Almond Sunshine
Disclaimer: All property of J. K. Rowling.
A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fiction in a long while, so I would love any constructive criticism. There are issues with characterisation, story flow and dialogue punctuation, in my estimation, so I would appreciate any advice on those topics in particular, as well as any general criticisms you may have. All characters are of the age of legal consent.
His warm laughter swept over the table, and Harry felt it deep in his gut. The smooth baritone sound causing an instinctual reaction in him, setting butterflies aflutter in his stomach, and forcing his eyes up to the laughing Head Boy. Tom Riddle was handsome, to be sure, with his perfectly coifed black hair, his eyes like a starless night, a straight patrician's nose and those pearly whites- Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I'm staring again, he reprimanded himself as he brought his gaze back down to his loaded plate. He'd barely touched anything.
Christmas time at Hogwarts was always magical, and Harry had thought so since that first time he'd stayed over the winter holidays back in his second year. His parents had been distraught when he'd sent them that owl, after all, what was Christmas without family? He always remembered his mother's warm laughter and his Father's teasing fondly, and it was only six Christmases, and then he could remember Hogwarts' Christmases fondly and lounge around with his family. Besides, they have Sirius and the Weasleys. And I'll have Remus here with me, so I'm not going to be alone.
"It's not like I'll be able to go back to Hogwarts after I've graduated, Mum!" he'd pleaded over the following summer holidays, knowing she'd be the hold-out. Dad always understood, after all, James Potter had passed on more than just his looks to his only son. Exploring the castle when there was barely anyone there was too much to resist. And apparently, Harry fell as hard for his crushes as his father had, not that he needed to talk to his parents about anything like that. He'd heard about their fated love (and really, he'd debated whether his Dad was being lovesick, or just a very good embarrassment a hundred times and he couldn't tell), but he didn't need to go discussing his own love life to his parents, now, did he?
"Well," she'd conceded reluctantly, "I guess we can always talk on your magical mirror phone, then," Looking him over warmly, the sides of her mouth slowly tilting upwards. It hadn't really even been a fight. She knew that he wouldn't have given in if he seriously wanted this, and that small ache in her heart would be smoothed over just by seeing his smiling face. Really, Hogwarts wasn't even that far away, she could just apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up there, if she really had to!
And so, Harry's Christmas Tradition had been set, italicised and with capital letters, thank you very much. He'd stay at Hogwarts and douse himself in that one of a kind magical Christmas in a remote, Scottish castle, over eat and explore the empty hallways and secret passages, and if he happened upon a good looking, muggle-born cosied away in the library, or wandering about in a hallway, or across the table in the Great Hall charming even the fairy lights, then that was just a nice bonus, and not at all the real reason Harry had wanted to stay in the first place.
"No, Professor Slughorn, that Veela was obviously acting. I don't have any kind of allure to speak of," Tom smiled, just the right amount of exasperation, and good humour, and Harry didn't know anyone so down to earth, or so blatantly ridiculous. He wondered idly if that potato had just gone down wrong, or if his heart had just had a palpitation when he looked up and accidentally made eye contact with Tom, followed with a sharp twinge right behind his eyes, who shrugged, as if to say what can you do, huh? He smiled back through his mild panic, and discretely took a sip of pumpkin juice because he wasn't going to go out choking on a root vegetable, of all things. He could just imagine it now. "I'm sorry, Mr and Mrs Potter. The culprit was this piece of only slightly chewed roast potato, we'll be sure to get it properly chewed and digested so you can have some closure. This is more common than you think, unchewed roast potatoes have been known to make victims of both the exceedingly young and old populations of the world, even more so on events like the average Sunday and annual Christmas celebrations." It wasn't even Christmas day yet!
He didn't make much conversation for the rest of the dinner, which wasn't out of the norm for him if Ron and Hermione weren't around, only making a little small talk with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall, who were debating on whether the spell to make something glitter was rooted in the use of solid illusions in charms or transfiguration of surrounding dust and debris. Personally, Harry thought McGonagall had the right of it, but siding with either one of them was like choosing between whether his Mum or Dad would be right, considering they'd each be backing their favourite professors. He wondered how no one had picked up on the fact that Professor McGonagall obviously had a soft spot for James when he was in school. She could fool everyone else, but he'd seen those secret prank schemes they sent each other on the regular.
