Harry's mum isn't so sure about his boyfriend, though he isn't sure he would listen if she told him to back away from that Riddle boy.

Sweetheart

Tom Riddle was a tall, dark haired wizard with steel blue eyes* and flawless skin. He had broad shoulders and developing muscles, young still but old enough to showcase that he was going to look better than he does now even when he's in his forties. He wears black formal robes and, occasionally, suits that spice it up with a bit of navy or maroon. Whatever he wears, he looks as though he belongs in a painting or a teenage girl's wettest fantasy. He walks with innate grace, like a god. It's so easy to forget he's just a young wizard with just as uncertain of a future as anyone else his age, he's so certain and sure of himself and he radiates self-confidence people dream of.

It isn't embarrassing for Harry to admit he had a crush on Tom since he was just a first year, in the same House but separated by years. Tom was a fourth year and everyone adored him, Harry really wasn't anything special. Like everyone, Harry had fallen head over heels for Tom's everything, from the just-slightly-so curls of his hair and cool eyes and smooth, deep voice. He still couldn't believe he had caught the older boy's attention, though it had been purely by mistake.

In Harry's first year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor (Regulus Black) had begun his lesson plan as he always did. Instructions for beginner's dueling, basic defensive spells that even the most advanced witches and wizards use. Tom Riddle was assisting in all of the first year classes, a favor at Professor Black's part so he could manage the bigger classes with more ease. Merlin knew how chaotic it could get with a bunch of eleven-to-twelve year old's flinging spells at each other.

He was paired against Ron Weasley. At the time, they had been designing themselves as enemies because Harry was friends with Draco and Draco, as a Malfoy, hated all Weasley's and had made Ron his enemy- it was a very long equation, really, but the point was; as a friend to Ron's arch-nemesis, he, too, was an enemy. As opponents, even in a spar duel, it'd be easy to assume things could only end badly.

Harry had successfully disarmed Ron his first attempt at casting the spell, before Ron could finish his own spell. He caught Ron's wand and graciously gave it back. Afterwards, Tom came up to him and complimented him. And Harry wasn't eloquent in the slightest, but he had luckily caught Tom's interest. It was a faint, dull sort of interest that'd nurture itself over time.

There was no timeline to their relationship, not one Harry could make anyway. Harry did his best to excel in his spell-work, studying avidly and practicing by himself in old, unused classrooms. He knew if he did amazingly, he'd continue to keep Tom's attention. Really, that was all he wanted, as any boy with a horrible crush would. He was just a very ambitious, very motivated, boy with a crush. Tom watched him, complimented him, and was eventually showing Harry a few tricks of his own.

By the end of his first year, Harry was sitting to Tom's right in the common room every night. He attracted plenty of envy, but he handled it the way he knew Tom would want him to. He stumbled often, embarrassed himself so much Harry was surprised no one just laughed at him. Harry had written hundreds of letters over the summer, all to Tom, but only sent about a dozen. Every letter that was sent back, Harry carefully read and re-read and re-re-read. He filled a journal with disgusting, lovesick poems and dreams. He was pretty sure his mum had found it, but she never told him anything. He was grateful for that.

Time passed. Harry continued to excel, continued to be by Tom's side. In Harry's second year, Tom showed him the Chamber of Secrets and gifted him a jade bracelet carved into an ouroboros. He treasured it, only took it off to clean it. He ordered books from a bookshop in Knockturn Alley and gave them to Tom, near weekly. He was thanked with his cheek being cupped, soft rubs across the top of his head, and a, "Thank you, Harry." At the end of the year, Hermione Granger died and a girl in Ravenclaw was blamed. She was expelled. Harry didn't utter a word about what he knew. On the train to King's Cross, Tom ushered everyone except for Harry out of the compartment, and gave Harry a kiss.

"That's a pretty bracelet." His mum said, when they were eating dinner that night. Harry barely heard her, he was still thinking about Tom and Tom's lips against his and, wow, it was like all the romance novels said.

"Tom gave it to me." Harry said.

"Tom?" His dad raised a brow. Sirius started cackling until Remus showed his elbow into his side. "Who's Tom?" He asked.

"He's the one who dropped me off to you." Harry explained. Tom did, walked him from the train to his parents at the train station. He gently rubbed the back of Harry's neck and said goodbye, walking away without even a backward glance.

"He's older than you, isn't he?" His mum asked.

"He's a fifth year. Well, now he's a sixth year. He's turning seventeen in December." The words came out of Harry's mouth, too eager to spillover because he'd happily take every chance he could to talk about Tom, though Tom had told him not to talk too much.

"Really?" His mum's fork pushed into her green bean with extra force. "Bit odd for someone his age to be giving twelve year old's gifts like that."

"Oh, Lily." His dad laughed. "Purebloods are a bit odd like that. Right, Padfoot?"

Sirius bobbed his head, mouth full and cheeks bloated with his potatoes. He tried to say "Yeah!", but it came out distorted and like, "Ne-wah."

She frowned.

Harry didn't think it was odd at all. He had worked very hard to get Tom's attention, he didn't think it had anything to do with his age.

He, again, wrote hundreds of letters but only sent out a dozen. Harry had made his parents wake up early on September First that year, desperate to see Tom's after what felt like years and not a couple months. He had found magazines and all sorts of books over the summer, and catalogs he used to secretly buy things that the magazines and books said Tom might like. He was very grateful for his family's wealth and his hefty weekly allowances.

