Summary: Sometimes extraordinary things can happen on the most ordinary of days.
Ship: HarryPotterxTomRiddle
All credit goes to Lady_Lark on Ao3
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The sun was slowly approaching the horizon. It generously showered the world with its golden rays, sharing the last of warmth before being forced to leave the skies, giving the place to her calmer and colder sister. Birds were singing from a nearby forest. They were seemingly discussing the events of the departing day, arguing and laughing at particularly emotional stories.
On the estate grounds, however, life was still buzzing. Not far from the forest, in a small corner of a beautiful garden left for potion ingredients, two men were collecting various herbs and plants. Now and then one of them would raise their head curiously, listening to another group working deeper in the gardens. Laughter echoed in the still hot air, mixing with occasional bouts of swearing or sharp clang of metal. Preparations for the upcoming celebrations were in full swing.
"What are they doing there?" the young man asked finally, unable to contain his curiosity much longer. "I don't think one needs to curse their way through putting up a campfire, do they?"
His Mentor chuckled. "Of course, they need," he said easily. "When Antonin, Fenrir, Harold and Abraxas decide to take care of something, trust it to go wrong somehow. It is simply the way it works. Add in Lucius' and Regulus' attempts to help, and it would be a miracle if they finished in time."
"Then why do they always work together?"
"Because it is still faster than any other way, Severus. Sometimes, chaos is the best way to do something."
The man watched his young friend closely. Cornflower eyes gleamed cunningly in sunrays, a knowing light hiding in the depths of that gaze. He knew full well that his Apprentice would soon ask him to tell a story. At twenty-three, Severus was talented, it was impossible to argue against that, and he was persistent and stubborn whenever needed. However, the simple gathering could not occupy his brilliant mind enough, not when it was still used to constantly observing its surroundings, keeping track of everything and anything happening around him.
Indeed, several minutes later, Severus spoke up once more.
"Could you tell me a story, Marvolo?" the young man asked casually, almost as if he wouldn't be disappointed if he refused. "There is nothing else to do as we work, and I am confident you still have lessons to teach me."
"As you wish," Marvolo easily allowed. "I cannot say there have been many interesting things in my life, though, I suppose, I could find a fitting story. Is there anything in particular you wish to know?"
"How did you and Harold meet?"
"It isn't a particularly interesting or exciting story," the edges of Marvolo's mouth twitched in a hidden smile at Severus' astonished look. "Whyever do you look at me like that? It was a simple detention with Professor Slughorn. He had asked me to help sort through his ingredient stores, whereas Harold had been punished for sneaking after hours. I come into the classroom only to see this second-year attempt to brew a potion while Slughorn did his best to prevent an explosion."
"Is Harold younger than you, then?"
"Just by a year. Do not be fooled by his supposed maturity. In fact, he cannot be further from adulthood."
As if to confirm his words another bout of loud cursing echoed through the air.
"Is that all then? Why is Lucius confident something unbelievable has happened?"
"I do not know," Marvolo replied honestly, not bothering to hide his smile much longer. "Sometimes the best things happen on most ordinary days, Severus. You enter a classroom, never expecting something unusual to happen, and find your best friend. Or, perhaps, your greatest enemy." The man plucked another plant, eyeing it closely. Severus glanced at the herb, his eyebrows climbing at the sight. Somehow, his Master had just managed to find a rare flower neither of them had planted there.
"See? Treasures are hidden everywhere. One merely needs to be attentive enough to spot them," Marvolo put the plan in his basket. "And brave enough to pick them and to never let go again."
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The round-sided moon moved leisurely across the skies above the estates, its dim light falling everywhere in sparks of pure silver. A light night wind rustled lullingly in the branches of a small forest nearby. Upon meeting the breeze, the threes generously filled it with the tart scents of pine needles and icy coolness it gladly carried everywhere it travelled. Underneath those two strong smells, one could feel a sweet timid undertone of gentle night flowers.
The estate stood not far from the forest, hidden behind a sprawling garden quite famous in certain, rather privileged, circles. It watched the scene with indulgence with its countless windows. Almost all of them were dark. Only in one of them, could you see a candle flame, a tiny light source in an otherwise pitch-black house. It danced uncertainly in the still air of a room, teased by the breeze but gently urged to shine by its owner. Quickly, this flame moved across the window's glass only to jump onto another one and another frame. Its owner dashed across the manor, gradually climbing from the third floor to the first. Once there, the flame flickered and disappeared from view. The moon looked inside the windows curiously, trying to find it, but failed miserably. The young boy had moved too deep inside for it to see anything.
