Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Savior Unwound	By : Camorgan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 22012 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affliated. I am not making profit from this work.

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Savior Unwound

Pairing: Harry Potter and Tom Riddle Jr.

Rating: Adult+

Dark! Harry

Warnings: Slash, sexual content, language, violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters, plots or otherwise associated with it.

A/N: I haven't entirely decided how long this fic will be, so I'm kind of winging it. The plot of this story is quite different from the books, and it will be revealed along the way, so please bear with me. There will be a good deal of flashbacks, and I'm not going to write "flashback", so pay attention. I've never written Tom Riddle before, or Dark Harry, so hopefully my characterization will be on par with my other work. Harry is 16 at the beginning of this story, Tom is 43, but appears to be around 20.

"Speech."

-Parseltongue.-

In the hushed silence of the night, two men dreamed. The dreams were different, but strangely woven together.

Harry was walking down the corridor of the Manor, his fingers whispering along the cool wall. He was bare of clothing, and he was looking for something, but he had no idea what it was.

Tom watched a dark-haired boy in a mirror, his lithe body squirming and reaching for him, his name on his lips like a prayer.

The wallpaper in the corridor peeled away at Harry's touch, and under it Tom's name was written in blood.

The mirror shattered, the glass piercing Tom's face. Blood trickled down his face and mixed with tears Tom didn't feel. In the shards at his feet, he could see Harry's face.

Harry awoke with a start, panting heavily as flashes of his dream rushed through his head. He held his head in his hands and focused on breathing. He could see Tom's name in blood as if it was burned into his mind. He rubbed his eyes and picked up his wand.

"Lumos." He slid of out bed and walked across his bedroom. It hadn't changed all that much since he had started living here. It was large and cool, the floor uncarpeted, but laid with stone like the garden. He loved the way the stones felt against the bottoms of his feet. When he was younger he would trace the stones as he read, or simply day-dreamed. His walls were a light gray, his bed dressed in emerald and silver. He reached his door and opened the almost black wood door. The silver knob was cold in his hand and he shivered.

The Dark Lord's door stood directly in front of him. Harry paused, unsure if he would be welcome in Tom's room. He had never sent him away before, but after what had happened, he wasn't so sure anymore. He took a deep breath and walked to the door, knocking politely.

Tom's eyes snapped open as he woke. He almost expected to see shards of mirror laying at the side of his bed, but of course, there wasn't any such thing. He stared at the floor from his position on his side, his mind running over the dream like water. Harry even haunted him in his dreams. His lips tingled with the memory from earlier that day. He had been so close, centimeters, from Harry's sweet lips. He had wanted to claim them. He had wanted to plunder Harry's mouth and devour his body, but...

There was a knock at the door. Harry. It could be no one else. No one else would dare come near his door. Harry's and his room were the only rooms occupied on this half of the manor. It was protected by so many spells it would make Dumbledore's head spin.

He got up from bed gracefully, pulling the door open to look down at the face of Harry Potter. He was half naked, wearing only a pair of green cotton pants. His eyes roved over his body, and then back up to his eyes.

"I...had a bad dream." Harry said, his mouth slightly dry. Tom was dressed like him, only in cotton pants, only his were black, and they hung dangerously low on his hips. He couldn't help but look, and his fingers twitched with the desire to touch him. Tom's face was unguarded, lacking it's coldness. He was beautiful.

"Come inside, Harry." Tom said, stepping back to let the thin boy slip by into the dark room. Tom's room was even larger than Harry's, split into an office-type area, a small private library, a place for potion making, his bedroom area, and an area with a fire place. A large bathroom was connected. It was dark, the only light shining through sheer black curtains that covered a floor to ceiling window. The window seat at that window was one of Harry's favorite places to be, and held some of his dearest memories.

Tom's bed was huge, larger than a California King. It was dressed in black, like everything in Tom's room really, save some dark reds. It was placed on a dais, the covers pushed back from when Tom had gotten up from bed.

Tom turned to Harry, placing large hands on either side of his face. Harry looked up at him, feeling both comforted and nervous from his touch.

