"All I'm saying," Harry said as they walked the silent halls alone, the torches sputtering in the cold breeze from several open windows, tugging at Harry's dark green cloak so that he had to pulled it closer to his body, "is that you keep her distracted with something long enough for me to burn the papers. Accidentally, of course. Will she be mad? Sure. Will she get over it? I sincerely hope so, but she's so batty who knows."
Tom laughed softly, with a sweep of an arm, he pulled Harry into his side, wrapping his own cloak around Harry's shoulders to share his heat. Harry huffed, evidently wanting something else than laughter and a hug for his ludicrous idea.
The last several days had been a special sort of bliss for Tom. After Harry woke up in his arms Tom had worked up the courage to finally return the kiss Harry had bestowed upon him that morning. Only where Harry's had been swift and chaste, Tom took it upon himself to go slow, to convey emotions and intents that he had only ever pretended to feel before. There had been enough time before their need to wake that Tom took his time, relishing in Harry's flushed cheeks and stuttered breaths by the time he was finished.
Things had been, understandably, different after that. There wasn't much time or opportunity for them to be alone in the waking world. And Tom wasn't quite ready for the rest of the school to know about their relationship just yet. The small rumors were one thing, actually confirming it would bring more attention down on Harry. Something Tom viscerally wanted to avoid. He would not make any public step forward without Harry's consent.
But moments like this, when they were completely alone, Tom indulged the part of him that wanted to hold Harry close, make him smile. Make him happy.
So Tom said, "She might be old, but you should not doubt her reflexes. The second she senses a fire she'll be there putting it out. You wouldn't get more than a handful of papers destroyed that way, and on top of which she would probably give you more detention for setting her precious files alight." Trying to be the reasonable one.
Harry took his reason and turned it sideways, "So you lure her away, out into the hall or another room. I say a candle fell over when I wasn't looking. I stepped out to the loo and came back and everything was on fire! I saved what I could and we just chalk the rest up to tragedy." He beamed, hopeful, up at Tom.
Tom sighed dramatically, "and how, exactly, am I to 'lure' her away?"
Harry pressed a slender finger to his lips in thought, "hmm, you tell her there is some sort of emergency in the hall...like a troll or something has entered the school."
"A troll?'
"It could happen," Harry said in soft defense.
"It's very unlikely for a troll to enter the grounds on its own, let alone the school itself."
"Well," Harry said snappily, "you think of something."
Tom stopped before the door, taking a moment to ponder before grinning down at Harry, "how about," he began, speaking low so that Harry had to lean into him to hear, "we go in and I help with the second year pop quiz scheduled for tomorrow and you spend an hour and a half sorting through a hundred year old papers, hmm?" Tom had to laugh at Harry's look of utter betrayal, bestowing a little kiss on her forehead to soften the blow.
There was such an interesting little scar there, Tom had noticed it a few times before when Harry's hair had fallen just so, or when he was sleeping. Placing his lips next to it sent an electric shock down his spine, the world turning almost blinding for a instant, then it was gone. Tom hid his wonder fairly well, he was sure, though Harry looked rather dazed for a moment as he pulled away, shaking out of it only when Tom opened the door, palm flat against the door so that Harry would have to walk under it to enter the room.
"After you, darling."
Harry huffed out a softly vehement, "jerk!" as he walked under Tom's arm.
Tom lent down before he had passed, lips grazing against Harry's ear as he said, "just one of my many charming qualities."
Harry shivered, slipping past Tom to shoot him a glare over his should, poking his little tongue out at him in defiance. "Not charming at all, actually. In fact, I don't like you anymore."
"Is that so?" Tom asked lowly, stalking a little closer.
"Yes, you're nothing but heartless bully and I don't think I can be your friend anymore, Thomas."
"That isn't my name, Harold."
A resounding, screeching, "Tom!" cut through their joint laughter, pulling Tom back from Harry's space. He hadn't even realized how close they were. That he had crowded Harry up against the filing cabinets. Luckily, Merrythought couldn't see them either. With a quick parting kiss, Tom leaped into action, rushing off to find Merrythought.
The next hour and a half was all second year pop quizzes and planning for a field exam for the seventh year. Tom had promised long ago to not divulge too much of their schedule to his classmates before hand, but he made sure that his knights were always able to pass the hardest tests without a hitch.
From time to time Tom looked over to Harry, almost neck deep in ancient, yellowed papers. A far away look in his eyes. A part of Tom wanted to take pity on him. Harry, his poor Harry, had fallen asleep on a cool rainy afternoon during a very boring class. Now that Tom was more intimately acquainted with Harry's mood and health, Tom really couldn't blame him for it. He did not eat properly, and Tom knew all too well that without his aid Harry would not be sleeping either. On the other hand, Tom couldn't pass up this time they had together. They may not be alone for all of it, but it settled something in Tom to be able to see him.
