That which we make for ourselves | By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 38077 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe |
A/N – alternate universe. Horcruxes-yes. Deathly hallows-no.
Speaking.
‘thinking’
::parseltongue::
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He blinked. “what?”,
trying to convince himself that he’d misheard.
He was having a moment of
madness. He could not really have heard the headmaster say he
was going to have to allow Voldemort
to kill him or the wizarding world would be lost.
“Oh Harry...I am so very sorry, my
boy, truly – if there were any other way...”
Dumbledore’s portrait said with a sorrowful expression.
Seated at the headmaster’s desk beneath the portrait, Headmistress McGonagall
pursed her lips with a dark expression but said nothing.
Harry gaped.
He wanted to leap up and rant.
He wanted to leap up and run out of the room, run far away from the man he’d
trusted to get them all through the war.
He wanted to leap up and do anything at all, smash things, stamp his feet,
scream – but he found he just didn’t have the strength to do it right now.
Instead he sat numbly, slack
jawed, his eyes slightly unfocused, unable to comprehend that after he’d done
everything asked of him, after all the deaths..Sirius..Remus..
Fuck after Hermione..
goddamn it. After
all he’d given – they wanted his life too.
And they had from the start.
It had always been the plan to use him like this – never telling him what was
coming next, never telling him why he had to do anything..never
telling him what he was.
He’d spent the last six years of his life fighting against a monster that gave
him almost nightly nightmares and nobody would ever tell him why. They made up rubbish over and over again to
feed to him about why the snakefaced bastard had an
open line into his head, they told him he would find out whatever he wished to
know when he was ready – he shouldn’t question, -
and he
had swallowed it. He’d been so desperate
to save the few good things in his world that he’d have done anything.
And so he’d gone off on the run to
find Voldemort’s horcruxes without question.
He’d left without even saying
goodbye to his friends because he knew that Ron would make a fuss and Hermione
would never let him go without her...and he didn’t want her with him in case he
failed – in case they were captured and something happened to her.
He didn’t want her(..or Ron, he supposed.. but mostly her)
– in danger. It had taken a long time
for him to realise exactly how he felt about her – she was his best friend,
even if the world might think him closer to Ron..even
if the world might think her closer
to Ron – Hermione understood
him.
She was never petty or spiteful; always believed him, no matter how strange
what he said might have sounded..she was always
worried for him.
And.. and she was beautiful..and
clever and brave and ...it was impossible to work out just when he’d gone from
laughing and tickling and drinking cocoa in front of the fire with her and Ron
to imagining how it might be to kiss her and run his fingers through her hair..trail them over her slender neck.. how
it might be if she looked up at him with heat in her wide amber eyes.
He’d never told her how he felt
and she’d never seemed to notice the way he looked at her.
He had decided that if he survived the horcrux hunt he’d come back and
apologise for leaving her behind..beg her for her
forgiveness (since he’d known she would be furious) and tell her how much he loved her.
But instead he had come back a
month ago to discover that the order had apparently failed to prevent a death
eater raid upon her parents house while she was
visiting them and she was dead.
He hadn’t known. According to McGonagall, the headmaster had
instructed that the news of Hermione’s death be kept quiet. He’d prevented it even being reported in the
papers – because he didn’t want Harry to somehow, by chance, hear of it and
abandon his mission purely in order to mourn his best friend.
In recollection, Harry had felt a
rush of joy and triumph from voldemort a few months back and had known something horrible had happened to
something he was fighting to protect
– His friends, the order, the ministry, the wizarding world – Voldemort had
clearly done something that Harry would hate when he learned of it.
The last month between that
meeting with McGonagall and the current one, he’d spent mostly staring at walls
and trying to understand that she wasn’t going to walk into his room and scold
him like she always did with that doting little smile because he hadn’t been
training or hadn’t eaten much at dinner or had been short with someone.
She wasn’t going to laugh or hug him or tell him with great big animated eyes
about the newest theory or spell she’d just gleaned from some doubtlessly dusty
old tome that he had no intention of ever reading.
She wasn’t going to do anything. Ever again.
There wasn’t even a body – they’d torched the house.
He’d been hopeful when he heard
that until professor McGonagall had produced a pensieve
memory provided by professor Snape.
The fucking bastard had been there.
He’d been in the bloody ROOM when Hermione was killed and he’d done NOTHING.
If Harry had wanted to kill the
vicious old - there wasn’t a word bad enough – then that desire was increased a
thousand-fold now. One day he would end
him!
