Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

New Skin	By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 12893 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe

Chapter List
- 1-Ch 1
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-Ch 7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Chapter 10
- 11-Ch 10.5
- 12-Chapter 10part 3
- 1
- 2
He sat back, stunned.

How was it even possible?!� Of all the, pardon the phrase, gin-joints.. in all the cities in the world � How the hell had they both
ended up here..� How had he ended up here?!

How was it possible that Harry was
still alive?!��

He narrowed his eyes, trying to
determine whether it was perhaps another boy.. a boy who merely resembled his former-enemy.

His hair was longer.� His body almost unrecognisably changed � gone
was any hint of innocent adolescence � the boy who he was watching could not
have been mistaken for innocent in
any way whatsoever.

The black light shimmered over the
expanse of pale skin as the figure moved and undulated for the howling,
slavering audience.�

As the boy turned, the glint of
green shimmered momentarily in his eyes before they slid closed.�

His hands stroked down the exposed expanse of his muscled abdomen and on to his
groin.�

A thick line was visible in the tight vinyl pants.� Harry�s fingers teased over himself as he
dropped to his knees, his head falling back.�
He displayed a preternatural flexibility as he bent backward and then
tumbled like an acrobat, to land lightly on his fingertips, lowering himself,
seemingly lost in his own world of sensation as he rubbed himself suggestively
against the stage.�

It was..very..easy to
imagine him doing the same to a willing body beneath him.�

The rest of
the...dance... if it could be called a dance, passed in a haze.� He couldn�t drag his eyes away.

It was him..� He was certain of it.

When the boy had retreated amid
resounding cheers, he got up surreptitiously from the table in the back of the
seedy bar and moved to the exit.�

It hadn�t appeared that Harry had recognised him..
Surely if he had he wouldn�t have finished his dance.� He�d have gotten the hell out of there, if
he�d seen him

Still.�
Something was telling him that the unfamiliar creature he�d just
watched, spellbound, for almost half an hour, was far more aware of his surroundings than he seemed.�

He couldn�t risk using his magic to
try to detect him.� If Harry had decided
to escape � there was precious little he could do about it right now.

Still.. perhaps he truly hadn�t noticed him.� Perhaps it was merely his own paranoia �
although Merlin knew that it could not be considered paranoia when they were
actually after you.

He walked around the bar until he
found an alley that led to the back exit.�

It took several hours before the
door opened and two laughing boys spilled out � but he had become very good at
waiting.� Most of his life was spent
rather passively these days.� Those were
the good moments.��

He recognised the boys from earlier acts.�
They were both outstandingly pretty specimens of young male flesh.� As were all of the exotic
dancers, and indeed most of the bartenders and serving staff in the moderate
male revue bar in the Sydney backstreet.

Standing as he was, in the shadow of the doorway, the dancers walked past him
without looking twice

He waited, telling himself that he
was wasting his time.� He needed to be
moving on.. finding a place
to settle for the night.� It had been an
idle whim to step inside the bar.� There
was a hostel further down the street which he had been intending to stay in.� Hostels were his preference these days � when
he was given the option.� He tried to
keep moving.�

In the beginning he had fled to Canada and had actually begun to build a life.. He had used the funds he had with him to acquire an
apartment.. had sought work..
It had taken less than two months before he had aurors
on his back.� He had had to run, leaving
all of his new-seeded life behind.�

It had been a modest life too..

He had cursed it each day � the pitiful conditions to which he was forced to
accustom himself.. A bed of his own..
half a bookshelf of books.. muggle
takeaway food.�

Of course now he had no bed of his
own.. no books at all.. he was lucky if he could occasionally scrape together enough
money from what he stole..and far less frequently earned.. to
acquire a room in a hostel � where he might have a shower and enjoy the luxury
of a door between himself and the animals he shared his current world with..

If not.. it was sometimes a
shelter.. more often a hidden corner of a rail
bridge.. a park.. an alley.. Wherever he could find a place out of the wind and cold.�

The worst part was the knowing that all of his discomfort.. the freezing.. the starving.. the blinding anger at those around him could all be
eased with a gesture..� He need only think the words for a warming charm.. It would take no effort at all to summon a bread roll from the table..� Even less to sever the head of the bullish
muggle policeman shoving him along and out of whatever temporary shelter he had
found for himself tonight..

But if he were to do that.. if he were to weaken �
even in sleep � and use his magic...

Well... the last time he had used it to defend himself from a half drunken
rowdy looking for a fight � he had spent the next weeks running for his
life.� They had chased him
constantly.� It had been a stroke of luck
that had saved him in the end, not any skill of his own or incompetence on the
part of his pursuers.� He couldn�t take
that kind of risk again.

