This story was written for the Tomarry big bang on tumblr, and is complete. It's nine chapters in total, and I'll do my best to put them up in the next few days. Apologies for forgetting to post this here sooner
Harry Potter sat on the floor of his room, staring up at the stars through blurry eyes, clutching his stuffed lion as tightly as he could. His stuffed lion was his only friend now.
Harry had had friends before. He'd started primary school last fall, and he'd had so much fun, even if he wasn't allowed to talk about magic. He'd spent lots of time with Neville, and the two of them had played together for as long as Harry could remember.
But his mummy and daddy had taken him out of primary school. Instead, his mummy stayed home with him and taught him. Harry loved his mummy, but it wasn't the same. He missed all his friends. Harry wasn't allowed to go visit Neville anymore, and Neville couldn't come over to their house to see him. The only people Harry saw anymore were his mummy and daddy, and they'd been acting funny for awhile now.
They hugged him too long, and sometimes Harry would wake up in the middle of the night and find either daddy or mummy sitting at the chair in the corner of his room, watching him while he slept with a funny look on his face. Some nights, he'd fall asleep in his own bed and wake up snuggled between Mummy and Daddy.
He wasn't even allowed to play in the backyard alone anymore. He could help Mummy in the garden, and play on his toy broom with Daddy, but he always had to be with one of them to go outside. His mummy and daddy never used to be like this. Harry had been allowed to go outside by himself whenever he wanted, as long his parents knew what he was up to for as long as he could remember.
He was being punished. The only time his parents had ever kept him from seeing his friends or going outside was when he had done something bad. Maybe that was why he kept catching mummy and daddy crying when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Maybe that was why they looked so angry sometimes, like the time he'd hurt himself when he snuck out on Daddy's broom and his face had turned all dark, the way it did a lot of the time now.
But it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! Harry hadn't done anything wrong! Even Mummy and Daddy said so! It wasn't his fault!
Daddy had taken him on a trip to Diagon Alley, which Harry always thought was really fun. There were so many interesting things to look at! All the shop windows were so pretty, and if he was good, he sometimes got to pick out a toy from Enchanted Delights, the toystore. Mummy had been busy doing some work that weekend, so it had just been a boys' day out. Boys' days out were always a lot of fun. He got to ride around on his Daddy's shoulders and other fun things that Mummy would have yelled about if she saw them.
But then Daddy had run into somebody Harry had never met before, and they'd started talking. And they'd been talking forever. Harry tried his best to be good, because his Daddy said that they would go look at brooms and if Harry was really well behaved, his daddy might let him try one of the big-kid brooms out. But he wanted to go see the brooms now, and it was so hard being good, especially when the adults just kept talking about boring stuff and it was hot outside. The brooms were right there, too.
Harry had tugged on his daddy's robe, even though he knew it was rude to interrupt, and his Daddy had looked down at him.
"What is it, Harry?" Daddy had asked.
"Can I go look at the brooms?" he asked, giving his daddy his sweetest smile.
Daddy gave him a look for a minute, before turning to look at the window of the broom store. Daddy reached up and ruffled up his hair before he sighed.
"Alright, Harry," he'd said. "That's fine. But you need to promise to stay right in front of the windows, okay? Right where I can see you. You can't go anywhere else."
"Okay!" Harry had chirped happily. He'd reached out and hugged his Daddy's legs in thanks before skipping off to the window, leaving the boring conversation behind.
Harry pressed his face right up to the glass, even though his mummy had told him not to a thousand times. But his mummy wasn't here, so Harry was going to do it. Because this was the closest he could get to the brooms on this side of the glass. So Harry scooted forward until his face was pressed against the cold glass and he stared, marveling at the brooms in front of him.
Harry didn't know how long he'd been staring, and how long the guy had been standing next to him before he talked.
"Cleansweep Four," the man said with a whistle. "Top of the line broom right, there. Is it your favorite."
Harry didn't look away from the broom, but he nodded his head.
"Why is it your favorite?"
"I like the color," Harry told him. Most other brooms were just a boring brown, but this one was almost red. The words on it were a very shiny gold, and all the metal holding the twigs together was the shiny gold.
"Red is your favorite color?" the man asked again.
Harry shook his head.
"Green," Harry said. "But they don't have green brooms. Red is my next favorite though."
