Waking up in Tom's arms, warm for the first time in days and secure in a way that he had never truly experienced before, was something beyond perfection.
During the run of his illness Harry's dreams had been blissfully empty. He would fall into a dark void of dreamless rest where nothing from his past could plague him. The down side had been that Tom was unable to reach him. He said that the connection seemed to blur around him, that Harry had simply fuzzed through his grasp when he tried to pull him in. As much as he missed spending his nights with Tom, Harry was quickly coming to love waking up to his presence. He had been there in the Hospital Wing nearly every time he opened his eyes. And yet it was nothing compared to this.
He hadn't moved much in the night, not that Harry had ever been much of a wild sleeper, one typically needed more room than he had been afforded in his youth to get in the habit of sprawling out. Though this time his stillness could have had something to do with the arms still wrapped around his waist, and the fact that he was koala hugging Tom within an inch of his life.
Perhaps the most outstanding thing about waking up in such a position was that Harry couldn't find it in himself to be even little embarrassed or uncomfortable about it. Instead he wanted nothing more than to stay there, with his head pillowed on Tom's chest, with strong arms around him, and the steady thump of Tom's heart lulling him back to sleep.
But the room was bright behind his eyelids, and even the perfect comfort he was in couldn't keep his stomach from growling, horrendously loud in the peaceful room.
Tom's chest shook as he laughed and Harry held tightly to not be knocked off. Even still he wavered on the brink of closing his eyes and going back to sleep.
"Come on, up we get. It's time for breakfast."
Harry was ready protest. He was warm and comfortable and he had a few vague ideas about picking up where they had left off the night before. He was feeling much better, something about sleeping wrapped around Tom seemed to have worked wonders on banishing the lingering exhaustion that had hung around him. And Tom was such a wonderful sight to wake to. He still looked near perfect even after a night of sleep. His hair softly curling around his face, the way the soft green light of the shifting lake played along the smooth planes of his face. Harry would have happily lay there for hours.
But his efforts to snuggle closer, to twist his fingers in Tom's tousled hair, to start peppering kisses along his jaw towards his lips, was cut off with a deep laugh and Tom moving them both bodily to sit up.
"None of that, or we'll miss breakfast altogether." Tom said sternly as he placed his feet on the floor and prompted Harry to stand.
Harry pouted and thanked his stars that he wasn't barefoot as the chill of the floorboards soaked into this stockinged feet. Then a thought struck him, and he smiled as Tom made to stand, "How is Tom, the perfect Head Boy, handling not being the first one into the Great Hall? I bet it's torture for you!" Harry chirped gleefully.
Tom scowled at him as he swept by on the way to his wardrobe, though Harry could feel amusement that wasn't his own.
"Rossier and Orion will take care of things in my absence," Tom said as he pulled out a fresh robe. Pitch black, perfectly pressed, the only difference between that robe and the ones he wore during school hours was the lack of the Slytherin emblem and silver threaded hems.
Harry padded around the bed to where his clothes sat in a nice little pile. The down side of having all his street robes....was that what people called them during this time....all in different styles and shades was that he could not simply put on the same robe the next day and go about his merry way. With a huffed sigh he started pulling on the robe, he would just change when he got to his room.
"And Rossier and Orion know to step in when you aren't there? They aren't Prefects or anything."
Tom stepped out from behind the wardrobe door, even his hair was smooth and glossy, he smirked at Harry, his dark eyes following as he finished the last of the robes buttons. "They know what is expected of them, even if I'm not there to guide them," Tom said in obvious pride.
Harry hummed softly, "that sounds like a nice setup. It's good that your friends are there to help you out when you can't be there." Harry smiled brightly, slipping on his glasses and getting into his slippers. He had, of course, seen Tom and his...followers. He wasn't sure friends was the right word. The way they trailed after him, deferred to him, looked up to him. It was clear that he was not a simple friend to them.
Tom's brow twitched, his jaw tightened, it was quick, but Harry had seen it, and had to wonder if perhaps he was having a similar thought as well. Harry strode up to Tom and wrapped his arms around his waist, face pressed into his chest. In an instant the statue that was Tom Riddle softened, relaxed arms rose to hold Harry close.
