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“That’s a lot more blood than usual” Was not a normal sentence people say as they come home. No blood would be the preferred for many people coming home after a long day working with the public. However for Tom Riddle, it was in fact quite normal.
He walked over to his roommate who was face down on the floor, an excess pool of blood around him, staining the floor no doubt. He had an ornate sword puncturing right through his back piercing his heart and impaling him into the floor. Dull green eyes stared at him as drying blood oozed out of graying lips.
“How did you manage this one?” He asked the corps, trying to step around the blood. He made his way to the hall closet they shared to put away his overcoat that was needed for the rainy day in Diagon Alley. “Stabbing yourself in the back is quite the feat.”
There was a gurgled chuckle as the dead body started to reanimate itself. He wasn’t sure how, but seeing as this was at least the 48th time he’d seen his roommate ‘die’, he knew the man would be up and talking in a matter of minutes.
“I’m not helping you clean this blood up.” He stated, heading to the living room to read up on the history of artifacts from the 1200’s for Mr. Burke. There was a particular mask of asian origin that he was interested in learning more about.
He ignored the moans and sighs coming from the front door as his roommate’s body knitted itself back together. Organs starting to move once more, muscles that were starting to stiffen up creaking as the brain sent signals for them to push the skeleton up, hopefully dislodging the sword in it’s back. It was half an hour later that a familiar mop of dark hair came around the corner and flopped on the couch beside him.
He looked up from his book for a moment to give the other a once over. Lively bright green eyes were filled with mirth, a cheeky smile on still bloodied lips. His hair was a matted mess of blood and tissue. There was a gaping hole that he could see the other’s heart still beating through. It was always fascinating to watch the skin knit itself backtogether.
“I stabbed once through the front, then rigged the sword with rope from the ceiling so it got me in my back. Impressive, I know, but you can tell me more about how amazing I am” The man fluttered his eyelashes at the other. Tom snorted, looking back at his book.
“Don’t get any blood on this couch, it’s new.” The older one got a laugh in reply.
Harry Potter was a strange man, falling into Tom’s life durling his last year at Hogwarts. Quiet latterly, falling into Tom. He was out in the forbidden forest, wanting a moment to himself without Dumbledore watching his every move, when the then 17 year old came falling into him from the sky.
He almost left the teen there, let nature take its course, but there was something about him. Something off about the scar on the forehead, something off about the clothing, something just off about him. Tom didn’t like things he didn’t understand, so this unknown teen was a puzzle he couldn’t wait to crack. A puzzle he’d been trying to crack for five years now.
He was a puzzle inside a puzzle, inside a careless child. He learned that in a matter of days of meeting the other. After the younge teen had been taken to St.Mungo for a whirlwind of tests, he was sent back to Hogwarts. It only took 2 weeks for the teen to die the first time and walk it off like it was nothing.
Harry Potter was glaring down at his Draught of Living Death, as if it had cursed his own mother when it happened. It was a masterfully done potion, one Slughorn kept praising , even with only an hour to make such a hard potion, Harry had done so with such skill that could most likely kill anyone. What no one was expecting was the teen to take the potion, as if being controlled by another, and dunking his head into it.
Tom could still remember the screams of fear from everyone, Slughorn yelling at everyone to leave, not knowing what gruesome sight they would see when the head of the corps was pulled out. Tom was sitting behind Harry and saw the moment his body went limp, muscles no longer being told to hold the body together. He was also the first to see the hands twitch as the body slowly started pushing itself up from the corrosive goo. It might have been because it was the first time the body had died and needed to knit itself back together, or that it had already started undoing the potions effects as it was still in the bubbling cauldron, but Harry looked okay when he finally stood up and looked around. Green eyes bright, if not a bit red with irritation. Skin looked as marked as it did before, however no new scars marked the skin. He simply looked to everyone crowding the door, who once were trying to run out of fear and spoke.
“I don’t think it was that strong after all, professor.”
