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Harry Potter, the boy who lived again and again, who defeated trolls in his first year, then a 100 dementors, then won the triwizard tournament at 14 and done countless other things, knew to trust his gut when it told him EVIL NEARBY. It had never failed him before.

So that’s why, when his gut told him to investigate Tom Fucking Riddle, the Slytherin Head Boy that was a year above him, he obeyed dutifully, despite his friends complaints.

“Harry, for fuck’s sake, are you sure you are not just jealous?” Hermione asked one afternoon, exasperated, watching Harry follow Riddle in the Marauders’s map as he had for the previous weeks, ever since he saw Riddle’s eyes go red for a brief moment in the great hall. “I mean, he is Head Boy, and he has the favour of all the professors alike. And he’s incredibly smart and all girls want to be with him but-”

“Are you sure you are not the one that’s jealous?” Harry asked, finally shutting her best friend up. Now that Ron was snogging Lavender every second of the day, Hermione was now relegated to spending almost all of her time with Harry, which did no favors to either of their mental healths.

“Now, that’s just rude, Harry, why would I be jealou-” But the Golden Boy had stopped listening, Riddle’s little dot was heading out to Hogsmeade. On a Friday afternoon.

“What the fuck?” He asked himself, this could mean nothing good. “I need to go!”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, but it was too late, Harry was already running out of the library.

Thankful for all the time he spent in years past getting to know every inch of space of the castle, he was out the castle in just five minutes and after accio-ing a broom from the school shed and flying to Hogsmeade instead of walking, he actually arrived before Riddle.

Everything was going according to plan.

As in, there was none.

He shrunk the broom into his pocket and put on his trusted invisibility cloak just as the Head Boy entered Hogsmeade.

Looking haughty as ever, Tom Marvolo Riddle had always been the perfect image of Slytherin. Perfectly combed hair and tailored clothes, not a single inch out of place. He was thin, tall and had the palest skin Harry had ever seen in his life.

If he had sometimes featured in his dreams then that was nobody’s business except his own. He was straight, after all, as all heroes were supposed to be. Those were just brief lapses in judgement made by his unconscious.

Tom Riddle walked towards Hog’s head, trying to look inconspicuous as possible, only now was Harry noticing that he was wearing Muggle clothing. Where was he going?

The slytherin entered the shabby pub and passed a galleon to the bartender for silence, then went to the flu chimney and yelled Little Hangleton.

What the fuck?

Harry needed to follow him quickly, before he did god knows what. But unlike Tom, the Golden Boy could not be seen outside of the castle without alerting Dumbledore or Voldemort, so he casted a jinx to the beers in the back, which he could barely hit from his angle.

Thankfully, it was distracting enough for the bartender to go check out, and praying that no patrons came into the pub, he grabbed the flu powder and repeated Riddle’s incantation.

He was shat out by the chimney hidden in the grimiest alley Harry had ever been in. What business could the Slytherin have here?

Still under his invisibility cloak, Harry came out of the alley to watch Riddle walk towards the edge of the small town, heading towards the forest.

Realistically, this is where Harry should have put a stop to all this mess. He should have flu-traveled back to Dumbledore’s office and told him of Riddle’s affairs. But on what ground? At most, the Slytherin would get a scolding from escaping out of the castle on a Friday, and even then, Riddle would probably get away with it with nothing less than a few house points.

No, he needed to keep following the older student.

Close behind, Harry saw how Riddle looked at the forest around him with disgust, as if nature itself was below his standards. He suppressed a snort and kept on walking, remembering to cast a muffliato on himself.

Thank you, half-blood prince.

Eventually they arrived at a small shack in the middle of a clearing, it was clear that it had been abandoned a long time ago, the place infested by snakes and rats. Then, Riddle did the unthinkable, he opened the door and spoke in hisses.

From where Harry was hidden behind a tree, he could not see anything that was happening inside the shack, but it was odd that Riddle was speaking in such a language (if one could even call it that), he’d need to ask Hermione later.

After a few minutes, Riddle came out of the shack, looking pretty much the same, but with a determined expression in his eyes. What he had discovered was beyond Harry, and while a big part of him wanted to enter the shack himself, he knew following Riddle was more important.

Riddle headed to the other end of the town, where a giant manor stood, towering over the rest of the citizens with its black bricks and perfect gardens.

Now this was more up to Riddle’s standards, he bitterly thought to himself as they headed up the hill

The Head Boy headed up the door and knocked it, did he look nervous? Maybe it was just the angle, Tom Riddle was never nervous.

The man who opened the door was Tom himself, 20 years into the future, and with hazel eyes, instead of Tom’s maroon.

“You.” The man said, hate seeping into his voice. “That witch…”

“Hello, Father.” Riddle said, his voice trembling. Riddle’s voice never trembled. “I- I am your son.”

Well fuck.

Did this make Harry feel remorseful for following Tom all the way here? Maybe so. It was clear that the teen had just wanted to meet his father, someone who clearly had never been worried about finding him before.

Harry sighed and was about to take the walk of shame back to the flu chimney when the man slapped Tom.

The Gryffindor’s eyes widened and he was about to attack when Tom pointed a wand (It did not look like his pale one) at his father and casted Imperio.

