrestled with Hope on the carpeted floor, the latter being careful not to harm the child, who was shrieking with delight.

When the couple had gotten Hope, Lily had felt slightly jealous. It quickly faded, however. She shouldn’t feel jealous. It was ridiculous. Hope wasn’t Harry, her baby boy.

Lily had long since given up the belief that she would find Harry. It had crumbled away as years passed; like dry leaves between her fingers. Sirius and Remus had helped her in the hard times, when she felt like giving up. They were like family to her.

She closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

Lily would always love Harry, and hoped that wherever he was, he could be happy, and that Lily would see him again once her time was up.

Harry shrieked, dodging Tom’s attempt to grab him.

He hadn’t meant to spill his tea onto the book! Harry had just been so surprised when he came across a page in the anatomy section describing the purpose of his you-know-what, that his tea had spilt onto the pages. The entire cup of it, actually.

And, well, Tom was very attached to his books. The fact that Tom could easily vanish the mess with his magic was forgotten in the chaos.

“ Harry! ” Tom snarled, fingers flexing. The couch was the only thing standing between them. “How many times have I told you to be careful with the books!?”

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, eyeing the door. He debated on making a run for it, but realized Tom would easily catch him. “But it’s a shame that the book was ruined. I wanted to read up more on reproduction. ”

Tom froze.

“Reproduction, you say?” Tom said lightly, eyes shifting to the book lying innocently on the coffee table in front of him, drenched in tea. “Darling, why ever would you want to read up on such a thing? We both know that babies come from storks. ”

“That book says otherwise.” Harry pointed out.

“That book is incorrect. Not all books tell the truth.” Tom said, and Harry watched in confusion as Tom brought out his wand. Tom flicked it, and the book vanished.

“...Where did you put it?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed.

Tom smiled sharply. “I don’t know. I just sent it elsewhere.” He shrugged, slipping his wand back into the waistband of his pants. “Now, let’s just forget about this, yes?”

“I don’t think so.” Harry drawled. “That section was quite interesting. Did you know that-” His words were muffled by a hand clamping over his mouth. Tom had all but thrown himself over the coffee table in an attempt to get to the sofa, where he could lean over and press his hand to Harry’s mouth.

Red eyes narrowed dangerously. “Careful, darling. If you continue, I may think that you’re doubting me.” Tom said, voice low.

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. “Are you angry? ” Harry asked after removing Tom’s hand from his mouth.

Tom’s expression instantly softened. “Of course not, Harry.” Tom murmured, leaning forwards until their foreheads bumped together lightly. The couch was still between them. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way.”

Harry shifted slightly, looking at Tom, eyes lidded. “Why did you lie to me?”

He saw Tom’s jaw clench. Saw him swallow. The close proximity to Tom made heat coil in his stomach. “Darling, you’re just a child. You don’t need to know such things until you’re at least thirty.”

Harry cocked his head. “And how old were you when you learned of such things? ”

“...Nine.” Tom said reluctantly, and when Harry opened his mouth to speak, Tom shushed him. “Which was much too early, in my opinion. I came across it in a book, as you had.”

“I thought you said knowledge is power? ” Harry argued weakly.

“It is, when it is useful. This knowledge is not.” Then, Tom’s eyes narrowed further, red darkening. The color reminded Harry of dried blood. “Unless you plan on having children?”

Harry blinked, frowning. He had never thought of it…

A hand cupped Harry’s cheek, directing Harry’s attention back to Tom. “ Harry, ” Tom crooned, “having children means you’ll leave me. Would you want that?”

Terror sparked in his chest, and Harry’s fingers curled tightly in Tom’s shirt. “ No! I won’t leave you! I’ll never leave you.” Harry said, eyes wide. He didn’t want to leave Tom. Never. He wanted to stay with Tom forever. They were immortal. They were supposed to stay together, right? “And you won’t have kids either, right? You’ll stay with me.”

Something sounding akin to a purr rumbled in Tom’s throat. “Yes. We’ll stay together, darling. Just us, alright?”

Harry nodded quickly. He held back a whine when Tom pulled away, but hurried to round the couch when Tom beckoned him over.

Tom sat, and Harry was quick to sit beside him, pressing himself close to Tom. Tom pulled him onto his lap, though, and rested his chin atop Harry’s head.

“I’m sorry for distressing you, darling.” Tom murmured.

“’S okay.” He mumbled. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

A hand settled on the small of Harry’s back, pulling him closer to Tom. “You won’t. I won’t let you go, even if you want to.”

Harry relaxed.

Harry let Tom guide him through Diagon Alley, looking around with wide eyes.

After Harry had begged and begged for weeks, Tom had relented. Tom insisted that Harry had to stay at his side the entire time, though. Harry didn’t mind. He felt safer at Tom’s side.

Harry turned, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of the apothecary he had seen last time he was in Diagon Alley with Tom, when he had gotten his wand. He did not notice that Tom hadn’t stopped walking, not yet noticing Harry’s absence.

He peeked in through the window. It was large on the inside, with tons of cauldrons holding potion ingredients, as well as shelves doing the same.

Harry made a noise of alarm when something bumped into him, and turned. A man that looked to be as tall as Tom had bumped into him, somehow, despite Harry practically being pressed to the side of the building. His nose was long and crooked, reminding Harry of a vulture. His hair hung to almost his shoulders, black and greasy. Black eyes stared at Harry, narrow and confused.

“...Potter?” The man said, eyes narrowing further. “What happened to your eyes?”

Harry’s face twisted in confusion. He felt a bit nervous. He had never spoken to someone without Tom nearby. “I think you’re mistaken, Sir. My name is Harry, not Potter.”

He saw the man’s face go blank.

Then, Harry’s upper arm was grabbed, and he was being yanked down the street. Harry cried out in alarm, eyes wide and afraid. He tried to dig his feet into the ground, but it did no good. They got many odd looks, but no one stopped them.

“Tom! Tom! ” Harry cried, clawing at the hand gripping his arm tightly. “Let me go!”

Harry thought he heard his name being called in the crowd, but couldn’t spot Tom anywhere.

“Stop squirming, brat!” The man snapped. “I’m helping you!”

“ Helping me!? ” He shouted, distress rapidly rising. “I don’t know you! I don’t need help!”

“ -arry! ” He heard Tom call, loud and alarmed. Harry looked around desperately, trying to find him, but to no avail.

The hand on his arm tightened, and he heard the man say, “ Do not vomit on my robes, ” before the world spun .

Chapter Text

Tom looked around, lips pulled in a tight line. He pushed down the rising distress.

Harry must’ve gotten distracted or something. Tom would need to hold his hand when he found him, so that they weren’t separated once more.

He went back the way he had came, where Harry must still be. His distress gradually began to grow when he noticed many people had stopped, heads turned in one direction. There were murmurs, and confused looks.

“-om! Tom!” He heard Harry cry further down the street. Instantly, Tom was shoving his way through the crowd, a snarl on his face.

“Harry!” He called, voice raised high above the murmurs. The crowd got thicker the closer he got to where Harry’s voice had come from.

“Helping me!? I don’t know you! I don’t need help!” He heard Harry shout. Tom’s movements became more frantic.

“Harry!” Tom pushed another person out of the way, finally catching sight of Harry and a tall, familiar man dragging his darling along, right before Harry vanished, the crack of Apparition echoing in the street.

Tom stared at the empty space, horror creeping in.

His darling was gone. Stolen. Snatched away from Tom.

Tom instantly latched onto the mental thread connecting his soul to Harry’s. It was there, perfectly intact, but Tom could not feel where Harry was located. Wards.

He’d kill that man. Tom would kill him. Gut him like a fish, and leave his body in the middle of the woods to be eaten by animals. Or, perhaps such a death would be too light of a punishment? Maybe Tom could hand him over to the Dementors-?

That man had been familiar.

Crooked nose, greasy hair, black robes. Severus Snape.

Tom bared his teeth, lips curled back in a snarl. He did not notice the few people backing away from him, taking notice of his ire.

Severus had retired from his position as a professor at Hogwarts a decade ago, to his knowledge. That explained why he was here, instead of at Hogwarts.

Severus was not at the Ministry. The place he would have apparated to would be open for Tom’s entry as well, if it were. He was not at Hogwarts, either.

Then where was he?

The moment the terrible sensation of Apparition subsided, Harry jerked away from the greasy haired man, distressed and scared.

They were outside, in the front yard of a small but comfortable looking house. The garden was well tended to, and many flowers were blooming in it.

Harry didn’t care, though. He instantly attempted to run away, but his arm was once more grabbed, and he was dragged towards the house.

“Let me go! Let me go! I want to go home!” He cried, tears beginning to well up.

“Be silent, Potter! Can’t you see I’m helping you?” The man snarled, yanking him onto the porch. He knocked three times on the door, an iron grip on Harry’s arm.

“I don’t need help! I want to go home!” He repeated, a high pitched whine escaping him. He wanted Tom. Tom would come for him, right? He always came for Harry when he was scared.