The memory, when he’d watched it had
showed Voldemort himself casting the
Avada Kedavra upon Hermione’s parents and then the girl herself.
She didn’t even cry at their deaths – just stood there beautiful and strong and
perfect, waiting for it and told him “you will
be defeated.”
When the green flash struck her
she slumped bonelessly to the floor like a puppet with the strings cut.
Harry had watched it over and over for the first few days, trying to find
anything about it that might suggest it was a fake.. he knew it wasn’t but he had to hope.
Was there anything.. any
little thing that was off about it? He
couldn’t find anything.
In the pensieve
Hermione had lay, half on her side, her soft amber eyes wide and empty and
voldemort had stepped forward and inspected her as if she were some kind of
hunting trophy.
“Such a pity about her blood status..” he’d said
thoughtfully. “You say she was quite a
capable witch?”
The potions master had walked closer
and looked down with his head slightly tilted. “Incredibly annoying, My Lord,
but yes.. an exceedingly
bright girl. Her marks were the highest
Hogwarts has seen since your own... she was..an
acceptable potions student too.
Had she not been attached at the hip to the boy wonder and his moronic sidekick
she might have achieved far more.”
“Truly?!” the memory Voldemort
raised hairless eyebrows “That is
somewhat more than ‘bright’ – as she was described to me by Malfoy’s
son. Perhaps I was hasty in my decision
to eliminate her - Do you think she might have been turned?”
The response was immediate and
decisive.
“I very much doubt it my Lord. Not for
any ideological reason particularly – the girl broke more rules than most
students and was never caught doing
so, I suspect she’d have taken to dark
magic well – but she was undyingly loyal to Potter.
She trailed after him and applied her abilities to any goal he desired. She would never have been
anything other than hostile and resistant as long as one of your objectives
remained the death of the wizarding world’s saviour.”
Harry was always left with an
incongruently warm ache inside his chest when the memory ended there.
The way they had described her.
He loved her more than ever and she was gone.
He wanted to kill voldemort. Letting the prick kill him was like the final injustice in his life.
“You are his last Horcrux, Harry”
Dumbledore’s portrait reminded him sadly.
“While you live, he cannot be killed”
Harry bristled. “I know. You’ve already told me. I’m not stupid, headmaster”
he flinched and coloured slightly, looking sheepishly at headmistress McGonagall
who had raised a thin eyebrow at him. “Sorry, headmistress.” He muttered. He got to his feet.
“Fine. I’ll do it.
Whenever it happens – you don’t need to worry. I’ll throw whatever’s left of myself away so that you can kill him. You just better not fail.”
It took less time than he could
possibly have imagined. He had thought
he might have another few months at least.
He’d tried to spend as much time
as he could resigning himself to his fate, saying goodbye to the place that had
held his happiest memories, trying to find the ghosts of Hermione in the
halls.
Ron and he didn’t talk
anymore. There just didn’t seem to be
anything else to say.
Mrs Weasley had forbidden her children from fighting in the final battle,
whenever it might come and the two had not protested overly much.
Ginny still tried, half-heartedly,
to lure him into sleeping with her even after he’d made it absolutely clear to
her that he wasn’t interested– he presumed she actually intended to get herself
pregnant if she could possibly manage it.
Securing Harry potters heir would keep her family in galleons for the rest of
their lives.
He was...almost.. tempted
to give her what she wanted. It wasn’t as if he could take the money with him.. but he just couldn’t bring
himself to do it.
He’d been left with a bitter taste when it came to Ron and Ginny and the
thought of his son never knowing him and growing up in the burrow, exploited by
its mother and uncle for fame and money.. no.
He’d left the family a sizeable sum in his will and that would do. Ginny would not be carrying his child, no
matter how persistent she was.
He had found love potions in his food on three separate occasions. He hadn’t
bothered to have an argument about it, he’d simply
vanished the plate and taken another.
Perhaps she might have gotten
cleverer about it in time but she never had
the time since after only three weeks events had quite suddenly come to a
head.
And now he was standing at the
edge of the forbidden forest while battle raged behind him.
He had seen Voldemort turn and
walk into the forest only a couple of minutes earlier and made his way down
here.
Nobody had even tried to curse
him. It was surreal.
He’d walked through the flashing lights and yells, flicking off hexes here and
there where he could as he hurried toward the last place he’d seen his
nemesis.