The Head Boy had just used an unforgivable without a second thought.

This made things exponentially more complicated.

Tom ordered his father to move into the manor, and so, the muggle did, with Riddle following closely behind.

An imperio was certainly grounds enough for expulsion if not Azkaban. But the muggle had attacked first. So Harry decided to follow Riddle in, because what else did he have to lose at this point?

“Tom, dear, was it one of those shameful kid- Oh- god.” An old lady, Tom’s grandmother, said, looking at the father and Tom alike. “You said that stupid woman did not have children.”

Tom’s father was apparently released from the Imperio, but with the wand still pointed at his back, he moved where his son motioned, the couch where the three Riddles now sat. Harry, ever so thankful for his invisibility cloak, stayed by the door.

“You abandoned my mother at her death bed.” Tom hissed, an angry and determined expression in his eyes, which made Harry’s dick twitch in interest. This was a facet of Riddle that no one had ever seen before, except for him.

And his victims.

What the fuck was happening to him? Why did he suddenly feel attracted to the way Riddle’s cheeks flushed as he yelled?

“I did it because she bewitched me!” His father yelled in retort.

“LIES!” Tom yelled, “You liar, filthy muggle-”

Reasonably, this was the moment where Harry should have jumped in and tackled Tom Riddle, get him expelled and straight to Azkaban.

So why was he imagining Tom doing this exact scenario to the Dursley’s at his behalf?

“Crucio.” Tom casted, with a wand that was definitely not his. The man shrieked in pain as Tom’s grandparents witnessed in horror, but were static in place.

Would Petunia and Vernon react the same way if the boy in front of him were to curse their dear Dudder’s?

He decided to look at Tom instead, which did not turn out to be a much better outcome, especially not for his cock.

Tom’s eyes were pure red, just like Gryffindor’s robes. He had a twisted sadistic grin on his face that did not fit his handsome features, but still, Harry couldn’t help but feel attracted to the person that was torturing his father, the way his face glistened with sweat and how strong he held the wand. Which was certainly odd, because he was straight.

No, there’s no way I am straight, he thought, as Riddle took off his sweater and pulled up his sweaty forearms, to keep torturing. What did that say about him? That he was a fag?

With his half hardness, he knew this was the time to leave. He needed to go back to Dumbledore, tell him what he had seen and-

“Avada Kedavra.” The slytherin casted at his father.

For fuck’s sake, Harry had just beared witness to a patricide.

He needed to leave, needed to leave now.

But Riddle killed his grandparents next, and took out a strange ring he had never seen before.

What the hell was he doing?

Curiosity, just like always, got the better of our protagonist.

Tom kneeled on the floor, next to his father’s body, and began muttering incantations in that strange language he had heard before.

It was the perfect time to stun him, Harry realized. He’d bring his body to the auror’s and let them go through his memories, hoping that they wouldn’t incriminate him for not acting on his impulses and stopping the murders.

Fuck, that was too much of a risk, wasn’t it? They’d draw him as an accomplice, and at best, he’d be expelled from Hogwarts and have his wand broken.

But the world needed him, didn’t it? He was supposed to be their saviour, the chosen one, Dumbledore had said so himself, he still needed to kill Voldemort.

Would they still want him, being who he is?

Just as he made to stand and move to think this through with Hermione, Riddle’s incantations started to sound less like hisses and more like English.

But it was weird, he could still feel the hisses in the back of his head.

“For eternal life and the mocking of Death, so be it.” Riddle finished, still staring at the ring but quizzically.

“Why didn’t it work?” He whispered to himself in that strange hissing language. “I can feel that my soul is torn, but not here.”

Then he looked around the room, had he realized there was someone else here?

Bloody Hell, Harry needed to leave.

He backed out and ran out the door, thankful once again for Muffliato and then, once out of the manor’s line of sight, he took off his invisibility cloak and got on his broom, flying away to London.

–

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. was not a good person, anyone that looked under his facade could tell you so. But to make up for his lack of goodness, Tom Riddle was an expert in all things magical. Whether it was rituals, charms, transfiguration, potions or even necromancy, Tom never failed, so he knew that the Horrocrux ritual hadn’t failed.

He felt the same aftermath that he did when he made the diary a Horrocrux. This apparently never ending hunger, the redness of his eyes that could be easily hidden with a glamour and the need for violence and thirst for blood.

As well as seeing things with less brightness than ever before, but who needed sunlight anyways?

But his soul piece did not reside in the ring.

So where the fuck was it?

He spent hours upon hours checking every single possible vessel in that godforsaken house, but there was none. Besides, theory clearly stated that soul pieces could only reside in places that the main soul felt emotionally attached to, and there was nothing in the house that fit such description.

So he had given up, and gone along with the rest of his plan, pinning the death to his useless uncle Morfin, and acting distraught the next day when Dumbledore cited him to his office.

Talking to that old coot was exhausting, but inevitable, and so, Tom already knew what was coming and was prepared ahead of time.

What he was not prepared for, however, was Slytherin’s match against Gryffindor that very same Saturday. A small detail he had forgotten about.

“You are going, right, Tom?” Abraxas asked, blatantly ignoring Tom’s mood. The only one of his knights who had the privilege of doing so without being hexed into oblivion.