"I suppose you're right, my dear, I am rather lucky," Tom's voice was soft as he leaned forward to press his lips to the crown of Harry's head.
It was impossible to go on in the next few days as though nothing had changed. Between he and Tom becoming official, to the incident with the cursed test, Harry couldn't step out of bed in the morning without confronting eager stares and quiet murmurs.
Funny enough it seemed that Tom had a harder time dealing with this sort of thing than Harry. He often glowered back when a glance in Harry's direction lasted just a second longer than was polite, he was quick to come to Harry's defense when someone tried to suggest the curse had effected him adversely. After the first few days of such treatment, though, those sorts of occurrences petered off.
For the most part.
"I heard it from Julian, you know, the Hufflepuff that kinda looks like a squirrel." Alphard flipped another catalogue onto Harry's bed, he hadn't actually opened it, more interested in giving Harry his fresh gossip than potential holiday shopping.
"He doesn't look like a squirrel," Harry muttered, the catalogue he was currently look into was for high end office supplies and knickknacks. And though it was an impressive panoply, he didn't think Tom had much use for things like a shimmery prismatic paperweight, even if the little colored photo showed a stunning display.
He turned the page and gave a little more thought to Alphard's words. "Anyway, why would he care if Tom and I were...er...physical anyway?"
Alphard's sigh could have put Draco at his most theatric to shame, "Harry! First off, I'm pretty sure one of his grandparents was an honest to Merlin squirrel, secondly...You should care! It's...well...it's obscene," he said the last part in a whisper, casting a look around the empty dorm room as though afraid one of Harry's roommates were hiding under their bed.
Harry snorted, "obscene?"
"You only just started courting, and there's talk of you sleeping in his bed, and I know you, I know you aren't, you know...loose. And the whole school knows that Tom is the picture of gentlemen-hood. It's just..."
"A rumor, Alphard. It's a rumor. I'm not upset by it." Harry gave him a reassuring smile as he tossed the office catalogue down and picked up a clothing one in turn. He had very few people on his shopping list this year, yet that somehow made the whole thing harder.
From across the bed Alphard made a sound like a dying walrus and flopped face first into the satiny green coverlet.
Harry could only sigh and keep looking at the catalogues Orion had so generously let them borrow. He couldn't very well tell Alphard that he had been dodging accusations of promiscuity since he was fourteen, and was now a pro at not letting gossip eat at him.
He and Tom might not have been doing much in the physical realm. Tom was still the Head Boy, and they both had school to think of. But at night, well, if hands strayed and things became decidedly PG-13, that was only between the two of them.
"How would a Huffllepuff even know if I had shared a room with Tom?"
He had meant for it to be rhetorical. The answer being that there was no way a Hufflepuff would know. Hufflepuffs didn't visit Slytherin's common room, even if they were on good terms with other house. What he got instead was Alphard sliding his face to the side that he could mutter into Harry's duvet.
"I heard he got it from Abraxas."
Slowly, Harry closed the catalogue and sat it down. There was, perhaps, a chance that Abraxas had seen Harry slip from Tom's room one morning. They had only shared a bed the twice, but it would be enough. He worried his bottom lip for a second, collecting his thoughts, then, "Alphard, why is everyone acting strangely around Malfoy lately?"
Alphard sat up so fast a few of the catalogues scattered off the bed. Alphard used the distraction to both keep from answering and to hide the sudden flush of his cheeks.
"Alphard," Harry prompted again, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited him out.
Alphard took an unnecessary amount of time lining up the catalogues and stacking them in a neat pile. When there was nothing else to do but acknowledge Harry he did so with a sigh and shifting, nervous eyes. "He just...had a falling out."
"A 'falling out'?" Harry asked flatly, "with who?"
"With...well..."
"With Tom?" Considering that Tom had been acting as though Abraxas didn't exist since...well, since that night, it was pretty obvious what was really going on.
"With Tom," Alphard echoed, then gave a twitchy shrug, "with everyone."
