Chapter Text
Harry felt as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, the events of the last few days circling his mind every time he tried to clear it. His scar had been prickling through most of them and he didn’t expect that to change save for becoming worse.
Godric’s Hollow had been stressful enough, even though they’d managed to both capture and absorb Nagini’s horcrux. The less said about the aftermath following that particular experience the better. Afterwards, Harry knew they would have to visit Gringotts as soon as possible as Voldemort would likely remove whatever horcrux was hidden there. That he was proved correct in the end didn’t change that several of them were almost killed through a combination of traps set by both goblins and Death Eaters, dragon fire, and bad luck.
Harry couldn’t imagine how Tom was holding up, as he’d then had to absorb the horcrux from Hufflepuff’s cup right before they received a cryptic message from Aberforth calling them to Hogwarts. They’d barely managed to get him there in one piece and he was still slightly out of it by the time he, Harry, and Ginny were following Luna Lovegood up to Ravenclaw Tower, blinking hard every few seconds and speaking mostly in Parseltongue.
He’d seemed to come back to himself just in time for their altercation with the Carrows and the subsequent meeting with McGonagall. Harry knew her scandalized expression when she first locked eyes with Tom wasn’t leaving his head anytime soon.
So really, it was just following the pattern that Crabbe and Goyle had managed to cobble together enough intelligence between them to follow them into the Room of Requirement and nearly bring it down around their ears. It was lucky Malfoy had turned up, as he managed to not only shove Ginny out of the way of a killing curse but also snatch the diadem out of the air before it was destroyed by the Fiendfyre. Less lucky was that they only managed to save Goyle from the blaze, watching in horror as Crabbe slipped and fell off the pile he’d been scrambling up. Harry had a feeling Tom wholeheartedly disagreed, if what he’d been shouting in his ear while clinging fiercely to his waist was any indication.
At the moment, however, he was simply eerily silent, staring ahead with wide eyes. He was the only person still standing, as Harry, Ginny, Malfoy, and Goyle had all slumped immediately to the floor upon leaving the smoldering room behind. Harry leaned back against the cool stone wall, breathing hard, and exchanged disbelieving looks with Ginny. Malfoy was on her other side, panting and mouthing what seemed like Crabbe’s name.
Harry felt an uncomfortable sort of guilt. He’d never liked Crabbe, barely liked Malfoy on a good day, and knew logically it wasn’t his fault, but…
“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” he muttered. Malfoy’s head moved in a strange jerking motion before turning to Harry in utter confusion.
“What-” he started to ask, but Tom chose that moment to haul Harry to his feet, his grip pinching around his upper arm.
“Riddle, what’re you-” Ginny began, starting to get up, but Tom cut her off too.
“Meet us back in the first floor bathroom,” said Tom. His voice was very soft and very menacing. Harry looked at him in alarm; he hadn’t heard that tone since before Tom had agreed to help them. It reminded him uncomfortably of Voldemort, the dangerous hiss that haunted his worst dreams, dreams of tombstones laid out in meandering rows and Cedric’s round, empty eyes.
Before Harry could say or do anything, he found himself being dragged quickly down the corridor. He waved back to Ginny and Malfoy reassuringly, but could feel his heart beating quickly. What was Tom up to?
Harry was thrown into the first empty room they came to, which turned out to be a disused classroom. He stumbled and almost fell into the teacher’s desk, feeling his adrenaline and anger spike.
“Oi!” he shouted, spinning to face Tom. He saw the flash of a spell and heard the curious combination of a squelching noise coupled with the sudden lack of sound from the corridor that meant the door was now sealed. “What the hell are you-?”
“You don’t care, do you, Harry?” Tom asked quietly. He turned slowly and Harry consciously did not step back or reach for his wand though it took some effort. He could feel his heart pounding.
“As long as there’s someone to save, you’ll do it,” Tom continued. His voice crawled across Harry’s nerves, a soft hiss. “Enemy, friend, they don’t even have to be human, do they?”
“Why does that matter?” Harry asked angrily.
Tom took a step to the left and Harry unconsciously mirrored him. “You’re so noble,” he said with such obvious scorn that Harry couldn’t help flinching. “So sure of your actions, no matter how they might affect anyone else. Do you ever think before you do these things?”
Harry was feeling increasingly more lost, but held tight to his anger as he asked, “What things? What are you talking about?”
Tom spun fully toward him, his face twisted. “How about taking on a fully grown python under Voldemort’s direct control without calling for backup?” he asked nastily, his voice rising with each question. “Suddenly deciding to become a dragon tamer in the depths of the Gringotts vaults? Or better yet, almost getting incinerated because you just had to save a person who literally just tried to kill you right before casting a highly restricted spell that almost killed all of us?”