Beyond the treeline
it was dark and still. No voldemort in
sight.
Hesitantly he walked into the
darkness within, following the vague path before him and trying not to think
about Aragog’s children. They would be far far
deeper into the forest. He winced at
the loud cracking and rustling of his own movements within the dark
forest.
The battle noise seemed to fade away quickly leaving an ominous silence. Something snapped over to his left and he
spun, his wand out, peering through the dimness.
He couldn’t see any source of the sound.
Large dark trees and scrub.. not
a bird tweeted in these forests.. roots grew knarled and monstrous over the forest floor.
::Harry::
the faint hiss was carried on the slight wind.
It was clammy and cold, foetid like the last breath of a corpse. He shuddered, feeling his scar begin to throb
achingly and forced himself to move toward the sound, into the breeze.
::I’m
waiting for you, Harry:: Voldemort’s
voice carried from closer now..
Harry suppressed the urge to clamp
his hand over his forehead, knowing the pressure wouldn’t alleviate the pain,
and tried to move faster without making more noise, failing abysmally. Each step was a crunch and a crack announcing
his approach.
Then he was there.
He moved past two trees and almost fell into the clearing.
The area was
perfectly round and lower than the surface of the rest of the
forest. Where the ground before had been
covered in black musty leaf mold and packed earth,
here it was inexplicably covered in snow.
Moonlight bathed the open space, making it shine.
He could just feel that this was the
place voldemort wanted him to be. This
was where it would happen. The last
place he’d ever see.
Harry walked forward tentatively,
his shoes crunching the ice and becoming immediately wet and freezing.
He hissed in pain at the sharp
pickaxe in the brain pain from his scar. He was here somewhere.
But looking about for Voldemort’s black robed skeletal form, he couldn’t see
him anywhere and felt off kilter – like stepping forward from a staircase in
the darkness believing himself at the ground and finding one more stair.
Gritting his teeth, he scuffed
through the snow into the centre of the clearing, looking about himself
quickly.
“VOLDEMORT! COME OUT AND FACE ME!!” he yelled.
“ARE YOU AFRAID TO FIGHT ME?!”
There was a faint amused hissing
laugh that echoed around the clearing.
“SHOW YOURSELF!!” Harry screamed into
the moonlit darkness. Then a sudden
streak of pale yellow shot out of the darkness between two trees. Harry didn’t even bother to try to dodge. Hopefully whatever it was would kill him
quickly.
It struck him in the chest and he screamed,
dropping to his knees in sudden agony.
It felt like he was being flayed alive.
He put his hands up to his face and felt
his skin crawling.
It was in that position that a boot caught him on the shoulder and propelled him
backward, landing him with an oof
on his back in the snow.
He blinked through suddenly blurry
vision up at the black robed figure with pale white blob of a face standing
over him. He couldn’t see the expression
it wore. He saw only the hand raise and
tip something over him – it felt like itching powder. Then the blur raised his pale wand again and
a pure white flash of light enveloped Harry.
He felt like he was falling
backward through the ground, turning over and over..becoming
heavier until his entire body jerked in landing. It was a peculiar sensation. He hadn’t left the ground..
it was much like the strange falling dreams he had at
the edge of waking sometimes.
He opened his eyes gingerly as the
dizziness receded from his mind again.
The blurry vision was still there and for a second he confused the pale white
blob of the moon in the sky above him for voldemort.
He removed his glasses and rubbed
his eyes.
“Go on then” he muttered. “finish it.”
There was no answering curse, not
even a snide silibant hiss.
He blinked and then blinked again noting the crystal clear world. His eyes!
His eyes were fixed somehow!
Why in hell would voldemort fix his vision? Maybe he didn’t intend to?
But that was stupid. The man lived and
breathed curses – there was no way he’d accidentally repair Harry’s vision when
he actually intended to burn his
eyeballs out.
Against another sudden wave of
dizzy nausea, Harry sat up and looked around the clearing. It was empty.
Voldemort had just left him.
Did he think he was dead? What time was it? He cast tempus
– no.. it had to be only minutes after the creep had cursed
him. He must be around here
somewhere.
“HIDING NOW?! SHOW YOUR UGLY FACE YOU BASTARD!”
The forest around him was
silent. Nothing stirred.
He got carefully to his feet,
swaying slightly and turned in a slow circle, looking around the dim
clearing.
Nothing.. nothing..
“DAMN YOU..”
he cried desperately.