He nodded begrudgingly, as Head Boy and Slytherin Prefect, it was his duty to attend their matches, needing to show sportsmanship and…lift house spirits.

Especially since they had not won the cup in 6 years.

Since Harry Potter made it into the Gryffindor quidditch team as seeker.

The little fucker.

They walked to the Quidditch pitch and Tom tried to tune everyone out. He felt a little more overstimulated than he had felt last time, and he had no idea how he’d make it for a whole game, so he grabbed his wand and began casting in whispers, draining his magic little by little, until he could get himself in order.

Abraxas was no longer beside him, given that he was Slytherin’s chaser alongside his brother, which meant that Tom was in the stands with the poor company of his knights, watching a game he did not enjoy.

Was this what they meant by divine retribution?

The players finally made it on the quidditch pitch, and Harry James Potter, with his wild hair and clad in blood red, was truly a sight for sore eyes.

The boy was hot and acted like he did not know it. He was fit, just tall enough and had the most gorgeous Avada kedavra eyes that Tom had ever set his sights on.

He was also, however, Dumbledore’s golden boy and the hero of the light. The future conqueror of Lord Voldemort, if rumours whispered true and the villain had marked him as his equal.

An utter fool, Tom would never degrade himself to such a level.

But, outside from this menial matters, Harry James Potter was a person that Tom would thoroughly enjoy fucking. He’d blow the sassiness out of the gryffindor with great pleasure and pound him until he could not mutter anything but Tom’s name.

With these fantasies in his head, Tom watched the match with great interest, especially when a very opportune gust of wind flew Harry’s cloak away.

Such a shame truly.

If he hadn’t fucked the boy into utter oblivion yet it was exclusively because the other was the gryffindor paradigm, and he wouldn’t be mocked in front of his fellow’s snakes eyes in such a way.

But then again, Abraxas had fucked Seamus Finnegan just a month ago and gotten away with it with nothing more than a few laughs, so why couldn’t he fuck their precious golden boy? Taint him forever by taking his virginity, if rumours rang true?

It was decided, then, that very same night, Tom would fuck Harry Potter.

The match was utterly boring, the only thing mildly entertaining were those moments when Harry stretched his forearm and flexed every muscle in his back, clear through the sweaty and tight gryffindor quidditch jersey.

Tom was not sure if he’d manage to hold out until nightfall.

Gryffindor won, to the surprise of absolutely nobody except Harry himself, who celebrated as if that was apparently his last day on earth.

This was bad, it was better if the other boy held onto his stamina.

No matter, Tom would do most of the work anyways.

He walked to the side of the Gryffindor changing rooms, waiting, hidden as the rowdy rascals headed back to the castle, no Harry Potter in sight.

Odd.

He broke the wards to their changing room with ease, casting a disillusionment on himself and entered.

It was much messier than the Slytherin’s, with clothes thrown away with no danger of being stolen and gear discarded to the lockers as if they did not matter and could easily be rebought.

He snorted and headed towards the Captain’s locker, which was the only tidy one, with things organized properly and the gear safely equipped.

No towel.

The chosen one was showering.

The golden boy was naked just a door away, with water dripping down his ass, thick thighs and biceps, down the body that was surely full of scars from all his adventures in the past.

Was he masturbating too? And that’s why he took so long to come out?

Bloody fucking hell.

He did not trust the charm enough, so he grabbed one of the Chosen one’s boxers (one that was an obnoxious red with snitches) and ran from the changing room.

He would not fuck the precious hero that night, but he would eventually.

-

Harry fell asleep that night not dreaming of Voldemort, but of Tom Riddle.

He dreamed of his pale hands holding his wand, he dreamed of how he felt his gaze even on the other side of the quidditch pitch, glaring. He dreamed of his red eyes and grin as he tortured the only family he had.

And for once, that was a good night’s sleep ever since Voldemort had come back to terrorize him in corporeal form.

He had not yet spoken to Ron or Hermione, but they had made amends, albeit begrudgingly, when he came back that night and made them apologize to each other.

Truth was he didn’t even know what to say. What could he? He had witnessed 3 murders and by staying silent and bloody getting turned on, he had become an accomplice to them by proxy.

It’s not like he could confess now, a wizard was already arrested and sent to Azkaban for them, if the prophet told the truth.

So he dreamed, he dreamed of those pale hands going down his torso and teasing his cock, he dreamed of his red eyes stabbing his green ones with the intensity of a thousand suns. He imagined the oh so perfect pink mouth inside every crevice of his body.

He dreamt.

-

“Guys, I should probably tell you something.” Harry murmured one day, he was ready to tell the whole truth. Ron and Hermione, still barely speaking to each other, looked between themselves and then at him. Could they have possibly guessed that guilt was eating him up?

“Of course, mate, what is it?” Ron asked, leaning in slightly.

“I- I like men, and women.”

Okay, maybe not the whole truth.

“Oh!” Hermione said with a slight smile. “Oh Harry, that’s great that you finally realized.”

 

Wait, what?

“Realized?” He asked surprised.

“Well mate, It’s pretty obvious to anyone who knows you that you swing both ways.” Ron commented with a slight smile “I mean, you weren’t exactly subtle with Cedric, were you?”

