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Jonquils and Lightning	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 4139 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Four—Clash
“Are you sure that she’s going to be all right?”
“Of course she will. She’s going to deliver the lamb without any trouble. And it’s healthy, as far as I can determine without cutting open her womb to check.”
“Then why was she starving herself?”
“That was her disdain for the grass and the grain that you were feeding her. Let her graze more often in your other pasture, Stephen. I know that you think she was eating too many forbs, but she needs them. She’s just picky.”
Tom stood out of the way and watched quietly as Harry reassured the anxious farmer—Stephen McMaster, apparently—that his pregnant ewe wouldn’t actually starve herself to death. It seemed incredible that he would waste his magic and his time doing this. Tom knew what ambition was. He had it. Dumbledore had it. Plenty of wizards in his world less powerful than Harry had it.
How could someone this strong have stifled every trace of it?
McMaster sighed heavily and wiped one hand across his unfortunate eyes, one of them blue and one brown. “You know I can’t pay you everything I owe you for today, Harry. Can you wait until—”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to pay me for today.”
Tom wanted to shake his head. He only stood and watched as the ewe began to eat something, perhaps the mysterious forbs, and McMaster gaped at Harry. “You’ve done so much for me, I have to do something.”
“And what I would like more than anything, at the moment, is simply for you to let it go.” Harry ran a gentle hand down the ewe’s side. She butted up against him for a second without raising her head from her eating, which Tom found depressingly like the way other people treated Harry. “I don’t do this for the riches and fame. I do this because I like to help people and animals.”
Did he practice the sickly sweetness in front of the mirror?
“Well, if you’re sure…I can’t deny that I could use the money…”
“Of course. And make sure that you let me know when the lamb is born.” Harry smiled at McMaster and stepped away with an easy grace, moving back to the Apparition point through the small village of Bluewater. Tom followed him, eyeing him. Yes, he walked as if he was ready to guard his back any second. That alone would have told Tom he’d been in a war even if nothing else had.
“Had your fill of staring at me?”
Tom rolled his eyes a little and jogged up until he was walking beside Harry. He could feel McMaster staring at his back curiously, but he wasn’t here to explain himself to idiots. “I’ll never be done staring at someone who ignores his talents this way.”
“I don’t see how you can say that. I do have a talent for healing animals, and it’s easy to work on.”
“You have a gift for war. You must have, to survive it. Why can’t you see that you belong in the middle of a war, with someone fighting at your back?”
Harry choked, and then said, “That was the clumsiest seduction attempt I’ve ever seen you make, Riddle. Offering to bring my parents back when I was eleven was more subtle.”
“My name isn’t Riddle.” Tom made his voice quiet. If he was right about Harry, then guilt would prick the other man soon, and cause him to soften his stance towards someone who hadn’t hurt him yet.
Harry breathed out strongly. Then he said, “Focus your seduction attempts on Jonquil. It doesn’t please me, but she’s old enough to make her own decisions and go with you if she wants to.”
“She doesn’t have your power.”
“If you think power is all that’s necessary to winning a war, Riddle, then you aren’t worthy of having her after all.”
Harry started to stride faster. Tom followed him, waiting until they were out of sight from McMaster around a bend in the path to ask, “Do you have any other menial tasks here, or are we going back to Godric’s Hollow?”
Harry turned to stare at him. His eyes were sparking, and Tom marveled again at their color. “Those menial tasks are my livelihood.”
“They don’t have to be. That’s what you chose, but it’s not as though you’re condemned to that because you don’t have the magical gifts to do something else.”
Harry laughed soundlessly without looking away from him. “If you had any idea what my life has been like, Gaunt, then you would understand why my own choice matters so much to me.”
“Then talk about your choices. Talk about your life. Tell me.”
“You would use it as a weakness that you would exploit to destroy me. I was a naïve child when you offered to bring my parents back, but I’m a lot stronger than that now. Focus your attention on Jonquil. She’s the one who’s the perfect age for what you’re offering.”
“You don’t seem that much older than me. What’s your age?”
“Twenty-four.”
Harry’s voice was taut in the way that Tom knew meant he wanted to end the conversation. But it meant something that he’d answered at all. Tom continued in the same calm, unwavering tone. “Still young enough to change your mind and not settle down forever with your first choice.”
“You make it sound as though you want me to marry you or something.”
Tom smiled and said nothing. He wanted Harry to be the one to initiate the next part of the conversation. And Harry did, before they’d made it back to the Apparition point and Tom had just tilted his head to study the cloudy skies.
“What do you want?”