“Damn you.. come back..” he almost
sobbed.
He stood, shivering, wet and
freezing, waiting around for what must have been a quarter of an hour but
voldemort didn’t return.
Reluctantly he trudged toward the trees he thought he’d come into the clearing
by and stepped into the denser forest.
He was surprised to note small patches of snow here too now. Had it started to
snow when he had gone into the forest?
Was that why only the clearing had been covered?
Miserable and cold; thinking only
of how he had failed in his last and most important mission and needed to get
back and try to help the others, he stumbled through the darkness, his wand
barely illuminating the area around him.
The forest suddenly seemed alive with little cracks and rustles. He tried to hurry on.
The forbidden forest was a bad
place to be alone in the middle of the night.
There were redcaps, acromantulas, bowtruckles, fairies, demiguises,
gnomes, horklumps, jobberknolls,
ghouls and much more that would be only too happy to trick or take a bite out
of a solitary wanderer.
And indeed, ahead he saw the
telltale wavering white stalks poking out of the ground. He stopped dead.
There were five or six of them. The erlking used
these plants to trap wayfarers so that they could subdue and abduct them.
Harry looked about frantically. At least
one of the vile creatures would be hidden quite close by if there were khenlute fronds there.
He spun and backtracked, realising
suddenly that he had no idea where he was going and that the ‘path’ he had thought
he was following was no path at all, looking behind it was little more than a
slightly wider area between the trees.
It looked untrodden, apart from his
own footprints.
He started to panic slightly,
running on till he at last found his way back to the snowy clearing.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck! Which way was Hogwarts?! He couldn’t see past the trees to find where
the spine of the hill lay. There were no
landmarks.
He placed his wand on his palm
finally and murmured “point me” The direction it showed was at least a
quarter turn around the circle from the trees he’d set off through.
He didn’t recognise the trees that way at all, but he did trust his magic. He set
off down the new path.
It was harder going since he could
either have a compass OR a light. He decided a compass was more important and
simply ran as fast as he could while taking care not to trip.
Inevitably, after a minute or two, despite his care, he failed to see a particularly
large root winding across the way, half covered by light snow. Toppling onto his knees his wand flew out of
his hand and skittered off into the dark.
“No!!!!” he hissed and scrambled
on his hands and knees toward where it had landed, sifting through the dark
frozen snow and leaves to find it, despair growing in him.
“Accio
wand” a quiet
voice said from behind him and a movement through the air past his head
informed him that his wand was now in this unknown stranger’s possession.
He spun to his knees facing a darker shadow in the dark.
This was bad; - almost certainly a
death eater – the figure wasn’t nearly as tall and slender as voldemort himself
and the voice had been wrong.. but
it was familiar somehow.
Maybe one of the death eaters from the ministry of magic?!
He didn’t even expend the energy to demand his wand back – it would do no
good.
Whoever this was, was going to kill him now. This death probably wouldn’t help matters
either. If it was irrelevant who killed
him, Harry was sure Dumbledore would have probably had him avada’d
long before the battle.
So his death now would constitute the final failure.
And it would be his own stupid fault for losing his wand in the dark when he
should have had more sense than to run through the forbidden forest with it
balanced on his palm.
Unwilling to die on his knees
before a death eater; he rose to his feet.
His knees were freezing cold and soaked through like his entire back half now.
The figure was not as tall as it
had seemed from his prostrate position and it tilted its head almost
speculatively. He could see the shadow
move.
“Who are you and what are you
doing in the forbidden forest alone? How
did you get here?” The voice was soft
and cultured and again.. somehow
familiar.
Harry was confused. What it had asked made no sense. Whether death eater or order member it was
blatantly obvious what anyone would be doing in the forest tonight.
And even without his glasses.. was
it truly dark enough that the other had no idea he was Harry Potter?
Something wasn’t right here
“What are you talking about?!” he
asked incredulously. “What do you mean
what am I doing here?! What do you
bloody think I’m doing here?!”
There was a pause and then the
figure lit its wand to get a look at Harry.
The side effect of this was that Harry could see it better and what he saw caused him to jerk backward violently,
backing away quickly.
‘fuck!!!’
his mind repeated over and over, his thoughts turning in blind desperation. ‘he’s managed to regenerate himself or
something. Oh god oh
god oh god.’
The harshly lit oh-so-familiar-boy
approached him slowly and carefully as if he were a timid rabbit that might
bolt at the smallest noise. He was wearing
a black over-robe with a hood.