It was selfish.
But Tom had never claimed to be otherwise.
"I'm serious," Harry whined as they headed back to the dorm, "there is a family of spiders living in my robes. I can feel them squirming around!"
"You're just being dramatic," Tom said lazily. Harry was tucked under his arm once more, even as he fidgeted near constantly. "There are no spiders in your clothes."
"There are!" Harry insisted, pitiably. "They are going to bite me, eat me all up and then you'll be sorry for not paying attention to me."
"Well, it's your own fault for being small and delicious," Tom said lightly, "I can't fault them that."
Harry pressed himself closer to Tom, muttering something about not being delicious, as he flattened his chest to Tom's torso.
"Harry," Tom asked sternly, "are you trying to get the spiders to come over to me?"
"I thought there weren't any spiders." Harry snarked up at him, his bright eye gleaming in the low light.
"There aren't," Tom said, voice flat, "but that's what you're doing, isn't it?"
Harry blinked innocently up at him, then said, "No....I'm trying to get your robes dirty with all this dust."
Tom glanced down, and sure enough, his clean robes were now covered in powdery dust. Instead of anger he pressed Harry closer to him. "You're a brat, Harry."
"Says the jerk." Harry said with a contented sigh, snuggling his face into Tom's chest as they walked.
They stayed that way until they reached the dorm. Separating at the entrance to stow their shoes and cloaks. Harry muttered something about needing a bath before walking off to his room, while Tom simply vanished the dust from his own robes with a lazy wave of his wand. There was still enough activity in the common room that Tom found the need to make a few rounds. Check in on his little flock.
There wasn't much for Tom to help with. It was far enough into the year the first years had fallen into a rhythm, and the older students were far too excited about the up coming Hogsmead weekend to worry about anything else. Tom settled by the fire once he was done walking the room. Abraxas, Orion, and Rosier were still up, all sitting by the fire, though none seemed to actually be communing with the others. Orion had his face pressed into a book, and Rosier was reading the paper as Abraxas stared intently into the dancing flames. Cool grey eyes turned to him as he sat among them.
"Finished with your little pet?"
Tom did not show any outward sing of anger at Abraxas' statement. If he fell into the goading, then Abraxas had won.
And Tom lost to no one.
Instead, sighed before addressing Abaxas like the child he was, Tom said. "Your jealousy is not only tiring, Malfoy, it is beneath you."
The use of his surname after years of Tom using his first name only, must have been something of a shock, though Abraxas did a good job of acting as though it did not bother him, the narrowing of his eyes and harsh line of his mouth said otherwise.
"And toying around with nameless mudbloods is beneath you, my Lord."
"We do not know his lineage," Tom said in exasperation, he had is own theories about that. That perhaps, like Tom, Harry's mother had been a witch and his father had either been a muggle or a muggleborn. That would make Harry halfblood, if it were true. Just like Tom. "It is clear that he was raised by wizards either way, so your dislike of him based purely on etiquette is distasteful."
"Wizards," Abrxas snorted hotly, "not a pureblood family. He most likely comes from the blood traitors who have fled so they do not need to be seen picking sides in the war."
Tom fixed him with a lazy look of indifference, "shall we simply disregard all who do not come from pureblood families, then? How small will our numbers be if we do so?"
"Small we may be, but at least we will have integrity." Abraxas bit out, eyes blazing in the low light.
Anger, pure and unbridled coursed through Tom. "Is that what you think you bring to the table, Malfoy? Integrity." Tom asked, voice a low growl. "You bring a name that can turn heads and enough wealth to assure influence. But you have never brought anything useful to our endeavors." Abraxas opened his mouth to refute, but Tom cut him off, "name one thing that you attributed that has helped our cause move forward. Besides money."
Abraxas snapped his mouth shut, scowling for a while before spouting, "As though the others do any better!"
"I frequently supply our Lord with dark tomes and artifacts that will help in our goals, and Rosier brings information from his aunt on Grindlevald's front line," Orion said, voice lazy and unaffected as he turned the page in his book, "The Lestranges have invaluable connections in both France and the Americas. Others from lesser known families have also shown their value either through action, or tributes to our Lord." Orion did not look up as he spoke. It was a succinct overture of events delivered in Orion's dulcet tones. That fact that all these goings on had completely flown past Abraxas' attentions was disappointing, to say the least.