However, the candlelight soon reappeared. It peered uncertainly out of the back doors, dancing nervously under the breeze's gentle caress, before fully jumping outside. A moment later its owner followed. A tiny figure – a boy no older than sixteen – stepped onto the porch, carefully closing the doors behind his back.
For a couple of minutes, he simply stood there. Marvolo carelessly turned his face to the night wind, soaking its coolness and freedom, enjoying its light, refreshing touch against his skin. His good friend Abraxas had always hated the cold. Thus, every room they shared turned into a miniature stove, regardless of the time of the year or the weather outside their windows. A fact that was understandable during cold winters in Hogwarts' dungeons but was in no way suitable for an unexpectedly warm Spring.
At last, Marvolo moved. Confidently, he stepped down the stairs, the wood creaking softly under his light weight. Looking around to ensure no one could see him, the young man took out a chain. He brushed his finger against its smooth surface, feeling warmth in his chest. A smile appeared on his lips. Feeding the delicate pendant some of his magic, Marvolo watched as a translucent rope thread appeared in the air and quickly disappeared further on the grounds of the estate.
With little hesitation or doubt, he followed it. Familiar magic buzzed excitedly around him, chasing away the chill of the surrounding air or the wetness of the tall grass the young man walked through.
The rest of the world ceased to exist briefly. It was nothing more than a scene, decorations for an intricate play only he knew the plot of. Something needed and, perhaps, vital, but easily overlooked in favour of a handful of actors on a seemingly endless stage.
That necklace had been a gift, one of the few he had ever received. It consisted of a thin silver chain, which could not have been thicker than several hairs braided together, and a delicate pendant, hand-forged by the one it had been from. The pendant was a circle with a small amethyst placed in its centre, the stone surrounded by intricate metal designs.
Marvolo still remembered how embarrassed he had been to receive such a gift. Raised in poverty and need, it had seemed like a waste of money, a mockery of what he had never had and wouldn't have for decades more. His then-friend had simply chuckled, shaking his head.
"You are free to do with it anything you wish," the other had said. "You can throw it into the lake, burn or sell or curse to bring bad luck to one who stumbles upon it. I will not mind, not at all."
"Yes, because you've given it to me to destroy," Marvolo had replied sharply, huffing. He had looked at the boy before him, watching the other closely. Yet, the only thing his blue eyes had seen was a gentle smile on another's face and a look in those eyes that they could not understand.
"Are you sure I can do with it all that I wish?"
"Of course," his friend had told him carelessly, still smiling. "It is more than enough that you have held it, thought of it even if it would be on how to get rid of it. This memory is enough of a payment for me."
"But you have spent time on it."
"And I will gladly do it again even if you destroy all my gifts."
In the end, he hadn't done anything with the pendant. It had been hanging on one of the posters on Marvolo's bed, greeting him first come morning and night, silently reminding him of that conversation. He had thought of selling it exactly once. Amethyst alone would have gotten him more than enough money to last until the end of Hogwarts with some money remaining to rent a good flat. However, something had stopped him, silently berating him for such a thought.
Looking back, he realised how foolish it had been. Gifts like that one are never given to those whom you want to mock or hate with all your soul and mind. No, they are gifted to those who are dearer than anything else. Those, around whom you realise that simple words would never be enough.
Meanwhile, he had reached the forest. Stopping briefly, Marvolo placed the candlestick on a small stomp nearby, careful it didn't get wet. Sighing, the young man reached for his magic. Nothing happened, at first, not to an outsider, at least. Soon, though, his body started to shift. The flame twitched curiously, observing its master, watching the transformation with silent curiosity.
It never took long. One moment, a young boy of sixteen stood on the grass before a tall wall of dark, menacing forest. Another, in his place, was a tall, powerful elf with magic thick as the surrounding darkness, equally cold and seemingly endless.
Shaking his hand, Marvolo stretched. Several joints popped pleasantly in the quietness, bringing a much-needed sense of relief. Power and energy thrummed in every part of his body so strongly, he briefly felt ready to conquer the entire world. His elven side was pleased to be allowed out, especially this close to a natural Source of Magic.
Smiling, he picked up the candle and headed into the woods. Protected by his blood and power, very little would be able to threaten his safety. Even less would dare approach him uninvited.
The forest greeted them with comforting semi-darkness. Marvolo easily followed the glowing thread and allowed his mind to drift, enjoying the surrounding scenery once more. His steps were light in the tall grass around him, and he barely noticed it brushing gently against his sides and legs. Countless pine needles rustled pleasantly under his feet, making them bounce slightly. As he walked deeper into the woods, a soothing lightness filled his chest, a sense of freedom and mute excitement for what awaited him on one of the clearings. His elf purred in his chest, pleased with his owner's decision. It was high time they saw their aenye once more.