“Calm down” he said reasonably.
“Now tell me how you came to be wandering around alone in the forest. You clearly don’t do this often, to judge by
the way you tossed your wand away.”
Harry blinked. “What?!”
This wasn’t going right. The regenerated
voldemort wasn’t acting right. He should
be making snide smug comments about how he’d won and how weak and pathetic Harry
was. He didn’t seem to even know Harry and he was acting almost politely.
Harry licked his lips. “I don’t understand what’s happening right
now. Why are you..
have you lost your memory?!”
The boy raised surprised eyebrows.
“Have I lost my memory?! Why would you
think that? I am perfectly aware of who
and where I am – You on the other hand don’t seem in possession of either fact
right now.” The boy hesitated
“Do you remember what you were last doing?” he asked.
Harry was beginning to get a very
bad feeling about this. This boy was
behaving very much like the memory in the diary he’d met in second year; not
like the current Voldemort at all. He
hadn’t tried to attack him yet, apart from taking his wand and seemed more
curious than anything at the moment.
He answered slowly, unsure what to
really say.
“I...I don’t know. Something about a
battle.. I think I was hit with something.. I don’t remember.”
The Tom Riddle lookalike was gradually
inching closer. Harry shifted uneasily
from foot to foot but didn’t retreat further even as the taller boy came into
close proximity, illuminating Harry’s face once again.
He blinked and narrowed his eyes in the harsh light.
The boy seemed to look at him appraisingly.
Harry raised a hand to his head and rubbed at his forehead where his scar
tingled very faintly.
“Who are you?” he asked
quietly.
The other boy pursed his lips for
a moment indecisively, looking away and it was a long minute of conflicted
expression before his eyes returned to Harry’s and he responded decisively.
“Come with me.”
He paced off through the dark and Harry stood dumbly for a while unsure whether
to follow or to turn on his tail and run.
He still didn’t know what the hell was going on here. Was this Voldemort? Was it somehow another restored diary
ghost? Was it..was
it..the actual
Tom Riddle?
That was the worst thought of all..
He should run away. But the boy had his
wand.. He’d
almost fallen into erlking traps earlier with his wand.
Without it he’d be redcap fodder.
The darkness parted again for the
moving light of the other boy’s wand and Tom Riddle looked into his eyes
angrily.
“Are you slow? You may have some form of
memory damage at present but I did not believe you incapable of comprehending
basic commands. I told you to follow
me.
I will not come back for you again and I assure you there are a large number of
rather violent ways to die in this forest.
So come along now.”
Harry bristled at the tone but
stumbled after the retreating point of light.
When he tripped over the third root, the older boy stopped and walked back to
him, taking him by the elbow.
There was something in his posture that screamed anger in the darkness, even if
the hand on his elbow was not harsh, guiding him over and around the
impediments in their way.
After ten minutes or so, Harry
spotted the edge of the treeline, and beyond it, the
vast empty snowy rise up to the castle.
He gaped in shock. Where was the battle?! It wasn’t even that there was nobody there
the snow was pristine! Undisturbed. The movement of dozens of feet and curses
should have torn it up visibly.
This was..wrong.. again.
He stopped and tried to prevent
the internal panic from bubbling up within him.
Something was very, very, wrong here.
What had Voldemort done?! The
explanations for this were becoming fewer and fewer and the most likely one was
beginning to weigh on his mind.
Somehow.. this boy next to
him was the actual Tom Riddle.
He was in the past.
Whatever Voldemort had done had sent him into the past.
Why in hell would the man do that?! If
this was his younger version then all Harry had to do was kill him and none of
the horror would ever happen. His
parents wouldn’t die, Hermione wouldn’t die.
The headmaster wouldn’t die either.
The only person dead would be the one that deserved it.
Harry glanced at the taller boy
next to him, his hand still lightly gripping his elbow.
He needed to kill him. Could he perhaps
get the jump on him and take his wand?
He was quite certain that it would work for him.
He was considering it when the boy
turned to him and looked into his face again, bringing the wand up beside his
cheek.
His expression was unreadable and
then he murmured “You have very unusual eyes..”
Harry blinked up at him,
confused. When the boy raised his
wandless hand up and cupped his face his confusion turned to panic.
Tom must have seen his eyes widen in fear because he made shhh
shhh noises of comfort and the warm hand on
Harry’s cheek stroked it gently.