Hermione laughed “Yeah, and you always had a bit more resistance to veelas than Ron here.”

“Hey! It’s a completely natural reaction!” Ron retorted, pretending to be offended.

They didn’t hate him, they didn’t think their saviour should be straight, they didn’t think of him…infected.

“But, you guys aren’t mad?”

‘Dudder’s every time you see one of those fags, you should cross the street, lest you get aids or they contaminate you.’

“What? Of course not, Harry.” Hermione said putting her hand on his “I know people can be a bit touchy about this, but it’s 1996! You have the right to love who you want.”

“Mate, this does not change how we see you at all. Truly.” Ron assured.

“Oh.” He sighed, he was relieved, oh so very relieved that he did not have to hide from his friends, that they would not judge him. The only family he ever had. “I love you guys.”

“Oh Harry, we love you too.” Hermione stood up and hugged him, Ron following suit.

Maybe he could confess eventually.

Not tonight.

“Now what are we doing about Tom?” Hermione asked, smirking, gaining a hit on the shoulder by Harry.

-

It turned out that Tom barely even saw Harry Potter in his day to day, despite him plaguing his every dream.

This was reasonable and to be expected, of course. They were from different years, different houses, and while Tom spent most of his free time in the library, the other spent it on the quidditch pitch.

Therefore a natural encounter would be unlikely.

So Tom did what he did best, scheme.

And if a duelling club was opened two weeks later, featuring those that were taking NEWTS in defense, well that was just a coincidence.

The duelling club took place in the Bell tower, coordinated by a begrudging professor Snape and a satisfied Mcgonnagal, and for the first class, they had paired up people they thought on the same level, which meant that Tom and Harry would be duelling each other.

(This had not been a part of the plan, but the Slytherin decided to take it at face value).

“Harry, it seems we will be duelling each other.” He said with his best smile. The one he used to sweeten Slughorn to tell him about Horrocruxes and to charm people into his bed.

Harry simply grunted in response.

It may not be as easy as he first thought, but no matter, he had conquered death, a measly teenager would be nothing in comparison.

They sat together in silence as they waited for their turn, when Dumbledore showed up to supervise.

That was certainly odd, the old man barely went out of his office. Could he be here to check his precious hero's progress in their defense? Possibly. Wasn’t he supposed to save them all afterall? Or was he here to check that Tom did not commit any trouble? That was a fair assumption, but that was not the Head Boy’s plan either way.

Finally, Tom and Harry got their turn, they were the last pair and no one was even looking at them by the time they stepped up to the middle, preferring to talk about their duels and those that had come before them.

(As well as rumours that Snape and Mcgonnagal were dating, but Tom already knew that as false, Mcgonnagal has had a secret relationship with Madame Pomfrey for the last 35 years.)

By the time that Harry and Tom stood in front of each other, their faces just a few centimeters away (Tom was glad to confirm that he was at least 3 cm taller), and they rose their wands, Snape and Mcgonnagal were barely looking at them, assuming they knew proper duel etiquette.

He could still feel Dumbledore’s eyes on the back of his neck, piercing and judging with those half moon glasses and supposedly kind blue.

“Calm down, Harry, I’ll go easy on you.” Tom taunted, winking at the hero. Harry snorted, and for the first time in the afternoon, he grinned.

“You wish, Riddle.” Before giving him his back and going to the other side.

The little gryffindor Hero still had sass, good for him.

Tom would eventually fuck it out.

“Now, gentlemen, remember to bow…” Mcgonnagal said absently, not paying them the attention they deserved. Harry and Tom bowed obediently, then raised their wands.

Tom let Harry shoot first. An Expelliarmus, how awfully predictable, easily dissolved by a strong protego.

An Incendio by Tom, a powerful aguamenti by Harry, then a transfigured chair into a barrel from the golden boy, diffindo’d by Tom with the splinters aimed at his opponent.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the students stood by their circle, admiring the techniques, the powerful spellwork by both.

Tom was consciously making an effort to not lean dark, not when Dumbledore’s eyes were more attentive than they ever were on him.

“Diffindo!” Harry shouted, misplaced, barely graced his shoulder, but it was all a distraction, and he could barely repel the expelliarmus thrown at him, (though not absorb it) with the force of impact tumbling back a bit, giving Harry an opening to tackle him to the ground.

For a few seconds it felt as though they were the only two people there, with Harry straddling him, holding his wrists above his head, panting hard, his Avada kedavra eyes shining like two jewels on top of him. Suddenly everything felt more real, more bright.

Would it feel like this? Having Harry fuck him instead? The precious chosen one’s muscles being put to use to pleasure him instead of saving everyone.

“Do you yield, Riddle?” Harry asked as a drop of sweat fell onto his forehead.

“Fu-fuck yes.” Tom whispered, trying to control his hormones and dick.“I yield.” With that, Harry grinned and stood up, offering his hand.

“Exemplary demonstration boys!” Mcgonnagal said with a bright smile on her face. “25 points to Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

If Harry was mad that he did not get special treatment for winning, he did not show it, instead smiling brightly and looking towards Dumbledore, looking at them surprised and doubtful.

Good. Let the old man fear the new generation of wizards.