Harry cocked his head to the side, "Everyone?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
Harry huffed, he let his arms flop down to his sides, "because Tom told everyone to stay away from him and now they are." It was not a question, it didn't need a confirmation. It was clear as the water just above their heads.
"Well, no. Not really," Alphard had a little more wind in his sails now that the topic had been breached, "he did something that was against the house rules, and everyone decided they didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Same with his friends...the Roberts."
Harry was weighing the options of letting Alphard know that he knew that Abraxas, and his possible dual shadows the Roberts were behind his attack, when the door to the room opened and a group of his roommates came bustling in. Several wore quidditch uniforms and soon the boisterous talk of their practice and up coming game smothered any peace they'd had before.
Harry turned back to the catalogues and Alphard followed suit. He was scanned the booklets listless, trying to decide how he felt that an entire house would snub someone for him. In his defense.
Despite what Alphard said Harry was pretty sure this was Tom once more. He even knew why Tom would do it. In his own way he must see it as protecting Harry. Keeping him from being afraid that there was someone in their house, just down the hall, who meant Harry harm.
It was sweet...in it's own way.
Harry turned a page, and there it was. Page 50 of Wizardly Wardrobes, item #548. It was perfect. Taking up a pen Harry marked the page and item number on a scrape of parchment, and mentally took a name off his shopping list.
~~~
The holidays were far from Tom's favorite time of the year. He'd had little choice but to stay at the school when he first arrived as an unnamed orphan from muggle London. Even after he'd begun to make a name for himself as being the top student there were no invitations for him to spend the holidays with his Slytherin fellows. It wasn't until he opened the Chamber, until he had proven his place as Slytherin's Heir that pure-blood families were vying for him to come pay them a visit.
Young, though he may have been, the Lords and Ladies of the pure-blood families understood the importance of his arrival. That it would behoove them to get within his good graces. That when he was of age, and the time was right, Tom would turn the Wizarding Word on its head.
Of course they all had their own ideas as to how he would do such a thing. Many thought his goals would involve the ministry, and needing to call in favors from them and their money and influences. It was a fine plan, it simply wasn't Tom's. Such a path would be too strict. It would present him with rules he had to follow. Rules that were not his own. Rules and regulations that would take years and years to work around and undermine.
Tom had a plan, alright. And it did not involve him being indebted to anyone or for anything.
A large part of his plan would fall into place during the Winter Break. He had some loose ends to tie, some declarations to make, and a possible connection to forge. Tom had always been fantastic about getting the things he wanted. Making his dreams and wants a reality. It had gotten easier since he had learned about magic. Yet even before that when there was something that Tom Riddle wanted, he worked hard until he got it.
And then, there was Harry.
Harry wasn't an obstacle. He was far too precious to Tom for him be thought of in such a way. But he had a way of making Tom's plans...fuzzy. Sometimes Tom would go days without thinking of the next steps he would take. Whole spans of time where the only thing Tom could think of were a pair of bright green eyes and a glowing smile, and what he might do in the future to keep Harry happy.
But Tom still had his plans. He still had people who were waiting on the Heir of Slytherin to step forward and lead them all to greatness.
No, Harry wasn't an obstacle exactly. But he had certainly put a wrench in Tom's plans.
Harry wasn't leaving for the break. Of course he wasn't, he had no family to go to, and Headmaster Dippet frowned on students spending holidays in Diagon Alley unsupervised.
For many reasons this was a good thing. The pure-bloods always went home, which meant that most of the dorm would be barren. The chance to spend nearly a whole month alone with Harry was a dream come true. The problem...Tom had planned to use that time to...get acquainted with lost relatives. Now he needed to come up with a plan to get around his intended long enough to step out unnoticed for a few hours.
He had not, as of yet, figured it all out.
But the days were getting shorter, the endless and bitter rain had turned to hazy falls of snow, and Slytherin's first Quidditch match of the year was upon them. Any planning he thought he might have been able to manage during the match was dashed with another raucous roar and wave of green and silver as those around them stood and cheered.
Even Harry had lost himself to the festive air as he jumped to his feet to cheer whenever a goal was blocked on their part, or when Alphard or another chaster managed to score on the Ravenclaws.