Harry sighed and turned to face the man. Mummy said it was rude not to look at people when you were talking to them. He was tall and he was old, about as old as mummy and Daddy. He had a smile on his face, but something about his eyes made Harry think that he wasn't nice.
"No wonder you like green," the man said. "Not with eyes like that."
Harry felt all the hair on his arms stand up on end, like it did when it was cold outside. Only it was like it was cold inside him.
Harry didn't like this man. He didn't like him at all.
"I'm going to go back to my Daddy," Harry told the man, turning around.
There was a hand digging into his shoulder, and Harry let out a cry of pain, tears filling his eyes.
"Don't worry," the man said, a mean smile on his face. "I'm a friend of your daddy. I can take you back to him."
Harry sucked in a deep breath before he began screaming at the top of his lungs.
"DADDY!" Harry shouted. "DADDY HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
Harry fought and thrashed, but it wasn't enough. The man pulled him up to him, and the last thing Harry saw before the was squished down was the look on his daddy's face.
Harry ran his finger across his pinky to reassure himself. It had been scary. It had been really scary. The man had kept apparating over and over, and Harry had gotten splinched. He'd only had nine fingers the time he'd been with the man. Harry had spent most of it under the bed, terrified. Harry had no idea how long he'd been cowering under there before he heard his daddy's voice. His mummy and daddy had told him over and over again that they loved him, that it hadn't been his fault. That he hadn't done anything wrong.
Except they must have changed their minds, because Harry was being punished.
Harry loved his mummy and daddy. He did. But he was lonely. He was so lonely. All he wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been before. He wanted someone his own age to play with. Someone who could protect him, so that his mummy and daddy wouldn't be scared any more. So that he wouldn't be scared anymore.
But above everything else, Harry wanted a friend.
There was a bright flash in the stars above, and Harry gasped. A shooting star. A real shooting star!
Closing his eyes, Harry wished for a friend with all his might.
There was a glow, so bright that Harry could see it with his eyes closed. He was warm all over, like he was dunked in the bathtub but without the wet. Like being wrapped in the biggest, fluffiest blanket. Except there were tingles all up and down his arms, like he'd just shocked himself on the doorknob.
Harry opened his eyes and gasped. He was glowing. All over his body. He looked like a firefly. Harry waved his arms through the air and watched the way the glow moved with him. He giggled, a wide smile working it's way over his face. It was so pretty.
Then suddenly the room began to waver around him, and Harry's eyes widened. The wavering turned to spinning, everything rotating faster and faster around him until it was all a blur while Harry stood still. Looking at the spinning made Harry feel sick, so he just closed his eyes and clutched his lion even tighter.
There was a sharp gasp, and Harry opened his eyes.
Gone was his room with the magical mural, his red canopy bed, the floor littered with toys. Instead Harry found himself in a small, cramped room. It was dark, and it smelled like mold. There was only one window, and it was dirty. Harry himself was sitting on a small, cramped bed, covered in a dirty, threadbare blanket.
Sitting on the bed in front of him was a boy Harry had never seen before. He was a few years older than Harry, but not old enough to go to Hogwarts yet. He was really pale, with hollow cheeks and sharp cheekbones. He stared at Harry with dark eyes that were blown wide, filled with wonder and awe.
The boy reached out and pressed a hand against him, his eyes growing even wider when flesh met flesh.
"You're here," the boy say, his eyes wide. "You're real."
Harry's stared at him, his mouth open.
"I made a wish," the boy said. "I made a wish, and now you're here."
He'd made a wish. Just like Harry had.
"I did too," Harry said simply.
The boy looked at him with serious eyes.
"What did you wish for?" he asked.
"A friend," Harry answered. "Somebody who could keep me safe."
He looked up at the boy in front of him.
"What did you wish for?" Harry asked.
"A friend," the boy answered. "Someone who would understand me."
Magic. Magic, Harry realized at once. It had granted their wishes. This boy, this boy would be his friend.
"My name is Harry," Harry said simply. "What's your name?"
"Tom," the boy said, giving Harry a look.
That was all Harry needed. He threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Tom.
"I promise, Tom," Harry said. "I'll be the best friend ever. I'll never turn my back on you, no matter what."
Tom sat there stiffly, like maybe he wasn't used to anybody hugging him. That just made Harry hug tighter. Harry would make sure Tom didn't go without hugs anymore. But after awhile, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Harry, squeezing him even tighter.