"Have a nice evening, everyone," he called quietly as he finished eating and started walking towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Scattered responses came from the handful of students and a Scottish accent called after him, "Tell your Father I've sent him a particularly interesting copy of Transfiguration Frontiers for his review, would you, Potter?" He waved back in acknowledgement and sniggered as he realised Sirius was probably going to lose this round of prank wars with his Dad. No one noticed Tom staring at Harry's path out of the Great Hall, his dark eyes boring into the back of a messy head of hair, scraping down his slim figure. No one noticed the small, private smile that came on to his face, or the lick of desire that flashed behind his eyes, either.
As he made his way up to his vacant dorm room, Harry thought on Tom Riddle. It was a hopeless endeavour really, he was obviously straight, if those few months of dating Mandy Brocklehurt before the Yule Ball had any bearing, not to forget accidentally seeing them get it on, and those few months of dating that had led up to it.
"Abstinence," The Fat Lady swung the portrait open and he clambered through into the common room. He tried not to think of it, seeing those graceful piano hands disappearing underneath her dress, seeing his smirk as he'd kissed her lips, her neck and made her moan. That low murmur he'd just heard as he'd fled, the split second of eye contact as Harry had started to whirl around to stumble away from the scene, a sensual whisper, "Come for me,". That voice, the heated look in those eyes, were so at odds with everything he'd seen of Tom before, and after the incident.
He threw himself on his cushy four poster bed, relaxing back, and tried to conflate the humble, charismatic muggle-born with the… the casanova he'd seen. They'd broken up a few weeks later, and it seemed like it had been amicable, but it really had been like it was right out of a trashy book. He felt his face heating up, and slapped his cheeks gently. Get your head out of the gutter, ignoring the small part of him that had hated Mandy for those few instances, that had whispered in a corner of his mind that he had wanted to be her, and definitely ignoring that almost piercing feeling he felt as Tom had locked eyes with him back then, and almost every other time since then. I wonder if he feels it too, his mind whispered as he drifted off, pleasurably full, the taste of gravy and potatoes in his mouth, and a sharp gaze and even sharper cheekbones on his mind.
He came to a few hours later, to a darkened dorm room. Everyone else had gone home for the holidays this year, including Ron and Hermione. The silence of the room was almost eerie, considering all the little noises four other boys made, void any of Ron's snoring, or rustling sheets as Neville shuffled his sheets around in his sleep.
He stretched and laid languid on his bed before taking the stack of letters he'd written earlier that day from his bedside table. Grabbing the one addressed to his parents, he quickly added a post script telling his Dad to expect a new instalment of Transfiguration Frontiers, if he hadn't already received it. It was already past curfew but with barely any students around, there wasn't any chance he'd be caught by anyone. Well, not anyone he didn't want to be caught by, anyway. His heart sped up a little at the thought of it, even though he knew it wouldn't be very likely anyway. In all the years he'd been here, he'd only ever accidentally been happened upon by Riddle a handful of times outside of meals and the library, where, in all honesty, Harry went as a last resort to get a glimpse of the 'Head Boy Hottie'. He snorted at the silly name. I'll dress up in Neville's Nan's clothes, polyjuice in Snape and parade around his apothecary like a vulture-bat hybrid before letting those words escape my lips.
The walk to the owlery was silent, except for the gentle pad of his feet. Cold breezes passed through the tower as he padded up the stairs and called to Hedwig, looking out at the view, the musty smell of roosting owls settling in his nostrils.
"Hey, girl. I missed you," Strong, silent wingbeats carried the snowy-white owl to his out-stretched arm, and she nipped his ear affectionately in response. He laughed and turned to look at her, before stroking her. She swivelled her head slightly, and looked behind him. Following her line of sight, he turned around and saw nothing, just the dark shadows of the wall next to the entrance.
"You'll have to miss out on the mouse, this time," he whispered as if sharing a secret, jokingly, "I have quite a few letters for you to deliver. Think you'll be alright?"