“Someone to stand beside me while I fight for the power I should have in my own world,” Tom said. He’d thought Harry understood that before now, but perhaps he hadn’t been explicit enough. “Someone who won’t pat me on the head and tell me that the world is perfect because Muggleborns have a few rights and half-bloods aren’t openly discriminated against in Slytherin.”
“Wait. You’d fight for Muggleborns?”
“I’d fight for change. The Muggleborns are an important part of supporting it, though, yes. They have the most to gain if the world changes from the one Dumbledore made in his image.”
Harry stared at him. Tom looked calmly back. He didn’t try to use Legilimency. He didn’t want to infuriate Harry. Intrigue him, make him curious. It was the way he’d won more followers than any other.
“But you—you’ve always been a pure-blood supremacist. And you came in search of a pure-blood Potter. That means you must want someone without any Muggle blood to stand beside you in your conquest of the world.”
Tom sighed. “Listen to me, Harry. I came in search of a Potter. I assumed pure blood was likelier than otherwise, yes, since Potters do tend to marry more among their own kind. But I could never be a blood purist and get away with it. My mother raised me. The tale of her seducing a Muggle is well-known. I have earned respect in spite of her mistakes, not because they were hidden. There are pure-bloods who respect my Parseltongue ability and my magic and will follow me because they despise Dumbledore as well. At least they think they can have more from a half-blood Lord who agrees with them than from the status quo.”
Harry stared at him with wide eyes, in silence. Then he simply turned away and began walking towards the Apparition point again.
“That matters to you,” Tom said, jogging to catch up with him. “It has to matter to you. I know it does.”
“It—it’s different than the Voldemort in my world.”
“I can’t believe another version of myself assumed such a ridiculous name.”
“He hated his Muggle one.”
Tom shrugged. “He grew up without Mother, then. She’s the one who told me to take pride in my power, not my blood, and she gave me the name. I’m not going to reject it when she was the one who chose it.”
Harry remained silent until they had Apparated back to Godric’s Hollow. Then he said, “You’re not as horrible as I thought you were, and that’s something I’ll remember, Gaunt. But I’m not going to join you in your quest to take over your world.”
“What if you—”
Tom halted. He had reached out and brushed his hand against Harry’s arm without thought, because touch was a way that he knew he could use to persuade people in his own world to his side. He hadn’t thought this spark would leap between them, burning so fiercely that he felt as if he was about to go up in flames. He stared at his hand and then at Harry’s arm.
The burn changed to pleasure.
Tom gasped and seized hold of Harry’s arm again. This time, he saw the flood of magic that soared towards him, winding in white spirals through the air, latching around his wrist. Tom swayed on his feet, shutting his eyes. His mind buzzed and burned. He could have cast a spell at that moment and filled it with enough power to consume Dumbledore.
He had never felt this good.
Harry tore his arm roughly away. Tom opened his eyes, ready to protest, and Harry’s magic bounced him to the ground and bound his arms behind his back. Tom shifted. He could feel the shaft of his wand under his elbow, but there was no way he was going to be able to touch it.
“What the fuck was that?” Harry loomed over him, his face so pale that it would have glowed in the dark.
“I don’t know. But let me go so I can touch you again and we can find out.” Tom spoke calmly and clearly, his gaze on Harry. He refused to flinch or look away from the other man even as his arms started hurting in their bound position. At the moment, the main thing he wanted to do was get his hands on bare skin again. Harry would find it hard to argue with the pleasure that Tom could see reflected in dying sparks in the backs of his eyes.
“No. You did something, Gaunt.” Harry shook his head, face stripped bare for a second. Rage and hatred and fear lashed into the ground, and Tom looked down to see small black scorch marks appear there, the sign of Harry’s power. “I want you to tell me what it fucking is.”
“I promise, I wasn’t the cause of that. I think the two of us together were.”
Harry snarled at him and moved in. Tom waited only until Harry was a breath away from him, and then he tilted his head down and pressed his brow against Harry’s wrist where his robes had slid back to show his skin.
The same pleasure rose through him. Tom shut his eyes. He never wanted it to end.
*
He did something to me!
Harry felt as though he was drowning in urine, it was that disgusting. He had felt sorry for Gaunt, had comes close to deciding that he wasn’t really the same as Voldemort after all, and it had all been a trick. Harry was an idiot. He wanted to kick Gaunt in the head and force him to say what he had done, what spell he had cast—
Then Gaunt’s skin touched his again.
Harry felt as though lightning had frozen all the muscles in his body. He trembled with the pleasure that gnawed at the boundaries of his self-control. No one had ever caused a reaction like this just by touching him. He’d had sex that wasn’t this good.