"I'll keep you safe, Harry," Tom whispered into his hair. "I promise. No one will ever touch you again."
Harry sat on the bed he and Tom shared in Wool's orphanage, tears streaming down his face. In his hands were the torn scraps of his lion. Billy Stubbs had snuck up on Harry while he was out in the yard, playing with Godric. Tom had been stuck inside in the kitchen on clean up duty. Harry had tried to keep him company, but he'd been chased out by Martha.
Undefended, Harry had apparently made far too tempting a target. Billy Stubbs was the resident bully of the orphanage. Harry didn't know what he'd done, but he'd somehow become one of Billy's favorite people to torment.
The first sign Harry had had that something was wrong had come when he'd been shoved violently, falling forward onto the ground and hitting his chin hard enough to have his teeth sinking into his tongue. His eyes filled with tears as his mouth filled with blood, but Harry blinked them away furiously. Being branded a crybaby was the last thing he needed.
Harry began to push himself up, but before he could, a foot connected with his side, knocking the wind out of him.
"Itty Bitty Potty, all on his own," a familiar voice said.
Harry had to fight the urge to flinch when he recognized it as belonging to Billy.
"Where's Tom, Potty?" Billy asked as Harry pushed himself up and to his feet, glaring at Billy. "I thought the two of you were joined at the hip. Freaks have to stick together after all."
Harry grit his teeth, feeling hot all over as anger flared to life deep in his belly. He and Tom weren't freaks! They weren't! They were wizard! They could do magic! When they were old enough, they would go to Hogwarts and fly on broomsticks and do all sorts of things a stupid boy like Billy couldn't even imagine!
"We're not freaks!" Harry shouted at him.
Billy laughed in his face.
"You're a freak, Potty. You're a freak and a weirdo. A coward too, always hiding behind Tom. But Tom is ten times more freakish then you."
Harry's hands fisted at his sides.
"Tom is not a freak!" Harry shouted.
"You're right," Billy said. "He's a demon. Everybody says so. Devilspawn. How else could he do those freaky things? He's pure evil."
Harry was trembling with rage now, too angry to even speak. Instead he reached out and shoved Billy as hard as he could.
Billy didn't just take a step back, or fall on his butt like Harry had been expecting. No, Billy went soaring through the air before he landed on the ground hard, a full ten feet away from where he'd started.
Accidental magic. It had to be.
They'd gathered a small crowd of children, all of whom were eager to see how the confrontation would play out. After seeing Billy go flying across the yard, most of them had broke into delight.
Billy pushed himself upright, angrier than Harry had ever seen him, cheeks stained red with humiliation.
"You'll pay for that, freak!" Billy shouted.
Harry turned to run. He wasn't a coward, and he knew that. But standing his ground now would just be stupid. Still, it didn't do him any good. He barely made it three steps before a hand fisted in his ratty, third-hand shirt jerked him to a stop, practically choking him in the process. Before Harry had time to recover, he'd been thrown to the ground, Billy towering over him.
The boy had an ugly sneer on his face, and a look in his eyes that Harry knew meant pain. Then Billy's eyes fell on Godric, still clutched tightly in one of Harry's hands and he gave a truly malicious smile. Billy kicked him hard in the ribs, then reached down and yanked Godric from his hands while Harry was struggling through the pain.
"Who's this, Potty?" Bill asked.
"Give him back," Harry snarled, trying to push himself to his feet.
Billy shoved him back to the ground with a cruel smile.
"Little baby Potty. The coward needs a brave lion to protect him," Billy sneered.
The bully inspected the worn lion that Harry had had as long as he could remember, and Harry felt his stomach sinking.
"Where'd you get this, Potty?" Billy asked. "None of the rest of us get anything so nice. What makes a freak like you so special?"
"My parents gave him to me," Harry said, his mouth too dry for his voice to be loud.
"What?" Billy said.
"My parents gave him to me," Harry said again, louder this time.
The expression that crossed Billy's face then was even uglier than anything Harry had seen on it before.
"You're an orphan, Potty," he said with a sneer. "You don't have parents."
And then he tore Godric's leg clean off.