She looked down her beak at him, and hooted disdainfully. Even Harry could read that look. Please, I've had to look after you all these years, I'll be fine.
"Alright, alright, sorry for teasing," He smiled as she hopped down onto a table, and let him tie a bundle of letters to her leg. She sent another glance at what must have been the mouse, before turning around and launching herself outside, into the brisk air. Harry shivered, and rubbed his shoulders quickly before taking in another deep breath of fresh air. Slightly mingled with hundreds of bird droppings, it wasn't the most alluring smell in the whole world, and so his job done, he made his way out of the owlery. He took the stairs quicker this time, slightly cold, where he'd been fine not even five minutes ago, and decided to head to the prefect's bathroom to have a late-night soak. The perks of having two perfect Prefect best friends, or being a Quidditch Captain, I suppose, he grinned, and made to head down to the fifth floor. He arrived next to the statue of Boris the Bewildered and swiftly entered.
"Almond Sunshine."
"What a peculiar name!" Boris exclaimed, sounding positively bewildered, as the door opened, not even aware that Harry had been addressing the door, or that Almond Sunshine wasn't much of a peculiar name if you considered 'Mandy Brocklehurst'. Harry sniffed smugly. The warm climate of the bathroom engulfed him, and Harry waved to the mermaid, who waved back and giggled flirtatiously. Paying her no mind, he set to filling the bath tub, read: swimming pool, with his favourite scents, one of which, funnily enough, was named Almond Sunshine. The water, bubbles and scents gushed out, and filled the swimming pool, while Harry checked around for Moaning Myrtle. Seeing the all-clear, he shed his clothes next to the pool-tub, and haphazardly dropped his glasses and wand down on top of them.
He dipped his toes in and withdrew it again quickly, hissing from the heat. The mermaid giggled and he shot a glare at the general direction she was in, trying to aim for her through all the blur. Slowly acclimatising himself to hot water, he lowered himself in, feeling the heat of the bath seeping into his muscles and bones. Doggy paddling over, he turned off the taps, before splashing back to and leaning his head back against his clothes, letting his body go limp.
Just as he'd relaxed, and entered a truly sloth-like state of mind, he heard a door open, someone stepping forward and a surprised exclamation.
"Oh." Shocked, Harry flailed trying to turn around and swiped his glasses and wand off his clothes, where he heard a distinct plop.
"Fuc-bollocks!" His attempted abortion at swearing was met with a soft, deep laughter, and Harry stilled slightly. He knew that voice, the reverberations he could almost feel through the marble. Squinting up at the figure looking down at him, Harry could confidently identify a human shaped blob, comprised of a bunch of colours. As he stared at what might be a general face blob, he felt a sharp twinge. There we go, that must be the Head Boy Hottie, then. Harry didn't blush, or stammer anything over accidentally over-accusingly like "W-what are you doing here?"
"Accio glasses, accio wand." Harry heard two soft splashes and saw the human blob catching his things. He stayed still as it crouched in front of him, tightly clutching the edge of the swimming pool-bath tub hybrid, and he could hear himself panting, feel the rush of blood pounding through his ears, throbbing. Gentle fingers slid his glasses on, and Tom Riddle's face came into almost clear, slightly soapy focus. He was smirking.
"Sorry about that. The door normally locks if there's someone inside."
"Oh, I didn't know that. I normally lock it."
"Haven't you read Hogwarts: A History?" As Tom Riddle crouched above him, still close enough to touch his face, his smirk settled into an amused expression, and Harry was reminded of how Hermione's fondly exasperated, 'You really should read Hogwarts: A History. It's a treasure trove of information!' He'd never felt even slightly aroused by those words before.
"Uhh, no. Hermione tells us we should. Apparently, it's a treasure trove of information." Tom nodded and said something in response, but Harry had become slightly distracted. Strong legs were crouched in front of him, black trousers clinging tightly in all the right places, a tapered waist and strong broad shoulders, muscled. An elegant neck, led up to a sculpted jawline and full, red lips. As Harry's eyes trailed up, and drank in the visage before him, he met the dark eyes looking down at him. He stared, feeling like he was drowning in them, all he could see were those eyes, drawing him in, spreading him naked and exposed, scrutinizing him. For the first time since he'd discovered Tom Riddle, Harry was scared. He felt a shiver start along his back, working its way up to his neck, and saw something rising in those eyes. A small flame, a hint of approval, something pleased and all-consuming.