Over the next five years, he was sure to have seen the man die, or the after effects no less than 40 times. It very well could have been even higher than that by now. Harry didn’t seem to have any idea on why he was unable to die, much to Tom’s own frustration. He was the reason Potter had died, intentionally or not, no less then 15 of those times. Blasting spells, knives, even locking him in a chest without food for a month, yet the man kept on living. It unnerved him, knowing there was another way to reach immorality, and how an imbecile like Harry Potter managed it better then he had.
“How was work?” Harry asked him after a moment of silence. He originally wanted the Potter man as a roommate to be able to study him, to solve the many puzzles that surrounded the man. He didn’t realize it would come with almost constant chatter and an immortal who found death rather funny.
“Sold a bloodied Tarot deck to a student. I’m expecting it back by the end of the week. We can’t seem to get rid of it for long before it returns.” Tom, spending most of his early childhood alone, children often too afraid of him to speak, had grown used to their talks. He had grown to enjoy his time with the other, even if he frustrated him to no end.
“Maybe the right person hasn’t found it yet.” Harry said back, scratching at some dried blood on his chin. It flaked off and landed on his lap. Tom gave him a grossed out look, causing the man to laugh in response before getting up with a stretch.
“I’m going to finish cleaning up the blood, then hopping into the shower. Anything you want for dinner?”
“A warm soup would be appreciated.” He got two thumbs up for that one.
The rest of the evening was normal, for them at least. A quick duel over who would have to do the dishes- even though the dishes could just be done quickly by magic, one which Tom won, and they settled in for a night.
They both were under a warm blanket as the fire crackled lulling Harry into a light doze, head nodding off every so often. Tom didn’t mind it when the head which was covered in blood only hours ago bumped against his shoulder as he read. He simply started reading out loud as Harry fell asleep on him. He never was one for touch, growing up without a friendly hand. It could have been the fact that Harry was a lonely soul like himself, or perhaps he too was an immortal, but Tom didn’t mind Harry, even with all his strangeness.
What he did mind, however, was the following night.
Was it partly his fault, well Harry would say so. Was it also super funny, Harry would also attest to that.
“Tom” Was the friendly voice that greeted him outside Borgan and Burke after his shift. A bundle holding the returned tarot deck held in his hand, as he looked to greet his old classmates. He wasn’t one to throw around the word friend, but in the eyes of society, these people would be the closest things to such a word.
Abraxas Malfoy, Alexandor Avery, Ernest Lestrange, and the three Blacks: Orion, Walburga and Alphard. The group stood, looking very much worth their pureblood title in their highly priced clothing. Tom didn’t so much as twitch as their greedy eyes looked upon his own appearance.
“What do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with a polite smile.
“Oh we were just in the neighborhood.” Walburga started, throwing her dark hair over her shoulder. “And we remembered you had a place near here. Thought it would be a nice idea to stop by and see how you are.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” He said. “I would be interested in chatting about how you’ve been since school. I have an apartment, on the east end over top of an old bookshop. How about you join me for tea?”
What Tom forgot to mention, on purpose, Harry didn’t know, was the fact that he did have a roommate. A roommate who liked to be dead when Tom arived home. So one could imagine the shock and startled scream in entering a small apartment and seeing a corpse on the couch.
Tom was less impressed with this day's death than the day before. It was less dramatic and almost boring in comparison. Harry was draped over the couch, head hanging off the new furniture with blood dripping from his open, dead eyes looking to the open doorway with an arrow right in his head.
Malfoy looked on in horror, Avery almost gagged seeing that there were brains coming out the back of the head where the skull had been cracked open. Lestrange looked on in wonder to Tom himself, while the Black family looked on in different levels of horror.
“Ah. Yes this.”
“That is Harry Potter.” Alphard was the first to speak, fear clear in the shaking of his words.
“That was Harry Potter” Lestrange corrected, being the first to advance towards the cooling body. Putting down the tarot cards on the table by the couch,Tom walked around the gawking group to the kitchen adjacent to the couch. He ignored the looks and shocked looks as he started with a flick of his wand, a pot of tea to start heating up. With a few more flicks of his wrist cups in all shapes and sizes, cups which he was sure were all stolen, found their way onto a tray with cubes of sugar and milk.
