Title: That's what you get
Paring: Harry/Tom, one sided Draco/Harry
Genre: AU, Romance, slight Angst on Draco's point of view. SLASH, you are advised!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is written merely for fun.

Chapter: 1/?

AN: This my first try at writing a fanfiction. I was at home last night, and I though about giving it a try. I had this idea in mind. This is set in school, but in the 1940 and Tom Riddle is a student. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, etc. are also in this era.

Imagine they were all classmate during Grinnelwald's time, and Tom is not yet Voldemort. The entire chapter is a Draco POV on Harry and Tom.
I used it as an introduction. It shows how Hogwarts is, and the Magical world situation. Do not be fooled, although this chapter is from Draco POV, and he is a main character, the story is about Harry and Tom! So if you are major Harry/Draco fans, that is not the fic for you :)
Enjoy and let me know if I should just never try again to write ;) English is my 2nd language, so grammar mistake warning since I do not have a beta.

DRACO POV

I remember perfectly when it happened. I can exactly pin down the moment when everything changed, when I realized the truth. And it tasted as bitter as the flavor in my mouth every time I end up loosing at quidditch to Saint-Potter-the-hero-who-is-oh-so-perfect.
But then, possibly all the things in my life that are going wrong, that leave me feeling angry, helpless and frustrated are mostly related to Potter.

Harry-king-of-Gryffindor-Potter. He is my eternal thorn.
In the beginning of my first year I did not care for the boy at all. He was just a face among the others. Another insignificant first year student that did not deserve the attention of a pureblood like me, somebody from the noble house of the Malfoy.
I knew who the Potters were. Father had taught me everything I needed to know about the Wizarding world before I entered Hogwarts. The Weasleys were blood traitors, together with the Potters, Longbottom, Diggoryes and other pathetic families. James Potter may have been a pureblood from an important house once upon a time, but he had long lost any power and respectability after marrying a muggleborn. And from my father's stories, not even a really pretty one at it.

That is why when the name "Potter Harry" was called to be sorted by the hat, I did not care at all. I barely noticed he got sorted in Gryffindor, but from father's stories I knew that was to be expected. That his all family was Gryffindor.
Rather disgusting if you ask me. I, of course, got sorted in the great house of Slytherin. I would have been soon the king of Slytherin, I was so sure of it.

Classes started, and I barely noticed I had Potter in some of my classes, except for the fact that Slughorn, our Potion professor, seemed to particularly love him. Something to do with the fact that Potter's mom was brilliant at potions. Slughorn also loved me, not only because of the importance of my family, but because I was damn good in potions; Potter was merely mediocre.

My life was good. Great even. I felt like I was the king of Hogwarts. Slytherins were recognizing me as an important pureblood heir, all following my plans. That was until Longbottom showed how truly pitiful he could be with a broom during quidditch lessons, and I had the great idea to make fun of it. Worst idea of my life. Not only Potter humiliated me in front of everybody by showing his superior ability to fly, but also he fast became the younger Seeker in a century or his father had thought him how to fly from the day he was born. After that, Potter became a legend. All thanks to me!
Everywhere I went, people were talking about how Potter was some rising star showing great promise like his brilliant parents. Hell, I would have been amazing too if my father had nothing better to do than teach me quidditch. My father was a high politician; he was busy. Potter's father was some looser Auror who had nothing better to do with his life than hang around his half blind child. Seriously, Potter had to be half blind, there was no other excuse to wear such ugly, unfashionable and big glasses.

And that's were I really started to hate Potter, because he seemed to be better than me at something. And he was important in his house too, so he seemed like a worthy enemy. We started fighting regularly; we got constantly in trouble and had more detention than the rest of the students in our year united. I have to say our year, because in the year ahead of us there were the twin Weasley who undoubtedly held the detention record since Hogwarts was founded.