-What was your dream about, dear one?- Tom asked softly. Harry shivered, both from the Parseltongue, which, no matter how much Tom and he spoke in, still did wicked things to him, and because of the endearment. Tom used them sometimes, but mostly only when he was comforting Harry, or when he was being particularly...close to him.

He never had, or probably ever would, understand the relationship they had. Most would describe it as disturbingly intimate. It was intense, and it was complicated. They were not friends, nor lovers. It was far too intimate to be that of a father and son relationship. It was as if they could barely stand to be apart. Like they were two halves of the same person...

-It was about you. I was walking down the hall, and the wallpaper peeled away and your name was written in blood on the wall.- Tom hummed softly, his thumbs moving over Harry's cheeks gently. As usual, Harry's eyes slid shut under his touch, sighing softly.

-I dreamt of you too. I looked into a mirror and I saw you, but the mirror broke and cut my face, and I saw your face in the shards at my feet.-

-You saw me? What was I doing?-

-Unspeakable things, Harry. Beautiful, unspeakable things.- Harry's face flushed freely, his hands rising to cover Tom's on his face.

-My Lord...-

-It is Tom, for you.- Harry swallowed thickly, looking up at scarlet eyes through his eyelashes shyly.

-Why won't you kiss me?- He asked so softly, he wondered if Tom would hear it. He almost hoped he wouldn't, but Tom heard, and his fingers tightened around his face briefly. Then they were tilting his head up. Harry's heart stopped, his eyes hesitating before snapping up and locking on Tom's. He came close to his face again, and Harry thought maybe this time, he would kiss him.

-I am afraid you will unhinge my soul.- He replied, stepping back and taking Harry's hand. He led him to the bed and pulled him down, wrapping him possessively in his arms.

-Sleep, beautiful Harry- He whispered, his hand smoothing down Harry's dark hair.

-Tom...- He murmured, already half lulled to sleep by the comfort of Tom's arms, the steady heart beat against his back, and his scent, so sweet...he fell asleep before he could say what he had wanted so badly to say. I love you.

-I know, Harry...I know.-

The man known as The Dark Lord looked down at the infant in his arms. He could have given the child to a death eater, but he took him himself. This was the baby who was supposed to destroy him someday, his equal. His big emerald eyes gazed up at him serenely. He didn't even cry, even in the wake of his parent's murders. Tom ran a finger over the boy's forehead and around his baby soft cheek. He would raise this child, and he would make him more powerful than Dumbledore could ever imagine.

Harry woke slowly. He was deliciously warm, thin rays of light setting the insides of his eye-lids aglow. He tried to turn over and found he couldn't. He opened his eyes and met ivory skin and thin trail of dark hair. He inhaled sharply, peering up into the sleeping face of Tom Riddle. He smiled softly. He looked so peaceful when he slept.

It was wonderful, being held so closely to Tom. He had slept in Tom's bed before, had even fallen asleep in his arms before, but he either woke on the other side of the bed, or Tom was gone by the time he woke up.

He wrapped his arms around him and inhaled his scent. He moaned softly, basking in the warmth and the feeling of being held by Tom. However much he loved it though, it caused the ache in his heart to increase. He was close to Tom now, but he could never be as close as he wanted to be. He remembered what Tom had said to him last night...

-I am afraid you will unhinge my soul.-

What did he mean? Unhinge his soul...he looked up as Tom shifted, his eyes opening slowly. The color of Tom's eyes had always entranced him. Such a beautiful scarlet red. They gazed at each other for a suspended moment, and then Tom's hand moved across Harry's bare back, little whispering touches that made Harry want to simply melt into Tom and never move. His fingers brushed through his unruly hair, across his cheek and stopped at his lips. Harry's lips parted of their own accord, longing for the press of Tom's.

-It would be so easy...unbearably easy...- He hissed softly. Harry wasn't sure what he meant, exactly, but slowly, softly, he kissed the fingertips on his mouth. They slipped between his lips slightly, warm and delicately smooth. His eyes dropped briefly, and then they snapped back to Tom's.

His expression was infuriatingly, frighteningly unreadable. He looked a little shocked, a little aroused, and a little...scared.

-You are going to be the death of me...- He said, though he didn't look exactly angry. Just, wary. While he had been so open, so intimate before, his expression closed off like a slammed door. He removed his fingers and rolled away from Harry, moving across the large room to throw open his wardrobe. It was a clear dismissal. Harry swallowed, distinctly feeling that he had ruined something. He got out of bed and padded as softly as he could to the door.