"You do not even have the self awareness to properly see the world around you, Malfoy, perhaps I should begin rethinking your place as one of my knights." Tom observed as he rose, Harry would be getting in the bed soon, he wanted to be there to greet him. "Maybe I'll find a better fit elsewhere." Tom cast a look a Rosier before turning and leaving Orion and Abraxas by the fire.
In the hall Tom addressed Rosier as he shadowed his steps. "I need you to keep an eye on Abraxas for the next few days, at least. Especially if he's ever around Harry."
"Yes, my Lord." Rosier's voice was low, gravelly. He spoke very little, but when he did, Tom was always certain to listen. "There's something special about him, isn't there?"
Tom didn't have to ask who, there could only one person he meant. "There is, Alex. And I need your help to make sure he is kept safe, understand."
"Perfectly." Rosier said in his simple way. He stopped at the door to his room, gave Tom a small bow and wished him good night.
At least there were some people who's loyalty he never had to question.
~~~
Harry woke with a smile on his face.
It had become a a new constant in his life. He would fall asleep and then wake up smiling. It was such an odd, yet pleasant sensation, to not only have something that lightened his days, but that he actively looked forward to. He never expected to have something like that. Almost didn't know how to handle himself now that he did.
For the most part his nights with Tom hadn't really changed, except that they played chess less often, though in the week and a half since Harry bridged the gap between them they had a played a few rounds. More often than not they spent the nights curled close, talking of small things. Tom had delved a little into his past, perhaps in a way to lessen Harry's fears towards his own.
It was one thing to know that Voldemort had been an orphan. To learn it as a thing apart. Just another fact about a madman who turned dark in his youth and grew to kill with the same ease that someone else would use to tie their shoes.
It was another thing altogether to listen to Tom Riddle talk about life in an orphanage. Of having to fight for necessities from an early age. Until accidental magic kicked in and he was able to work around a few hardships, such as blankets that were too threadbare to be warm, or how there never seemed to be enough food for everyone. He had known from a young age that he was not quite the same as the rest of the children. Something they had been able to pick up on as well and were sure to make Tom know he was not one of them.
He spoke about having to defend his things from the older children, how before he could defend himself they had taken his things and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
He said it the same way, in the same even tone, that he had used earlier that evening to help a third year practice their spellwork.
Of all the time Harry had been in the past he hadn't wanted to break his cover so much as he had in that moment. He ached to tell Tom about growing up with the Dursleys. Spending his childhood locked in a small closet. always wary that Dudley would strike out. Push him down, hit him, call him names, take his things. All the many, many ways that his childhood had been a nightmare.
But he couldn't. It would open up too many cans of worms and they'd all go spilling out. He kept silent and listened. Trying to lend his support just by being there.
Tom never seemed outwardly effected by these things. He would smile after something Harry found particularly distressing, laugh it off and keep on as though it were nothing. There was no indication that telling this to Harry, probably the only person he had ever been so open with, was in any way a release for him.
But there was something. It danced along the edges of Harry's thoughts. The little gossamer thread that seemed to connect them. He had never felt it before. Not in the future with Voldemort around, though he had shared a few dreams with him as well. No, Harry hadn't noticed this strange occurrence until he had tried to avoid Tom's dreamscape. Suddenly the connection was there. Almost tangible. And the more that Harry inspected it, the more time he spent with Tom in either the waking or their dream world, the more it seemed it to grow.
Maybe it had been growing this whole time.
Whatever it was, when Tom spoke like this, when they were curled around one another in the perpetually golden, spring-like field, Harry could always feel how unburdened Tom became. Because, if he followed that connection, all the way to the other end of the shining thing between them, there was a presence there, bold and powerful.
Harry was rather sure it was Tom's soul.
He had spent a lot of time in the last week looking at it, so to speak. Not that Harry knew a lot about souls, but he rather thought it was a nice one. It was brighter than he had thought it would be, but then, this was Tom. Wasn't it? He was not yet Voldemort. He was what came before. The calm before the turbulent rage that had always colored the few moments of shared awareness he and Voldemort had experienced.
Tom was Tom. That did not mean he was good. Harry could never forget the diary. The way a Tom, just a little younger than the one he knew now, had tried to steal Ginny's life force for his own.
But, had that really been Tom?
It was too confusing. How could Tom be a book? He was a boy. He was flesh and blood. He had grown and lived an entire life before reigning terror for a time. Blimey he had been in his seventies when he had killed Harry's parents! There was all number of things that could have changed within and without of Tom Riddle to turn him into Voldemort.
Maybe he had just needed someone to talk to.