Slowly, the forest grew darker and thicker. Marvolo scented the air around him, smirking when a familiar scent filled his nose. It was a mixture of burnt wood, ash and mystery. Some time later it was joined by a tart scent of Dark Magic and an exhilarating rush of power. It shouldn't have been as pleasant or soothing as it was.
And yet, Marvolo could only sigh in relief as it strengthened.
Finally, the trees began to part. The thread guiding him thinned greatly before disappearing entirely, becoming so thin it was no longer possible to see or feel. However, he did not need it. He could easily tell from the buzz of power in the air and the unmistakable scent of ozone that tickled his senses that he had arrived.
The clearing was breathtaking. Surrounded by thick walls of pines, firs and rare birches, it was bathing in the dim moonlight, gladly soaking up the few streams of light that had managed to break through the thick canopy of leaves and branches. The grass there was tall, up to Marvolo's waist. It gently touched the elf's clothes in silent greeting, crying soundlessly as he took a step away from it with drops of crystal dew. From it, frightened by the sudden movement, flew fireflies. Tiny dots of captivating green light rose in the air, buzzing around and slowly flying in search of a better hiding spot. They winked at each other, sharing their complaints. Crickets echoed their displeasure with their songs; grumbling of an intruder. He even heard a bat fly above his head, its sharp voice joining nature's song.
Turning his head, Marvolo watched the scenery, captivated. As if enchanted, he stepped further into the clearing, stopping almost at its middle. The young man threw his head back, gazing at the faraway stars, enjoying the lights and the sounds of the night around him.
It was hard to say how much time he had spent there, simply observing. Only that at one point, his ears heard a quiet chuckle. Marvolo did not move, did not tear his eyes away. Instead, he simply listened as the grass rustled once more. A scent he loved so much filled his nose, perfectly merging with the scents of nature.
A pair of strong hands fell on his shoulders. They carefully rested against his skin, mindful not to put too much pressure on it. Long fingers rubbed soothing circles into them with just as much care, allowing him a moment to get used to the presence.
Magic strong and oppressive surrounded Marvolo. There had been times he had involuntarily shrunk before it, frightened by its power and jealous of not having it for himself. That night, however, he stood tall and proud. Blue eyes closed as he soaked the magic, mixed it with his and shared his power with the one behind him. Previously terrifying and unbearable, it had long tamed and was cajoling the wizard like a proud cat, forced to admit it had missed its second owner.
His mind involuntarily thought back to his past. To times when Marvolo had been a small child named Tom, left in an orphanage by his dying mother and his indifferent father. Tom who had stayed up many a night, gazing outside through dirty windows, and hopelessly whispered his innocent desires and most precious wishes into the darkness, never once hoping that someday they would be fulfilled.
Old Pastor had always told him that 'freaks are underserving of God's mercy.' That they do not deserve to dream or even breathe.
"You are nothing more than a Satan's toy, boy," the old man had often sneered at him. Tom had listened involuntarily, kept in place by the pastor's wrinkled but strong hands and his fiery hatred. "And once you die you will be sent back to your Master, seeing as holy rituals could not save your broken soul. Good riddance, I say. The world will be much better without you around."
Tom had refused to believe those words, but they had persisted. For years, even after discovering Magic and going to Hogwarts, they plagued his mind, his consciousness and thoughts. Even then, years later, Marvolo recalled them with crystal clarity. No longer did they bring desperation or anguish, hatred towards the adult that had tried to poison his confidence. They were but an echo of the past. One he wished he had not experienced, but one he had benefitted from nonetheless.
Behind him, his aenye shifted. Those hands carefully turned Marvolo around, slowly and gently as if he were a precious figurine to handle with utmost care. Bright green eyes looked into his. The demon was slightly shorter than him, reaching to Marvolo's chin, but it did not make him any less. No, somehow, it made him all more powerful than if he were any taller.
"What are you thinking of?" he asked quietly, caringly.
"Of how empty my life used to be," Marvolo replied honestly. "Of how weak I were when I was a child, how lonely without you or my friends around me."
"Was I the one who brought those thoughts?"
"Not at all, Harold. They are always with me, but your presence quietens them easily."
Harold smiled, looking at him. "Good. I do not wish to be a source of pain to you." He rose to his toes and kissed the edge of Marvolo's mouth. "There are more than enough of them in your life already."
"Then it is a good thing you cannot be one," Marvolo said quietly but firmly. "No matter what you do or think or say."