Turned out, Tom didn't quite care about those things. He appreciated the effort and, for Harry's happiness, chose a few that he liked. Razors, lipstick, and lotion. Tom barely tolerated the fine hairs he grew on his arms and legs, and Harry's were beginning to grow in as wild and thick as the hair on his head. And, of course, lotion to keep his skin smooth. Anyone with decent self-care used lotion, apparently. The lipstick was just something Tom liked for him to wear, when they could be alone, with no offered explanation, except for kisses and a few hard nibbles. Harry would douse himself in oil and light himself on fire if Tom told him to, these things were nothing to do.

Harry learned a lot of things in his third year. Spells, including a few curses, how to make it look like his broom was malfunctioning during a game. There was also how to tuck his lips to cover his teeth when he swallowed Tom's cock, how to heal bite marks on his throat and how to make his own on Tom's. He learned that if he didn't heal any of the marks on his skin that could be easily hidden, it was a lot easier to lure Tom into an empty classroom or convince him to let Harry into his dorm room at night after kicking his dorm mates out.

Harry's summer after his third year was filled with letters and sneaking out as often as he could, no excuse to where he was going since he never strayed far from home during any of his previous summers or his entire life. But Tom was always there, seventeen and happily using his magic every chance he got. He gave Harry a ring that summer, one he said was a family heirloom he had retrieved. He told Harry a lot more, but Harry didn't care about the details because he knew if he thought about them too much he'd probably catch the feeling of telling something and that was betrayal and Harry never wanted even a passing thought of betraying Tom in his mind. Of course, he would never tell anyone what Tom told him, even if they pointed a glowing green wand at him.

Somehow, Harry's mum never noticed the ring. Nor did anyone else. And it never occurred to him to just tell his parents he was going to be with Tom.

In Harry's fourth year there was the Triwizard Tournament and Tom won it easily, but that didn't matter as much as their dance did at the Yule Ball and the jealous look he got from the Beauxbatons champion. At some point during that year, Harry had lost his virginity and discovered how amazing it felt to be filled up by Tom, probably enjoyed it far too often. He did remember, with ease, that on the last day of his fourth year he didn't heal any of the marks Tom had left on him. He wore them with pride and didn't really think of the consequences when Tom took him to his parents, saying goodbye with a kiss and an order to write him the moment Harry was home.

"Are you dating him?" His mum asked, as soon as Tom was out of eye view.

"Yeah." Harry admitted, fidgeting.

"Lot's of fun, huh?" His dad teased. "Ought to ask Sirius for a few healing charms, kiddo."

"Yeah." Harry repeated, flushing.

His fifth year was boring, lonely. Tom had graduated already and Harry was very much alone. He spent the days day dreaming and ordering other Slytherins around, who named him their unofficial leader with Tom gone. They couldn't please him, directly, anymore so they pleased him, in whatever ways they could. Harry was lonesome, though, in a way none of them could solve. He almost felt dirty thinking it, but he missed Tom's cock and Tom's hands and Tom's tongue and Tom's lips. He was haunted by wet dreams and constantly-growing desires. He felt impatient and on edge and got detention more than once, losing his temper and nastily hexing someone when they made a comment he decided he didn't like or if their existence just annoyed him.

He wrote hundreds of letters, and he sent every single one.

Harry was grateful for the summer. Tom was working in Knockturn Alley, proudly collecting an assortment of artifacts. He had taken the Triwizard Tournament winnings to invest in one thing and another, one of which being Fred and George Weasley's joke shop endeavor. They had officially opened a shop and were happily sharing the profits with Tom. How he knew they were opening a joke shop was beyond Harry.

He made up for lost time, though, spent hours with his legs spread or on his knees, or both.

This time, he told his mum and dad where he was going. His dad didn't care, but his mum did. She gave him curfews he never obeyed and grounded him, but he never stayed home for longer than a day.

Tom was invited, one night, to come over for dinner. He wore a tailored black robes made from some expensive material, not out of a desire to impress but simply something he wanted to wear. He liked to adjourn himself with little luxuries, though not one to flaunt what wealth he was beginning to grow for himself. He still gave Harry plenty of pretty gold jewelry and racy, lacy things, happy to weigh Harry down to transform him into a pretty trophy perfect for standing next to him. But, back to topic- Tom came over for dinner.

Harry cooed at him and kissed him and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles because Tom didn't need a wrinkle-free charm to remain absolutely perfect.

The dinner went well, but Harry's mum still grit her teeth and probably chipped her plate.

["Something about him I don't like." She whispered to her husband, when Tom was long-gone and Harry had locked himself into his room. He was doing that a lot lately, locking himself away and sometimes wouldn't respond to anyone knocking.

"You're just being overprotective." James dismissed. "Lily, come on, he makes Harry happy. Ought to be happy with that, yeah?"

Lily bit her bottom lip, bruising. "He works at a shop in Knockturn Alley." She said.

"Out of intellectual curiosity, he said so." James kissed her cheek. "Stop worrying-"

"-Yes, he said so! If he's doing bad things, why would he say so?" Lily said.

"Do you think he's a Dark wizard?" James asked. "Why? Harry trusts him, I think he loves him. And I trust Harry's judgement and anyone who has earned his love."

"I can try, but it's a mother's instinct." Lily sighed.]

*I described Tom having steel blue eyes, but I know they've just been described as 'dark eyes' in canon, which is probably brown. However, since everyone compares him to Hitler, I thought I'd give him Hitler's eyes. Hitler had 'steel blue eyes', described by a woman who was talking about his charisma. When I watched the interview, she seemed enamored with him, still. I thought I should give Tom that! Though I don't think he's the wizarding Hitler. I mean, he wasn't even an artist.

Also this is short and complete shit, I wrote it in an hour and it's late as fuck. Sorry about that?

5/22/2017 EDIT if you want a continuation of this story, go vote on the poll in my profile.

5/26/2017 EDIT someone voted and got this story a second piece, which I'll update soon. If you want another continuation, go vote on the poll.