There was a startled yell moments later, Harry most likely coming back once more. He made his way back to the group once the water was done heating with their tea in toe.
Sure enough, everyone was still frozen in place as they watched the dead body before them sit up with a whine. Harry blinked a few times, ignoring the arrow still very much lodged in his skull, and looked around at everyone. The once again alive man had the audacity to blush seeing the astonished looks.
“You didn’t tell me we’d have guests over.” He said looking at Tom with a pout started on his lips.
“I wasn’t aware that we’d have guests until I left work.” He stated, and with a wave of magic, everyone had a steaming cup of tea in their hands, Harry included. “Though I do remember mentioning the feeling about blood being on our couch.”
Harry looked around where he sat then, blood and gray matter oozed from the arrow still in his head. The younger man looked at the mess he made before shooting Tom a bright smile.
“No blood on the couch, that was the rule. You said nothing about brain matter.”
“It was implied.” He sat beside the other man, moving over a bit in hopes to not get too close to the blood no doubt about to drip onto the couch.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Avery asked, finally able to shake the shock. The others soonly followed suit, the older of the Blacks even making their way to seats around, some of which Tom was sure Harry transfigured when he noticed the guests.
“Hi, I’m Tom’s roommate, live in chef, or a once semi-unwilling now willing prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” Lestrange asked, looking to the Dark Lord in making.
“Oh yeah, Tommy here locked me up in a small box, only feeding me scraps and beating me daily into submission. Everyday now I try to commit suicide in hopes to break myself free from his crushing grasp.” Harry said, dramatically throwing his arms around as he spoke, vaguely reminding Tom of a middle school play. He did shoot the other an unpleasant look by the nickname he was called but didn’t react much more outworldly.
“Really?” Walburga looked amazed while her husband looked a bit more fearful.
“Of course not.” Harry said with a wink. “I’m just his useless roommate that is slowly driving him insane. Though Tom already had a head start on the insanity before we met. I’m just here to make sure he goes completely round the bend.”
Tom snorted into his tea and shot the other a smile. He lightly kicked Harry’s foot, causing the man to jump and spill some of his tea. He was more distressed about the cooling tea on his pants than the drying blood on his face.
“If you make me spill tea on the couch, you are cleaning it up!” He exclaimed, flicking wand from his sleeve and drying up the spot on his person.
“Yes dear.” He said back, before looking at his old classmates. He just missed the light blush that grew on Harry’s face, and the very small smile on his lips. The other’s did not.
“Well” Harry said standing up. “As much as I'd love to sit around talking about world domination, death to all muggles and so on, I’m off to make dinner. Any requests for tonight, Tommy?”
“That mushroom pasta dish that you made around my birthday last year?” Harry took his finished cup of tea from him and headed to the kitchen, an arrow still embedded into his head.
“The one with chicken or the Vegetarian version?”
“Vegetarian” One again, as the night before he was answered by a thumbs up.
“That” Malfoy started, catching everyone’s attention once Harry had left the room. “Was very domestic.”
“I’m sorry?” Tom asked, linking his fingers together and placing them on his lap. He crossed his legs and looked at his fellow magic users.
“It was so… Like a married couple.” Avery said with a wonder to his eye. “How I’d expect an old muggle couple to be.”
Tom bristled a bit at that. He could handle their admiration thinking he killed someone- even if it wouldn’t be the first time- then the idea of being compared to muggles. He tightened his hands a bit at the comment.
He floated in and out of the conversations around him, answering when appropriate, but not quite hearing all the same. His mind was lost at the comment. An old muggle couple, a married one at that. Did they really act like such a thing? He supposed they did in some ways, but did not in others. Seeing as it was very abnormal to see your partner die so many times.
Before he even realized how much time had passed, Harry called all of them to the table for dinner. He must have spelled it to be much larger than the small table that they normally ate at to guarantee seating for everyone. Harry sat across from him once the bowls of pasta came zipping into the room.