I could not understand the fascination everybody seemed to have with Potter. He hang out with a know-it-all mudblood, a Weasley (probably that was even worst than the mudblood) and had an evident lack of charm and etiquette. His grades were average, and he only seemed to shine in Defence against the Dark Arts. Again, no surprise there, his father was a goodie-goodie Auror who probably trained him privately.

Of course at the first quidditch match of the season I was begging Merlin to make him fall and expelled from the team, instead he caught the golden snitch and became even more popular. I saw his father there, screaming out of his lungs, jumping up and down with 3 other men who were as loud as him. Disgusting. Had nobody ever taught them how to behave in public? How purebloods behave?

But that would have been fine; it was the look that my own father gave him that hurt me the most. My father seemed to notice Potter, stare at him, and be almost impressed. It was nothing that people could notice, just a small glint in his eyes, it lasted a second, but I was a Malfoy. I knew how to read my father face. I knew what that meant. It meant he recognized Potter to be something. Something worth of his attention. And I got so angry. So outraged. So jealous. I wanted to ruin Potter life, until he was nothing.

I was out for blood that night, I was going to ruin the party in the Gryffindor tower, I had a great plan… until HE stopped me.

And by HE I meant the one person that holds now complete power over the Slytherin house, and almost all the professors and half of the school. To think that at the time I almost have not noticed him sounds ridiculous considering how things changed. I am talking to the one and only Tom Riddle, King of Slytherin and much more.

He was standing in the corridor just outside our dorm, leaning lazily against the wall, almost hugged by the darkness ever present in the dungeons. His legs were crossed, and his face was calm, almost too calm. The only light was emanated by the silver color on his Slytherin scarf, reflecting the dim light of a torch in a far away corner. I didn't even noticed his presence in my run to ruin Potter, until his chilling voice stopped me.

"Don't you think we lost enough points thanks to your miserable mission of revenge on Potter?"

I froze immediately. A pietrificus totalus could not have worked better. There was something to his voice. It was sweet, condescending with a menacing edge. There was something that made alarm bells ring in head. I turned slowly, and stared at him, trying to recover my "king-of-the-world" attitude.

"And who would you be? I don't know you so you must be some kind of mudb…"
I broke my phrase seeing the look Riddle gave me. It wasn't a look any child should have been able to give. It was dark; it held promises of pain and retribution. And it held power. I grew up in a house of dark wizards. If there was one thing I was good at, it was to spot right away one when I saw it. And that was what Riddle was. A dark wizard. A young one, but the waves of raw power coming off him were enough to scare me back then; and still now if I am honest to myself.

"I'm going to tell you only once this, Draco" and he said my name with such venom that I just stared at him, flinching inside but trying to maintain a façade outside "You will drop this little war on the Potter heir right now. Because I'm tired to regain with my grades all the points you constantly lose. I don't care if you are a little needy child desperate for attention. I observed for far too long you behaving like a pitiful little child. You are no king of Slythering. You are the sad imitation of what was probably at his times your father " and he smirked, inclining his head as to study me after the provocation. His dark eyes, almost black in the dim light, were staring calmly my form, drinking in my every expression, pitying me in a mocking way.

"You will get me all the books about wizarding bloodlines you have in your prestigious Malfoy library. You'll do that, and I may forget what you just called me before" he ended the sentence with a matter of fact tone. And I was stupid. And proud.

"Who do you think you are? You are nothing but…" again my sentence broke, but it wasn't from the look I got this time. It was from pain. Pain searing trough my entire body. I felt on my knees, barely breathing. I managed to glance at him, and I lost my breath completely.

Riddle was just standing there; his position hadn't change at all. His hands were hanging loosely to his side, without a wand in sight. He was staring at me with a somehow cold, curious expression, like I was a particularly repellent lab experiment. He was doing this without wand. And he was merely a child.
The pain did not stop until I managed to nod to him. Then everything ended, and he moved from the wall, cleaning his shirt from non-existent dust.