And right now, Harry was terrified.

The door opened, and a red haired woman peered up at the greasy haired man curiously. “Severus? What are you-” Her gaze trailed over to Harry, and stopped. Something like grief flashed across her face.

“I found him in Diagon Alley.” Severus drawled, and Harry cried out in pain when the grip on his arm tightened.

“Sev, you’re hurting him!” The lady snapped, and Severus abruptly released Harry’s arm.

Instantly, Harry made an attempt to escape. He was caught once more, by the wrist this time, and dragged back.

“I want to go home!” Harry said, lower lip trembling. The tears finally spilt over, distress rapidly rising.

The lady shot an angry look at Severus, who looked chastised all of a sudden, before she sent a soft look at Harry. “What’s your name, honey?”

Harry tried to pry the man’s fingers away from his wrist, to no avail. “Harry.” He choked out, eyes wide and afraid.

A series of emotions flashed over her face. “Your eyes. Is that their real color?”

They were blue, as Tom had insisted he change their color before they left. “Yes.” Harry lied instantly. He tried to jerk away from Severus when the man pulled out a wand, aiming it between Harry’s eyes.

He felt them tingle, as they had when Tom canceled the spell last time they used it. The red haired lady gasped.

“Harry.” She whispered. Harry flinched back violently when she attempted to cup his cheeks, as Tom often did.

“Let me go.” Harry said, voice rising. “I don’t like it here! I want Tom!”

Her lips pursed. “Who is Tom, Harry?”

Alarm bells rang in his head. Don’t tell her who Tom is, his instincts screamed.

“None of your business!” He said, not having to fake his distress. “Please let me go. I don’t know who either of you are.”

The lady’s face grew sad. “Of course you don’t,” she murmured. “I haven’t seen you since you were two.”

Since he was two? Harry had met her before?

Emerald orbs met a pair identical to them. “I’m your mother, Harry. Lily Evans.”

Tom paced in between the living room and kitchen, desperation and distress rising by the minute.

Harry had been taken somewhere. Was it to Severus’ house? Had Tom been wrong, and he went to the Ministry with Harry?

Or perhaps-

Terror sat tight in his chest. What if he had taken Harry back to his parents?

Tom tugged experimentally on the mental string connecting their souls. He could feel Harry’s distress. His fear. His-

The wards were gone.

He took the opportunity. Tom yanked on the thread, turning on his heel, and vanishing with a crack.

Harry had run. The grip on his wrist had loosened after the lady, his mother, had tried to cup his cheeks. After she revealed who she was, Harry had made a run for it.

He had only just thrown open the gate, all but throwing himself off the property, when there was a deafening cracking, then arms enveloping him.

“Darling.” Tom crooned against his ear. Instantly, Harry melted into Tom’s arms, face pressing into Tom’s neck.

“Tom, Tom. I wanna go home.” He choked, hands pawing at Tom’s shirt. Tom shushed him, hand pressing to the small of his back.

“I’ve got you, darling. I’m here.” He cooed, staring over Harry’s shoulder at the two standing right inside of the gate. Lily Evans, formerly Potter, as well as Severus Snape.

Tom’s lips curled back in a snarl. “Is there a reason that you seem to find kidnapping my charge acceptable?” He hissed venomously.

Severus looked tense. There was visible confusion in his eyes. “Riddle?”

He sneered. “Good to know you aren’t daft.” Tom spat. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Lily stepped forwards, brows pinched. “Who are you?” She asked. To Tom’s annoyance, her attention was focused on Harry. He ran his hand up and down Harry’s back; as if staking his claim.

“I am the one who has raised Harry since he was a child. And you are?” He snapped, crooning at Harry when he made a noise of distress.

“His mother.” Lily said stiffly.

Tom’s red eyes scanned her up and down. He pressed his hand to the small of Harry’s back, pulling him closer. “Mother is not a very fitting title for you. I raised him after finding him alone in the streets, half frozen in the snow.” Not true, but she needn’t know that.

She tensed further. “I am still his mother! Harry, come here.”

Harry’s fingers curled tightly in Tom’s shirt. “No! I’m staying with Tom!” He cried, burying his face in Tom’s neck. “I want to go home.”

“We will in a moment, Harry.” Tom said gently, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. Deep inside, he felt gleeful that Harry was choosing Tom over his birth mother. His eyes went back to the two. “Am I going to have to fight you for him? Because I will.” He hissed. “Harry is precious to me, and I highly doubt he wants to be with you after today.”

“I want to stay with you!” Harry all but shouted, sending Lily and Severus a fearful look. Tom was pleased to see them flinch back. “Please, Tom. Don’t let them take me.”

“I won’t, darling.” Tom said softly, one hand coming up to press against the back of Harry’s head.

Lily’s lips pulled in a tight line. She looked incredibly conflicted. “I...do not wish to tear him away from his...family.” Her fingers flexed at her side. “But I want to see him again. I need to see him again.”

Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, right atop the jagged scar marking Harry as his. “Harry, is that alright? We can meet her at a later date. I’ll be there with you the entire time. She won’t do anything to you.” He crooned. Harry had stopped trembling, but was still clinging to Tom.

Harry gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Then, I will contact you at a later date, Ms. Evans.” He shot Severus a look of loathing. “He will not be coming. If he is, we will not show up.”

“It will just be me.” Lily said firmly.

Tom’s lashes lowered, darkening his red eyes to the color of old blood. “We have a deal, then. Let’s go home, darling.”

Harry clung tighter to him, and Tom apparated them home.

Chapter Text

The moment they landed in their bedroom, Tom infused the wards with as much magic as he could spare, further strengthening them.

“Darling,” Tom spoke softly, guiding Harry onto their bed. The younger boy was trembling. “Are you alright? I’m here, now. It’s just us.”

Harry’s fingers were still curled in the fabric of Tom’s shirt, knuckles white from how tightly he was holding on. “Tom,” he curled up against Tom once they were lying down. “I’m scared. I don’t want them to take me.”

Tom wrapped an arm around his waist, holding Harry tightly against his front. “They won’t. I won’t let them, Harry.”

Harry pressed his face into Tom’s chest, inhaling shakily. “I don’t like them. They scare me. H-he hurt me.”

Tom’s eyes flashed, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “Can you show me where, darling?” He crooned. Harry nodded jerkily, and pulled up the sleeve on his right arm.

Bruises were beginning to form around his wrist and upper arm. Rage sparked in Tom’s chest, and he had to take a deep breath to keep himself from apparating back to Evans’ house and murdering the greasy haired Potions Master.

Tom slipped his wand out of its sheath, his wand falling into the palm of his hand. Tom tapped it against Harry’s arm, and the bruises slowly faded.

“Is that better, darling?” He asked, sheathing the yew wand once more. Harry nodded, and Tom relaxed slightly. He nosed at the top of Harry’s head, inhaling-

The disgusting scents of many different potion ingredients met his nose, as well as the scent of roses. Tom reeled back, lips curled back in a snarl.

Harry smelled of them. Harry’s own scent of strawberries and something sweeter had been hidden beneath those two smells. Tom itched to rub himself against Harry; to cover Harry in his scent as if he were an animal.

Of course, Tom would never stoop so low.

“Darling, let’s run you a bath.” He murmured, smoothing his expression back into a gentle one.

Harry looked confused. “Why? I want to lay here with you. Do I smell bad?”

Tom’s lips pursed. “Severus Snape is a Potions Master. He touches flobberworm guts practically every day.” A look of horror dawned on Harry’s face.

“Okay. Bath.” Harry said, sitting up. Tom stood, and went to run Harry’s bath.

Once it was full, Tom knelt on the wooden floor. Harry sent him a bewildered look.

Amused, Tom rose a brow. “Aren’t you going to bathe, darling?” He would admit to nobody that the real reason he was in there was to ensure that he washed away the scent of those two.

Harry went red, but it seemed he didn’t have the energy to argue. Tom averted his eyes for Harry’s sake -because Tom wasn’t one to care for modesty between them, as Tom was Harry’s and Harry was Tom’s, so why did it matter?- when Harry began to strip, and only looked back at Harry when he heard him slip into the tub.

Summoning a rag from the shelf, Tom picked up the bottle of soap and squirted some onto the rag, then began to bathe a flushed Harry.

“Tom...This is embarrassing.” Harry grumbled.

Tom hummed, amused. “For you, perhaps. I will admit that I do not understand why you’re embarrassed, though. You are mine, and I am yours.” Tom made a move to wash Harry’s thighs, but Harry went as red as a tomato, so Tom thought better of it, and spared that area. It’s not as if Snape or Evans had touched Harry there.

If they had, heads would roll.

“I-..you’re weird.” Harry muttered. Tom just smirked, and began to wash Harry’s hair.

Tom held Harry as close to his side as possible; as if to fuse them together. They technically already were, what with their connected souls and such, but they weren’t physically.

They were sitting in a booth at a muggle coffee shop. Lily Evans was sitting across from them, sipping on her coffee. Her eyes -green and so similar to Harry’s- kept flickering to Harry, much to Tom’s annoyance.