With a small shake of his head, Harry came back to himself. Remembered where he was, and who he was with.
"Back with the living yet?" Harry looked to the side. He sounded amused, and Harry felt mortified.
"Sorry," A mumble, and yet, it echoed around the bathroom. He looked back up and focused on Tom's face, ignoring how his body started warming up, and not thinking he was naked in a bathroom with his crush.
"It's alright. I said your friend is right. And Bathilda Bagshot is a national treasure," He paused, "I'm sorry for interrupting, I'll just come back later." He made to get up and before he even realised what he was saying, Harry had responded.
"No! I mean. Yeah, no. I'm done anyway, I can go. Could you just turn around for a couple of minutes?" He made to start getting out and Tom looked down at him, considering.
"Don't bother, I can see I interrupted you," A glint came into his eyes, "If you're so eager for me to have a bath, I could just join you. You don't mind, right? This is more a swimming pool-bath tub hybrid anyway. Almost too extravagant." He laughed, and it was a full laugh, something that warmed Harry up, filled him up. He calls it a swimming pool too!
"Oh- uh," He hesitated, looking at Tom, and seeing him read the situation and get ready to leave, Harry made a split-second decision, "Please! Sure, I mean, we can share if you don't mind, its huge."
"It'll be our secret," Tom winked, shucking off his clothes, immodest of his nudity, and Harry turned around jerkily, fighting between his desire to see everything, and to not be a creep. He felt Tom slipping into the water, all too close to him. A flash of pale skin, well-defined muscles, and he was in. Why am I in a bath with someone I barely know?, he thought, wondering how any of this had happened.
He closed his eyes, pushing himself away from the edge of the pool, willing himself to relax, and failing miserably. He heard the sound of water being pushed out of the way, and goose bumps rose up on his body. He could feel the heat radiating from Tom, the small breaths being misted on to the back of his neck, and then onto his ear as an arm pressed around his lithe stomach and pulled. An embarrassing noise, like a breathy exhale rattled out of his body. This is actually happening, whatever this is. Tom was pressed against him, and he could feel everything. Strong thighs pushing against the back of his own thighs, a perfectly sculpted chest and stomach pushed against his back, the warm breath and gentle graze of lips against the shell of his left ear.
Against the swell of his buttocks, however, was what really made Harry freeze. A small movement from behind and suddenly, Tom's penis was between his buttocks, slightly swollen, but not hard, and oh, it was just as intimidating as the rest of Tom. Of course, everything about him would be. Harry felt a thrill go through him, and of all of the intimacies he was experiencing, one thing sent a frisson of desire through him, above all else. Desire, tinged with the strangest hint of fear. Tom's elegant fingers were splayed possessively on his stomach, and Harry could feel every single movement their bodies made, and every breath they inhaled and exhaled. His heart was thumping so loudly, it would be almost impossible for Tom to not hear it.
"W-what are you doing?" He whispered, licking his lips. They were surrounded by water, but his mouth was so dry. This wasn't like the charming Head Boy, not the perfect student, and helpful upperclassmen. It was jarring, this switch to someone so domineering. But he'd seen it before, hadn't he? Is this what he was always like underneath? Or perhaps, just a facet of his personality, after all, even Ron and Hermione didn't know everything about Harry.
A soft chuckle, all the more sensual for being so close to him, fanned breath over his ear once more, and broke the thick silence.
"Isn't it obvious, Potter? Or rather, Harry? You'll allow me the pleasure of your given name, won't you?" His tongue curled around Harry's name, made it sound so sinuous, and sexual. Almost dirty. Harry was rock hard, and he felt like he would explode.
"But- But what about Mandy? You're-" He was cut off as Tom started to stroke his fingers, trailing them gently down, down, and when Harry's breathing sped up, anticipating what would come next, back up again to his stomach.