It wasn't even a terribly interesting match, so far as Tom could tell. The Ravenclaw team never had the same level of fierce dedication that the other houses did. There was none of the rivalry that rested between the them and the Griffindors, nor the festive fun that came from their matches with Hufflepuff. And yet, Harry hung onto every little move of the match as though it were the World Cup.
Madam Godfrey called a timeout after a particularly dubious hit from one of their beaters, and Tom took the opportunity to pull Harry into his arms and settle them back into their seats.
"Enjoying the match?" Tom asked with a fond smile.
Harry huffed, sounding more frustrated than anything else, "we're doing a pretty good job of keeping Ravenclaw from scoring, but so far it's been mostly luck. They aren't very showy, but they are methodical. They'll get in eventually." His sigh was certainly more from frustration at that point, the rosiness of his cheeks possibly due in part to his frantic explanation than just the cold. Tom snugged the scarf he was wrapped in a little tighter either way.
"It is usually their way, to build momentum as the matches go on," he was more than a little impressed that Harry had figured this out when the match had only been going for twenty minutes so far. He had not forgotten Harry's sleepy confession to having played as seeker for some unknown team, and he knew his stuff when it came to Quidditch. Tom hummed softly to himself and pressed Harry a little closer to his side, "We're still far enough ahead that if we catch the snitch it won't matter."
Harry threw his arms up and wailed in frustration, "that's part of the problem though! I've already seen the snitch four times! Four, Tom! Four! And once it was right underneath Warner's left foot and he didn't even know!"
Tom was taken a little aback by that. He hadn't noticed anything, not that he had been riveted to the match, but, unless Harry was the only one to have seen it in the whole stadium, he usually cought on to things like that.
"Perhaps you should talk to Yaxley about it. If our seeker is falling behind then it would be best to replace him. Maybe with someone far more observant." He winked down at Harry who blushed in turn before looking away.
"Oh...I...I don't know about playing, myself, but..."
"It's only a suggestion, besides, it's Warner's last year, you don't have to make any decisions now, but, if in the future it was something you became interested. Beside, letting the captain know that someone on our team is under preforming is to everyone's benefit. Either he works with the weak links to fix them, or he will replace them with someone better."
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to talk to him about it," Harry said thoughtfully, then a little smile curved his lips, "It might be fun to talk Quidditch with someone other than Alphard for a change," he laughed softly, "all he ever wants to talk about is how many goals he can make."
Tom leaned back, encouraging Harry to rest against him as he spoke animatedly about things he would like to talk to Yaxley about with the team, when the whistle was blown and the match started back up once more Harry did all his cheering and excited banter from the warmth and comfort of Tom's arms.
The morning after the match saw those going home for the holidays off on thestrall pulled carriages to board the train. When he had first arrived at Hogwarts it had a been a bitter sweet moment. The castle had quickly become more of a home to him than anywhere else on earth, he had not wanted to leave it. Not for anything. But seeing everyone leaving, bright smiles and eager for family and things he had never known...had left Tom bitter and resentful.
Something he had worked hard to, not forget, exactly, but to put firmly behind him as the years progressed. As he began to receive gifts from his classmates, then invitations, the annoying birthday presents after Alphard snooped through Slughorn's files and let slip the date to his friends.
Not that year though. Not now.
The castle was eerily silent without it's students, the only places of light and life were the Great Hall and common rooms. It went beyond the quiet of walking the halls at night, when the heartbeat of the castle rested behind hidden doors and within high towers. Banked and sleeping, ready to rise in the light of day. The wide halls never truly felt empty when the dorms were full.
Yet it had never felt quite so peaceful as it did then. With just Tom and Harry as they walked the halls, or sat curled next to each other by the fire in the evening. All but a few of the student had left for the break, there wasn't a soul that had stayed behind under the age of fifteen, all of whom left Harry and Tom alone to enjoy the holiday in peace. Most choosing to go to other dorms, visiting friends. A concept which seemed to both delight and confuse Harry.