So he kept to himself.. he
avoided all forms of confrontation.� He
stayed in motion.

He had managed to steal another fat
wallet from an impatient businessman the day before yesterday.�

It was laughable.� Of all the astounding
things he had done.. and seen.. and learned in his life � the skill that was
of most use to him now.. at the end of all things.. was the primary survival tool he had developed in a filthy
muggle orphanage.�

It was as if he had come full
circle, he thought to himself sometimes.

So long ago and he still remembered
the feeling of lying in bed with a constant painful ache in his belly because
he had not been granted the opportunity to eat.. again..

Stealing had made his life bearable.� The
other children were not treated as he was.�
If they were hungry � they would be given another slice of bread.. another half bowl of watery
soup.�

He learned to slip out through the back fence and fleece muggles
for money.. The money for food..
clothing.� Once
he had bought socks.. It had been a difficult choice
at the time.� It seemed a risk to
purchase something so permanent when he might need the money for more immediate
concerns soon enough.

And now.. decades later � it seemed he was back in that world in which
calculations of primary need predominated.�

After he had opened the wallet and found.. glory of glories � two
hundred dollars inside, he had been painfully tempted to use some of the
money to purchase a winter coat.� The
days were growing shorter and soon enough he would be hard pressed to find
shelter outside without risking illness.

He could not afford to become sick.

He couldn�t risk remaining anywhere for more than a few days..
a week or two at the most.� If he were to become ill enough to be found
and taken to a muggle hospital..�

Well..

His life might be a continual movement from agony to agony but he was not yet prepared to die!

He had not bought the coat.�

He had hidden half of the money in a dusty pipe near an abandoned industrial
building and had taken the other half in search of a hostel..

...in search of a shower.�

A phone book in a telephone booth provided an address within walking
distance.�

He had been intending to take a room and then go out and buy something to eat.� Nothing too expensive.� Something that would keep..
that he could transport with him.� Perhaps two-minute noodles..
They could be eaten without water if need pressed.�

He didn�t know how it was that he came to wander into the bar. It was..a completely pointless risk.�

Perhaps, he conceded, he had been lonely.�
It had been... a while...since he had last looked at another being with
anything approximating desire.� These
days, all of his calculations were ordered around potential risk.�

He had been obliged to waste several dollars on a beer, which he nursed for
hours as he sat and watched the dancers ply their trade one by one.

It was..strangely comforting.

And arousing, of course.. But
primarily comforting � to discover that he was still capable of feeling attraction.

That was..
until Harry stalked out onto the stage under dark
purple lights.�

He wrapped his arms around himself
more tightly and shivered in the dark.�

The hostel would be closed now.

He needed to move soon and look for a suitable place to bed down for the
night.�� Night!� It was almost morning.� Harry had apparated away � if it was him.. Or perhaps he had left through the main entrance.� He had been here for hours.

�Not dead yet, I see�

The voice emerged from the darkness
directly opposite him, startling him.�
There was nothing visible although he scoured the wall and looked over the
entire area to the best of his ability.. There was no
trace of a disillusioned form.� If the
boy was there, he was either using a potion of some kind or an invisibility
cloak.�

�Not quite� he offered softly.

There was a long silence.� He took a hesitant step forward, looking
about uncertainly.� Had the boy
left?!��

�What do you want?!� How did you find me?!�

He stopped.� The voice came from directly behind him and
he felt the cold line of a blade on his throat.

The metal shifted incrementally against his skin when he swallowed.�

�I was not looking for you.� I...did not even intend to step into the bar
� it was entirely coincidental.�

I want...to continue to survive.� Nothing more.�

The knife pressed harder against
his throat and he closed his eyes, trying frantically to think of how he might
best escape further pursuit if he needed to use magic to heal himself.� He cursed himself for having hidden the rest
of the money -� he
would not be able to retrieve it if he needed to jump away from Sydney in a
hurry.

Then the knife was removed
smoothly.

He breathed out.

Further down the alley a dark
shadow appeared, flinging something fabric-like off itself and bunching it
under its arm.� He recognised the boy�s
form.� He was walking slowly.

�Well.� Come on then� the hard voice
growled irritably.

Tom hesitated for only a
moment.�

His better judgement was telling him to turn away and get the hell out of
there.� Go and retrieve the rest of the
money and get as far away from this city as he could tonight.�

Logic and memory dictated that this was one of the most dangerous threats in
the world for him.. After all � This
was �the one with the power to vanquish him� � even if he might arguably be
said to be quite effectively vanquished already.