“I hope everyone likes it. Not as good as the house elves at Hogwarts can make, but not too shabby if I must say.” He said with pride, shaking his head in a playful way, causing the arrow to bounce a bit. The gore had long since dried, so Tom wasn’t too worried about finding bits of Potter in his meal, while their guests seemed more uneasy at first.
It only took a few bites before they started to dig in more, becoming rather used to the strangeness that was Harry Potter. What most were probably not expecting, was his chatter. Having spent Christmas with the Malfoy’s, Tom very much knew that Pure-Blood’s didn’t often chatter at the table. Let alone the topics Harry wasn’t afraid to bring up with food among them.
“I don’t understand how some spells could be banned, or rather forbidden. If you think about it, there could be good uses to the 3 main Unforgivables.” He said after swallowing a large mouthful. Tom gave up after the first two months of knowing him to remind him to chew his food more. It didn’t matter if he choked, he’d always start breathing again after a few minutes.
“There is no such thing as good or evil-”
“Yeah yeah yeah, only power and those too weak to seek it and so on blah blah blah. But think of it” Harry said, pointing his fork at a rather annoyed Tom. “Someone dying of some painful incurable deaseas that will lead to a long tortures death. A simple zig-zag of a wand and two words, and everything is over. No more pain, no more nothing. As quick as falling asleep.”
“Those are some radical ideas, aren’t they Harry?” Lestrange said and took a dainty bite of his food, shooting a look around the table at the others. There was a touch of tenseness as the topic was brought up, none knowing Harry Potter’s stance on the world.
“Are they though? Wouldn't it be considered more humane than letting someone suffer?”
“Even taking the radicalness of that idea out” Walberga started with a dab at her mouth with a napkin. “You have to have a boiling desire to kill someone to be able to use that spell. Most people wouldn’t be able to do that to end someone’s suffering.”
“Why not?” Harry asked. “It’s a desire. Even if it’s out of hatred, you hate seeing a person you love in pain, you hate it so much that you kill. There is enough logic there for that idea to be plausible.”
“With that theory, love kills. How ironic.” Tom said then took a sip of his water. “How would one test it though? With a spell like that being unforgivable, that would always stay just a theory.”
“Could you love me enough to kill me?” He asked Tom with all seriousness in his face. It caused everyone to stop, some even stopped the air from leaving their lungs. There was a silence as Tom Riddle thought the words over. Could he love someone so much that he could kill them? Kill them to end their suffering, to let them die by their own means instead of waiting for death to greet them in its own time. Then again, with Harry he never had to worry. If being stabbed, strangled, starved and even decapitated once does not end his life, who's to say that spell would.
What was the spell though? Killing sure, but what did it exactly do? Did it shut down the body all at once? Did it separate spirit from body much like a dementors kiss? How exactly did it kill?
These were questions Tom never had to think about before, even though he used that exact spell on his father years before. He knew how to cast it, was confident that he could with little issue, but killing Harry Potter? Could he do that?
Tom stared deep into green eyes he was as familiar with as his own. Was this as much of a theoretical question as it was a request? Did he wish for Tom to try that spell?
‘Everyday now I try to commit suicide in hopes to break myself free from his crushing grasp.’
Harry had said those words. It may have been in jest, but now he wondered if there was a bit of truth behind those words. That he wished to find what would kill him, what would end his life for good. Tom knew what could end him, it was still far too easy for one to end him. Destroy a few objects with powerful enough magic, then kill his original body. Harry though, with their duals they have used intense magic before, some of which probably could destroy a Horcrux in theory, but didn’t harm Harry except be a mild inconvenience until his body healed.
There was still far too much of a puzzle to solve, too many unanswered questions. A small bubble of fear got stuck in his throat as he tried to speak. The fear of being alone once more, of having no one like him. He might make fun of Potter, but he was much smarter and more powerful then given credit. He was someone Tom wanted by his side, someone who could be his equal in all parts that mattered.
He didn’t answer, taking another bite of his food. Harry gave him a soft, knowing smile.