“Well, Ms. Evans?” Tom drawled, red eyes lidded. “We’re all here. What did you wish to meet us for?”

She set down her coffee, finally meeting Tom’s gaze. “I wish to compromise.” Lily said, chin lifted. “I want to see Harry at least once a week. Unsupervised. He is my son.”

Tom scoffed disbelievingly. “ Yours? You don’t get to claim him as yours, Ms. Evans.” He said, keeping a snarl out of his voice. “Once a month. Supervised. Can’t you see that he’s afraid of you? Especially after last week.”

Harry was scared, clearly. He was leaning heavily into Tom’s side, eyes lowered to the table; as if he did not want to look at Lily.

Good. Tom wanted Harry to look only at him.

“I...Apologize. That did not go as I would have hoped.” She spoke softly. “I was incredibly shocked and overjoyed when Severus showed up with him. I have not seen Harry in fourteen years…” She trailed off, eyes seeming to mist over.

Tom clucked his tongue. “Speaking of Severus, if we go through with this, he will not be allowed to see Harry during the visits. I don’t want him anywhere near Harry. Within miles, preferably.” He drawled, eyes narrowed. “He left bruises on Harry.”

Lily winced. “He can be a bit rough, but he means well-”

“Are you making excuses? ” Tom asked incredulously. “He harmed Harry, whom you claim is your son, yet you say he means well? ”

She flinched. Tom felt Harry curl further against him, still silent. It appeared he did not want to get involved. That was fine. Tom could take care of all of it for Harry.

Tom cocked his head, letting it go for the moment. “On the subject of visits, will James Potter be visiting as well? I have heard of your divorce, so I’m wondering if he even knows that Harry was found.”

Her lips pursed. “James is...occupied, currently. His wife has recently given birth to his second daughter.” Lily took another sip of her coffee.

Tom resisted the urge to smile. “Oh? It seems that he’s moved on, then.” Tom said. He observed her, seeing her jaw clench at his words.

“That just means he is not suitable to be in our lives.” Lily said scathingly. “His presence won’t be missed.”

Tom raised his hand, and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. He saw Lily’s eyes lock onto the action, undoubtedly seeing Harry lean into his touch.

“Then, I assume you won’t tell him?” She did not answer, and Tom kept another smile from his face. She was too easy. “Well, now we just need Harry’s opinion.” Tom turned his gaze to Harry. “Harry? Is meeting her once a month, with me there of course, alright? Or would you prefer meeting her more, or less?”

Harry frowned, hiding his face in Tom’s side. “...It’s fine.” He mumbled. Lily’s lips seemed to curl down slightly.

Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s head, just to see her knuckles go white from how tightly she gripped the handle of her coffee mug. “Then, we’ll be taking our leave, if Harry is ready to go.”

He felt Harry nod jerkily against his side.

Lily sighed, setting her mug down. “Then, until next time, Mr. Riddle.”

Chapter Text

Tom stared at Severus, eyes narrowed. “Can I help you?” He hissed, injecting as much venom into his tone as possible.

Severus met his gaze unflinchingly. “I have questions.” He drawled. They were in an empty hall at the Ministry. Most people had gone home already, and Tom wanted to do the same. Harry was waiting for him, after all.

“Oh?” Tom began walking towards the atrium. He heard the sound of footsteps following him. “And what makes you think I’ll answer them? You did kidnap my charge, if only for a few minutes.”

“Why did you place a glamour on his eyes?” Severus questioned. Tom kept himself relaxed, resisting the urge to tense.

“Harry’s eyes have always drawn attention. And not the good kind. So, he asked me to place a glamour on them each time we go out.” Tom lied smoothly, looking over his shoulder.

There was a prodding at his mind, and Tom slammed up his Occlumency shields. He saw Severus physically recoil in surprise.

“Really, Snape? You do know that is incredibly rude, and illegal, yes?” Tom cocked his head, lips curling in a sneer. “You could get ten years in Azkaban for that.”

Severus’ lips pursed, eyes narrowed. “Did you kidnap him?”

Tom barked out a laugh. “Kidnap? No. I was sixteen when I found Harry curled up in the snow near the Leaky Cauldron, alone and freezing. I couldn’t leave him there, so I brought him back to the orphanage with me.” The lies came out naturally. “Would you rather I had left him there?”

“No.” Severus seemed to relax the slightest bit, much to Tom’s amusement. “Why didn’t you try to find his family, though?”

“Why look for his family, when he had clearly been abandoned?” Tom strode towards the fireplaces where he could Floo back to the cottage.

“He wasn’t abandoned.” Severus said stiffly, following him.

Tom gathered some Floo Powder in his hand, sending Severus a dull look. “And my sixteen year old self did not know that. Goodbye, Snape. Please do not seek Harry out. He’s suffered enough by your hand.

Tom waited until Severus went through a different fireplace, before going through his own. He couldn’t have Severus knowing where he and Harry lived, after all.

Tom watched over the rim of his teacup as Lily spoke to Harry. Well, attempted to, anyways. Harry’s face was pressed into Tom’s side, much to Tom’s amusement.

It seemed Harry really didn’t like her.

“Ms. Evans, Harry is clearly uncomfortable. Must we remain here any longer?” Tom set his teacup onto its saucer with a soft clink. “I know you must be dying to get to know Harry, but shouldn’t you take his feelings into consideration?” Tom raised a hand, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. He felt Harry lean into his touch.

She set down her own teacup. “I apologize. It eats away at me, knowing that Harry is well, but being unable to see him often.” Lily looked at Harry, seemingly trying to initiate eye contact, but Harry pressed his face further against Tom’s side.

“I sympathize with you. Truly. But if Harry doesn’t feel comfortable…” Tom trailed off. Of course, he didn’t actually sympathize with her. If anything, he liked seeing her suffer. “Harry? Do you want to visit for a bit longer, or go home?”

“Home.” Harry mumbled, voice slightly muffled.

Tom sent Lily an apologetic look. Her lips pursed, but she didn’t seem like she was about to stop them. Not that she could.

So, he and Harry dismissed themselves, and Tom apparated home with him instead of using the Floo as Lily had offered.

Lily watched them vanish, lips pulled in a tight line.

Seeing Harry leave was painful. Extremely so. Having Harry afraid of her was even more so.

She finished off her tea, eyes staring at nothing in particular. Riddle seemed nice enough towards her, and was affectionate towards Harry.

Something about him itched at her, though. Lily wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she was just paranoid?

That must be it.

Harry leaned against Tom’s shoulder, ignoring the fluttering sensation in his stomach that he often got when close to Tom. Which was often.

He felt as if his heart would swell and explode in his chest when Tom pressed a kiss to his temple. Harry leaned into it, of course, as every bit of Tom’s affection was precious.

Tom’s eyes were focused on the book in his hand. Harry would’ve preferred Tom’s complete attention on him, but this was fine.

His lids drooped. The fire was crackling in the fireplace, enveloping Harry in warmth.

Ms. Evans was apparently Harry’s mother. After their first meeting, Harry was terrified of her. He didn’t want to be dragged away from Tom, and he knew she wanted to take him from Tom, and keep Harry with her.

He pressed his face into Tom’s neck, sighing. Tom had told her he had found Harry freezing in the snow in Diagon Alley. Tom had told Harry that “storks” had “dropped” Harry onto his family, before Harry came to Tom. Was that how Harry had come to Tom?

His lashes fluttered shut. Harry was tired, and he wanted to curl up against Tom’s side and sleep.

So, he did.

Tom listened to Harry’s even breathing, eyes on his book, but not registering the words.

He hadn’t slept much the night before, between writing letters to his Knights, as he had postponed their meetings until further notice, as well as worrying over Evans and Snape.

He and Harry would outlive them, of course, and there was only less than a year left until Harry was an adult, so he could soon choose whether or not he wanted to cut ties with Evans completely. The two of them would outlive everyone. Evans was just a small problem. A small but annoying problem.

Snape? Not a problem in the least. Tom would just threaten him after that little trick he pulled in the Ministry. Non-consensual Legilimency would earn him ten years at least in Azkaban, if Tom decided to report it.

And, if they both somehow did become a problem?

They were immortal. Tom could always fake their deaths.

Chapter Text

Harry muffled a sneeze into a tissue from the box Tom had put on their nightstand. He was miserable. His throat hurt. His nose was stuffy. Harry’s head was throbbing, and chills wracked his body. Harry was going back and forth constantly between being hot and cold.

Tom has fussed over him all morning, nearly panicking, until Harry had finally had enough of Tom’s antics and claimed that he needed something to eat.

So now he was alone, finally, with Tom in the kitchen making him soup.

To be honest, Tom’s fretting had been a bit nice. He loved having Tom’s attention on him. Tom was even more gentle than usual, any physical contact with Harry being soft and careful, as if afraid Harry would break.

When he caught the scent of the soup Tom was making, Harry’s stomach rumbled fiercely. All other foods Tom had offered had made his stomach churn. Hopefully this one would be better?