Harry stared at him, thinking furiously. Tom’s wand was sparking in his hand, he was drawn up as tall as he could, his spine rigid with fury, and his expression was absolutely livid. But there was something different, something to do with the furrow between his eyes. Different from when Harry first knew him, before their endless Legilimency sessions, before planning late into the night, before dueling lessons, and covering for each other on and off the field without a second thought...
Fear. Tom was afraid. And suddenly, Harry understood. All those odd glances, Tom’s silence and distance leading up to this final confrontation… The brush of fingers against the scar on his hand, a strange burst of emotion that Harry had chalked up to Tom’s typical mischief...
There were a few ways Harry could confirm his suspicions, but since Tom already thought he enjoyed being reckless, he might as well go for broke.
Harry took the few steps he needed to be in Tom’s space, allowing himself to act rather than think. One hand came to rest on Tom’s upper arm, as if ready to deflect a wand-blast, and the other on the side of his face. Harry saw Tom’s eyes widen but then his were closed and he was kissing Tom with everything he had.
The original purpose of the kiss very quickly ceased to matter to Harry. With each brush of their lips, he found himself nearly drowning in his own emotions, feelings he’d either bottled up or mislabeled in his own mind. He pulled back just to kiss Tom again, a different angle, a better position, and realized Tom was now against the wall, his wand on the floor behind them and his hands grasping at Harry through his clothes, pulling him close.
Harry slid the hand on Tom’s arm up to the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair to hold him more securely as he mouthed Tom’s upper lip. He thought he should be combusting, blushing harder than he had in the alleyway in Hogsmeade, but the only things that seemed to register were the press of Tom’s chest against his own as their breath became shorter and the overwhelming smell of smoke left by the Fiendfyre. Somehow, this only heightened Harry’s desire to push into Tom’s warmth, tangle their legs together, press harder. They were alive. Yet again, they’d survived. Maybe, just maybe, their luck would hold for one more day…
Harry’s fingers curled in reaction when Tom’s teeth found his bottom lip and Tom made an interesting sound deep in his throat that Harry instantly wanted to hear again and again. He knew he made some kind of noise in response but it was lost as he delved into Tom’s mouth, his breath so loud and quick he thought he might burst.
With a sudden intake of breath, Tom pulled back, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. His eyes were tightly shut and he still looked angry, but there was a frantic, almost desperate edge to it that hadn’t been there before.
“You idiot,” he gritted out. Harry pushed closer to him, running his thumb over the shadow under his eye, unable to help himself now that this was happening, now that it was finally out in the open. Tom exhaled sharply. “You little idiot,” he murmured then crushed his mouth to Harry’s once again.
There was a fever to it this time, underlaid with such a burst of warmth through their connection that Harry felt as though he would suffocate in the emotion he could now correctly identify. Their mouths slanted together again and again and it took Harry several moments to realize Tom was making some kind of noise high in his throat, Harry echoing him unconsciously. His chest felt tight and he tore his mouth away, breathing hard.
Tom looked particularly attractive with a flush high on his cheeks, hair mussed, and looking at Harry as no one had before. Harry smiled up at him, feeling giddy and lightheaded, before moving to press his lips against his throat, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Harry laughed against Tom’s mouth, feeling lighter than he had in months.
“You-” he whispered, wanting to express this feeling, put it into the air between them, but before he could even start, Tom hissed, “Don’t,” and clutched Harry to him tightly, one hand pressing sharply into his spine and the other tangling in his windswept hair.
Harry laughed again, breathlessly, and Tom kissed him. Despite his hard grip and the edge in his voice, the kiss was gentle, far more than any of the others had been. He held Harry to him and brushed their lips together again and again, until Harry felt sure he would seep into the floor.
Finally, Harry pulled back, both hands caressing Tom’s face, brushing over his cheekbones and back through his dark hair.
“We need to-” Harry began regretfully.
Tom sighed and pushed into the hand currently cupping his jaw. “I know,” he interrupted. “Just…”
“Yeah,” Harry returned, sagging against him and feeling Tom’s arms tighten around him. He took in the vague throbbing in his toes and the arches of his feet, smiling ruefully.
He knew they would have to move soon. The others would be getting worried and it was likely they were all waiting in the bathroom, wondering where they were. Harry grinned recklessly, thinking about Ron and Hermione’s possible reactions to his current position, then quickly sobered. Tom still had to absorb the diadem, the last free-standing horcrux, before they faced Voldemort. But for this moment, Harry put it out of his mind and focused on nothing but the warmth of both Tom’s body against his and the bursts of emotion coming through their connection in soothing waves.