That first night they had lingered by the fire in the common well into the evening, the rest of those left behind either already in their beds, or off in another part of the castle, and for once it was not Tom's responsibility to keep an eye on them. He and Harry had begun the evening in their respective chairs, Harry curled up and turned away from the fire to look at Tom, they had simply talked of random things.
Not their pasts. Not Christmas' before, as one might think. Tom had no special winter moments of which to speak of. No treasured and caring memories of snowed in days and the warmth and love of a family, and Harry had shied away from Tom's one attempt to get such stories from him. The bright spark of sadness that accompanied the rebuff kept Tom from asking again. It was not simply an attempt to hide his past. Perhaps like Tom he had no good memories to share.
Eventually the space between them became too much for Tom, the room too quiet to not take advantage of, and he began to lure Harry over to Tom's chair. First with light touches to Harry's foot, which was dangling over the side of the chair arm. Then with soft words and promises of warmth, he looked awfully cold sitting over there alone. Finally Tom leaned forward enough to, gently, pull Harry from his scrunched up position on the other chair and into Tom's lap, where he relaxed into Tom's arms almost instantly.
Harry rested his head on Tom's shoulder, and his eyes began to slid shut. Tom rested his cheek on Harry's head, "if you are tired then we should go to sleep."
Harry hummed, "comfy here."
"We would be more comfortable in bed, don't you think?" Tom said, laughing softly.
"Can't sleep together, Tom...people will talk," his words were slurred a bit, and he hadn't opened his eyes back up, yet there was nothing but determination coming from him.
"there's no one here, Harry, who will talk?"
"Abraxas."
"Abraxas is home with is family. There is nothing for him to see." Not right now anyway. Tom had not been deaf to the chatter around them. He was well aware that someone had seen Harry leave his room in the morning on at least one occasion. "Why would it even matter? Slughorn is not in the castle, and he would not say something if he were. Therefore, I see no reason to hide."
Harry opened his eyes and gave Tom an incredulous look, "Alphard said that it was inappropriate for courting couples to-"
"For Alphard, who is from a very old and very traditional pure-blood family, it would be scandalous for him to go around kissing anyone that his family did not set up for him," Tom said swiftly, "for us, as we are alone with no nosy relatives trying to find us the best match, it is up to us to determine what is or isn't appropriate for ourselves." Lightly, he ran a finger over the curve of Harry's cheek, resting it at last on the tip of his nose. "As much as I appreciate that Alphard was willing to give you courting lessons, all the rules do not apply to us."
Harry squinted at him for a moment, then seemed to come to terms with what Tom said, either because he believed, or simply figured that Tom would do as he pleased either way.
In truth, as Tom knew which pure-blood family he was from, he could call on the traditions. In this case he would need to go to the head of another pure-blood family and ask them to oversee the courting. It would drag everything out to excruciating levels, and Tom and Harry would lose the privacy they enjoyed now. Someone would always be watching to make sure rules were followed and no boundaries crossed. And they would not be able to move forward as a couple without the consent of their overseer.
There was no way Tom was going to go down that path.
Harry worried his lip for a moment, then asked, "are you sure?"
In response Tom leaned down, pulling Harry closer to him and kissed him. Soothing over Harry red bitten lips with his tongue before deepening the kiss into something slow and impassioned. Harry relaxed further, melting under the attention, curling his fingers into Tom's robes. When he pulled back they were both a little pressed for breath.
Tom held him close, resting their foreheads together, "The only opinion I'm concerned with is yours."
"Okay," Harry whispered, and smiled a mischievous little grin, "I think I'm ready for bed now."
Tom helped Harry up and led the way through the common room and down the long, silent hall to his room. Heart beating frantically in his chest.
It was silly. They had been alone together more times than Tom could count, if one counted the endless nights they shared in the dream state. And since Tom had begun courting Harry in true, once Harry's health had improved, they had moved on from simply kissing to something he had once heard Alphard refer as 'heavy petting', before Orion had made him be silent on the subject.
