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if I had only known you	By : sailorsimon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 23798 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters do not belong to me. I make no money on this fic.

Chapter List
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Chapter 4: It hurts... (Part 1)

However, when the visions stopped and he came to... Harry was laying silent and motionless on the bed... the sheets were covered in his blood... and Tom couldn't even hear his breathing anymore...

He began freaking out and quickly checked the boy's pulse and put a finger under his nose. Then, Tom felt a steady heartbeat and a faint expiration on his digit. The boy had simply passed out. The older guy certainly couldn't blame him for that... but Potter would live... that's what mattered right now. Tom slowly drew his dick out of the bloody hole. His cock was covered in a mix of the vital liquid and his own semen. He was a little disgusted, seeing as blood was definitely not a turn on for him, so he took a hold of the cover and wiped his member clean with the soft fabric. He watched his cum oozing out of Harry's little butchered entrance and the sight of it was just so beyond nasty that he suddenly felt like vomiting.

Never the less, he retained his legendary stoicism. The boy was not dead... that's all he could thing of right now. Tom threw his head back; closed his eyes and let out a long sight of relief. He stood still like that for a couple of minutes. The room seemed so quiet now. No more screams, no more moans. Just the silence. A deafening silence. One that threatened to render him completely insane. He could feel the emotions rising up in his lower stomach and he refused to let them go any further. He refused to feel anything other than anger or hate. And since he found himself incapable of felling either, he resulted to simply feeling nothing... absolutely nothing at all. He kept telling himself:

"Remember why you're here. Remember what you did this for."

Tom's P.O.V.

"That's right. I came here to get my life back... and that's exactly what I intend to do. Why should I even care about this boy? He wanted this. He deserved it. It was his choice. I have no reason to feel guilty."

That's what I tried telling myself but deep down I knew. I knew what I did was horrible. But I could not face it. I simply wasn't courageous enough for that. I was a coward and I knew it but even that, I could not confront. I'd rather just ignore this life in front of me. This life that I had ruined... like so many others before. As I looked at the blood stained sheets, I could only think of one thing: "so this is what I was after". This is what I was looking for all this time. All of this for that. I looked at the other body lying in the room. Little Ginny Weasly: she and I are in the exact same state of living right now. Well, safe for the consciousness which she won't regain until I lift the spell I put on her. But I can't do that until I truly get my life back. She's still my safety card.

But right now, it's like we're both knocking on Death's door right, yet neither of us is trying to pass through that door. Every breath we take is an affront to nature. It is a strange thing to exist like this. Even though I can interact with my surrounding, I know I am not alive. Not really. Not yet, anyway. It feels as though, instead of living, I am simply just surviving. That's it, surviving: like I have this feeling inside of me telling me I'm going to die any minute, yet I know that as long as the magic runs its course, I will not.

That's how I know for sure that the simple fact of me just... being there, right here and now is cheating Death. It's laughing in its face. I have to admit the thought is actually quite appealing to me. I have always been terrified of death. I don't know why, but the prospect of dying has always been the most horrifying one for me. Then again... that's just another lie... obliviously I know why! Because what I am truly scared of is weakness... and to me there is nothing more weak then mortality. The weak die. The great ones live forever... at least that's always how I saw it. And I wanted to be one of the great... and I was... was? No. Nonsense! I am! I am Lord Voldemort! The most feared sorcerer in the whole wizarding world. There has never been anyone greater before me and there never shall be! Look at yourself! Almost weeping over this little insignificant boy who dared to challenge you... pathetic! Get a hold of yourself! You wanted this and now you have it so... just grab it. Grab it, damn it!

Third-Person Narrator

Tom made a quick gesture and Harry's wand appeared in his hand. He then pointed it toward the blood-stained sheets. The end of the stick glowed intensely and a vial appeared out of thin air, draining all of the spilled red fluid within it. The young man then angrily grabbed the floating vial in his right hand, shoved it in his pocket and stormed out of the room. He entered the bathroom and closed the door shut behind him. He then sat on the floor and made a little black cauldron appear, along with a big magic volume and many jars containing various ingredients. One aguamenti later, the cauldron was full of water. Tom then began the ritual for real.

With his free hand he magically heated up the water until it began boiling up and with the wand he made all the different products he had conjured rise up in the air and fall into the cauldron; making the substance in it go from bleak green to deep red to plenty of other shades. And once all of these elements were added to the mixture and carefully brewed by Tom's expert wandless magic, he opened the spell book and began chanting. As the Latin words were uttered, the room was quickly filled by darkness. The potion started swirling around within the metal pot and as Tom red the scriptures, he spoke in a strong and commending voice:

"From memory to body, from limbo to life, from shadows to clarity: let the stolen purity give back life to the one who took it! Let the innocent blood run through thy vein and bring the flesh back to its original state!"