Every sense in his body that opposed death was screaming out that he needed to
escape.

He turned down the alley and
followed the shadow of the boy that he had spent the better part of his life
trying to defeat.

Harry did not slow any more for him
as he followed him down the almost empty street, although Tom was sure that he
was monitoring his pursuit very closely.�
The colour of the sky spoke of the coming dawn as Harry turned and
climbed the white steps up to a modest apartment building.�

Some almost alien part of his own mind wanted to
sneer.� Most of the rest of him looked up
at the tidy stone building as if it were an edifice of diamond studded golden
luxury.� Harry had apparently
successfully built something approximating a life for himself here.�

He had succeeded where Tom himself had failed.�

That almost depressed him.

He walked up the stone steps after
the boy, who had left the foyer door ajar for him.� Inside, the building proved to be clean and
well appointed.� He could hear quiet
steps ascending the stairs.� He had the
strong feeling that the only reason that he heard them at all was because Harry
was choosing to give him an audible sign of his progress, that he might find
the correct apartment.

He followed.

Climbing the stairs took him longer than it did Harry.

He reasoned that it was more to do with his present state of malnutrition than
it was a factor of his age.� After all.. he was physically not much older than Harry himself.�

Although.. in his mind he
felt two hundred years old sometimes.�

Still.. at least Severus had
come through in the end.. before everything went to
hell.. If he had not been able to restore his appearance, he would undoubtedly
have been killed immediately when he fled.�
His former.. rather
reptilian.. visage was not at all easy to
disguise.��

The potion that Severus had developed had been the decisive success factor in
the ritual that he had designed to restore himself.� ...Although...perhaps that restoration had
contributed to his loss of control over his own servants..
to their dwindling fear and respect...which had
allowed such a coup d�etat to take place.��

After all..
in the wake of the ritual he found himself suddenly
far younger than virtually all of his men. �He resembled more the lovely young toys at the
revels than he did their own rough darkness.

Physically he was now..once again.. a
young man in the prime of his life.�

Directly following the ritual he had seemed to be somewhere in his late teens �
now however, he estimated his visual age at perhaps twenty four.� It was difficult to remember exactly what he
had looked like at that age..He had spent so many
years in dusty tombs and hidden cities looking for the answers to immortality
and power.� There had not been an
overabundance of mirrors in the dark depths and he had barely looked up from
the books, scrolls and tablets he was working upon.

He had wondered at one point whether he might have better preserved his more
intimidating appearance � whether things might have gone differently... however
in light of the other factors involved, he thought that it probably would not
have saved him.� The rot within his ranks
was already too far advanced.�

No.. if he had not carried
out the ritual.. if he had not reacquired a human
face.. a youthful body.. he
would almost certainly be dead by now.

The door hung ajar.�

He approached it tentatively,
feeling the cold sweat break out on his brow suddenly.�

Even as he had slowly climbed the stairs, he had felt that he could turn about
and run... but entering this blind alley of the apartment door unsettled him
beyond everything thus far..

He hesitated just outside the door for a long minute, his hand an inch away
from the wood.. He was telling himself that he was not
yet weary enough of surviving to risk his life on this.

There was no sound.� The door did not move..
No voice demanded he hurry, no hand closed the door in
his face.� It seemed rather that all of
time held it�s breath.

Then he pushed the door open.

Within, there was a very dim light
emanating from a room at the end of a hallway.�
The door to the room was only open a crack.� The rest of the dark hallway evidenced three
further doors, all closed.�

He felt sufficiently confident to step into the hall,
however he could not bring himself to close the door behind himself.� He feared that if it closed, it would lock.. if it locked.. then the aurors and the bounty
hunters and the horribles would all pour in and take
him..�

So he stepped gingerly closer to the door at the end of the hallway and the
slightly flickering light that he decided was probably a candle.��

He had reached halfway down the hallway when the apartment door closed with an
audible clap.� He whirled, panicked, in
time to brush shoulders with Harry, who stalked past him with an impatient
irritable expression.

�Well that took bloody long enough� the other boy snapped and strode through
the door at the end of the hall, pushing wide the door and revealing a small
lounge with a candle burning on the table.

�You know.. I never saw you as the timid type, Voldemort� he growled from
somewhere further into the room

Voldemort.

Tom sighed, feeling a faint pang in his chest.�
He hadn�t heard that name in a while.

He looked uneasily at the apartment door again.�
It might not be locked.� He could try it...

No.� He would not confirm to the boy his
discomfort at being here.

He turned around and trailed after the boy into the candle-lit room.