Yet there was something about now, this time, that, even though it was left unsaid, was completely different. Tom had witnessed very few passionate moments between others in his life. When he was young he had once walked in on a couple of older children at the orphanage who were rather forcefully snogging each other in an empty room Tom had tried to seek quiet in. But such things did not happen often, and this was nothing like that.
After a quick trip into the sixth year dorm for a few of Harry's things, and after the door was shut tight and locked behind them, Harry excused himself to the lavatory to prepare for bed, and Tom...Tom wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.
He should get ready for bed as well. But he hesitated over the wardrobe long enough for Harry to emerge from the lavatory, carrying his toiletry bag in one hand his bundled robes from the day in the other. Since the weather had become drastically cooler within the walls of the castle Harry had foregone the thin silk undergarments that he had worn before for a thicker, though incredibly soft, woolen set. It was these that he wore as he made his way over to the bed, dropping his arm load of things into a nearby chair.
"You can keep them in the wardrobe," Tom said hurriedly, fighting not to blush at the outburst as Harry turned to him with a raised brow. He cleared his throat and said in a softer, calmer voice, "there's no reason for you to have to use the chair, you can hang your robes up, and keep you bag in the wardrobe, or in the cabinet in the lavatory."
Harry regarded him curiously for a moment, before a smirk broke out on his face and he crossed the room to slid his arms around Tom's neck, "that sounds awfully like you're asking me to move in."
"I wouldn't mind," Tom said in return, bringing his own arms around Harry's waist, "if you wanted to keep some things here."
Harry laughed softly, stretching up on his tip toes he kissed Tom gently on the lips. Tom held him close, keeping him in place and proceeded to deepen the kiss, until the angle grew uncomfortable and he maneuvered them over to the bed. Somewhere between the kiss' start and ending up under the covers with Harry in his arms, Tom had managed to lose his own robe. It had been tossed somewhere on the floor.
But he couldn't be bothered with it right then. Not while he was busy exploring every inch of Harry that he was able. The wild meadow of his scent, the almost sweet taste of his skin as Tom explored his neck and bared shoulder, where to touch to have him arch off the bed or cause his breath to hitch.
For a beautiful moment, that was his world. Delighting in giving pleasure, being more caught up in seeing to Harry than his own needs. Yet there was nothing more precious, nothing at all under the sun that he rather be doing or a place he would rather be.
As close as they had become, as much as they had come to trust one another, both learning to be open, exploring each other in the freedom of the dreamscape. This is all new, very real, territory. Tom smoothing his hands down Harry's body, caressing places he had come to adore, amazed at the new sensations. The heat from Harry's body, the softness of his cashmere shift, the smooth skin of his thigh. Tom slowed at the hem of the shift, giving Harry enough time to tell him to stop, but it never came.
The moan that broke from Harry when Tom took him in hand was better than the finest music, the bright spark of pleasure that surged to Tom through Harry's very soul was more exquisite than any gratification that Tom had ever felt. He stole Harry's lips for another deep, bliss filled kiss to keep his own groans of pleasure silent, as carefully, and with much satisfaction, he brought them to a gasping, trembling completion.
Tom rested his forehead on Harry's once more, catching his own breath, with a wave of a hand he set them both to rights, magically cleaned enough that neither had to think about moving for a while.
Tom traced a finger softly over the delicate planes of Harry's face until he opened bright green eyes at him. Tom had no words for that moment, all he could think to do was kiss Harry once more. A slow press of lips that he hoped spoke for him all that he could not say .
Harry was smiling when he pulled away, he leaned up enough to kiss Tom back, then curled into his arms, resting his head on Tom's chest. Tom waved once more and the lights dimmed, he was almost asleep when Harry spoke, soft and low into the dark.
"Me too."
In the morning Tom cleared out room for Harry's things in his room.
~
Harry insisted that they couldn't spend their days hidden inside Tom's bedroom. First off they would miss all their meals, and skipping on food was not something he was keen on doing now that he was feeling well once more. For another reason, they both had homework, and he had claimed that just because Tom could probably do both their workload all on his own, Harry probably needed to learn the things himself and thus they needed to at least go to the library once a week.
Tom could not find it in himself to deny Harry these things. Nor that they spend a portion of every evening before the fire.