"What about her, Harry?" The name was a whisper on his tongue, a caress, "We already broke up, we both knew it wouldn't last. It was purely a…" He paused, tipping his head to the side, and considering.
"You might say it was a temporary arrangement for us both…" Harry could hear the smirk, almost like he was bragging, "Purely a physical endeavour," and here he thrust forward and pushed his swollen cock more firmly between Harry's cheeks, eliciting a gasp, "And I daresay she revelled in my attentions. But then, you were witness to that, as well. Did you enjoy the show?"
Something rose up in Harry, then, giving him a sense of clarity, and he let out a terse answer, taking control of his faculties.
"No." He grabbed Tom's forearm and pushed it away. Apparently, Harry wasn't as strong as he thought he was, as Tom's arm budged only slightly, and then suddenly, it gave way, and as Harry pushed away from Tom and turned around. Before he knew it, he was being pulled towards Tom again, however this time, they were chest to chest and Harry's heart was still drumming a staccato beat. Tom crowded against him, one hand at the small of his back. His cock was hard against Tom's stomach, and Tom was much more interested now, his dick even more substantial than before, and growing, even now.
"My apologies, then," Abrupt, and unfeeling. There was still a knowing look in his eye, and there was a pause, a breath. "Of course, I saw you, and I've been watching you since. You've been ever so wanton, Harry." Harry tried to draw back, beginning to feel indignant. I've never acted like that!
"I never did! I don't know what you're talking about!" Harry placed both his hands on Tom's chest pushing, and paused when he leaned in. He was looking at his eyes again now, and slowly Tom's eyes drifted downwards, towards his lips. They still felt so dry.
"How very obtuse of me, Harry. Here I thought, you'd been commiserating with me at the dinner table, sharing in my troubles. Why, you did so even this morning." Harry looked down, embarrassed, Tom Riddle had never been, and would never be, described as obtuse. He remembered earlier today, when he'd choked on the roast potato. Surely, something so small as a smile couldn't be construed as acting wantonly. He'd never even kissed anyone before!
"I must have been wrong," Tom's voice was not even a whisper now, just a breath on his lips, "Just one more question… Do you always invite men into your baths, Harry?"
Harry leaned forward. He wanted this so bad, he thought, perhaps, he'd never wanted anything more with his entire being than this right now, for Tom to lean forward.
"It's- I've never," He was so out of sorts, so easily flustered, "You're the first. It's only been you." He leaned forward and Tom stopped him.
"Say the magic word, Harry." His voice was still so low. Sharing a secret with him that the world would never hear. It was an order, Harry had never felt hotter, more inflamed, more aroused than now. With Tom Riddle looking at him as if he was the only person in the world, his stare burning into him, his unforgiving words binding him in place, and almost sobbing, Harry said the magic word.
"Please." A smile painted Tom's features, smug and not entirely kind.
"How very Gryffindor of you, Harry, asking for what you want, instead of taking it. But of course, that is most definitely part of your charm." and then his chin was being tipped up, and Tom leaned down and Harry's entire world shrank to the feeling of Tom's body against his, and soft lips being touched to his. A gentle kiss, and then Tom's tongue was swiping along his bottom lip, and Harry was opening his mouth, hands moving to clutch at the nape of Tom's neck. He couldn't stop shaking, making eager noises as Tom pushed his tongue into Harry's mouth, taking control. Harry moaned, feeling his dick rub against Tom's, now hard and rigid, a hot brand lined up against his own, and wrapped his legs around Tom's hips.
Pulling away, Tom trailed kisses to the side of his neck, bit down and started sucking hard. Stopping, he licked at the area, before looking up and into Harry's eyes.
"Such beautiful eyes. Even more so when you're giving me those fuck me eyes." He stroked the side of Harry's face. "Have you ever thought of me fucking you? Opening you up with my fingers, holding you down and taking you?"
Harry had never even imagined he'd ever he would be in a position like this with Tom, let alone hear him say these kinds of things. Speechless, still clutching hugging Tom, he tried to lean forward and hide his face in Tom's neck. He was shaking, so turned on and he'd only barely been kissed.