"I am glad we had this little chat Draco. I'll be waiting the books. Oh and " he smiled pleasantly, sending chills down my spine "pull yourself together, will you? You look dreadful" and with that, he headed back to the dorm.

At the time it took me over 20 minutes to compose myself, to fully understand just what had happened. For once I had totally forgotten Potter. I did not even yet know the name of the boy, but I was truly terrorized of him, and I knew he was going to be only trouble for me and MY house.

It did not take long, in the next two months that boy became very well known by every Slytherin. I found out his name was Tom Riddle, an orphan who grow up with muggles, although that was quite the taboo subject among Slytherins.

By the end of first year he was the king of Slytherin, and I was merely one of the backside followers. I was never one of his close "friends", and I never even wanted to be one. I watched sadly and pitfully how he stole from me my kingdom. My role.

By our third year he had become the most popular student in the school, he held teachers and students in the palm of his hands. He not only was the king of Slytherin, where even the older students were showing respect and obeying him, but also adored by the entire school. Girls fancied him, every house respected him and envied Slytherin for having such a marvelous and enchanting student.

I despised him secretly, but I still did what he wanted; I was never a masochist.

We won the house cup until the forth year, when Gryffindor won thanks to Potter's performances in the Duelist club. It turned out Potter could be lethal and was a great duelist, probably had something to do with the fact that his godfather Sirius Black was one of the greatest duelist of Magical Britain. I betted the git got trained during the summer.

I never stopped fixating and hating Potter for one second, and I kept track on him. I just did not act as blatantly as before. Sometimes we still insulted each other, and Riddle let it slide without care. I obsessed over Potter up to our fifth year without ever wondering why I detested the boy so much. He was Potter, and he was meant to be inferior to me. Instead the Gryffindor had grown up nicely, and he looked much more serious and manly than myself. He even got himself a new pair of glasses, a less hideous one that let his bright green eyes visible to everyone, much to the gratification of the rampant Gryffindor girls. He was still Gryffindor king, on the contrary of myself. I become nothing, and he was still so much.

But there was a sadness added to his persona because of the war.
There was a rising Dark Lord in Germany, Lord Grinnelwald, and Potter's father and friends had been sent to help the fight against him. The battlefield was supposed to be very bloody, and I could not help but wonder how this was affecting the Gryffindor golden boy.

It was then that I realized I actually gave a damn about Potter's feelings. And I shouldn't have. I was suppose to be happy that finally something horrible happened to the boy, that he seemed distracted and upset, and that he had finally lost his first quidditch match because of these distractions.

Instead I found myself obsessing even more about him and his family. I secretly researched how his parents were, I found out a lot of stuff about his parents' school days and his father lineage.

I spent lots of time observing him laughing with his friends, staring bored out of the window during History of Magic, or working carefully on his potions.

I knew he went every two days to the Owlery to send letters to his family to find out something about the war and their condition.
As the rumors of the war grew in gravity I watched morbidly how he improved his dueling skills, how he became almost destructive against his adversaries. The teachers had to reprimand him after the third student was sent to the hospital wing because of a much too strong spell. Of course Saint Potter felt terrible and visited the injured everyday, but that was beside the point.
Potter was becoming increasingly strong, and it became clear to everybody that he would follow his father in becoming an Auror, and join them on the battlefield against Grinnelwald as soon as his Hogwarts' days were over.

The mudblood and Weasley were always with him, and Draco found himself growing uncomfortable noticing how the little Weasley girl was making attempts to seduce Potter. Not that they were successful, he was way too distract by the possibility that the war would hit Britain to be bothered by silly things like dating. As I noticed how happy I was that Potter was still single, I started to have doubts about my own feelings and myself.

It was at the end of fifth year that I realized. And that that sucked badly already enough as it was. I lost again against Potter, and we were all in the quidditch changing rooms of Gryffindor because the stupid Poltergeist was infesting the Slytherin ones.
I was frustrated and pissed off; my father stared at me in open disappointment before leaving to talk to Mr-powerful-an-all-Riddle. Riddle had become so influential that some of our parents looked at him in hope for something I did not even understand yet. I knew it was dark though, darker than I felt confortable with.