Or when he suggested they take walks. Or simply sit in a cozy nook somewhere on in castle.
Tom found he had a hard time denying Harry most things, and found more and more that he did not mind giving in to him.
In a blink of an eye the week was over and they were waking up on Christmas morn. Harry sleeping nearly on top of Tom, and Tom with his arms wrapped securely around Harry's waist, as had become their custom. At the foot of his bed rested two neat little piles of gifts. One slightly smaller than the other.
"Happy Christmas, Harry," Tom said softly, sitting up with Harry in his arms.
Harry rubbed his eyes, and said, "Happy Christmas," though a yawn. Tom had no choice but to kiss him then.
He scooted them to the end of the bed and lifted a familiar green package from the top of the smaller pile, holding it out for Harry, "for you, my dear."
Harry smiled, sleepy but very pleased. He took the package but instead of opening it reached over, wobbling from his precarious perch on Tom's lap, to pluck a package wrapped in a very similar shade of dark green from Tom's stack.
"And this is for you."
Tom took it, on a little tag under the silver bow was written, 'From: Harry <3,'
"We'll open them together," Harry suggested, already picking at the bow of his own package.
Tom wanted to watch Harry's reaction when he uncovered the elegant silver bracelet that Tom had found for him. The links twisted and curved in a snake-like manner and it was encrusted with little emeralds. It was perfect and breathtaking. Just like Harry.
But he didn't want to go against Harry's wishes. So, keeping one eye on Harry as he unwrapped his gift, Tom pulled the silver ribbon and let his own fall open.
The little box was small, like the one Tom's own gift was in, but instead of a bracelet, or something else a little more flashy, a small silver ring with a simple inlaid emerald rested inside. Tom took the ring with slightly numb fingers, turning it over to see....exactly what he expected.
Engraved along the bottom and sides of the ring were two sets of initials. TMR on one side, and HJE on the other.
"Do you like it?"
Tom looked up to find Harry, still in his lap, his small hands clutched around his own gift, bright eyes focused only on Tom. "Alphard told me it was traditional, but if-"
"I love it," Tom said swiftly...and he did. It was traditional. Something that pure-bloods gave each other to show that they were courting. Usually only one person wore a courting ring, and it was in that moment that Tom realized if he were ever in a situation that called for one, he would want to be the one that wore it.
Carefully he slid the cool ring onto his finger, admiring how the little gem caught the wan light from the lake above and sent it back, a bright flash of green for all to see. "I shall wear it always." He had never meant anything more in his life.
Once that was settled he looked to Harry, raising an inquisitive brow at the box pressed close to his chest.
"Oh, right," Harry said with a smile, letting the box fall open once more on his lap, he looked up at Tom with wide grin. " I guess we were thinking along the same lines."
"Great minds," Tom said easily, he took the bracelet from the box and held it out for Harry's wrist, "I'm afraid it isn't engraved."
Harry snorted softly, "I doubt anyone will have trouble figuring out where it came from."
"Indeed," Tom smiled when Harry laughed at that. Taking another gift from each pile he settled them more comfortably, with Harry pressed to him, back to chest and Tom leaned up against one of the bedposts. "Now, let's finish up here and go have some breakfast. I have a very important gift I'm dying to show off."
~~~
On the other side of the castle, up a few towers and down several corridors, Dumbledore rested on an old, yet rather squishy, chintz chair by a roaring fire.
It had become his habit to spend this particular day away from the crowd, as it were. Those that tended to stay at Hogwarts over the winter did so not only because they loved the old castle, but because they often had nowhere else to go. And though he enjoyed the company of his colleagues and the children, it was often difficult for him to remain cheery for long.
Especially on this day. When it was harder to ignore all that he had lost, and all that he still stood lose.
Especially this year. With the war getting closer, and Gellert gaining power.
There was a small stack of gifts on his desk. They arrived every year, first thing in the morning. A collection of brightly papered parcels from the other staff. It was always something like new quills and brightly colored inks, or potions for health, energy, or mental clarity. Horribly practical and bland.