Tom hovered near Harry, watching him practically inhale the soup. The sight settled a bit of his worry, but Tom still hated the fact that Harry had gotten ill.

It was just the common cold, but still. Harry had only gotten sick once before, before he even reached double digits, but after that Harry was completely healthy.

Excluding his eating habits. A few years ago, when Harry had begun to gain a bit too much weight, Tom had held back on the treacle tart in concern for Harry’s health, much to Harry’s horror.

“Tom, you’re staring.” Harry stated, voice a bit hoarse.

“Sorry, darling.” Tom murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. His face was a bit red from the fever, but it seemed to darken slightly.

“’S fine.” Harry said, and continued eating.

Tom’s mind slowly drifted to other matters. Harry was supposed to meet Evans in three days, as well as two other guests that Evans had pleaded to let meet Harry. Harry had clearly felt pressured into doing it, and Tom tried to tell him he didn’t have to do it, but Harry had said “It’s okay.”

Lips curling downwards, Tom glanced at Harry. He had finished his soup, and placed the bowl onto the nightstand. Now, he was nodding off slowly.

Good. Harry needed his rest.

Tom ran his fingers soothingly through Harry’s hair, eyeing the three people opposite of them, on a couch identical to the one he and Harry occupied.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Lily Evans. Not a Potter in sight, aside from Harry.

Thank Merlin. Tom didn’t need to deal with that.

Black looked as if he were about to launch himself at Harry from across the coffee table between them, while Lupin and Evans looked a bit calmer. Though, he could clearly see the way they looked at Harry; as if they wanted to smother him in affection.

Meanwhile, Harry had pressed himself firmly against Tom’s side. Harry’s actions were likely considered rude, especially for his age, but Tom wasn’t about to correct him. He wanted them to see how uncomfortable Harry was.

“Harry,” Black spoke, excitement clear in his voice, “do you remember me? And Remus? We’re your godfathers.”

Harry shifted slightly, peering at Black for a moment, before hiding his face in Tom’s side again. To Tom’s amusement, he could clearly see Black wilt. Like a dying weed.

“I apologize.” Of course, he didn’t mean it. “Harry has been ill, and only just got better yesterday.” When he saw their faces twist in horror, a bit dramatically if Tom were to be honest, he elaborated. “Just the common cold. Nothing too,” his lips curled downwards at the oncoming, unwanted pun that he was about to voice, “serious.”

Black lit up at that, as if seeing Tom in a new light. Lupin eyed Tom over the rim of his coffee mug. “Harry looks to have grown quite well. Thank you for taking care of our godson for so many years.” Tom watched as Lupin set down the mug, and felt something like annoyance rise in his chest. Lupin was going to say something he didn’t like. He knew it. “When will Harry be moving back in with Lily?”

The room went so silent that you could hear a needle drop.

Then, Harry clung to Tom, eyes wide and terrified. “You’re going to leave me!? You said you wouldn’t!”

He tugged Harry onto his lap, arms wrapping tightly around his middle. He ignored the looks they got, and shushed Harry. “I won’t, Harry. I promised, didn’t I?” Tom crooned, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Over the top of Harry’s head, he shot a bewildered Lupin a glare.

Evans looked a bit pale, and Black looked just as baffled as Lupin. Clearly, Evans had not told them too much.

“Harry won’t be moving in anywhere. He’s staying with me. Is that what you want, Harry?” Tom questioned. Harry nodded jerkily, and would’ve hit Tom’s jaw if he hadn’t pulled away slightly.

“I’m sorry. I was not told of this.” Lupin said stiffly. “It seems obvious, now that I think of it. Harry seems incredibly attached, so of course he’d wish to stay with you.”

Harry settled down, but stayed in Tom’s lap, hiding his face in the crook of Tom’s neck. “I want to go home,” he mumbled, fingers clinging to Tom’s shirt. “Stomach hurts. I think I’m still sick, Tom.”

Tom knew Harry was lying, as his voice always got a bit higher when he did so, but Tom didn’t care. Harry was clearly just doing it as an excuse to leave. “Alright. Let’s get you home, hmm?” He stood, setting Harry on his feet. He watched Harry make a show of stumbling, and pressed a hand to Harry’s back, steadying him.

Manipulative boy, Tom thought a bit proudly.

“Please excuse us. Harry is still sick, it seems.” Tom said, forcing himself to sound apologetic. Evans looked as if she were about to speak, but Harry made a noise of distress.

“Tom, it hurts.” He pressed himself close to Tom, and when Harry looked up at him, Tom allowed his amusement to show in his eyes.

“It’s alright, Harry. We’ll go home.” He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry for ending our visit so abruptly.”

Evans spoke up, “It’s quite alright. If he needs to lie down immediately, I have a spare room.”

Before Tom could speak, Harry made another noise. “Tom, home. Please.”

“I’m sorry. He’s uncomfortable staying in strange places.” An unintended prod at Evans’ weak point, apparently, as she visibly flinched. Tom found it amusing. “We should go. Come on, Harry.” Tom guided him out of the house, not waiting for anyone to escort them.

When they arrived at the cottage, Harry leaned heavily against Tom, as if he were still faking being sick. Was he?

Tom peered down at him. “Darling, we both know you’re faking. Quite well, too. Good job.”

Harry perked up, nearly preening. “Thank you.”

Time-skip – 7 or so months idfk ;w; Harry’s seventeenth birthday. Tom is 31.

Harry held Tom’s hand tightly, not wanting to get separated as he had all those months ago, despite the fact they were sitting on a bench outside of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Getting separated meant that Harry would be taken, so he’d stay as close as possible to Tom.

They were in Diagon Alley once more. Tom had taken him to get ice cream, and Harry had been shocked by all of the flavors. Harry had instantly decided that he would stick to vanilla when he saw the salt flavor.

No, thank you.

He lapped at his ice cream, pleased. It was sunny, and Harry had to eat it quickly to make sure it didn’t melt. Tom had opted out on getting ice cream, so it was just Harry.

He looked up when he heard giggling. A man approaching the ice cream parlour was carrying a child on his back, said child giggling, but that didn’t catch his attention as much.

He looked just like Harry, but with glasses and hazel eyes.

Harry tugged at Tom’s sleeve, and Tom glanced up. Harry saw his eyes instantly lock onto the man.

“Tom?” He said quietly, then grimaced when he felt melted ice cream drip onto his hand.

“It’s fine, darling. Just keep your head down for a moment, won’t you?” Tom murmured.

Harry obediently ducked his head, but it seemed it was a bit too late. “Excuse me?”

He kept his head lowered, listening. “Yes?” Harry heard Tom say. His voice sounded a bit stiff. So, he knew something. Was this Harry’s father?

His grip on Tom’s sleeve tightened.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your companion looks familiar.” The man spoke. He heard the child grumble, likely unhappy that they hadn’t yet gotten their ice cream. “May I see your face?” The man’s voice was now directed at Harry.

“It’s quite rude, coming up without even introducing yourself, and asking my charge to show you his face.” Tom drawled. Harry kept his head lowered.

“I apologize. My name is James Potter.”

Potter. A while ago, Tom had told Harry that that was his last name. Harry had never used it, though.

Slowly, Harry raised his head slightly, peering up at the man. He noticed the way his eyes narrowed, staring straight into Harry’s.

“Harry?”

Chapter Text

Harry watched James’ lips pull in a tight line when he spoke. “My name isn’t Harry, sir.”

“Oh?” James murmured, straightening up. The little girl on his back tugged at his hair, but he showed no sign that he felt it. “I apologize. I mistook you for someone else.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said softly. He didn’t feel bad for lying. Miss Evans, Mister Black and Mister Lupin were enough to deal with, and he didn’t even like being around them much. Miss Evans was friends with Snape, who took Harry away from Tom, despite Harry telling him to stop, so he felt uncomfortable around her. Mister Lupin and Mister Black were nice, though Mister Lupin made him a bit uncomfortable after last time, and Mister Black was really hyper, but were they safe? Were they friends with Snape as well?

After James apologized again, he went into the ice cream parlour, visibly stiff. Harry’s attention once more went to the girl on his back. Black hair that matched James’ and Harry’s own, and her face was a bit similar.

Did he have a sister? The thought didn’t elect any feelings in him. He had never met her, so they weren’t really siblings, in his opinion.

Harry felt a hand run through his hair, and felt the ice cream that had dripped onto his hand vanish when Tom spelled it away.

“Thank you.” He said, turning to Tom.

His lips were pursed. “Why did you lie to him, Harry?” Tom questioned. He didn’t sound mad.

Harry tilted his head back. The sun felt hot on his skin. “I’m tired of people.” Harry murmured. “Miss Evans, Mister Black and Mister Lupin are too much already. I have you and ‘Mione. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Not even your father?” Tom tilted Harry’s head so that it was on his shoulder. Harry went with it.

“I don’t know him.” Harry replied. “Haven’t known him in years. I don’t feel anything. Is that bad?”