"Do you want to come, Harry?" Face burning, he nodded, "That's not enough, Harry." His voice took on a stern tone. If you want to come tonight, then you're going to have to speak up. "Now, be a good Gryffindor."
As soon as he said those words, Harry knew what he had to say. He'd heard it earlier after all. Gryffindors asked for what they wanted, rather than taking it.
So, his voice shaking with need, he looked up and asked, "Please, may I come?"
"How?" He stood still, waiting.
"Stroke us? Together, please?" He felt a hand gliding down his back and sliding around to his front. A firm grasp gripped both their members and stroked up. Harry let out a hoarse cry and gripped Tom's shoulders. Pleasure raced up from his dick, and his breathing was already ragged, he could feel himself getting closer, his balls tightening, and suddenly the stroking stopped. Tom removed his hand..
"Stroke us, Harry." He reached out a shaking hand and wrapped it around their dicks together. The familiar pleasure began again and Harry began to stroke quicker. He began thrusting his hips. He felt a hand groping his ass, and suddenly a finger was poking at his furled hole. It seemed bigger than Tom's fingers had ever looked, and it pushed past the tight ring of muscle and into his ass.
"Come for me." Memory overlapped with reality, as Harry bucked forward, with a cry. It was uncomfortable but, the longer he felt it inside, the more accustomed to it he became and, suddenly there was an amazing feeling spreading out in sunbursts from a place in his ass, and his balls tightened and fiery pleasure spread through his dick as he came, gasping, crying Tom's name.
Coming down from the high of his ejaculation, Harry felt a jerk back to reality. What did I just do? The finger felt uncomfortable inside him and he squeezed involuntarily as it was removed. He didn't look up but he could still feel Tom's dick, hard and hot as a brand against him.
A hand was stroking his back. "I… didn't expect this. You're really rather innocent, aren't you? But by your actions," and as Harry looked up, he saw a strange surprise on Tom's face settling into a pondering look, "you do remind me of a rabbit, you know."
Harry ignored the strange remark, and tried to fight back the embarrassment he was feeling. "Do you want some help?" he wrapped his hand around Tom's dick, and stroked it a little. Tom groaned, and thrust into the grip.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I would, but," He removed Harry's hand, and pulled himself up the sit on the edge of the pool. Pulling Harry forward by his hand, he placed it on his cock, and then held Harry's chin in one hand rubbed a thumb along his bottom lip.
"You could always suck me off, too." His voice had a deeper tenor, and his eyes were half closed, taking in the sensations of Harry's hand stroking his cock.
Harry sucked in a breath, and looked down nervously. It's not like I haven't thought about it, he grimaced. It's just not exactly how I would have imagined it. But looking at Tom, Harry felt a rush.
"Well, that's not very Slytherin of you now, is it, Mr Head Boy? Asking for something instead of taking it." Harry smirked, as Tom opened his eyes, surprised and before he could get his back, he bent down and licked a stripe up Tom's dick, hearing a mix between a groan and a surprised laugh. It felt much more daunting at face level, but he licked again, before taking the head into his mouth and sucking on it a little bit. He stroked the cock and swirled his tongue around the head of Tom's dick. It, unsurprisingly, tasted of a mainly chemical concoction, but it felt hot on his tongue and spongey when he sucked on it. He could hear more and more moaning from Tom, so carried on.
He felt a hand on the back of his head, and paused to look up, making eye contact with Tom, and resting his hands on Tom's hips.
"Let me be a better Slytherin for you, like you wanted." He said, with something almost resembling a grin. "Try not to scrape me with your teeth."
And with that, he thrust forward and pushed Harry's head down. Unsurprisingly, Harry choked, and Tom, withdrew his cock. What he didn't expect however was that he didn't get any time to recover, and Tom pushed him down again, choking him on his dick. Trying to hold back from gagging, tears began streaming down his face, and he looked up at Tom, just as he heard him say "Look up." A long, satisfied groan escaped Tom's throat, as he thrust one last time and began cumming. Hot spurts of bitter semen coated his mouth, and Tom held Harry down until he finished.