Tom turned towards Harry again, who had been staring at him. For how long it was unclear, but those jewel eyes stared right into his soul, he could not look away.

“Good duel, Riddle. But I’d like to see you when you don’t hold back.” Harry whispered, looking down at his lips for a flicker of a second and back up at his eyes.

“Meet me in the defense tower, by the stairs heading to DADA classroom.”

 

“The Undercroft?” Harry asked, clearly impressed and trying to hide it. Of course the golden boy would know about it.

“Precisely.” He nodded, trying to hide his frustration.

“See you at midnight.” Harry winked, before walking away to meet with his fellow Gryffindors.

-

Harry tried to ignore the tingling still present in his spine after straddling Riddle and feeling his fucking gigantic cock right underneath him.

He thanked Merlin for the existence of baggy school pants.

Truth was, it felt odd to touch the Head Boy, interact with him at all, after what he had witnessed, but he knew in the deepest of hearts that neither of them would ever come forward, Harry had just become an unwilling participant to a crime.

Wasn’t he fated to kill someone anyways?

He constantly tried to not let the guilt consume him, because he could not go to Azkaban, he couldn’t.

So he made a plan for the first time in his life. He would catch Riddle in the act of casting an unforgivable and have him expelled, so that he’d suffer consequences for his actions.

Absolutely flawless, Hermione level type of plan. (It was definitely not because he wanted to feel the rush of the duel again).

There was just one problem, what if Riddle casted the unforgivable and it hit him? Or even worse, what if he did not have the strength to hand him in?

Problems for another time, for now, the duel.

He was pacing at the entrance of the Undercroft, a dusty, abandoned closet that led to the dungeons of the Defense tower, which he had discovered during the search for a place for D.A, but they eventually ruled it out, preferring the equipment that the Room of Requirement provided

The Undercroft, however, did have its charm, it was bigger than the Gryffindor Common Room and as far as he could tell, outside the Hogwarts wards, which meant they could practice all types of magic and apparition.

“You are early, what a surprise,” Tom commented as he arrived.

“Yeah well, miracles happen every once in a blue moon.” Harry snorted. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They entered the Undercroft together, stealing furtive glances and trying to hide them; he finally confirmed that Riddle had the capacity to be nervous after all. Truth was, Harry was nervous too, but not for failing, because he knew that he’d inevitably fail when Riddle stopped holding back, but because of what he felt around the Slytherin he didn’t feel for anyone else.

This longing in his chest that he was sure was not there before, this eagerness to be alongside the Slytherin.

He was completely and utterly fucked.

“Very well, normal duel rules, I presume?” Tom asked, casting the circle around them.

“Of course.” Harry nodded, taking the necessary steps to go face to face in the middle of the circle. As Tom raised his wand, Harry noticed it, he was wearing the ring.

“How about we raise the stakes?” Tom asked smugly. “What do you want?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I want you to keep your slytherin cronies on a leash for a month, don’t let them bother me or my friends” Harry proposed in that cocky voice that did not sound like his own.

“And if I win… I get a favour from you, of my choosing.” Tom raised an eyebrow, thinking that Harry would back down at that blank check. He clearly did not know the Gryffindor well enough.

“You are so on, Riddle.” Which gained an odd look from the slytherin, as magic around them seemed to swirl, excited for the wager.

“It seems that history has her eyes upon us.”

“Stop with the dramatics, you cocky fuck.” Tom laughed at his comment and was the first to turn and head to the other end of the circle, Harry heading exactly the opposite way.

This time it was Tom who shot first a confringo aimed for his right arm, bold, nothing that Harry could not stop with a well placed shield that rebounded. Next was Harry, casting a levicorpus that was swiftly avoided.

They continued on for a long time, until Harry’s spells were begging to falter, and Tom’s just kept getting darker, with a necrosis aimed at his face, and a punzada at his shooting arm. It could not keep going like this, he did not want to have to owe Tom a favour.

Eventually, he caught one of Tom’s spells in the middle, a glacius against an expelliarmus, let it be a battle of wills.

As the two spells crashed on the middle, Harry felt the need to grab his wand with two hands, as the pressure kept piling up. Maybe it was not one of his brightest ideas.

Eventually, golden light began to come out of the point of conversion of the two spells, which left the Gryffindor dumbfounded. This only happened when he was dueling Voldemort…

“No fucking way-”He complained as he saw Tom’s surprised expression, that was a new one, certainly. It seemed that the other teen was trying to move his wand away, but it was impossible now, they were locked in a standstill.

“What is happening?” Tom shouted, to which Harry could only shake his head.

Just when Harry was about to call it quits and owe Tom a favour for the rest of his life, the snake let go of his wand and with a quick accio, Harry had it in his.

He had won, again.

The elation lasted little, Tom’s words broke through his happiness.

“Bloody hell, Potter, what the fuck was that?”

“I- I have no clue.” He lied, horribly so, it had caught him off guard.

Tom sneered and walked towards his in that cocky attitude he always exuded.

“*You’ll tell me Potter, one way or the other…*”

How dare the Head Boy threaten him after Harry had already beaten him in a duel! Twice!

“*I won’t tell you shit, you arsehole!*”

That made Riddle stop dead in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise. Why did a curseword scare him so much?