Tom was quiet for a moment, before he pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head and said, “No. It’s understandable.”

Harry peered up at Tom through his lashes. “Please? I want to spend the night with ‘Mione. Just one night.”

He watched Tom exhale, jaw tense. “Just one night?” He repeated. Harry nodded.

Red orbs squeezed shut. “Fine. One night.”

Harry beamed. “Thank you, Tom!” He wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist, pressing his face against Tom’s neck. He felt Tom hug him back, just as tightly.

“Of course, darling.” Tom murmured. “I’d do anything for you, you know?”

“I know.” Harry pulled back slightly, looking up at Tom. His heart had started to flutter again. Harry had thought he had grown used to the feeling, but it felt as new as it had when it first began.

Tom pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You remember how I taught you to call me through the bond, yes?”

“Mhm. Just close my eyes, envision a string, and tug at it once I do?” Harry said, discretely leaning into Tom.

“Good. Do that if anything happens.” Tom said softly.

“Okay. I promise.”

Tom paced back and forth, resisting the urge to bite his nails nervously.

He had spent every night with Harry for years. Never a night spent without him. Sure, he had grown used to being separated for a few hours nearly every day, what with working at the ministry, but an entire night?

He breathed in deeply.

Harry would be fine. They had their bond to call each other through. Tom could be there in an instant if anything happened.

Tom settled down in bed, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to come.

It did, hours later.

Harry nibbled on a celery stick from the platter of snacks Mrs. Jean had brought in earlier. It tasted alright, so Harry decided he’d eat another once he was finished.

He turned a page on his book, reading slowly.

“Harry?” Hermione spoke, and Harry turned to her, head cocked in question. “What’s your last name?”

Harry debated mentally for a moment, before responding, “Potter.”

The hand holding her book jerked, and the book shut, losing it’s place. She didn’t seem to care, though.

“Have you met your parents?” She questioned.

Harry set the celery stick down on his plate. “I have. My mother is alright, though I don’t feel attached to her, and she makes me a bit uncomfortable. My father… I only met him briefly.” He decided to say.

Hermione set down the book. “Their names?”

He wondered why she was asking, but it couldn’t do any harm as long as he did not mention magic, right? “James and Lily.”

Curious, he watched her shoot off the bed, towards a trunk in the corner of the room. Hermione began sorting through it, then withdrew a-

“Is that a wand?” Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

She shot him a triumphant look. “So you are a wizard.”

Harry tensed slightly. Should he deny it?

“I’m a witch.” Hermione said proudly, setting the wand back down. It made Harry relax. So, she was magical as well? That was a relief. “There was an old newspaper article I read, about the Potter heir going missing at a young age. The photo on it looked awfully similar to you, so…”

“That’s me.” Harry admitted reluctantly. He felt oddly relieved that Hermione was a witch, and that she knew about him now. He hated keeping things from her.

“So, you’ve met them? That’s a relief. I had wondered if Mister Riddle had…” Her lips curled down slightly, “kidnapped you.”

Harry scowled. “Tom found me, and kept me with him because he couldn’t find my parents, and thought I was abandoned. He’s kind. Besides, we both visit Mis- my mother every month. She knows that I live with Tom, and accepts it.”

Hermione softened. “That’s good.” Then, she sat down next to him on the bed once more, turning her brown eyes to Harry, curious. “Why didn’t you go to Hogwarts?”

Harry’s brows pinched. “What’s that?” He questioned.

“You-” She frowned. “You don’t know what Hogwarts is? It’s a school for witches and wizards to go to, starting when they turn eleven, and they go for seven years.”

Harry’s face twisted. “Tom’s never told me about it, but I’d understand why he wouldn’t want me to go. He doesn’t like me leaving him. Tom is protective.”

“That doesn’t excuse him for not telling you.” Hermione said firmly. “When you get home, ask him why he didn’t.”

“Okay.” He agreed. He was curious about why Tom had not told him.

Chapter Text

Tom held Harry close, chin atop Harry’s head. He inhaled Harry’s usual scent of strawberries and what Tom was beginning to suspect was treacle tart, despite cutting back on it with Harry, so he wondered how Harry still smelled of it.

They had apparated home after getting far enough away from the Granger’s house and into a private area, and Tom had instantly pulled Harry into a tight hug when they arrived, the action being returned just as tightly.

“Welcome home, Harry.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

“I was only gone for one night, Tom.” Harry said teasingly. “But thank you.”

Tom pulled him closer, if possible. “How did it go? Did you have fun? Did anything happen?” Finally, he relinquished his hold and guided Harry inside.

“We had lots of fun. We read, and...that’s mostly what we did, but guess what?”

Tom hummed questioningly, closing the door behind them.

“Hermione is a witch!”

It slammed shut, reverberating throughout the cottage. Tom stared at the door’s handle, lips curling downwards. His assumption had been right.

“Oh?” Tom prompted, turning his gaze to Harry. Harry was watching Tom closely.

“Yes.” Was all he said, and Tom’s gaze followed Harry as he went to the couch. “I have a question, Tom.”

His lips pursed, and Tom went to sit next to Harry. “Yes?”

Tom relaxed slightly when Harry leaned over, resting his head on Tom’s shoulder. “Why didn’t I go to Hogwarts?”

He forced himself not to tense. “You went with me when you were little, but you likely don’t remember that.” Tom reached up, running his fingers through Harry’s messy locks. He received a contented sigh in response to his action. “I decided to homeschool you instead. I apologize if it was not what you wanted; I could not bear to be parted from you though, Harry. You would be gone for most of the year, only coming back for holidays and summer break.”

Harry shifted. “’Mione didn’t tell me that. I guess I understand. I wouldn’t want to be away from you for that long, either.”

Tom turned his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. He was satisfied that Harry understood, even though it was only part of the reason why he hadn’t sent Harry there. Tom had not wanted anyone to find out about him, but now that the Potters could do practically nothing, what with Harry being an adult and all, it was fine.

“Did you eat lunch, darling?” He questioned. Harry nodded slightly, shifting a bit so that they were closer.

“I did. Mrs. Granger made us sandwiches, and ‘Mione and I read outside while we ate.” Harry said.

Tom hummed. “That sounds fun.”

“Is it okay if I have another sleepover with her eventually, Tom?” Harry turned his head, peering up at Tom with pleading emerald eyes.

He wanted to say no, that Harry couldn’t go because he was Tom’s, but.

But.

“Of course, Harry.”

How could he deny Harry when he seemed so happy?

Harry began fixing himself a sandwich absently, lost in his thoughts.

He understood completely why Tom had not sent him to Hogwarts. The mere thought of being separated for nearly an entire year was awful.

Just being parted from Tom for a few hours when he was at work was stressful. He hated being alone, but it was unavoidable, and Harry would wait as patiently as possible to return.

After he ate and cleaned the dishes, Harry curled up on their bed, face pressed into Tom’s pillow. It still smelled like him, and Harry was unable to resist curling around it.

It was comforting; a poor substitute for Tom, but it would do, as it always did.

Tom had decided to take Harry to Hogsmeade on the weekend, instead of Diagon Alley. They seemed to encounter too many people there that Tom wished to avoid.

Harry was gulping down his Butterbeer, face flushed from the heat of the pub. Tom watched him lick the sweet foam away from around his mouth, and nearly chastised him for his bad manners, but held his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin the pleased expression on Harry’s face.

“Thank you, Tom.” Harry beamed, eyes bright with delight. “It’s delicious.”

Tom’s lips curled up, pleased with Harry’s happiness. “I’m glad you enjoy it. We can return sometime, if you’d like?”

“I’d love that.” Harry said, and Tom thought he saw his cheeks darken further. Had he caused that? If so, why?

It must just be the heat.

Once they paid, they exited the Three Broomsticks. Tom felt Harry’s hand slip into his, and squeezed it slightly.

The street was a bit crowded, but Tom just made sure to hold Harry’s hand tighter, guiding him towards the Apparition point. He stopped abruptly, though, when he heard Harry make a soft noise.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” He turned, and followed Harry’s gaze. A boy that looked to be about Harry’s age had dropped two plants when he exited a store, the pots not broken, but the dirt spilt around them.

Lips pursed, he allowed Harry to pull away, walking towards the boy. His darling was much too soft, but Tom supposed it was endearing.

He followed, standing a few feet away as he watched Harry help the boy put the dirt back in the pots.

“Here,” Harry knelt, helping the blond haired boy scoop the dirt back into the pots. He was sent a confused look, but the boy didn’t protest.

“Th-thank you.” He said softly. When they finished, they stood, attempting to brush the dirt off of their hands.

“I’m Harry. And you?” Harry peered up at him. He was a bit taller, but not by much.

“Neville.” The boy, Neville, said. “Thank y-you for helping me. They we-were a bit he-heavy and I d-dropped them.”

Harry beamed. “It was no problem. I hope you have no problem getting them home, or wherever you’re taking them. Bye!” After receiving a stuttered goodbye, Harry walked over to where Tom had been observing them, and held out his hands expectantly.