By the time it was all over, Harry was curled in a small ball. His lip was cut, his side hurt every time he took a breath, and he knew that in a few hours he'd be covered in deep bruises, including what was certain to be a spectacular black eye. His glasses were broken again, which he knew would make the matron angry. He didn't care about any of that though. All he cared about were the bits of fabric and stuffing that covered the ground next to him.
Gathering them close, Harry felt his eyes burning. Godric. The last and only piece of his family gone. Torn to pieces.
Harry bit his lip hard to keep himself from crying. Not here. He couldn't cry here. He'd practically run back up to the room he and Tom shared, slamming the door behind him before he let the tears fall. He remembered the day his Mum and Dad had taken him to Diagon Alley, the time they'd all spent playing together in the toy store. The proud grin on his dad's face when Harry had asked for the lion, the way his mother had rolled her eyes with a smile on his face. The way his Mum would make Godric talk when she was telling Harry bedtime stories. The way Godric would "defeat" his Dad during tickle fights when Harry called on the lion to save him. The adventures the two of them had together in the house, the garden, the park.
His last piece of home, gone.
Harry had no idea how long he sat there before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry jerked back, startled, banging his back into the wall, making him hiss in pain.
Tom stood in front of him, his dark eyes taking in Harry's appearance before they narrowed, anger making them shine. Wordlessly, Tom sat beside Harry and reached out, his hand cupping Harry's chin as he turned Harry's face towards the window. Harry didn't fight him. Harry would never fight Tom. Tom took care of him. Moments like this just let Harry know how much Tom cared.
Harry needed someone to care about him right now.
A fresh wave of tears fell down his face, and Tom let go of his chin to wipe them carefully away with his finger.
"What happened?" Tom asked, his voice calm.
Harry held up the scraps of what once used to be his prized possession in answer. Tom looked down at them and his nose wrinkled. Tom had never liked mess or disorganization, but he would tolerate it for Harry. But then recognition washed over Tom's face and the disgust faded to be replaced with anger.
"Godric?" he asked, examining the scraps.
Harry nodded, throat too full of emotion to speak.
Tom gently pulled the pieces away from Harry and set them on the bed before he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. Harry ignored the pain in his ribs and reached out to wrap his arms around Tom in turn, squeezing tightly. Tom took care of Harry. He would stop the other orphans from bullying them. He taught Harry how to use his magic a way no one else could. Tom explained things in a way Harry could understand them. Tom kept him company and played with him, even when it was clear that he thought the games were stupid just because it would make Harry happy. Tom took care of him, making sure he had enough to eat and was warm enough even in the meager accommodations they were provided. With Tom beside him, Harry felt like he could do anything.
Harry might have missed his parents, missed his home. He might have hated the orphanage and the other orphans. But he never once regretted the wish he had made. Tom was the best friend anybody could ever have. Harry wouldn't trade him for anything in the whole world.
"Who?" Tom asked simply, rubbing his hand up and down Harry's back in a soothing motion.
"Billy Stubbs," Harry managed to choke out, clinging tightly to Tom.
That night, while Harry was curled up in bed, right on the edge of sleep, he felt Tom slip out from under the covers.
"Tom?" Harry asked, sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and trying to make everything less blurry.
"Go back to sleep," Tom said, gently pushing Harry back down and tucking him under the covers.
"Kay," Harry whispered.
He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but it was hard to do in the empty bed. There was no Tom there to help keep him warm, no Godric to cuddle close to his chest as he tried to fall asleep. Without Tom, the room seemed especially dark, especially cold. Still, Harry screwed his eyes shut, clutched the covers around him even tighter and did his best to fall back asleep.
Harry didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the cinderblock wall, but he was right on the edge of sleep when he heard the door creak open and then closed again. A moment later, the covers were pulled back and cold air rushed in for a moment before Tom slipped underneath them. When the older boy wrapped his arms around him, Harry gave a small smile before letting sleep claim him.
The next morning, when they found Billy Stubb's rabbit hanging from the ceiling, Harry knew exactly who was to blame.
Harry ran back to their room to find Tom reading at the desk. He dashed over and wrapped his arms around him.
"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Thank you."
Tom gave him a wary look.
"You aren't angry?"
Harry just shook his head, clinging to Tom even more tightly. Tom reached out and pulled Harry closer, his long fingers running through Harry's hair.
"You're mine, Harry. My only friend. The most important person." Tom said. "No one is allowed to hurt you."
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