"Swallow it." His eyes were hooded, he was pulling Harry's head back by the hair, forcing him to look up at him, and cheeks burning, Harry kept eye contact and swallowed. It was salty and bitter on his tongue, and the texture was very slimy, it felt like it was there, even after he swallowed, and he grimaced. Tom let out a slightly incredulous laugh and sigh.
They cleaned up in silence, and Harry didn't look at Tom again, until he had his clothes on. While he cleaned and dried himself, Harry didn't think back on what had happened, or bask in the afterglow, like he might have thought he would. Instead, he guiltily felt that there was something not quite right about Tom. It wasn't really about his attitude, Harry had enjoyed that well enough, even if he would have some trouble looking at himself in the mirror for a few days without feeling horribly embarrassed, but it was something in his eyes. Sometimes, they had been just a little bit too empty, and Harry couldn't get rid of the feeling that Tom Riddle was a dangerous man.
A touch on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and Harry looked at Tom. He looked curious. "What are you thinking about?"
Harry shook his head, forcing a smile onto his face, even as he felt that characteristic sharp twinge. At least some things were normal.
"Nothing, I'm just surprised is all." It wouldn't do to act so strange after what had happened, and after all this, he should at least be friendlier with his… Possible crush? It was clear there was much more depth to Tom than Harry had ever thought about, or rather, hidden depths that he couldn't have guessed at. Maybe he should keep his distance, though. He would have to think about it, maybe he was just being paranoid.
"Well, I guess I have a lot left to teach you." A hand squeezed his ass and Harry let out what was definitely not a surprised wheeze, because what Quidditch Captains made those kinds of noises? He was sure to be immune to Tom after this afternoon. He could at least treat him like a human. Batting away Tom's hand, he started walking to the exit.
"I guess I'll see you later? Maybe we can talk about this when we're not so tired," he offered. A quick glance at Tom showed he was following, and he shrugged. Even as he left the bathroom and started walking to Gryffindor common room, Tom followed.
"I should walk you to your common room in case you get caught by Filch." Tom kept stride with Harry, who tried not to grimace. He hummed in agreement, mumbled a thanks, and carried on walking It was probably close to midnight by now. They padded silently onwards and Harry looked at Tom out of the corner of his eyes. What's changed since this morning? He still looks the same, and he still acts the same, but he just doesn't feel the same.
"Staring is considered rude, you know," they were approaching Gryffindor Tower now, and Harry was startled by the break in the silence.
He laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head, "Sorry… Today's just been a bit of shock." As they reached the portrait hole, Tom reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's wrist to stop him. Harry looked back and Tom crowded him against the wall. The Fat Lady wasn't in her frame. Tom reached into his pocket and removed his wand, stroking it. Harry felt a twinge of fear. There was no one around. Tom tapped on the Fat lady's portrait, and pushed his wand back into his pocket. Harry let go of a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding, and his shoulders came down.
"She'll be back soon. I'll wait until she gets here." It was said quietly, and much closer than before Harry had blinked. He felt hands on his hips and Tom leaned down slightly to kiss him on the lips. It seemed tender and intimate, and it ended before he knew it.
"I said you remind me of a rabbit, earlier." It was such an abrupt topic change, that Harry almost started laughing from surprise.
"Rabbits die very easily," he said, stroking his face gently and Harry shivered, not from the cold, and before he could respond, Tom had pulled away and was smiling just like in the Great Hall earlier today, greeting the Fat Lady.
"Good night, Harry. I'll see you soon." Tom dipped down and kissed his cheek, stroking his arm, and said goodbye to the Fat Lady, before striding off.
As Harry laid in bed that evening, having brushed his teeth, and changed into his pyjamas, he couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Tom, even when he was finally on the verge of falling asleep. I wonder if he's thinking of me. I wonder if I want him to be thinking of me.
Down in the pitch black of the Slytherin dorm rooms, a pair of dark eyes stared out through the windows into the lake. No one was there to witness the smile, which was neither kind nor gentle, and no one was there to hear a deep voice utter two words, a gentle caress, though it was none the better for it.
"Harry Potter."