Maybe Harry was even now diverting the path that Tom would have taken. Just by being there. Just by listening and holding him close. Providing him with a support system he had so clearly needed and had never gotten.
And maybe it was something else altogether. Maybe there was some other turning point down the line. Something drastic that had caused Tom's light, his soul, his essence, to wither and rot.
Harry turned that thought over a few times before soundly setting it off to the side. There wasn't anything that Harry could do for Voldemort and the tragic path he had taken. Other than return to the future and put an end to everyone's mystery.
However the hell he was meant to do that.
There were plenty of things that Harry could do to help Tom now. And if it involved such hardships are lending an ear, being a friendly face whenever he needed, and sharing spare time together, well, that was a sacrifice Harry would just have to make.
For the betterment of the world.
Harry pressed his fingertips to his lips, they tingled with a phantom presence that they hadn't actually felt. In the privacy of his curtained off bed Harry allowed himself a secret and pleased smile. Because.
The part where Harry and Tom snogged each other senseless each morning before waking wasn't for he betterment of man kind. No.
That was just for Harry.
Eventually he rolled out of bed, never much in a hurry to rise and get dressed for the day. It wasn't that he dreaded it. He had just found fewer reasons to rush lately. Things just didn't feel as fast here. It was as though the world had slowed and finally there was room and time to breathe. So long as he was not late to meals and class, Harry couldn't find it within himself to worry too much about deadlines and being on time.
He didn't worry about many things, now-a-days.
But there was a festive, eager air in the room that morning. It was their first Hogsmead weekend of the year and everyone was chatting with uncharacteristic animation for the hour about what they planned on doing once they got there.
Harry went through his morning routine, vaguely listening to the plans of others as he combed his hair and brushed his teeth.
"What about you, Evans?"
Harry paused, toothbrush in mouth and utter confused. The boy who had spoken to him was one of the many...many...in his year that Harry had hardly learned the name of. He was blond, more sandy than a Malfoy, so he hadn't given it much thought. Dark green eyes and a chiseled jaw. He was handsome in his own right, and Harry had a sneaking inkling that he played on the Slytherin Quiddich team.
What the hell was his name again?
Robert? John? It was something....
"Let him be, Shawn, you know he'll be with Alphard." Someone else, who Harry knew just as little about, spoke up from the bank of showers.
That's right, Shawn....why did he think Robert?
Not Robert laughed, "That's right, I guess your stuck with your babysitter."
Harry blinked at him, that seemed an oddly hostile thing to say, he couldn't understand where that was coming from. He rinsed his mouth of, putting his toiletries up with slow care he said, "I like Alphard. What's wrong with spending time with him?"
The boy from the showers propped himself on the sink on Harry's other side, gave an unattractive snort and said, "he's a prefect. He reports everything to the Head Boy."
Harry couldn't help but look at him as thought had completely lost his marbles. He and Tom weren't kissing in public...yet. He had the very distinct feeling that Tom was waiting on him to get comfortable with the idea before stating anything officially. But they were hardly keeping how close they had become a secret.
"I like Tom too." Harry said simply, which earned him the laughter of Shawn and his friend. With a sigh, Harry stuffed the rest of his things into his bag and turned to go back into the room.
Shawn and his friend Followed.
"Everyone likes Tom," Shawn said, "he's the heir of Slytherin."
"He's powerful, even now," Shawn's friend said, "most people don't reach their full potential until they're in their twenties, and already I've heard a few teachers talk about how they feared he would surpass them before he was graduated."
Harry stopped by his bed, turning to glare to the two as they followed him. "Then I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem," Shawn said, his eyes narrowing at Harry, "is that some people think they can use that influence for their own."
"Tom likes to look out for his house."
"He's very protective of his own kind," Shawn added, "he looks out for those he deems too weak to take care of themselves."
"we simply are looking out that he kindness isn't taken advantage of."
That was...beyond strange.
Tom Riddle, being taken advantage of? Harry wanted to laugh in their faces. Really? Tom was known for lending a hand when it was needed. Had an oddly, mother hen, approach to the house at large. But the idea that any of that was simply because he was a push over, or someone for whom others could easily dupe, was ludicrous.
How Harry, and even Alphard, played a role in their delusions was a mystery. One Harry wasn't going to give any thought to.
"That's sound," Harry said as seriously as he could muster, "he's lucky to have you two super sleuths looking out for him. Now, if you'll excuse me," Harry turned to his wardrobe without further ado. They could either leave or watch his back while he slipped his crimson robe over his head. He really couldn't care less.