“*Do you understand me*?”

“*Of course I do, what do you take me for?*”

“Potter, since when do you speak parseltongue?” Tom started to walk towards him again, not threatening, like once before.

“What the fuck is parseltongue?” Harry asked defensively, taking a step back, which made Tom scoff.

“Parseltongue, Potter, is the language of the snakes and only direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself can speak it.” A dramatic pause. “And the only heir is me, I checked, so…how can you speak parseltongue? I presume it has something to do with our wands, and you recognized what happened, so do tell, Potter.” Tom offered his hand, and Harry gave him back his wand, ignoring how good it felt on his hands.

“It’s a long story.” He shrugged, trying to play it off. Tom accio’d two barrels and transfigured them into chairs.

Bloody show off.

“We have time.” He sat on one of the chairs, inviting Harry to do the same next to him. Against his better judgement, the gryffindor sat.

“Look, Tom, you have to swear to me that this will not be spread around. Only Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore know.”

‘I am only telling you this because I am tired of being kept information, and with your help I could get answers.’

This went unsaid, but knowing Tom, he probably already supposed so.

“I swear, Harry.” It was the first time the older boy said his name, which made Harry blush.

“Good, uhm, what happened was priori incantem. It happened, once, with Voldemort.”

Tom remained silent for a long time, staring into his eyes, Harry could have sworn they turned red, before going back to their usual maroon.

“This is because we have twin wands, an strange connection that bond us that Dumbledore has not fully explained-”

“Stop.” Tom interrupted, and surprisingly, offered his wand back to him.

“What do you want me to do?”

Tom snorted, and his eyes remained fixed on his wand. “Swirl it around.” Mimicking what Ollivander told him that fateful day.

Harry stood up as well and casted a confringo, the ball of fire coming out naturally, as if it had come from his own wand.

The gryffindor turned to look at Tom, that had his intense gaze fixated on him, and not the incredibly powerful spell. He offered his hand, no words needed, and Harry gave him his precious Holly wand.

“REDUCTO!” Tom casted, and a nearby pillar exploded, as if they hadn’t traded wands at all. “Harry, oh my dear Harry.” The slytherin turned to look at him in the eyes, the maroon finally giving into a blood red.

“Tom?” Harry asked, but before he could ask what the fuck was going on, Tom closed the space between them and pulled him in for a kiss.

Let it be known that this was not Harry’s first kiss, but it was the only one he felt down to his bones. As Tom’s tongue slipped between his lips and pulled him in even closer, gripping him by the waist and back until there was no space in between them.

The wands were long forgotten, their hands occupied with getting to know every crevice of the other.

“*Harry-*”

The parseltongue went straight to Harry dick, but he did his best to remain in place, as Tom’s tongue invaded his mouth and his hand strayed under his shirt.

“Tom-” Harry groaned as he walked them towards the wall, pressing the taller boy against it.

“Fuck, Harry, you make me so horny-” Tom confessed, words uncharacteristic of the Head Boy and prefect, but the cock pressing against his hip only proved it’s truth.

Harry started grinding their hips as Tom set his mouth on his neck, leaving a mark for everyone to see.

It did not matter to Harry that he was kissing a murderer, lost in this lust haze that he had never felt before, he could do nothing else except get lost in the older’s touch and mouth.

“Bloody beautiful-” Tom groaned as his hands strayed to Harry’s zipper, palming his dick through the pants.

“Tom-” Harry whispered, arching into Tom’s expert touch, and putting his hands behind his lover’s neck.

“Let me take charge, Harry, you know you want to.” Tom groaned in his ear, and Harry nodded, for he was long lost already.

“Yes, Tom.”

-

Tom woke up cold and uncomfortable, something that he had not felt since he left that god forsaken orphanage. He tried to reach out to grab his blanket when he found that his arm was held down, and suddenly, everything came back to him.

He had fucked Harry James Potter.

The slytherin turned to see the man who was giving him his back, covered by a thin transfigured sheet in the cold Undercroft.

He transfigured the sheet into a cover and covered them both, trying to ignore the small pain in his lower back.

He had been fucked by Harry James Potter.

Bloody hell.

With his free hand, he began caressing The Chosen One’s muscled back, remembering how good it felt to scratch it as he pounded into his virgin ass. How when he was with him, the torches around them felt brighter, and how his sense of touch had heightened.

As if he had not corrupted his soul.

This was more than a casual hook up, and this Tom could recognize. This longing he felt for the boy in front of him was not something that he ever thought he would feel since he made his first horrocrux.

He knew of the rumors and had heeded the warnings, those that foretold that the ones who dabbled in Soul magic and tainted it in such a way would never be able to feel love ever again.

This was not more that had worried Tom then, all that mattered was the capability to overcome death, to defy God himself.

Not that he regretted it, for he could not die under any circumstance, but for the first time in his life, he wondered what it felt like to love, and if it felt remotely like this. This need to take care of another and shield them from the world.

Harry turned with a lazy smile and looked at him.

He was not scared of the red eyes, despite the fact that he had dropped the glamour long ago.

“Morning.” Tom said softly, feeling angry at himself for interrupting the peace the boy in his arms was feeling.