The potion changed to a violet hue and a huge gust of wind entered the room. The wind came from the cauldron itself and blew in all direction. The ground started shaking and Tom knew it was time to add the final ingredient and speak the last words of the ritual. He took the vial containing Harry's blood out of his pocket and shook it firmly before letting it flow into the brew. As soon as the fluid touched the substance within the pot it began to emit an intense red light. Tom looked profoundly into the light; he let the vial disappear along with the wand, extended both of his arms on each sides of his body and spoke vehemently.

"Let the blood of thine victim... be the key... to the resurrection... of his master!"

Both of Tom's palms then came crashing with one another against the ray of light; which made it transform into a deep golden fog. Tom let his arms fall on each of sides; he then took a moment to gather his thoughts and strengths and inhaled all of the smoke, allowing it to feel his entire being. He prepared himself... for he knew what was to come... the pain!

"AHAH!"

His entire body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of his insides felt as though it was receiving the most powerful electric discharges. He fell on his back on the cold floor and started convulsing violently because of the huge and rapid waves of pain running throughout is body. Each passing minute only made the suffering grow deeper and it felt like an eternity. The torture was excruciatingly slowly changing his carcass into an actual body. He felt like he was drowning, yet his entrails felt like they were melting at the same time. Tom could sense thousands upon thousands of tinny needle pricking deeply into the flesh of his back. He had never stopped shouting since it had begun to burn from within and he kept trying to but... no more sounds were coming out of his mouth. He saw himself shaking in all direction but he simply could not control it. His entire self was no longer under his own command: it was at the complete mercy of the powerful magicks at work.

Tom hated not being in control, especially of his own body but right now, his mind was far too concerned about the pain to care the least about his control issues or his inferiority complex. The young man had felt the pain go from the tip of his toes to the top of his chest in a matter of seconds. Now, it was his throat that began hurting. He sensed it breaking as though he was being strangled by a giant. However, just when he tried reaching for his neck, his arms began feeling like they were sliced open and stampeded by and angry mob. Then it was the turn of his head, which he sensed being squeezed by a metal compressor, while at the same time, feeling as though sharp little drills were slowly being screwed into his cranium. It felt like dying. Suddenly his sight went black. That was it. He physically could not take it anymore: his brain had given out. Everything was shot down.

When he came to, Tom had no idea how much time had gone by. Looking outside he saw the sun rising. It was morning now. He estimated it had probably been over four hours, since it was still the middle of the night when they had first arrived in the hotel room. All the suffering he had had to endure was now completely gone. Yet, it was so fresh in his mind that it was a bit hard to get up on his feet: Tom didn't believe he would ever manage to forget what he had gone through then. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't see any bruises or sign of injuries of any sort. He had to come to the conclusion that all he had felt... was indeed just in his head. But it felt so real... Tom just couldn't understand how he was even able to stand up right now: in his mind, he thought he was supposed to be totally mangled, bloody and wounded... but nothing. However, even with the pain gone he still felt... weird somehow. He felt... of course! He felt alive!

He approached the mirror with a great mix of excitement and apprehension. He examined his face carefully; flawless pale skin, magnificent black hair, deathly dark eyes; nothing different. He took a step back. He had nothing but his trousers on, so he took a good look at his bust. His abdominal muscles were still just as deliciously defined without exaggerations as before. His chest was still hairless, his pectoral well cut and his nipple pink and juicy-looking: business as usual. His shoulders were also the same: large and sculpted. Then a thought crossed his mind and he knew he had to make sure... even if he probably had nothing to worry about. So, he undid his trousers and got out of them, throwing them somewhere on the floor. He pushed his underwear down just enough so that he could check his penis: same size, same shape and same gorgeousness: perfect. He then turned around to examine his tush: a million dollar derriere; a nicely plump, round, pale and slightly pink ass anyone would easily be jealous off. Tom smile wickedly; more than satisfied with what he saw in the reflection. He gave one of his buns a little slap then putted his briefs back up. He was beginning to wonder if the spell had actually worked. Then he felt it...

... His heart. His heart had started pumping again and his blood had begun to move within his vein, just like it did once before. When he was still just a memory, the body was the same but it was... like frozen. Unable to work by itself like one's body normally does. It was the magic that kept him alive and though, all the right pieces were there before, they did not work... until now. Before he kept breathing as a habit but now, he was actually feeling the need to breathe again. And god! It felt so dam good! It felt like there was nothing he couldn't achieve anymore. He was alive again and he felt more happiness in that one instant of realization then he had ever had in his life. Even though, one could argue that this guy had actually never truly known happiness before that moment, to begin with.