First Malfoy, and now these two idiots. At least it was only the three of them. But it rankled something within him. It seemed, no matter where he went, there would always be someone there wanting to start a fight.
He hadn't really thought about it since his little run in with those students in the first week. It probably was his association with the Head Boy that kept them off his back now. The fact that there could be turmoil within his own house hadn't really occurred to him.
Damn, Malfoy. He just had ruin Harry's good time.
Alphard did meet Harry out in the hall, out right bouncing with excitement about their venture later in the morning. He spoke a mile a minute about all the shops they could visit and what they were going to do. Under the impression that Harry had never been to Hogmead before, which Harry couldn't correct him on. He was, of course, looking forward to seeing how it was different. Like the changes in Diagon Alley.
Harry quickly tucked his hands into his deep pockets of his robes to protect them from the biting chill of the halls. It was colder much earlier than he thought it would be. Luckily his new cloaks were cozy enough, though he'd have to go back to the dorm to get it. Because as chilly as the corridors were, the Great Hall was a furnace of delicious heat and tantalizing smells. It was also on this particular morning, unbearably loud.
The excited chatting was near deafening, it echoed through the entryway and down the halls so that Harry was already thinking of turning back for the dorm before he could even see the door. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had told Tom he'd see him at breakfast, he would have. Because finding an inn where he could grad a quick bite sounded better than the havoc that was going in the Great Hall.
Harry pushed his way through the raucous crowd. Hardly anyone seemed to be seated at their tables, the room was a pandimonous flood of brightly robed, excited students who were all determined to out shout each other as they flowed around the tables. The many houses blending into one mass in their shared joy.
It would have been a heartwarming experience, if they weren't so loud Harry feared for his ear drums. He fell into his seat next Tom, a little light headed and already tired. Only to stop in sudden panic. He couldn't hear! He'd gone deaf!
"It's a simple muffling shield," Tom said with a knowing smirk, that Harry was too relieved to have heard him to be mad. From a delicate golden teapot Tom poured a cup of tea and handed it to Harry, "just because they are too uncivilized to behave themselves doesn't mean we should suffer."
Harry took the cup happily. He couldn't agree more, Hogsmead days were always sort of a celebration in his time, but this was ridiculous. Harry observed their end of the table over the rim of his cup. For the most part Tom's closest friend had seemed to accept Harry as a fixture. He received fewer odd looks, and had the all around feel of he was probably being talked about less. Then his eyes landed on Shawn and his friend as they made their way to the other sixth years, giving Harry not quite subtle enough glances as they went.
"Ah," Tom said, for all that he exuded an air of unaffectedness, buttering a piece of toast as though there was nothing else of interest in the world, the little shimmery tether in Harry's chest told a different story. One of annoyance and ire. "Abraxas' friends, Shawn and Calvin Roberts. Cousins, I think."
Harry wanted to slap himself, of course that was his name!
"They aren't giving you trouble, are they?" Tom asked, voice low and sharp edged. Beside him Rosier stiffened before turning his eagle like gaze to the Roberts cousins.
Harry shrugged, "It's nothing." He wanted to put the strangeness of that morning aside. These boys were just trying to rile him up, either out of boredom, or because Abraxas had put them up to it. It didn't even surprise him to learn they were friends. Harry, having taken such a big step away from his own petty squabbles, was able to see their jabbing for the petty power play it was. It made ignoring them in favor of taking the higher path a lot easier.
It was effectively out of his mind by the time the post arrived. The tsunami like wave of owls did nothing to calm the hall down, in fact, the new on slot of screaming cheers was nearly too much for even Tom's muffling charm to dampen.
Harry was just about to make his timely escape when a large, grey owl swooped down and deposited a sizable box onto Harry's plate. The owl itself, so dazzling a shade to be nearly silver, nipped at Harry's hair before snatching up a sausage from a nearly tray and taking to the air once again.
"What....was that?" Alphard said dazedly at his elbow.
All Harry could do was shake his head. He had no answers. He turned his attention to the package, wrapped in a shimmery blue paper with the largest, gaudiest periwinkle bow he'd ever seen. A little card was attached to the front, it simply read 'Harry' in overly looping writing.
He opened it, more a little confused. He didn't know anyone in this time that would send him something.
Other than Ms Cane, maybe. But this really didn't seem her style. She was far too cut and dry to be giving out presents with so many frills.
Harry read the first sentence, and groan loudly.
Yeah...he knew who it was from now.
My Dearest Veela,
I hope that this letter finds you well, dear Harry. Know that I have thought often of our time together. The memories of your beauty keeps me warm in these chilling times. As your radiance inspires me to greater heights of art and fashion.