"Harry." He stopped and looked back. Tom was staring straight into his wardrobe, as if he couldn't look at him. There was a painful pang in Harry's chest at that.

"Yes, my Lord?" He couldn't help it, the title simply slipped out.

-Tom- He gently reminded, easing Harry's worry a little. If he had been truly upset with him, he wouldn't have corrected him at all.

"Tom." Harry amended, hovering near the door.

"There is a raid tonight. I want you to come with me." Harry blinked in surprise. He wanted him to come with him? Even when Dumbledore was becoming suspicious? He would be wearing a mask, naturally, but nonetheless.

"I care not about Dumbledore. Your training is important and I will not put it on hold simply because he fancies "saving" you from me." Tom replied, as if he had read Harry's mind. Harry nodded, twisting the door knob.

"Oh, and Harry?" He stopped again.

"I'm not upset with you." Harry smiled toward the door, his heart fluttering strangely. He left.

Tom's hand closed over a thirteen year old Harry's with a gentle firmness. His chest was as hard as iron against his back, muscles rippling under a deceivingly thin torso. He pressed right up against him, his mouth near his ear, murmuring instructions. He guided Harry's wand arm up to chest level.

"Keep your arm elevated and straight, but don't lock your elbow, keep your whole body relaxed, but always poised to attack. Tense, ready, but look as if you could be taking a stroll. It throws your opponents off, makes them self-conscious because you seem calm, confident. Fighting is not all spells and footwork, it's mental. Run mental circles around them, and then when they are completely unhinged...strike."

His other hand was on Harry's shoulder, a strong thumb rubbing circles into his back. Harry slowly relaxed, though with the heat of Tom behind him, it was exceedingly difficult. He was eager to please him, though, and so he loosened himself up, focusing on the spell he was trying to master, poising his wand.

"And now, aim..." Tom bent his wrist, so the wand pointed directly at the target.

"Conjure the desire, the will to cast..." Harry concentrated. He wanted to cast this spell, he wanted to please Tom...

"And execute." Tom's hand moved away, and took a step back. Harry's wand went flying, swirling and jabbing the air with a determined precision.

"Adustum!" He snapped out the incantation, steadying himself as a fiery basilisk roared from his wand. He willed it forward, watched as it incinerated the dummy in the blink of an eye.

"Consto Ignis" The basilisk went out as if doused in water. Harry let out a heavy breath, lowering his wand. A hand rested in his hair and he turned, his chest swelling with joy as he saw the look of utter pride on Tom's face.

"Congratulations Harry, you are officially the only thirteen year old to ever cast Fiendfyre successfully." He told him. Harry couldn't help but smile a little bit, letting Tom's approval fill him with a warmth like no other.

Harry cast a mild sticking charm on his mask, settling it over his face as Death Eaters on each side of him did the same. His mask was a dull silver color, conformed to his face closely. It was delicately shaped, high cheekbones and thin, curving slits for his eyes. The nose was long and pointed, thin. The mouth was thin as well, curving upward into a disturbing smile. The silver patterns twisted around his eyes and across his cheeks, snakes. When he turned his head, if the lighting was right, they flashed an emerald green. His was the only mask with color, and the only one with patterns that displayed snakes other than Tom. It was a status symbol, and protection, more than Death Eater regalia.

Harry wasn't a Death Eater anyway, he didn't have the mark on his arm. He was bound to Tom in a way deeper and stronger than any Death Eater could ever be.

Tom walked silently to his side, wearing a mask almost identical to his own. It was a blacker metal, and his patterns flashed scarlet. They both wore completely black clothing, close fitting pants, black button-up shirts, dragon-hide boots. No robes because they got in the way. Harry stowed his wand in a wrist holster, ready to flick out at a moment's notice.

"Attention." Tom said, not even raising his voice. Every single Death Eater in the room went silent, turning to face The Dark Lord. He looked across the lot of them, a swarm of metal masks and black clothing.