�You�ll want a shower� Harry
informed him when he walked in.� He was
dragging some blankets and pillows out of a linen closet at the end of the
room.� �You�re not sleeping on my couch
in the state you�re in.� I�ll lend you
some clothes while you wash yours.�� He
marched to the long dark shadow of the sofa and dropped the blankets and pillow
on it pointedly.�

�Bathroom�s the first door in the hall.�
I�ll leave the clothes here.� Don�t do anything stupid � This is your only warning.�

At that he turned on his heel and let himself through a door at the end of the
small lounge next to the linen cupboard, closing it after himself.�

After a moment Tom saw a yellow light appear in the crack under the door.

He looked at the blankets and
pillow on the sofa.� The
small candle on the coffee table.

If Harry wanted to trap him.. it
was possible he could be offering this ..hospitality..
simply to distract him while the re-enforcements were
on their way... but he didn�t think so.�
In fact.. from the way
the boy behaved and from the way things had been going toward the end, he
rather suspected the boy was every bit as desperate a fugitive as himself, in
his own way.� There was no room in the
current wizarding world for Dark Lords or Saviours.�� Lucius Malfoy had
seen to that..

Swallowing, he retreated to the
hallway and moved to the first door.�

A small clean bathroom in white and blue tile was displayed when he flicked on
the switch near the door.� There was a
toilet and a shower over a bathtub with a blue and white plaid nylon shower
curtain.� Opposite him, over the sink, a
mirror displayed his own dirty face and greasy hair to him.� �His
eyes bothered him. �The dark blue orbs
were marked by a feral tension that had never
been resident there even as a child.�
They displayed his low burning
fear transparently as he looked away from the mirror uncomfortably

He breathed a soft calming sigh and closed himself into the room, trying to let
go of the jangling of his anxious nerves.�

Peeling off the layers of filthy fabric he dropped them in a small pile on the
floor at the end of the bathtub before he turned on the shower.�

The steam started to fill the room almost immediately. �He was relieved when it obscured his face in
the mirror.�

As he stepped under the hot spray he couldn�t quite suppress a tiny ache of
gratefulness that Harry Potter was apparently a far better person than he
himself.�

If he had been in his position, he would probably have killed him, to be on the
safe side.

After a minute, he looked down and
grimaced at the brown taint of the water sloughing the dirt off his body.� The bathtub would probably need to be cleaned
when he was finished.� He ignored the
shame that pricked him momentarily and reached for the soap in the little tray
that was stuck on the wall with suction cups.�
For a very long time, he scrubbed himself all over, turning around in
circles and basking in the glorious heat.�

When he felt tolerably clean he turned to the shampoo and washed his hair no
less than three times, hesitating indecisively before he also used a tiny
amount of the conditioner.�

He stepped out onto the bathmat and reached for the towel, feeling like a new
person.�

He never had that feeling when he got to use a shower in a hostel.� They were invariably shared bathrooms and the
shower would be tiny, uncomfortable and lukewarm.�

There would as often as not be a filthy rubber mat in
the bottom and the towels one could rent were always sandpapery things that
barely covered one�s hips.� Nothing like the thick plushy sky blue
bath sheet that was currently caressing his body.�

And of course there was always the fact that after he had washed he would be
forced to climb back into dirty clothes, simply for lack of alternate options.

He wrapped the towel around his
waist, tucking it in, and gingerly picked up the pile of dirty clothing,
holding it apart from him like something that could contaminate his new clean
body if he drew too close.

In the other room he found that an empty washing basket had been placed beside
the sofa while a small pile of folded garments were laid upon the back of the
sofa.�

He dropped his lumpen rags in the washing basket and
moved to look at the clothes Harry had laid aside for him.

There was a set of pajamas..

He hadn�t worn pajamas
since he�d been at Hogwarts..

Beneath them was a pair of black
jeans and a grey long sleeved tee shirt.�
The material felt soft and warm.�
He stroked it with his fingertips.�
At the bottom of the pile lay a pair of black lycra boxer shorts and a thick woolly pair of socks.

He sat down on the sofa and took
deep breaths for a minute, blinking and trying to dispel the sudden wash of
emotion that was threatening to actually bring tears to his eyes.� It was
foolish to react this way.� To clothes no less!�� He was being weak.. Even choosing to follow the boy
back here instead of leaving and playing it safe was a sign of his weakness.

He turned and picked up the clothes off the back of the sofa, bringing them
down to his lap over the towel.�� Leaning
forward he smelled a faint fresh scent.�
It was somewhat woodsy.� The
clothing smelled so good.�

Eventually he stood and dressed in the boxers, socks, jeans and teeshirt.