Which is the reason for my missive. It pains my poor heart to think of you in that drab frozen castle, cold and lonely. And it occurred to me that I had not sent you off prepared for such hardships.
You must forgive Jean-Loup for such carelessness. I must have been struck dumb by your pale, gleaming beauty. The enchanting glow of your jewel eyes. The rosy health of your cheeks, the-
"Dearest Veela?" Tom's voice, a low growl by Harry's ear, pulled at his attention.
"Ah," he floundered for a second, note pressed to his chest in embarrassment, "I'm not a veela."
Something dark slithered over Tom's features, "I hadn't thought you were."
It took a moment for Harry to realize what it was he was sensing from Tom. Dark and all consuming. When he did, he couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. "Your jealous." He hissed in parstletongue.
"Absurd," Tom said, his voice light, though the wiggling worm of jealously still lingered in his soul.
Harry smiled, handing the letter over for Tom to read, if he wanted, "You don't need to be, he's just a loon who makes cloths. I think he must be this way with everyone." He still spoke in hisses, so as not to embarrass Tom. Though judging by the ill hidden smirks of those around them, they had a better idea of what was going on they would say.
Harry instead peeled back a portion of the shimmery paper to look within the box. There were several pairs of gloves, dark red, forest green, and fine silky black with dark embroidery, there was even a satiny rose set to match his dress robes. Next to them were a few shaw-like scarves in similar colors, all tucked into a velvet liner.
"What is it?" Alphard asked, leaning into Harry's side to look in, "Oooh, very nice. Who sent it?"
"Jean-Loup," Tom read from the letter, "he seems to fancy Harry, here."
"It's nothing." Harry tried to say, but was summarily cut off.
"Clothiers do not make a habit of gifting their wares. They would not make money otherwise." Tom's voice was still displeased, obviously losing the battle to remain nonchalant.
Harry folded the box back up, turning to take the letter back from Tom so he could tuck it away and take everything back down to the common room. But the letter was mysteriously gone, Tom's hands once again busy with his breakfast.
"Right..." Harry said slowly, eyeing Tom, a little smile curving his lips, "He's just a lonely man with too much time on his hands. Virtually harmless," Harry rose, hefting the box under one arm. "I'm going to go put this up."
"I'll go with you!" Alphard yelled, bouncing out of his seat and to the door.
Before he walked off, Harry paused at Tom side, in Parsteltongue he said, "There's nothing to be jealous about," then leaned down and kissed the side of Tom's cheek. A hush fell over the already subdued Slytherin table. Though Harry felt sure that some of them at least should have guessed the direction his and Tom's relationship had been going.
But a few steps away from the rest of his house Harry realized it wasn't just his table who were now reeling from a bit of shock. While the Hall at large was still a cacophony of excited youth, those closest to the incident had quieted. Whispers filling in the echoing space that shouts had once been.
Harry ignored them, marching straight to Alphard with his head held high. Being the Chosen One had a few benefits. Like making Harry impervious to feeling embarrassed by gossip about him.
The racket from the hall seemed to the swell the moment Harry was in the entryway. He ignored it in favor of strolling back to the dungeons. Except that Alphard's stare was boring a hot hole in the side of Harry's face.
"What?" He asked.
"You...Tom!" Alphard's smile was so large it must hurt.
"Shut up." Harry said, cheeks pinkening just a little, but in the next moment he couldn't hold back his own laughter. Bumping his shoulder against Alphard's they traipsed back to the common room.
It didn't matter to Alphard if Harry and Tom were getting close. And the knowledge lifted Harry spirits for the rest of the morning.
~~~
The uptick in noise from around them was hardly noticeable through his muffling charm, but the hush that fell over the table at large was something Tom was unable to avoid. He was not, however, about to acknowledge it in any way. As pleased as he was that Harry had been comfortable enough to do what he did. He had not wanted to over step any boundaries that Harry might have had. He had assumed, and it seemed, rightly so, that waiting patiently and letting Harry find his own footing would reap the best rewards.
Not unlike trying to tame a skittish kitten.
Undoubtedly the surprise from his house, and perhaps the school at large, was due more to the fact that Tom had always been very circumspect when it came to matters of....affection.
In that he had never allowed anyone close to him before. He might flirt a little here and there, flattery was a wonderful tool. But he never allowed it to go beyond that. Any advances made would be politely sidestepped in such a way that never left his would be suitors feelings downtrodden. He might imply that he was simply focused on other things at the time, one simply did not walk into the ministry and expect a prestigious station to be handing to them. Such things needed to be worked for, and Tom couldn't spare a moment until his plans were met.