“Stop that!” Harry hissed, jerking his face
away from the hand and stepping back out of reach.
The boy followed him slowly until Harry accidentally backed himself against a
tree. Then Tom’s hand reached out and
gripped Harry’s jaw, holding it in place.
“Don’t be difficult” the older boy
instructed quietly.
His thumb brushed over Harry’s bottom lip, making him shiver in dismay.
“Don’t touch me!..”
he warned, pushing at the boy. Moments
later he found himself bound to the tree behind him.
He whined in the back of his throat helplessly as the very tangible form of Tom Riddle stepped closer still, his chest
against Harry’s own.
“I think you are being rather
ungrateful. I’ve saved you from what
would probably have been a violent death.
The least you could offer me is one ..kiss...”
Harry’s eyes widened to show the whites all around as he felt the hand trailing
up his body. He shook his head
frantically.
“No! Don’t touch me!! I.. I don’t like
boys.. and even if I did I wouldn’t want you. Get your fucking hands off me!”
The boy sneered at him in the half
light of the lumos. “You might think you
don’t.. but you will..” His hand slid up Harry’s face again and into
his hair, gripping and holding him in place as his warm mouth suddenly
descended, kissing lightly, teasingly at Harry’s tightly clamped lips. “mm... relax..” he
murmured between soft gentle kisses.
Harry managed to shake his head.
Instead of pressing the point the
boy kissed a feather light trail along his jaw to his neck where he trailed the
hot point of his tongue up and down the pale column of Harry’s throat.
Harry could feel his smile against his skin at the shiver this produced.
He teased at his neck until he
found a particularly sensitive spot and Harry was unable to suppress another
shiver. Then he sucked on it, flickering his tongue over it.
It felt amazing. Entirely against his
will Harry found his breath speeding; couldn’t quite prevent himself arching
his neck to the mouth.
When Tom found another sensitive place and nipped at it, Harry barely supressed a small moan of pleasure. His eyes were closed and he could feel
himself hardening slightly in his pants.
The shame of it washed over him like a scorching wave. He wasn’t
turned on. He liked girls.. and he’d
never..ever.. want voldemort. That was just sick! Murderer.. monster.. “Stop..” he mumbled weakly. “please stop!”
The mouth at his throat seemed
only to redouble its efforts and then it withdrew suddenly and he felt lips
against his own again, kissing.
The length of Tom’s body that was pressed against his own shifted slightly,
brushing against his hardening cock and it suddenly felt so very good that he
couldn’t help but respond to the lips, kissing back.
“Mmmm” the boy hummed pleased against his mouth and a
tongue flicked at the seam of his lips, asking for entrance.
He ignored it.
Suddenly a hand running over his
cock through his pants made him gasp and then tom’s tongue penetrated his
mouth, kissing him deeply.
He whimpered and tried to move away, but the other boy was having none of that
and held him in place by his hair even as his other hand rubbed his cock unceasingly.
Harry’s nerves were on fire. Nobody had ever touched him like this and his
body seemed to have taken complete control of his will.
He was moving against the hand on his groin and he gave up fighting the tongue
in his mouth, giving himself over to the kiss.
The movement of the hand vanished abruptly and Harry couldn’t help the
urgent disappointed noise he made into the other boy’s mouth.
But then panic returned as he felt his trousers being unfastened, the fly
pulled down and that teasing hand actually slid down into his boxer shorts,
gripping him, skin to skin.
He managed to tear his mouth away
and cry out “STOP!!” He wound his hips, trying to pull away and unable to do so
and then the warm hand started to stroke him gently up and down.
It felt like nothing he’d ever experienced.
It wasn’t at all like when he
did it to himself in bed at night and he threw his head back, cursing and
biting his lip.
“oh fuck.. oh.. that feels... oh.. stop... no.. don’t stop.. oh fuck.. please.. please!..”
He heard a soft dark chuckle from the boy whose face was bare inches from his
own.
He opened his eyes and saw
delicate features lit only by moonlight.
He’d thought it in a vague objective manner in the chamber of secrets but he
was abruptly and wretchedly aware of how attractive Tom Riddle was.
He bucked his hips mindlessly at the skilful hand fisting him.
“You beg so prettily” Tom’s voice
said low and slightly husky. “I believe
you were asking me to stop?”
The hand at Harry’s groin stopped and loosened, making as if to withdraw. “No!” Harry cried urgently.
“please... please!