It was late by the time their uninvited guest left, with promises to come by for tea again. Something about wanting to hear more of Harry’s radical ideas or the sort. Harry didn’t care to pay attention by then, wanting to flop out on the couch with Tom and hear his soothing voice drawn on about nothing Harry cared about.
“Tom?” He asked, sitting up from his flopped over spot on the couch. He flicked off dried brain matter that had fallen from his head onto the couch. Tom didn’t reply, looking far too lost in his head at that moment.
“Ground control to Major Tom, pick up Major Tom.” Harry said standing. He gave the other a small flick in the forehead that finally snapped him out of his own head.
“Parden? What book did you read that from?” The older man asked, finally reaching out to pull the arrow out. He would have done it while the others were still there, but he suspected they thought Harry was just using good delusion charms to make it look like an arrow was hanging in his head. It would be one good reason why they didn’t seem bothered by the end of dinner.
“Ow- Yank harder, I think bone grew around it-” Harry winced when the arrow finally came free, blood choosing that moment to drip from his nose as his head filled with the life-giving liquid. It took a few moments for the brain matter to grow in the right place once more and for his head to become unfoggy enough to answer the other. “I don’t know. Probably something from before.”
Before Tom. Harry still couldn’t remember much of his past, something Tom originally thought could have been from brain damage, but seeing as his brain does grow back, it was a possibility. It was another puzzle in the puzzle that was Harry Potter. A man with a lightning scar, and the inability to die.
Tom grimacedas blood dripped down Harry’s front, not the other cared in the slightest. The younger man only reached up to poke between his eyebrows. Eyebrows which had been furrowed, unbenounced by Tom.
“What is going on in that big head of yours?” He asked in a voice much softer than what Tom was used to hearing.
“The puzzle of you.” He answered after a moment, speaking just as softly.
“Hm. You hate puzzles you can’t solve, don't you?” Tom let out a chuckle, a tired look to his handsome face.
“More than most things, yes.” Harry’s arms reached up then, wrapping around Tom’s neck to pull him into a bloody hug. He rocked them as Tom’s own cheek pressed into his own.
“I’m sorry if my question upset you earlier.” He said in Tom’s ear as arms wrapped around him.
“That didn’t upset me.”
“Shut up, it did. I know it did.” Harry rocked them, swaying in tune with a song in his head. One hand was tucking into the dark curls of the other. “I wouldn’t ask you to kill me. I know you could, but that would be just cruel to ask. I don't plan on dying just yet, not for real.”
“Do you plan on making a bloody mess tomorrow?”
“Of course. I gotta keep you on your toes. Maybe I can trick you into helping me clean this time though.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No, I don't think so either.” He whispered, closing his eyes as they rocked. Tom’s arms moved, one hand grasping his own, pulling him into a dance, still holding him back. They swayed in a dance to a tune that neither could hear.
“You bled on me.”
“Hm. alot?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Too bad, next time I’ll try harder.” They separated after a few moments, hands moving for fingers to intertwine.
“Do you think we are like an old married muggle couple?” Tom asked, looking at their linked hands, then to the blooded face he knew better than his own.
“I don’t really know any old muggle couples. But I do think we are something. An old immortal couple”
“Not bound by anyone's traditions or ideology?” He questioned and watched as Harry brought their joined hands to his mouth, leaving a bloody kiss to their joined hands.
“Always meant to be, whenever in time in one way or another.” Tom didn’t have a reply to this. He wasn’t sure if he could love. He wasn't sure if he knew what it would feel like if he did. All he did know was he always wanted to have Harry Potter.
“Have you chosen how you’ll die tomorrow?” He asked, dropping his hands and grabbing the tarot cards off the side table. He’d better look into these before work tomorrow. Burke would want some kind of report on why they kept on being returned.
“I don’t know yet.” He said flopping on the couch beside Tom who had picked up an old looking book and was researching who knows what. “Maybe a cork from a wine bottle, or I’ll get a snake to strangle me. Do you want a pet snake, I think we should have a pet snake.”
Tom felt the vibrations of Harry’s words as his head flopped onto his shoulder. He started to read outloud and soon was greeted by the soft snores of the other.