This had had always worked spectacularly in the past. So long as there was a hint that Tom might one day return their affection, his solitude was seen more as a hurtle than a blockade. His indifference in a person was suddenly an factor of Tom's busy schedule and not a poor reflection on themselves.
The fuss that this would surely stir was almost delicious. Tom smiled to himself, dark and satisfied. Some would certainly see it as a slight to them personally. As they should. Not a one of them could ever hope to stand beside him as Harry could. None were worthy of his time as Harry was. The more they were around each, the more Tom felt that Harry was a extension of himself. Not like an arm or a leg. No. Something far more crucial. Something he could not live without.
His contented mood was no doubt bolstered by the bubbly emotions that were not his own, but he would was more than happy to draw on Harry's joy in the moment. Eating his toast with an unaffected air as the table slowly went back to their conversations.
It did not go without his knowledge, however, that Abraxas moved down the table when he thought Tom wasn't looking, or how Rosier tracked his movements alongside Tom as he went to meet with his little pawns.
"I see what you mean," Alexander said, soft, just for Tom to hear.
"Add the Roberts cousin's to your list to watch." Tom said just as low, pleased at the curt nod he got in turn.
Tom didn't have a lot of time to dwell on anything after the food was gone. Turning his attention to helping eager students to where the carriages awaited them. As always, thanking his lucky starts that first and second years were not allowed on the excursions. it was bad enough having to wrangle the third and fourth years.
By the time everything was sorted out, and no fewer than fifteen rows sorted out, Harry and Alphard were back, waiting next to the last carriage for Tom.
Harry was a vision. Swathed in crimson, a bright rose in the dingy sodden muck of the carriage yard. Then Tom spotted the sleek black gloves and scarf, and as stunning as they were against the reds of Harry's robes and cloak, they still made his eye twitch.
This, Jean-Loup character was going to have a lot to account for when Tom got a hold of him.
Sending his Harry unsolicited love letters and gifts.
The nerve!
Harry's smile was bright, far too knowing as Tom marched across the soggy earth to them. He made absolutely to response to Harry's amusement as he opened the carriage door and offered him a hand up. Harry placed a softly gloved hand in his own and hoisted himself up into the cab. Alphard moved to step in next, large goofy grin on his face as though he too knew of Tom's inner torment. A growl and fierce glare had him stumbling back a step.
Good.
A much more subdued Alphard climbed in after Tom, shut the door, and sat curled in on himself in silence.
The trip to Hogsmead was a short one, yet by the time they were stepping out onto the cobbled station Alphard had gotten his bounce back, crowding up to Harry to gush about where they should go first.
Harry turned to Tom, green eyes alight with excited fire. The pain to have to let him down was almost a physical thing.
"I have a...meeting I must attend to first." Tom said, taking one of Harry's hands and squeezing it gently, "I will come and find you when it is over."
"A meeting?" Harry asked skeptically.
"It's nothing. Just something I set up with a client from Borgin and Burke's over the summer."
"Borgin and-" Harry's voice trailed off in confusion, but luckily, Alphard came to Tom's aid.
"It's this great shop in London, they have all sort of really old stuff there," he gushed, "Tom's been working there in the summers for a few years, right, Tom?"
Tom sighed, but it was far more indulgent than exasperated. Try as he might, there was simply no way that Orion would ever succeed in calming Alphard down to what Orion deemed, proper composure. Not that there was much of a need. His name was enough to get him through life. The Blacks were old and powerful enough that having one strange relative wasn't going to see their doom.
"Yes, Alphard." Tom made a show of fixing his cloak over his robes. They were not quite as showy as Harry's. But they were of a fine enough quality. Well made, without being gaudy. "I should not be overly long. Please, enjoy yourselves while I'm away." A shadow moved to his left, and with a little smile he added, "Alexander will keep you company until I can be with you again."
Harry jumped when Rosier entered their little circle, his glowing eyes suddenly unsure, but he smiled all the same. "Er, sure. Hello, Rosier."
"Alexander," Rosier said softly.
"Alex!" Alphard pipped in, his bright smile at seeing Rosier fading in the next second though, "Orion isn't going to come with us, is he?"
With a final squeeze to Harry's hand Tom excused himself. Heading off in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. His contact had expressed concerns for Tom's choice in location. But as he ensconced himself in the middle of the room, at the brightest of tables, giving congenial greetings to the staff, Tom couldn't help feel he'd made a good choice.
If one acted as though they were doing something suspicious, then they were bound to attract unwanted attention. For all appearances, Tom was meeting with an old client in need of his expertise in magical antiquity. It was nothing special, it shouldn't take longer than half an hour. And there was no reason that they shouldn't hold such a meeting in a warm and comfortable setting.