Lips curling in a smile, Tom vanished the dirt. “You have magic, Harry. Why don’t you just use it?”

“Because you’ll do it for me.” Harry said cheekily.

Tom clucked his tongue. “Indeed I will. Now, care to tell me why you did that?” Tom began to guide him down the street once more, but with a firmer grip than before. It seemed Tom didn’t want him stopping again, despite allowing him to do so last time.

“He needed help.” Harry said simply. Tom made a noise in the back of his throat.

“You’re too kind, darling.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Harry beamed.

Chapter Text

Harry rested his cheek on Tom’s thigh. He was curled up on the couch, with Tom sitting up beside him, reading a book as he often did. “’Mione said Hogwarts students take NEWTs to help get a job or something when they leave school. Should I take them if I can, Tom?” Harry questioned, picking at a feather that was sticking out of the couch.

He watched Tom set down his book, peering down at him. “You don’t need to, Harry. You know I’ll always provide for you, and enjoy doing so.” Tom reached down and ran his fingers through Harry’s messy locks. Harry leaned into the touch, eyes becoming lidded with bliss.

“I know, but what if I want to get a job someday? Or need to?” Harry spoke, voice coming out a bit breathy when Tom’s fingers brushed his scar.

“You won’t need to, Harry. But, if it’s what you want…” Tom trailed off, tracing Harry’s scar with his fingers. He did that for a while, before seeming to come back to himself, and continued, “If that is what you want, we can go to the Ministry of Magic and take your NEWTs once you feel ready. But, perhaps I should teach you a bit more before you take them? I will admit that I went a bit easy on you.” Tom said softly.

A bit flushed from Tom repeatedly stroking his scar, Harry said, “Okay. Sounds good.”

Tom clucked his tongue, dodging the severing spell Harry had thrown his way. Harry was clearly uncomfortable tossing harmful spells his way, but it was needed for Harry to learn.

“Darling, your casting is slow, and you are hesitating. Your opponent won’t wait for you in a real fight.” Tom chided him, deflecting a curse Harry had managed to throw at him. He got up close, and easily yanked the wand from Harry’s hand instead of using a disarming spell.

Lips curled downwards, Tom tapped Harry’s throat with his wand, peering down at the shorter male. “I win. You were better this time, but we still need to work on your dueling. Your dueling skills likely won’t be tested, though it is still important to learn how. It will help you with your Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms grade, though.”

Harry was flushed and panting, skin glistening slightly with sweat. Tom was unfazed by the duel, and looked as pristine as ever. “C-Can we take a break?” Harry asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Tom hummed, brushing Harry’s damp bangs away from his forehead. “We’ll quit dueling for today. Take a shower, then we’ll see how good you are with brewing potions.”

He saw Harry perk up, nodding rapidly. Tom was amused by Harry’s enthusiasm, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be as happy as he was then once they started.

“Never again.” Harry said, horror plain on his face. “Tom, those were worm guts.”

“Flobberworm guts, yes.” Tom turned off the stove, the and moved the whistling kettle off of the hot burner. “And we will be doing it again, if you wish to take your NEWTs.”

He heard a long whine escape Harry from behind him. “Tom, why can’t I skip that one?” Harry grumbled, and Tom felt Harry lean against his back, forehead pressing between Tom’s shoulder blades.

“Because that is a very important NEWT to get a high grade on.” Tom said, pouring himself a cup of steaming tea. “Many jobs require you to have at least a grade E Potions NEWT, such as becoming a Healer, or an Auror.”

There was a long, drawn out sigh. “Healers are like doctors, right? And I dunno what an Auror is.”

“It’s the magical version of a law enforcement officer.” Tom stated, dropping a cube of sugar into his tea, then stirred it with a spoon.

“Sounds dangerous.” Harry said, and Tom felt him pull away. “I’m not interested in either. I...don’t know what I’d want to do.” He said hesitantly.

Tom turned, lips curling up in a soft smile. “You don’t need to yet, Harry. You can take your NEWTs whenever you want, and if you decide you don’t want to, that’s fine as well. Not all jobs require you to have NEWTs.”

Harry nodded, peering up at Tom through thick black lashes. “I don’t want to be a burden. You pay for everything, and I just do...nothing.”

He stepped forwards, tapping his knuckles against the top of Harry’s head gently. “You’re very helpful, Harry. You clean up the house while I’m away, which must be hard at times. Thank you.”

He watched Harry’s face turn red. “I-It’s not hard. It’s really easy.” Harry insisted, averting his eyes.

Tom clicked his tongue. “Despite me never having asked you to, you do the laundry, clean the dishes if there are any, dust and sweep, and I’m quite sure that the flowerbeds look as if they’ve been weeded recently. That isn’t easy, Harry. You help a lot, and I appreciate it.”

If possible, Harry turned redder. “Okay.” Harry said quietly, tugging at the hem of his shirt with his fingers.

Tom pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You aren’t a burden, so never think of yourself as one.”

Tom paused in the street, humming questioningly when Harry stopped, tugging insistently at his sleeve.

“Tom, it’s Neville!” Harry said excitedly. Tom followed his gaze, and sure enough, the Longbottom heir was just exiting a bookstore, a bag held at his side.

Sighing, Tom guided an eager Harry over towards Longbottom.

The blond haired boy glanced over their way, gaze landing on Harry. He seemed to brighten visibly, and Tom felt a surge of possessiveness.

Harry was his. How dare he look at Harry that way? He-

“Neville!” Harry beamed, rocking on his heels. “How are you? I’m glad to see you again.”

“H-Hi, Harry.” Longbottom stuttered. “I’m g-good. And yo-you?”

If possible, Harry’s smile widened. “I’m great! Tom and I were going to go to the Three Broomsticks. You wanna come?”

Tom hid a grimace. He did not fancy having Longbottom accompanying them during their outing that was supposed to be relaxing.

Longbottom smiled slightly. “I-If that’s o-okay.”

Chapter Text

Tom watched over the rim of his mug of Butterbeer as Harry chattered with Longbottom, occasionally taking a sip out of his mug as well. As time went on, Longbottom seemed to become a bit more relaxed, his stuttering coming less and less.

He leaned back, averting his eyes. Tom wasn’t jealous. He just hated sharing Harry. It was fine, though, as they likely wouldn’t be seeing Longbottom again anytime soon.

“-ou know Hermione?” He heard Harry ask, and Tom turned his gaze back to them.

Longbottom nodded. “Yes. She’s i-in my year, and we share most of our classes t-together. We’re both Gryffindors.”

“She’s my best friend.” Harry said brightly, taking a long sip of his Butterbeer. Tom internally congratulated himself on finally teaching Harry manners when Harry wiped the foam away from his mouth with a napkin, instead of licking it away.

“She’s at the top of most of our c-classes.” Longbottom spoke. Tom listened to them talk about Granger for a while, before he turned to the door when he heard it open and the once loud pub went silent, the customers’ conversations dying.

Instantly, Tom scowled. Dumbledore had entered, standing out more than he should with his obnoxious yellow robes with black cats riding brooms on them, for whatever reason.

Tom took a sip out of his mug, trying to blend in, but Dumbledore’s eyes locked onto him. Fuck, he was walking towards them.

“Harry, darling, why don’t we head out, hmm?” He strongly suggested, placing a galleon onto the table, and stood. Harry sent him a confused look.

“But I wanted to talk to Neville.” Harry pouted, peering up at him through long, thick lashes. His cheeks were flushed from the heat of the pub.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but cringed when he heard Dumbledore’s jovial voice. “Tom, my boy! It’s been so long! How are you?” He felt a hand pat his back, and resisted the urge to remove it from his person, as well as Dumbledore’s.

He turned, sending Dumbledore the most fake smile he had. “I am well, Headmaster. And you?” Tom wanted to tell him to fuck off, but couldn’t do such a thing in public, where people could see and think things about Tom that he couldn’t have them thinking. Tom was viewed well by the public, and couldn’t have their opinions changing for the worse.

“I am well, my boy. Mr. Longbottom! How are you?” Dumbledore asked brightly. He received a stuttered greeting and confirmation that Longbottom was well, before his attention turned to Harry.

Hell no.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Dumbledore said, peering over his half-moon glasses at Harry.

“I’m Harry Potter.” Harry said, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

He saw a flicker of surprise flit through Dumbledore’s blue eyes, then intense curiosity.

Tom stepped forwards, placing himself halfway between Dumbledore and Harry. His protective action did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore. “Harry, darling, it’s getting late. Shall we go home?”

Dumbledore spoke before Harry could respond. “Aren’t you a bit old for him, Tom?” His tone was teasing, yet held a hint of disapproval.

Tom’s brows pinched in genuine confusion. “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

Dumbledore blinked, eyebrows raising slightly. “It appears I assumed incorrectly. I apologize.” He said, and his gaze returned to Harry, eyes twinkling. “Mr. Potter, are you perhaps James and Lily’s son?”

Harry squirmed a bit in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Yes, sir.” He said reluctantly, sending Tom a glance. Tom gave him a soft look that conveyed that it was fine that he told Dumbledore.