“Good morning, Tom.” Harry whispered, before giving him a small kiss. The Slytherin could not help but lean into it, hugging Harry again and putting him above.

“So desperate for round 5?” The Gryffindor had the gall to laugh, but despite their nude bodies and the compromising position nothing about this felt sexual.

It felt like two lovers, waking up, happy because the other existed.

“I believe you dried me up for the next week.” Tom grinned, and pulled him in for another kiss, with a tenderness that he, himself, did not know he was capable of.

It just felt different for Harry, as if he belonged alongside him, forever.

“Bloody hell, your ring is so cold.” The teen on top of him laughed, which made Tom realized that he had never taken it off.

“Oh this? This is the Slytherin House Ring, Harry. It’s very valuable for me.” He took it off and gave it to his lover.

Harry stared at it, puzzled, his lopsided grin turning into a frown.

“Harry? What happened, my love?” Tom asked, sitting up, concern washing over him. Had he done something wrong?

“I- I need to go.” Harry stood up and accio’d his clothes with his finger.

“Tell me, Harry, please.” He grabbed the Gryffindor's wrist, the tingling in his spine still present, despite it all.

“Leave me alone, Riddle.” The Chosen One said. It felt like a stab on his chest, and little hurt more than this.

‘Leave me alone, Freaky Riddle.’

Is this how care gets repaid? How allowing yourself to love and be loved felt like?

An illusion, for a brief moment, before being let down inevitably.

Harry James Potter walked out half dressed, wand in hand and not looking back.

If he had, he would have noticed he had grabbed Tom’s, and that the man was staring at his back, tears swelling up in his eyes for the first time in 15 years.

He had taken the ring, and with it, the little humanity he had left.

-

Harry had just fucked a murderer.

He had just let himself be fucked by a murderer.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He should have just handed Tom in as soon as he casted the Imperio.

But even at that point he was too far gone, wasn’t he?

Who let him fool himself in such a way? He had been falling for weeks.

‘I’ll never want anyone else, my love, never again.’

Tom had whispered in his ear as Harry swallowed his cock for the first time, his tender touch settling into Harry’s wild hair, taming it even if just a little while.

With tears in his eyes he ran towards an empty classroom, thankful it was 5 in the morning and no students dared to snoop at such hours.

“Bloody Fucking hell.” He yelled at no one, letting his magic overwhelm the classroom, the chairs and tables rising slowly, the windows overlooking the grounds cracking and the woods of the ceiling giving in ever so slightly.

He had never let himself go in such a way. Always keeping a tight leash on his emotions, even when everyone around him gave his life for his.

Just for him to go and fuck a murderer.

He finished dressing in a mechanical manner, simply doing so so he wouldn’t get hypothermia and sat on the floor, zoning out.

His parents would be so disappointed.

Sirius would be so disappointed.

Fuck, even Dumbledore, who always argued that love was the way to beat evil, would probably send him to Azkaban himself. He had failed afterall. Failed to stop murder, again and again and again.

If he gave in to a psychopath teenage boy, what hope was left for him to defeat Voldemort?

The wizarding world was doomed, he was doomed. Why did he have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders?

He reached out to his pocket to grab his wand, just to fiddle with something, when he felt it, he had never given Riddle his ring back.

Harry scoffed and began turning it in his hand, noticing it had a small symbol in the middle. A triangle, filled with a circle and a stick in the middle.

That was not a snake, so why did Riddle say it was his family’s ring?

The Chosen one had seen where the other stole it from. That shack in the middle of the forest, surrounded by snakes and half falling apart. Was that the legacy Slytherin had left him?

Jesus christ, no wonder the bloke wanted to use it in that weird ritual.

He turned the ring in his hand a couple of times, but when he was about to store it back in his pocket, maybe to put it in Riddle’s bag later on, a trick of light made him think his mum was right there in front of him.

“Oh Harry.” She said, Harry widened his eyes. No, it could not be, his mum was not a ghost, he was hallucinating. He stood up just in case.

“Mum?” He asked, choking.

“My baby boy, you did so well.” She had a smile on her face and she was so so young.

“Mum.” Harry breathed, walking closer, tears coming out of his eyes freely. “How- how are you here?”

“My baby boy, we do not have much time. I just want to tell you I am so so proud of you, my son.”

“But- mum you don’t understand, I- I did some bad stuff-”

“Harry, your father was not a saint either, you know this.”

As if bullying was the same as killing.

“I know, mum, but-”

“Harry, you did not commit those crimes, and it’s not your fault who you love.”

“I do not love him, mum.”

“Not yet.” She dared to smile, and Harry felt as if he was being stabbed.

“You went through so much already, my baby, if you chose to do nothing else in this war, it’d be in your right, not even Dumbledore could complain about it.”

“But- It’s my duty to-”

“You are sixteen, your duty is to have fun, drink, study, and make irresponsible decisions that do not change the fate of the world.”

It was as if a weight had been pulled from his shoulders.

“If you decide to hand him in, Harry, it would be in your right and it would be the correct thing to do.” A pause, her face softened. “But if there’s someone I know that can change someone with the power of love, it’s you.”

Harry was sobbing at this point, not being able to talk, simply stare at his all too comprehensive mother.