Harry twisted away, and the sensations became less mind-blocking as their contact ceased. Harry wrapped his hands around his brow and breathed out harshly. His body trembled, then calmed. He was—he was going to make sure that—
“You are glorious.”
Gaunt’s voice was husky. That was Harry’s only consolation, that the idiot appeared to be affected by the spell he’d cast as much as Harry was.
“This is also a clumsy seduction attempt,” Harry said, but his voice creaked and he bit his lip in fury at himself. He turned and stared at Gaunt. Gaunt only stared back, his eyes frank. He looked as if he would have liked to cut his bonds and get to his feet, then come over and touch Harry again.
“Lift the spell you cast.”
“I didn’t cast it. I don’t know what caused it. But I can guess.”
Harry bared his teeth while his magic made small whirlwinds in the grass surrounding them. “What?”
“The Oracle told me there was a sign that would identify the Potter who could help my cause to me. It never explained what that sign was. But I think…” Gaunt’s eyes grew heavy-lidded. “This is as unmistakable a one as I could want.”
Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Harry mocked himself viciously, silently. Chosen to help a monster, no matter what. To be his Horcrux or help him take over the world. It’s never chosen for a good thing, oh no.
“I’m not going to help you take over the world. You are a monster.”
“I think we’ve established that I’m considerably saner than the Voldemort in your world, if only because I had my mother.” Gaunt was licking his lips and studying him with hunger that Harry would have thought he’d be smarter than to express. “You are—magnificent is the best word I can find. I would want you even without the magic tying us together.”
“I don’t want you.”
“Give me a chance to convince you.”
“No.”
Harry’s magic this time formed a huge, invisible hand, and slapped Gaunt across the face. Gaunt turned his head with the blow, accepting it. The way he moved told Harry he must have dealt with something like this many times before.
And horror settled into Harry’s stomach, replacing the rage.
God, how do I know he wasn’t abused, just because he had his mother and wasn’t in an orphanage? Maybe the older Slytherins hurt him for being a half-blood. Maybe his uncle and his grandfather hurt him. And here I am, abusing him like all the rest.
Harry averted his eyes from Gaunt. The ropes, made of his will and his power, fell away at the same instant. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was—not right of me.” He veered towards Calliope’s house. At the moment, he actually needed someone to scorn him and make him feel small. It would agree with the accusations he was chanting at himself for ever striking a helpless man like that.
Gaunt came up fast behind him, and then in front of him. Harry’s magic coiled before he could stop it. He managed to stop the coiling with a choke. He didn’t want to hurt Gaunt again. He could hardly believe he’d hurt him like that once before.
Since coming to his second world, his life had been focused on the pursuit of peace. He assisted in births, he healed the helpless, he painlessly put some animals to death when they were injured or sick past the point of recovery. For him to hurt someone he’d rendered helpless ground in his head like a broken tooth.
“You want to make it up to me?”
Harry sighed and met Gaunt’s eyes. “Yes.”
Gaunt reached out and gripped his hand. Harry winced, his eyes opening wide as pleasure flooded him again. He didn’t take his hand from Gaunt’s, though. If this was part of his penance, then he’d pay the price.
“Duel with me.”
Harry blinked. “What will that prove?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his magic back, no matter how guilty he felt, if someone hurled an offensive spell at him. It was hard enough holding back when he trained Jonquil, and he knew she didn’t mean him any harm.
“How powerful we are and how compatible our magic is, I suspect. That’s what I want if you’re going to make this up to me.”
Harry nodded slowly. “If you use Dark Arts, though, I’ll curse you back. Those are instincts I can’t control anymore.” He hated being reminded of his wartime self, but it seemed he would have no choice.
Gaunt smiled at him and pulled his hand back, fingers trailing across Harry’s palm. Harry gasped in spite of himself. He was learning to ignore the pleasure of Gaunt’s touch as he could ignore pain, but that sent individual streaks of strong sensation whirling up his arm to touch him in the center of his chest.
“That’s what I want to see. What you’re like when you’re uncontrolled.”
Harry closed his eyes and stood there, silently breathing, until Gaunt turned and walked casually down the road. Searching for a meadow or a field where their dueling wouldn’t be noticed, Harry suspected.
Harry opened his eyes at last and followed.
He would apologize for what he’d done. He would be as polite to Gaunt as he could. But he would still encourage him to choose Jonquil if he had to choose anyone.
Harry was finished being a weapon in anyone’s war.
*
LadyEdgecombe: Thank you! In truth, Tom needs a powerful wizard. He believes the Oracle that the powerful one will be a Potter. That's what he's specifically looking for.
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Jonquils and Lightning