"Keep in mind the goal. Protect Harry Potter with your life, and kill when you need to." He said, nodding. They began disapparating in groups. Harry and Tom waited until they had all gone, and then Tom laid a hand on his shoulder and they were twisting and flying through space.

The house of Amelia Bones was still when the Death Eaters arrived. They silently surrounded the house, waiting for The Dark Lord to arrive. Harry and Tom appeared before the front of the house, stepping apart according to plan. Harry pointed his wand into the air, hissing a spell.

"Morsmordre!" Immediately after, spells began to fly from the wands of every Death Eater. The windows shattered, cracking like muggle gunshot. Harry and Tom moved forward, the door snapping open violently and hitting the wall, knocking a picture of Amelia Bones, and a girl with a braid down her back, to the floor with a bang. Tom and Harry cast spells as they walked through the house, more for the noise and shock factor than anything else.

As they reached the stairs, a woman in a robe appeared, a wand held confidently in her hand. She seemed to be shaking, but her eyes were fiercely focused and her hand steady as she pointed it toward them.

"My dear Amelia, do you really think that is wise?" Tom drawled, politely, as if he weren't about to kill her.

"Susan!" She screamed, never taking her eyes off of them. "Go to the fireplace, call Dumbledore! Now!" They could hear footsteps, running, and Tom shook his head mournfully, tutting.

"That was a very grave mistake, Madam." He said calmly, before his wand whipped out and a spell went flying. They began to duel, Amelia surprisingly putting up quite a fight. Tom jerked his head toward the room where the girl, Susan, must be. Harry disapparated, appearing at the top of the stairs. He ducked quickly to the side, missing a streak of gold. He ran to the rooms off to the side, catching glimpses of fire from the yard. Stupid Death Eaters.

He barged into a room, seeing a girl frantically yelling through the fireplace.

"-Voldemort! Hurry!"

"Fuck!" Harry cursed, running forward and grabbing her by the back of the hair, dragging her from the fireplace and throwing her down on the ground and pinning her down by the neck.

"What did you do, you stupid girl?" He growled.

"I called Dumbledore! Now you'll be sorry!" She yelled, squirming in his grasp. Her words were confident, but tears shined at the corners of her fearful eyes. He growled in frustration, getting to his feet and leaving the room hastily, not even looking back at the girl.

"We've got company!" He yelled, jumping over the banister and landing in the front hall again. He was surprised to see Amelia was still fighting, she looked ragged, and he would win soon, but it might be too late. He flew out the door, sending vicious spells at the ground in front of the Death Eaters.

"Hey! Stop fooling around, the old coot's on his way!" As if on cue, loud cracking noises resounded. Aurors were suddenly on them, throwing wimpy light spells that were more annoying than anything. And right there in the middle was Dumbledore. A flaring hatred blossomed in his chest and before he knew it they were shooting spells at each other.

He was good, Harry could barely get a spell in edgewise, but he was not going to let this old man leave alive.

"Come now, you seem young, you can turn back..." Dumbledore said, in that infuriatingly calm, patronizing voice.

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit, old man." Harry growled.

"Sectumsempra!" It struck true, but not where Harry had intended. It lashed along his shoulder, sending him stumbling backward.

"I don't want to do this." Dumbledore warned, as if that would stop him.

"Yeah, well I do!" His wand slashed the air furiously, but Dumbledore was blocking him now, moving back. Harry was slowing him though, he was losing energy, and he would soon have him, if he could just...

Something ran directly into him, knocking him backwards and onto the ground, jarring his head painfully. He hissed, shooting an almost careless killing curse at the Auror, watching as he fell to the ground. He pushed himself up, and watched as his mask fell to the ground, loosened by his impact. Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"Harry..." He said softly, and then he yelled it. "Harry! Harry Potter!" Someone grabbed him, before he could even react. He looked around, what the hell? Where were the Death Eaters? The last things he saw before it all went black was Bellatrix waving giddily, and Tom storming from the house with a vengeance. And then he was gone.

Note: I've had a lot of complaints about the flashbacks being confusing, and that I should label them, or put them in italics. I mentioned at the very beginning of this story that I was not going to do that. So, is everyone confused by them, or should I leave them the way they are? I am really hesitant to mark them, because it completely goes against the style I am aiming for. Feedback, please.
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Savior Unwound