“You’ve been missing for an awfully long time, Mr. Potter. May I call you Harry?”

“I-..okay.” Harry mumbled.

Tom resisted the urge to drag Harry out and apparate away, knowing it would cause a scene. He stood there, slightly stiff, and waited.

“Harry, then. Have you met with your parents yet?” Dumbledore questioned.

Tom’s lips pursed. “You’re being awfully nosy, Headmaster.” He drawled.

An apologetic look was sent his way, but despite Tom cutting in, Harry spoke up.

“I’ve met my mother. We visit every month. I don’t feel comfortable around my father, so I’ll just speak with my mother for now.” Harry said, voice steadier than it was earlier. He was gaining confidence.

Tom felt proud.

“Family is very important, my boy. Perhaps you should try speaking with him?” Dumbledore suggested.

Harry’s lips curled down slightly. “No offense, sir, but we’ve just met. You’re asking very personal questions.”

Dumbledore blinked, surprised. “I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself.” He apologized. “Forgive an old man for his careless words.”

Harry nodded, and stood. Tom felt Harry latch onto the hem of his sleeve, and Dumbledore’s eyes locked onto the action.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr…?”

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but please, just call me Albus.” Dumbledore said brightly. Tom narrowed his eyes at him.

“Mr. Albus. It was nice to meet you. And Neville,” Harry turned to him, beaming. “I had fun. We should meet up again.”

Longbottom smiled slightly. “That’d b-be nice. I had f-fun as we-well.”

Tom finally spoke up. “Let’s go then, Harry. Goodbye, Dumbledore. Longbottom.” He nodded to each of them, then guided Harry out of the pub.

As they walked down the street, the sun setting behind the trees, Tom poked Harry’s side with a finger. “When did you get so good with people?” He questioned, lacing their fingers together when Harry reached for his hand.

“I read. And I talk a lot with you and ‘Mione. It’s hard not to be good with people when I have to deal with you two.” He teased.

Tom shot him a look. “Careful, darling. I may think you’re insulting me.”

Harry looked up at him with wide emerald eyes. “Aren’t I?”

“No treacle tart for a month.” Tom said flatly.

“Jokes on you; I know how to make it.”

“I buy the groceries.”

“Fuck.” Harry cursed.

Tom’s steps faltered. “Where did you learn that word?” He demanded.

Harry smiled sharply. “From a book.”

Damn those books.

Huffing, Tom dragged a snickering Harry towards the Apparition zone.

Chapter Text

Harry peered down at the child staring up at him with wide, curious blue eyes.

He had arrived at his monthly meeting with his mother, which he had not yet decided on whether to stop coming to. Lily had requested that she be allowed to bring one more person over to visit with Harry, and reluctantly he agreed, as long as it wasn’t Snape.

“Are you Dada and Papa’s godson?” The shorter girl -Hope, she had been introduced as- asked, head cocked.

“I am.” He said, shifting his gaze over to the four other adults. Sirius was watching them eagerly, while Lily and Remus spoke quietly with Tom.

“Then that makes you my kinda-brother.” She beamed, rocking on her heels. “I have a baby sister or brother coming, y’know? Papa and Dada said Auntie Tonks will have it.”

Harry tilted his head. “That’s nice. What will you name them?”

Hope’s face went blank for a moment, before her nose scrunched up. “Papa and Dada agreed it would be Rose if it’s a girl, and Edward if it’s a boy. Auntie Tonks’ daddy’s name is Edward, so she gave them that idea.”

Harry hummed, then finally gave into temptation and ruffled her hair. He received an indignant huff in response.

Oh.

Harry adjusted his hold so that the baby’s head was supported, as he had been instructed. He couldn’t stop staring down at its face. Soft and chubby and pink.

A smile tugged at his lips. Edward. That’s what they named him, but everyone was already calling him Teddy. Harry secretly thought that Teddy was a much better name than Edward.

Teddy gurgled, squirming slightly, before he settled back down. Harry was sure that his heart had just melted.

“Harry, we’d love if you could be Teddy’s godfather.” Remus said, crouching in front of him. He peered up at Harry, waiting for his response.

“I…” Harry trailed off, gaze shifting back to Teddy’s face. He had fallen asleep, and was breathing softly. “What do I need to do as a godfather?”

Remus smiled slightly. “Just come visit to check up on him sometimes. Treat him well. And if something ever happens to Sirius, Tonks and I, please take care of him.”

Harry’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“Okay.” He whispered. How could he reject such an offer? “How do I become his godfather?”

“It’s not as extreme as the muggles’ way of doing it. You just have to sign your name on some papers.”

“Okay.” Harry repeated.

Harry’s 18^th birthday.

Harry ignored the hand running up and down his back, pressing his face further into the pillow. He was too tired to shoo Tom away, and it felt soothing anyways.

Tom seemed content to let him laze around as much as he liked. It was Saturday, and they had nothing else to do, so they could do so guiltlessly.

After a while, he felt Tom’s hand leave his back, and felt the bed shift as Tom got off. He heard the soft patter of footsteps as Tom left the room.

Harry rolled over onto the spot Tom had been in, tugging the covers further onto him. The spot was warm, and smelled slightly of Tom.

Eyes drooping slightly, he listened to the faint sound of Tom moving around in the kitchen; likely making breakfast.

A few minutes later, the scent of bacon met his nose, and he sluggishly sat up. Harry rubbed at his eyes, then slipped out of bed.

In the kitchen, he sat on one of the bar stools, nearly slumping against the counter. Harry was given a cup of tea, and a small smile tugged at his lips when Tom said, “Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you.” He took a sip of the tea, enjoying the sweet taste. Tom always knew just how much sugar Harry liked in his tea.

It seemed Tom was making bacon and eggs. He could see that the toaster was on. There was likely toast or bagels inside.

Once Tom finished cooking, he sat a plate of food in front of Harry, then sat beside him with his own. They ate in silence.

After eating, Harry went to the couch and curled up, still tired. He had woken in the middle of the night to Tom leaving for one of his meetings with his old friends. Harry snuffed his curiosity the moment it welled up.

He still didn’t know what the project was that Tom was working on with his old friends, and Harry did not plan on asking. It felt like a topic that Harry should not attempt to speak of.

He scooted against the back of the couch when Tom attempted to lie next to him, giving Tom more room. Harry relaxed when Tom pressed close to him, cuddling.

Tom stared at Harry’s sleeping face, peaceful and content.

Some of his Knights were restless. They wanted to fight. To kill. They were just waiting Tom’s order; to tell them where to go and what to do.

He was doing this for Harry, right? Harry had been attacked by a muggle. They were beasts that needed to be slaughtered.

But what about people like Granger’s parents? Or the woman that owned that ice cream shop? Sure, they were annoying, but they weren’t bad.

Tom pressed himself closer to Harry, pressing his nose into Harry’s hair. Would Harry like it if he killed muggles?

No. Harry would be livid.

His lips curled into a grimace. It seemed he had some thinking to do. And if his Knights got too out of hand, Tom would just have to put them in their place.

Tom pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “The things I do for you, darling.” He murmured quietly, careful not to wake Harry. “I’ve told you before that I’d do anything for you, and I stand by that.”

Harry slept on, breathing steadily against Tom’s throat.

Chapter Text

Harry cooed at Teddy, booping him on the nose. His godson giggled, chubby little hands coming up to bat at Harry’s hand.

He had made himself comfortable on a chair in the corner of the room, away from Tom, Lily, Sirius and Remus. They sent him glances often, but were otherwise occupied with talking.

Harry didn’t really know what they were talking about, but didn’t exactly care. He just hoped they were being civil.

He watched Teddy’s hair turn black, and his eyes green. Harry enjoyed seeing Teddy mimic people. It was fun.

In Harry’s opinion, his godson was one of the best things to ever exist. Well, he tied with Hermione. No one could beat Tom.

Harry set his mug of Butterbeer down, a scowl tugging at his lips.

Tom had dropped him off at the Three Broomsticks earlier to meet with Hermione, as Harry was still a bit uncomfortable with apparating by himself. Tom had asked repeatedly if Harry was alright with Tom leaving him there, and Harry had said it was fine. Harry had wanted to spend a day with Hermione, after all.

Well, the pleasant day they had been having was ruined. As it usually was when Harry went out in public.

James Potter had shown up, and sat down in the seat across from them as if he were supposed to be there.

“That’s a bit rude.” Harry stated flatly. Hermione was watching James with narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve met before, yes?” James cocked his head, waving down a waitress passing by. He ordered a Butterbeer, then turned his attention back to Harry.

“You rudely came up and requested to see my face before even introducing yourself. It wasn’t a pleasant first meeting, sir. Can you leave?” Harry fiddled with his wand in his pocket. “I am uncomfortable.”

James’ lips pursed. “Dumbledore came to see me. He told me that you were alive, and that he had found you. I knew it was you when he told me that. And...you’ve been meeting with Lily, and not me?” He accused, eyes narrowed.