Tom's tea had just arrived when his contact, a mister Alvin Byrd, arrived. He was a primly dressed wizard, robes a no nonsense navy with sleek lines and polished silver buttons. His steel grey hair pulled away from his otherwise youthful face, Tom was still unsure if he had simply gone grey at a young age, or if he had acquired something the kept his visage youthful despite age.
He had been tempted to ask, but ultimately set it aside. There was not an item out there that could prolong life. If there had been, Tom would have found it by now. He was not interested in something that would simply make him youthful as he aged. Marching to the grave was marching to the grave, no matter how one cut it. Death did not care for youth one way or another.
"Mr Byrd," Tom said with a kindly smile, sweeping his hand to an empty chair, "please, have a seat."
"Thank you, Tom." Byrd cast a glance at the room at large before lowering himself to the chair, from a bag at his side he pulled a sheaf of parchment out, clutching it to his chest a moment before handing them over to Tom with slightly trembling hands. "The..eh...information you were seeking."
Tom took the papers and sat them on the table next to the teapot, "Tea, Mr Byrd?"
"I-"
"Don't look so nervous, Mr Byrd," Tom said lightly, pouring tea in the empty cup across the table, "I cast a muffling charm over this table. My own device. Anyone who comes by will only hear use speaking of an old hand mirror you wanted a diagnostic spell for."
"I...I see," Byrd laughed nervously, "clever. You're always so clever."
"Indeed," Tom sipped his own tea as he casually flipped through the papers Byrd had brought, "is there anything you need to tell me. Complications? Were you seen?"
Learning that they were free from eavesdroppers had done wonders for Byrd's nerves, his thin shoulders slumped and he reached for his tea with noticeably steadier hands.
"Well, they certainly weren't easy to come by," Byrd said, leaning back, the old wooden chair creaking under the strain, "I don't know if you can call it complications though. There isn't much out that way. The town, Little Hangleton, is a right nest of muggles. Hardly a trace of magical energy anywhere." He observed with a bit of incredulity, "I can't for the life of me understand why a family like the Gaunts would choose such a place."
"And did they see you?" Tom had turned to what he wanted the most, the photographs. There was a large manor house on a hill, a sprawling cemetery just beneath it. Several pictures accompanied it. Innocuous in their subject matter, yet they caused Tom's blood to boil. The Riddles, Thomas and Mary, and their son Tom. His father and grandparents. Living as the lords of their own little hamlet while Tom suffered the indignity of being raised by strangers in a muggle orphanage.
There was list of information on them that Tom could read at his leisure some other time, instead he turned several more pages over to get to the second part of this bundle. Another picture, this one mostly of over grown hedges and waist high grass. Just barely, a figure in dirty brown robes could be seen. His hair, what there was of it, was wild and white, and he appeared to be yelling at the person behind the camera. The name on the paper attached to the photo read, Morfin Guant. Tom's dear, long lost uncle.
"He saw you." It was not a question, and luckily Byrd did not feign innocents.
"Gaunts as mad as a hatter, there's no need to worry that he'll go off telling tales. Can't stand muggles, which is rather ironic, all things considered. He won't be a problem and I can assure you, the muggles did not see me."
"Excellent," Tom flipped the papers back over and folded them before stashing them into his robes, "you will find the payment has been made the next time you visit Gringotts, and, as always, Mr Byrd, it was a pleasure working with you."
"Likewise, Tom." Byrd downed the rest of his tea before making a swift departure from the inn. Tom following at a much more subdued pace.
The sun was out when he left the inn, though it did little to warm the air or dry out the puddles from recent rainfall. And judging by the quickly gathering clouds, it would not last long. It did explain why he found Harry and the other's outside, chatting by a nearby fountain.
Harry spotted him first, perhaps alerted by the same gossamer thread that had led Tom to the fountain. Maybe it was the fragile autumn sun, or the fact that his meeting had gone so well. But nothing in his life had ever felt so perfect, so dazzlingly correct than walking right up to Harry and taking him in his arms.
Harry's laughter was the sweetest of musics, and as soon as he was safe within Tom's arms the sun shone brighter, the air became just a little bit warmer. Looking into Harry's eyes, how the glittered in the light, at the way his cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinged pink from the chill wind, Tom knew it was going to be a wonderful day.
And in a few short weeks, when rest of the castle had either returned home or were caught up in the holidays, Tom would find his way out of Hogwarts and to a small muggle town.
It was time for Tom to meet his family.