“Oh mum, I miss you, I need you. I want to die just to be with you and dad and Sirius and-”

“Don’t you even dare think about it, my Harry. You are a Potter, we do not give up. We wear our heart on our sleeve and make rushed decisions from the goodness of our heart.” She sighed. “But if you do decide to give up, move into the forest and isolate yourself from the world, we would all still be proud of you.”

Harry tried to hug her, but his hand went through.

“I love you, mum.”

“I love you more, baby boy. Now go get your man.” She laughed and disappeared in the morning sun that was slowly creeping through the windows.

Harry knew what he needed to do.

-

Tom Riddle’s mood that morning was more sour than he ever thought possible.

After he had changed and left the Undercroft, he went straight to the common room, where he tortured one of his poor followers for getting himself detention and then another, because he looked at him funny.

News of his anger spread like wildfire through Slytherin, and by the time they made it to an incredibly early breakfast, no one but Abraxas talked to him.

“Seriously, Riddle, you have to get your stick out from your ass, even Slughorn is looking at you weird.” Malfoy said, to which Tom snorted, such crass language reminded him of Potter, he needen’t more reminders of him.

As if thoughts summoned him, the aforementioned opened the doors to the Great Hall looking agitated, and locked eyes with him. Tom raised an eyebrow as the boy, instead of heading towards the Gryffindor table on the left side, headed towards the right.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Abraxas asked, to which Tom shook his head. He was completely lost in a social setting, and he did not like it one bit. Especially when the other was rapidly approaching.

“Riddle.” Harry said as he stood right in front of him.

“Potter.” He hissed bitterly.

“Alright I probably deserve that.” He snorted, and then, Harry did the absolutely unthinkable. He kneeled before Tom. “I apologize for my erratic behaviour this morning, my dear Tom. It was absolutely inexcusable and rude. Especially because I did not explain my reasoning for it.”

The Great Hall had quieted to just a few rumours, impressive, given that it was a quarter full.

“I hope you accept back your ring and wand, and this, as a token of my loyalty and camaraderie.” Harry winked at the last word and in his hands held his ring, his wand and a fucking condom.

He was thankful wizards did not know what the contraption was, or it would have been ten times more mortifying. He grabbed his things and the condom quickly, before gazing at the Gryffindor, that was wearing a smirk.

“I accept your apology, Harry, I am glad to have a…friend, such as yourself.”

“*Tonight, at the Undercroft?*”

Tom smirked and nodded.

“*Your wish is my command.*”

-5 months later-

“It’s absolute madness that you follow that old man like a little lap dog.” Tom yelled. Dumbledore had become a rather common topic of discussion as of late, especially because of the supposed mission he needed Harry for.

“Tom, I know that you think of him as less than ideal but-”

“Less than ideal? Harry that man wants you to go on a fucking suicide mission with him!”

“Its not a suicide mission-”

“If the most powerful wizard in Britain is not able to do it on his own then it’s a suicide mission.”

Harry had never seen Tom so angry, not even when he tortured his father, and it was all because of him.

It was comforting, in a sick twisted way. What drew him in in the first place.

“*Tom…*”

“Don’t you dare pull the parseltongue on me, Potter, I am angry.”

But he looked less so, and Harry took the chance to pull him in for a hug. In the cold Chamber of Secrets, it seemed that the only source of warmth was his boyfriend.

“Tom, I am going to be alright, okay?” He kissed his neck. “And if I am not, I’ll call out to you.”

Once Tom had found out of all the types of ways Harry endangered his life, he had given him a necklace he could hold onto and call for help.

“Even then, love.” Tom nuzzled his hair and kissed his scar. “Even I am not invencible.”

“Tom Riddle himself admitting he is not invincible? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?”

They laughed bitterly, knowing the danger that Harry would face.

“I finally found my equal, and it’s you, my baby boy.” Tom confessed in a tiny whisper, a confession that he’d never thought he’d give.

“I really need to go love.” Harry said.

“I know.”

“I- I love you, Tom.” Harry confessed, something he had never told him before, but something he did want to say before he died.

And much to his shock, and probably to Tom himself, the previous psychopath, who had tortured his family with no remorse, softened when looking at him, and smiled.

“I love you too.”

-

After the attack of the Death Eaters, little Malfoy’s betrayal and Dumbledore’s death, Tom laid in Harry’s bed while he sobbed on his shoulder, gripping onto the fake Horrocrux.

Tom had not yet told him that he too made them. And it was not a conversation he would have that night, while Harry hugged him by the waist and pulled him impossibly closer.

“He gave me a mission.” Harry whispered in his ear, “Dumbledore. To destroy the rest of Voldemort’s horrocruxes and kill him once and for all.”

“And you are going to do it?” Tom asked, knowing the inevitable answer.

“You know I will.”

Tom sighed. It was clear that with this civil war that would be raging on he would not be able to work in the ministry like he first planned.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, Tom-”

“You don’t get to come out of this so easily, Harry.” Tom caressed his hair. “You already did the impossible. You made a freak like me capable of loving.”

“Don’t call yourself a freak.” Harry whispered.

“I’ll always be with you, Harry, alright?” Tom asked. “Always.”

“Always.”