“The first thing you do when you sit down to talk with your son is accuse him?” Harry scowled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like people like you. I may have liked to get to know you if we had met in a different way, but we hadn’t. So, I’d rather just live peacefully. Without you in my life.”

James’ cheeks turned red. Whether in embarrassment or anger, Harry did not know. “I’m still your father! I want to get to know y-”

“No. I have no interest in getting to know you. The last time we were around each other for more than two minutes was when I was a baby, and I’ve decided I don’t like you. You are not my father.” Harry pulled out a galleon that Tom had given him, and set it on the table. “Let’s go, ‘Mione.”

They stood, but when Harry moved to walk past James, his arm was grabbed. “Harry, listen, I’m sorry for being rude. But you’re my only son. I need an heir-”

“Don’t touch me!” He snapped, yanking his arm out of James’ grip, and strode out of the pub quickly. Hermione followed quickly, easily keeping up with him as she was taller.

“Are you alright, Harry?” She asked quietly, walking with him down the road. The sun was low in the sky, slowly going down.

“I’m fine.” He tugged slightly at the bond, signaling that he wanted Tom to come pick him up.

“He was so rude! I can’t believe him!” Hermione suddenly snapped, turning to glare at the pub. “That’s your father?”

“I wouldn’t consider him that, but yeah.” Harry muttered, rocking on his heels. “I don’t really feel a connection with either of my parents. They never raised me, so…”

Hermione hummed. “You never grew attached to them, so it’s understandable.” She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand comfortingly. “Is Mr. Riddle coming?”

“He’ll be here in a minute.” Harry said. He had told Hermione earlier that he was able to call Tom through a bond they had, but didn’t tell her what kind. She had accepted it, thankfully not asking any questions when Harry didn’t elaborate further.

There was a crack, and Tom appeared in the road. There was hardly anyone around, so he caught sight of them instantly.

“Harry. Are you alright?” Tom asked, moving towards them. His eyes went to their hands, where they were linked. It itched at him, but he let it go.

Granger wasn’t a threat, he had learned. If anything, she was an ally. She helped keep Harry happy. Tom was able to see now that she held no feelings for Harry besides friendship, so he was reluctantly allowing her to be close with Harry.

Harry needed friends to be happy and healthy. Tom would do anything to keep Harry that way, so Granger would stay. Longbottom was fine as well.

Though, they were incredibly annoying at times.

“I’m okay. James Potter showed up. He knows.” Harry released Granger’s hand, stepping forwards and wrapping his arms around Tom’s waist. Tom hugged him back, resting his chin on Harry’s head.

Anger brewed in his chest. “Oh? How?” Tom murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. Granger was watching them, lips pursed.

“Dumbledore.” Harry pulled back slowly. “Can we go home, Tom?”

“Of course, darling.” He said, waiting until Harry said goodbye to Granger, before he apparated them home.

Once they appeared in the living room, Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, right over his scar. “Did he do anything to you?” He asked sharply.

“He just grabbed my arm. I don’t think it bruised me, though.” Harry said. Tom pushed up his sleeves anyways to check, relaxing slightly when he saw that Harry’s skin was unmarred. “He said something before we left. That I was his only son, and he needed an heir.”

“The Potters have quite a few males in other branches of their family. They’re fine.” Tom stated flatly.

Tom began pushing Harry towards the bathroom. He didn’t like the idea of Potter’s filthy hands being on Harry. “Take a shower, then we’ll go to bed.”

“Bossy.” Harry grumbled, but went into the bathroom to take one anyways.

Chapter Text

Harry hid his reddened cheeks by looking down at the floor. Tom had just kissed his forehead, as he always did before they parted from each other.

It made his chest feel warm, as usual. Though the feelings he had towards Tom had increased lately.

Tom pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple, and Harry grumbled, “I’m only going away for a few days, Tom. I’ll be fine. I’ll be with ‘Mione.”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “I know, darling. I worry, though. What if you fall and break something? Or get bit by a snake? Or mauled by a bear?”

“None of those things will happen, Tom. It’s just camping with ‘Mione and her parents. I’ll be okay.”

Tom’s expression grew impossibly soft. “Alright. Stay safe, and remember that spell I taught you?”

“Avada Kedavra.” Harry grumbled. Tom made a pleased noise.

“Yes. Use that if you need to. But only if you have to.” Tom said. Harry nodded jerkily. He didn’t like the spell, but if he had to use it, he would.

Harry made a pleased noise, swallowing down the mouthful of the s’more he had bitten into a moment ago.

They were delicious. Harry had never had a s’more before. Apparently, Hermione and her parents only ever made them when they went camping, so it was a rare treat for them too.

“Thank you for inviting me to come. I’m having fun.” Harry said, beaming. He felt sad that he couldn’t be with Tom for a few days, but it’d be fine. They’d see each other soon.

“Of course, dear. You’re practically family at this point.” Mrs. Granger said. Mr. Granger and Hermione made sounds of agreement.

Harry felt happy that they considered him to be family. Other than them, the only people he considered to be family were Teddy and Tom. It made him feel a bit guilty that he didn’t feel the same for Teddy’s parents, but it couldn’t be helped.

Lily was okay. Harry had gotten over his fear of her a while ago, realizing she would not force him to be in the presence of Snape again. He didn’t feel much of a connection with her, though.

James Potter? Not in the least.

Teddy was, well, his godson. Family.

Tom… Harry wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel like an older brother, or a father figure. Those kind of relationships seemed wrong.

A friend? Yes, but there was more to it than that. Harry knew he loved Tom, but could it be that he loved him romantically?

Oh.

He nearly dropped his half-eaten s’more.

Harry romantically loved Tom.

When Tom picked up Harry after the camping trip, Harry was practically showered in affection. It made his heart swell in his chest, and his face grow flustered.

That night, he was hardly able to fall asleep. Tom was clinging to him. Harry was hyperaware of Tom’s arm over his middle, and Tom’s chest against his back.

Harry jerked in surprise when Tom spoke. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Harry?”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t know.”

“Liar.” Tom said, amused. “Tell me.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should.

Then, he breathed out, “I think I love you, Tom.”

“Yes, darling. You’ve told me so before.” Tom said, nosing at Harry’s hair. Harry inhaled shakily.

“I mean romantically.”

Tom went still.

Then, he sighed, pressing a kiss to Harry’s hair. “Darling, I raised you. It’s normal to love me, but I highly doubt you love me romantically. How about you wait until you’re a bit older, and then say it again if you’re sure?”

“Okay.” Harry whispered. It felt as if his heart had crumbled in his chest, somehow.

Tom stared off into space. Harry had fallen asleep a moment ago, leaving Tom to gather himself together.

Harry loved him. Romantically. Or, at least, Harry thought he did.

Tom was ecstatic. Harry loved him more that Tom had thought he did. Tom loved having Harry’s attention, and this just further fed his greediness.

Though, his excitement waned when he realized that even if he did eventually love Harry romantically, there would likely be nothing physical besides kissing, hugging or cuddling in their relationship. Nothing sexual. Tom was quite sure he was incapable of feeling such things.

Tom’s mind went blank for a moment.

If he was already disappointed about that, didn’t that mean that Tom already loved Harry romantically, if only a little?

The thought of kissing Harry felt odd, though not repulsive. It would be just another way of showing Harry affection. Tom loved showing Harry affection.

He sighed, nuzzling his face into Harry’s inky locks. Tom would think about it later. Maybe when Harry was older, and if he came to the conclusion that he really loved Tom romantically.

Time-skip, darlings. 2 years. Harry is now 20, and Tom is 34. Jfc they’re aging fast.

Harry squinted up at Tom, lips pulled in a tight, determined line.

Tom was staring down at him, a brow quirked curiously.

“I love you.” Harry said firmly. He was entirely sure of it, after two years of asking himself “do I love Tom?”

The answer was always “yes.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a smile. It made Harry’s chest feel soft and warm. “Do you, now?” Tom murmured.

“Yes.” Harry said, rocking on his heels. “I love you a lot.”

“I think I can say that I love you as well, Harry. Romantically.” Tom leaned down, lips brushing against Harry’s scar. Their mark. Harry’s heart swelled in his chest.

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” Harry mumbled, peering up at Tom when he pulled back slightly.

Tom’s smile grew impossibly soft. “I think you’ve waited long enough, darling.”

Harry practically pounced on Tom in his excitement. Tom caught him easily, leaning down to allow Harry to brush their lips together. Clumsy and chaste, but it made both of their hearts flutter.

“I love you.” Tom murmured, pulling away for a second. His brows arched in amusement when Harry chased after his lips, seeking another kiss. Greedy.

“Love you, too.” Harry said, pressing another kiss to Tom’s lips, softer this time.

Harry didn’t think he had ever felt happier, nor did Tom.

And, they had the rest of their very, very long lives to live together. There was no doubt there would be hard times in their very long future, but they were sure they’d get through it.

Harry had Tom, and Tom had Harry. That was all they needed to be happy.