..I need..I..Oh merlin.. please dont
stop.. I..please..finish it”
The dark smirk on the beautiful face was terrible.
“Kiss me again” he demanded. Harry leaned
forward, trying to comply.
Tom’ hand in his hair released and
moved, stroking over his cheek and jaw as he kissed him again, slower,
languidly, their tongues slipping over one another wet and rough. “mmmm” he groaned into Harry’s mouth at the
kiss.
His hand tightened once more around Harry’s cock and he fisted it hard and
slow.
Harry made soft needy little
whimpers as he climbed closer to his peak.
It wouldnt take long. Just a few more strokes.
Abruptly the mouth kissing him
broke away and the hand at his groin withdrew.
He opened his eyes, disorientated, not seeing Tom anywhere and then his
pants were roughly tugged down to mid thigh and he looked down in shock,
finding Tom on his knees before him.
“What..what
are you doing?!!” he stuttered,
shocked. The other boy didn’t bother to
respond, just reached up for Harry’s cock and guided it into his mouth.
Harry cried out in sudden
intolerable pleasure. It felt better
than anything had ever felt before.
He shook and came almost immediately, wailing his bliss, jerking as the waves
of sensation washed over him and Tom continued to suck right through his
climax, swallowing his emission and cleaning him off.
Harry let his head fall forward and
his body sag against the binding spell in exhaustion.
He felt suddenly so tired and
confused. This wasn’t supposed to
happen.
Voldemort in some form just gave him a blow job. The first blow job he’d ever had. He’d wanted that particular first to go to
Hermione. He’d..he’d
dreamed about it.
He barely noticed the other boy
putting his cock back in his pants for him and fastening him up.
When his head was picked up by a
hand fisted in his hair he blinked blearily at the attractive face looking down
into his eyes. “Was that your first
time?” Tom asked curiously.
He managed to nod wearily, blushing to his roots. The dark eyes glittered and the boy seemed
pleased. He stepped close to Harry
again.
“It’s a pity then that I’ll have to obliviate you
back to before we met. But at least you
aren’t a meal for redcaps or erlkings right now.”
Harry frowned, worried and unsure
what to think. On the one hand, he
wouldn’t have to know what he had done with Voldemort - but on the other hand he would be obliviated. It was dangerous. It damaged the mind. And Voldemort..or Tom..or whoever would
still know about what happened.
“Please don’t obliviate
me...” he whispered.
The boy came close, pressing his
cheek against his and stroking his hair.
“Shhhh.. there there. I have to.
You see... I’m not supposed to be outside the castle at night and you’ve
seen me.”
Harry realised once and for all
that it truly was the actual Tom Riddle he was dealing with.
“I won’t tell” he whispered. “please... don’t make me forget”
The hand stroking his hair moved
down and cupped the back of his neck as Tom moved back and pressed a soft kiss
to his cheekbone. Harry didn’t bother to
flinch.
“You are a dear one, aren’t
you?! No.. I’m
afraid I must obliviate
you because one of the teachers who will no doubt speak with you is a
legilimens and he’ll have the memory of me...helping you... out of your mind and into the Wizengamot
in no time at all. So you’ll just have
to do without it.”
Harry felt a sinking feeling. Dumbledore. It was true.
If Dumbledore saw that Tom Riddle had..well.. practically raped him...he’d be delighted. But that would be good.. then.
There wouldn’t be any Lord Voldemort if Tom Riddle spent a short stint in
Azkaban.
It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t remember it soon. He lowered his eyes unhappily.
The boy pressed against him sighed
and stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry pretty, I’m sure Dippet will decide to keep you here. We’ll make a new memory for you.”
Harry looked up, shocked. He hadn’t considered that, in the wake of his
recent..experience..
If he was really in the past, what was he supposed to do? The only person likely to be able to help him
get back was Dumbledore.
He’d have to stay here. What if they didn’t
let him?! He had no money. He couldn’t remember much about the
forties. World War II was happening and Grindelwald was waging a war in the magical world too.
What was he supposed to do if he couldn’t stay in Hogwarts?! He looked up, worried, into Tom’s eyes, who
only smiled.
“Time to go..”
Harry shook his head faintly “please...please don’t obliviate
me”
The other boy sighed and stroked
his cheek, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth
and then stepping back.
He raised his wand and his face took on a much harder expression, the shadow of
what would become Lord Voldemort peeking through the beautiful facade.
“Obliviate”.. was the last thing Harry heard.
Author note.
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