Anyway, I was changing and I got to stare at Potter's bare back while he was changing into his school ropes, and I was dumbstruck by the sudden realization: I found Potter attractive. I stared almost eagerly at the muscle on his back, at his lean but masculine figure, trying to hide my stares from everybody else.

I though it was the worst thing that could happen to me. How silly of me.

I spent my fifth year summer coming to peace with my sexuality and my desire to still hate and humiliate Harry Potter, but to do it while he was naked. Yes, I was disturbed myself. To add to my great summer there was the fact that father and mother were always out, meeting with other pureblood families and rumors of the imminent war got mixed with rumors of a possible raising Dark lord among us. It did not take a genius to know they were referring to Riddle. The boy had shown incredible power, and in the dark Slytherin common rooms, far away from the eyes of the rest of the world, he had shown a ruthless, merciless attitude and a knowledge of dark spells that made my father envious.
There were rumors that he was able to speak with snakes, but I never witness it and at the time I though it was just a legend to build up his charm.

My sixth year had just started when that moment arrived. The moments were I understood my life truly sucked. And I wanted to go back 6 years, to never make fun of Longbottom and never get interest in Harry-Fucking-Potter.

The war was more imminent than ever, and Dippet, our headmaster, explained that it was possible the war would hit Britain at any moment this year, during the welcome back ceremony. He stated that there was the possibility one of our teachers was going to leave us to fight. He said no names, but we all knew it was Dumbledore. I did not care at all; I hated the Transfiguration teacher. So full of himself and part of Potter's fun club. The only great thing about him was that he evidently disliked Riddle.

During the discussion all the students were staring at the headmaster, and he went on and on about how we would have increase hours of defense against the dark arts and extra duel possibilities to be ready for anything.
I let my gaze slide among the students until I came to an end, fixing it on Potter. He was slightly taller, must have got couple of centimeters over the summer, but that wasn't what was so surprising. It was the hard look he was wearing, the seriousness of his posture and the raw power it was emanating. It was evident he trained for something this summer, and his body and magic were showing it.
Evident for me at least, his friends did not seem to notice anything new, but by that moment I knew I just fixated over Potter way too much.

I moved on, moving my gaze over my table until I noticed Riddle. He was sitting in his usual spot, surrounded by all his closest "friends": Lestrange, Nott, Zabini, Harper, Greengrass and Parkinson. That was not unusual. What was unusual was the hungry look in his face, the way his body was slightly shifted to the right, the way his hands were closed in thigh punches, and the lips were sealed in a tense way. Riddle was usually stoic, showing no emotion at all.

I followed the stare, to end up staring back at… Harry Potter.

That was the worst moment of my life. The moment I felt my body almost shaking in shock, in my mind shattered thoughts forming themselves in a very confused order. When had this happened? When? How? And why haven't I noticed before?

I can pinpoint this moment as the worst of my life so far. Two weeks ago.
The moment I realized that Tom Riddle, Slytherin king, the guy who had everything I ever wanted and rightfully deserved, that guy wanted once again something that I felt was mine, even if in some twisted way.
Because I am no fool, I recognized that look on myself before.

The worst moment of my life so far.
The moment I realized Tom Riddle was interested in Harry Potter.

AN: Tom capacity for wandless magic at his early stage comes from the story at the orphanage. He was able to torcher the other children, so I imagined him able to inflict pain without wands. He was not yet at that age able to do wandless magic with spells, but I guessed he was pretty experienced with pain ;)
As you saw Harry is not the boy who lived, but plays a part in Grinnelwald story. James and Lily are still alive, because Voldemort did not exist so far.
From next chapter there will be more interactions, and from now on the story will move in this year :)

Let me know what do you think about this,

Debs