The demon chuckled deeply. Then, in the moonlight, he looked absolutely breathtaking. His raven hair was pulled back into two tight braids, which Harold had been taught by Cassiopeia and Dorea while both women were still in school, and shone in the light. Perched on his head, a pair of curved horns seemed almost silver and only their tips hid in the darkness around them. Harold's green eyes shone as brightly as a pair of emeralds. They looked at Marvolo with open tenderness and pride he couldn't understand, affection and devotion. Looking into those eyes, not a single soul would dare doubt the sincerity of Harold's feelings, his passion or loyalty. A thin tail with a sharp spike at its end only emphasized the feelings of its owner by resting possessively around Marvolo's waist.
"I have brought something to you," Harold said quietly, reaching into one of the many pockets in his robes. "Beltane is coming soon, so I have thought I should bring something to you. Especially considering you've gained your Inheritance."
Marvolo huffed in mock annoyance. "As if there was any doubt that I will be worthy of it."
"None at all," Harold told him, grinning mischievously. "Only that Mother will be unable to find a form suiting your arrogance."
In his hands appeared a small velvet box. Harold waved his hand over it, enlarging, and slowly opened the lid to reveal its contents. Marvolo watched the box, stunned by the beauty of the gift. Inside was a pair of beautiful silver earrings. They looked as if someone had taken a vine and turned it into metal, forever freezing and preserving the plant for one's use.
"When Abraxas told me you'd become a High Elf, I immediately knew what to gift you," Harold said quietly, taking one of the earrings. Carefully, mindful not to touch the sharp tips of his ears, the demon clipped them into their rightful places. "Accept these as a sign of pride and loyalty. A promise to never betray or leave unless I absolutely have to."
Magic buzzed around them, waiting for Marvolo's reply. Contrary to Harold's expectation, he reached inside his own robes, pulling out a pair of thick wooden rings, carved by his own hand. Easily recognising the gift, he stiffened. With the same care, Marvolo put the rings onto Harold's horns, magically resizing them until they sat perfectly on top of his demon's head.
"Accept this as a sign of strength and loyalty," Marvolo said. His voice rumbled in the silence like a thunderstorm, ringing with sincerity and honesty. "May they protect you in your endeavours and remind of family waiting back at home. Think of them as a promise to wait for your return, to accompany when possible and to never leave unless circumstances demand so."
A flash sparked between them, ceiling their promises. It was neither a vow to be wed nor a permission to court one another. No, it was a declaration of partnership, an alliance so close that even their children could not break it.
They had spent the night on that clearing, talking of everything and nothing at the same time, simply enjoying each other's presence. Come morning, Marvolo would drag Harold into the manor despite his weak protests, insisting the demon remained. Later, Harold would admit to not wanting to leave either. No one waited for him back home, and his parents had been always too busy with other things to notice his absence. The rest of the Spring and later Summer would be spent together with Abraxas.
Years later, on the night of Beltane, they would return. With only closest friends and family present, both would renew their vows and forge a connection that bonded their very souls. It would hold through time and space, always bringing them together. No matter what life they led or when each was born, Mother herself would ensure they met and stayed together despite the world's desires.
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
"Have you ever regretted agreeing?" a voice asked quietly.
Marvolo raised his head from the pillows, gazing from half-closed eyes at Harold. The demon sat on a windowsill, gazing out of the window outside. A tiny flame was burning on the tip of his finger, green eyes watching it closely as if it could give him an answer. The man rose from his bed, walked over to the window. Sitting down on an armchair by his side, he, too, observed the fire.
"Is there a reason for this question?" he asked after a moment. "You ask this question yearly, and every time I answer the same way. Why bother asking if you already know it?"
Harold hummed thoughtfully. "I do not know If I am honest. Simple curiosity, I suppose." he turned his head to gaze outside the window. "It is forty years today since that night. I guess, a part of me wanted to know if your answer has changed."
"Then you will be glad to know it hasn't," Marvolo replied easily. He moved closer to the sill, gently placing his head against Harold's thigh. Immediately, a hand reached for his hair, gently petting it and combing through chestnut locks like they had so many times before. "That one vow has changed my life too drastically to regret speaking it. Even if I wished to, I would have never changed that night. Would you?"
"No," was the immediate reply. "No, I couldn't regret it even if I wanted to."
Both fell silent once more. They remained in their spot for a long while, simply sharing the company of each other, reminiscing of the times long gone and possibilities they had never gotten to explore. Worries about the upcoming day remained ignored. No, there would be a better time to ponder then. That hour was all about them, and them alone.
Throughout the years many things had happened. Few remained the same. Just like then, neither believed enough in love to declare it. However, both understood devotion and friendship, respect and honesty on which most relationships were built. They could still feel it between them as if that faithful night had been mere hours ago and not years.
In the end, it is all that truly matters:
The desire to stay and return to them no matter what happens.