Then Tom saw something that had escaped his notice earlier... a very thin, very little scar on the side of his cheek. Tom quickly remembered how it got there: Harry. Looking at it closely, the young man realized how insignificantly small it was. It had already begun healing and it would most likely be gone completely in a matter of days, without even leaving a single trace. He could not believe he had lost his temper for such a tiny scratch. But he remembered that it was not the cut in itself that had infuriated him: it was the sight of his own blood. He remembered thinking:

"My blood has not even yet begun to move through my inert body and you already wish to take it away from me... who's the thief now!"

Before the ritual, just like the rest of his body it was like his blood was suspended in time. The magic took care of keeping Tom conscious and "alive", if you can really call "that" being alive. However, if any fluids were forced into the outside world, they would lose the body's magical protection and would start to move again like they usually would. For instance, Tom's magic was able to make him hard and make him cum. Yet, until the very end when he ejaculated, the sperm cells inside of his testicles were completely immobile, just like every other cell past his skin. It was the magic who forcefully had to make the sperm go through each little part of the process of creating the actual semen.

It was also that mystical force who released the semen into Harry's ass. Once it was out, it was like it came back to life in a way. The same phenomenon also explains why the Slytherin was actually able to bleed. When Harry slice open a bit of Tom's skin with his nail, he unwittingly freed some the older guy's static blood from the flesh barrier. The second that those blood cells made contact with the outside, they were automatically released from the magic that bounded them to stay in place. And so, the blood ran down Tom's cheek as it normally would have.

But why use magic to basically freeze one's inside in the first place? Tom looked at the finger with which he wiped away that blood: there was no trace of dry blood on it... there was no trace of any blood at all. And he knew that soon, the cum left his Harry's asshole would disappear as well. That was the deal, Tom remembered. The spell he originally used in order to cease only being a memory allowed him to recreate his former body into the physical world. However, he had to constantly use his powers to keep that body unchanged until he had stolen the life of another to claim it for his own. It was so that the shell would stay the same and be ready to receive a life of its own. The only other option being the blood-of-a-virgin-alternative which, ironically Tom never though he would end up using.

Keeping the body as unmoving as possible was required because any cell that went astray from the magic protection left Tom with a decision to make. First, he could take that part of him and put it back where it belonged; changing it back into its original state first, obliviously. Unfortunately, that took even more magical energy then Tom already had to spend just to keep the whole dam thing from vanishing into thin air, in a matter of seconds. The other option was to let that part be and watch it disappear all together... and therefore, become nothing more than... a memory: literally. Fortunately for Tom, the only parts of him he lost were a bit of his saliva, blood and semen, which all replaced themselves by nature.

Still, Tom remembered how back then he always had to be as still as he could be. Any kind of efforts demanded more magic from him. Every time he did something with his body, he had to magically will it into happening: any type of movement at all. Walking, talking, masturbating licking and sucking at an underage boy's nipple or even just writing your name in fiery letters in the air to reveal your secret identity to your number one enemy: all those things normal people do without thinking and take for granted, he had to do them using every bit of magic he had. He had to use magic constantly: doing anything at all, even just existing demanded it.

That was the reason why he just stood there, back in the chamber of secrets while the Basilisk chased after Harry instead of going after the boy himself. That why he didn't try to kill Fawkes, why he didn't use his magic to infuse the basilisk with more power, why he didn't use the killing curse on Potter when things got out of hands; because he couldn't. Any great magical or physical effort would have made him even weaker. That is also why he was force to bargain with Potter an offer him the deal in the first place: he was not strong enough to both keep himself from disappearing back into nothingness and fight off his enemy. That is also why getting a real life back was so god dam important to him. He wanted to feel for real again, wanted to able to enjoy himself and move freely into the world once more, without having to think about it every single time.

Thankfully for him, strong emotions like profound desire, intense rage or even just plain murder envy actually unleashed and amplified his magical powers. Therefore, it had actually been a lot easier physically for him to torture and rape Harry, then it had been to do anything while they were back at the chamber of secrets. Indeed, when in exaltation of pleasure or hatred, Tom's magic became so powerful that Tom almost lost all feelings of constraint towards movement. In those states of mind, any action felt so easy and natural that Tom nearly forgot his condition and allowed himself to just feel again; without worries, without any kind of thoughts at all even. In those moments, he practically felt alive... but nothing was comparable to "this" feeling: knowing inside and out, wholeheartedly that you are indeed alive. It was just mind-blowing.

And it was also the feeling of knowing that because of that, everything truly his possible... because life means that no matter what... you are still standing... you are still there... it's hope. And for a young man who had had so little of that in his life, that feeling was even more special. He had been given a second chance at life. Something most people who deserve it where denied... and Tom had every intention of making this one count for real. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this inspired and rejuvenated and most of all... hopeful... ever... not once in his life. He actually felt like a different person somehow... in a good way... because he had been given that second chance, although he was the first to admit that nothing he had done could ever have made him deserve it... on the very contrary...

But now everything was different. Now, he knew exactly what he had to do...
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if I had only known you