He couldn�t possibly put on pajamas.� What if he had to run?!��

He left his boots at the side of the sofa.�
He had had to persuade himself with difficulty not to put them on.� But they were muddy and filthy.. he couldn�t soil the sofa with
them.�

The boxers and jeans were slightly too large for him..
they hung a little.�
He wished he had a belt..

He wished he could simply charm them
to the correct size.

Nevertheless the long sleeved tee shirt felt amazing against his skin.� He wrapped his arms around himself, stroking
its plush fabric.��

He stood in the dark for a
moment.� Behind the thick curtains he
could see the telltale lines of yellow on the floor that indicated the sun was
rising in the outside world.�

With yet another agonised thought of immediately putting on his boots and
getting the hell out of this apartment by whatever means necessary, he reached
for the blanket and pillow.

When he lowered himself onto the firm velour surface of the sofa and spread the
blanket over himself he felt at once relieved and fundamentally insecure.�

If he slept here..�
If he allowed himself to remain vulnerable around the
boy in the other room... It was tantamount to complete surrender... He
was placing his survival in the hands of his enemy.�

He sighed, rubbing his fingers over his eyes miserably.�

Then he sat up and reached for his boots.

�Leaving?�

The voice startled him.

Again!��

He half turned and spotted a shadow near the curtain that he hadn�t looked at
twice before.� How did the blasted boy do that?!� Had he been under some kind of notice-me-not
charm?� Did he still have full use of his
magic!?�

Did he realise that Tom did not!?

�..Yes.� he muttered. �I..cannot stay.��

�Why?�

The boy didn�t seem overly perturbed, merely curious.� Tom fumbled for an answer that did not sound
like he was running away.�

�I have.. other things to
do.� It is none of your concern.�

�Well that�s bullshit...� the boy observed snidely.

�Are you afraid of me?!�

He sounded amused.

Tom turned around and scowled at
the shadow, whose face he couldn�t make out.�

Damnable creature. �How dare
he suggest that-..

At that moment Harry stepped forward and the barest hint of the candlelight
caught his face.� Tom was suddenly
painfully reminded of the blindingly lovely creature he�d witnessed dancing on
stage.

Harry wore loose dark trousers and a tight dark teeshirt.� He moved like something silky and powerful �
like a creature entirely in its element.�
Tom found himself holding his breath as he approached.

�The war�s
over, Voldemort.�� Harry sneered down at
him mildly.�

�We lost.� Both of us.� The Ministry won.� The purebloods
won..� If I turn
you in now � I might as well sign myself up for the kiss at the same time.�� They�d deport me if I were discovered here.

...and I�ve lost the appetite for killing � though I�ll defend myself if you find
you really can�t let it go without a last fight..

Leave.. if you want.� I won�t stop you.� The door isn�t warded.� You can keep the clothes.� You look like you need them more than I do.

He looked up into the eyes that
were black in the dim light.� Not green
at all..

�Why..?��

He didn�t manage to finish the question.�
It was too large to complete.� Why
had the boy not run?.. Why had he spoken with him?.. invited him back here.. Why had
he offered these things?.. Why did it seem almost as
if he did not wish him to leave?.. Why did he himself not wish to leave?!.� Why was he trying
to force himself to put his boots on
and walk out the door, right now?!

The silky boy shrugged.

�Because you remind me of someone I used to be.�
Everything is gone and we remain.�
Because you watched me dance.� What does it matter?!� I don�t have the energy to debate it with
you.� It�s been a long night for me and I�m
going to get some rest.� Stay or go, as
you like.� If you�re going, shut the door
after you.�

He turned with catlike grace and walked noiselessly to the back room, letting
himself in and tossing the door back after him.�
It didn�t close.� A couple of
inches remained uncaringly open.� It was
as if Harry did not even require the empty gesture of protection that a closed
door would afford.

Tom realised suddenly that he must have been in the room since he returned from
the bathroom.� The door definitely had
not opened.� He would have spotted that.�

It meant, of course, that Harry had stood and watched him have an embarrassing
moment over thrice damned fresh laundry.�

And of course he had watched him dress..

However the embarrassment of being observed to be near tears over the scent of
washing powder far outweighed the thought of the boy seeing him in his
altogether, even considering how emaciated he had become over the last years.

It burned him to be so pathetic before his enemy.� To have the boy entirely dismiss him as any threat at all...

He reached for his boots.

He paused, his clean fingertips
hovering over the muddy leather.�

For a moment, under the shower, he had felt human
again.�

He listened to the silence from the
bedroom and wondered if the boy was lying there in the dark listening just as
hard to see if he would leave.

�

Author note.

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