He chose to leave them for later, a glass of brandy in hand and an open tomb on advanced transfiguration on the table at his elbow, which he had sat down hours ago in favor of a rather racey and intriguing novella he had picked up outside of a muggle bookshop in London that seemed to follow the life of some sort of detective, who was doing a better job of falling head over heels for the damsel in destress than he was at solving her case.
He was well into a scene involving the lead suspect pointing one of those little muggle projectile weapons at the detective, when the stack of gifts promptly fell off the desk with a loud crash.
Dumbledore jolted, nearly spilling the brandy over his book as he turned to see what the commotion was. There, perched on the desk and looking for all the world as though nothing was amiss, was Fawks.
"What the blazes is going on, then?"
Fawks simply turned his head to regard Dumbledore dubiously, blinking molten gold eyes at him.
"Well?" He asked again, "it's very rude to knock things off of desks," he said sternly, though it hardly mattered much. He sat down his drink and took out his wand, and quickly set the table back to rights. "Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, he flicked the book back open, and went back to his sorrowful detective.
A few moments later there was yet another soft thump as something else fell from the desk to the floor. With a great sigh he turned back to his vexing familiar, ready to scold him yet again. But it was only the one pack this time, and instead of sitting upon the desk as though he had done nothing wrong, Fawks was on the floor, nudging the little package with his gilded beak.
"What have you there, now?" Dumbledore rose and took the pack from the floor, it was wrapped in red paper with little gold snitches dancing merrily across. A tag rested next to the disproportionately large golden bow, it read, 'To: Professor Dumbledore, From: Harry J Evans."
"Isn't that something." he said softly, it wasn't that students never gave him anything. Occasionally something wanted to send him a gift in the hopes that it would help with their grades. But Harry had been doing quite well in his class, and other than their first meeting, they had not spoken overly much.
It was for the best. He seemed like a good boy, but if he knew Dumbledore in a near, or even distant future, it would be too dangerous for them to interact too much. And even though he seemed to be adjusting well Dumbledore couldn't help but feel some measure of guilt everytime he saw Harry walking the halls. He hadn't been able to find a way to get him back to his original time, and was growing less certain as the days, weeks, and now months passed in which no one had an solution.
Dumbledore shook his head and made his way back to his comfy chair by the fire. It was all just another layer of stress and anxiety there to weigh him down. Harry had taken a liking to Tom, who was far too cunning for Dumbledore's tastes. He had a way of luring others to his side, a particular power that, if left to grow, could one day spell trouble.
Dumbledore sat down with the little package. He stretched his feet out to the fire, and tried to relax, unsure what to think. Tom would never send him something, he was perpetually upset that Dumbledore had seen him as a child, seen through the calm facade he wanted to show everyone. He would probably never forgive or forget that. So what then could Tom's newest, and by all accounts, closest confidant have sent him?
Inside the red and gold paper was a little brown box, inside that, tucked between folds of thin white paper was first a little paper pouch of candies. They were about the size of a small acorn, bright yellow in color, and smelled of fresh lemons. Perplexed, yet intrigued, Dumbledore sat them aside and pulled the next item from the box.
It was a pair of thick, woolen socks.
He simply held them, mouth agape as he took them in. They were extremely soft, and the quality was unquestionable. But they were also a shocking shade of violet up at the top that faded into a equally bright shade of hot pink. Under the socks was a single piece of parchment, a note written in a slightly messy hand.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I wanted to thank you for all your help earlier this year, please be assured that I am enjoying my time here and have settled in well.
I do hope you enjoy the lemon drops. They are a muggle candy that I've had a few times and I thought you might like them. And I do hope that the socks are to your liking.
Everyone needs a good pair of socks.
I hop you have a Happy Christmas
Harry Evans
After a brief moment of shock, Dumbledore found himself chuckling softly. The Letter, the socks, the candy. It was possible the best gift he had ever received. He popped one of the tart candies in his mouth and reclined further into his seat, a moment later his lap was full of warm red and cold feathers.
"Who knows, Fawks," he said as he began to pet Fawks absently, "maybe Harry will end up being able to influence Tom instead."