Harry is seventeen today and absolutely no body is glowing. He's barely touching his breakfast, only taking a few nibbles out of toast he'd forgotten to butter. Every few moments, he glances around the Great Hall again, before going back to moodily playing with his toast.
"They likely just aren't here for breakfast," Hermione says a matter-of-factly.
"It's nine o'clock," says Ron, frowning at her. "Who the heck wouldn't be here yet?"
"Honestly, Ron. Can you not show a little tact?"
"I'm showing loads of tact," says Ron indignantly, then turns to Harry. "So, go on, Harry, tell us!"
Harry gives the Hall one last sweeping glance. He can't quite meet the eyes of either of his best friends. Today he should be seeing his soulmate glowing in brilliant gold. But everyone looks entirely normal. Harry keeps glancing at people he had rather thought might just be his soulmate. Ginny glances at him a few times, but she has the good sense to mostly ignore him and chat with her friends. She seems to be one of the few girls actually ignoring him, as much as he was glancing around, Harry can feel the expectant eyes of girls, waiting for him to confess his undying love for them.
He had honestly thought that Ginny would have been the one. It would have made things so much simpler. Maybe his soulmate was a Muggle? Maybe they didn't even go to Hogwarts? He realises he's yet to answer Ron, who is looking at him with anticipation. But he can't find anything to say, so he settles for just sighing and wandering off.
It's the weekend so, he has nothing to do but aimlessly wander the halls. Hermione would say that he should be doing homework, but Harry knew that he'd never be able to concentrate on it. Stupidly, he had so been looking forward to today; to finding out who was his soulmate and having that amazing feeling of just knowing. He should've already been happily with them. The golden glow only lasted for this very special day. If Harry did not see his soulmate today, he might spend the rest of his life wondering who they were.
Suddenly, he stops as he thinks he sees a flash of gold. Harry pauses and backtracks to look into the classroom he has just passed. The handsome Head Boy, Tom Riddle, is sitting on one of the desks inside, reading a book. There is a definite golden glow. But it isn't Riddle who is glowing, but rather something in his pocket. Harry frowns, the glow does look so much like the glow around his soulmate should. He groans, he must be more desperate than he had thought if he was already seeing things.
Riddle glances up, as he notices he's being stared at. "Potter," he says neutrally.
Harry blinks, stunned out of his thoughts. "Oh, um, sorry," he stammers as he goes to follow his feet around the castle once more.
Riddle sighs and draws a slim, leather bound book from his pocket. The book in his hand was glowing the gold Harry's soulmate should have been. Riddle throws it onto the desk in front of him.
"It's that, isn't it?" he says disdainfully.
Harry nods mutely. He's not sure what that book is—his soulmate cannot be some book. Riddle's staring intently at the book as though it holds some great meaning, and Harry can almost see the cogs in his mind working.
"I actually almost told you," Riddle says.
Harry takes a tentative step forward. "Tell me what?" he asks quietly, but he already fears the answer. Most of the school had been waiting to find out who the soulmate was of the brilliant and handsome Tom Riddle, only to be utterly disappointed when Riddle had seemed to be completely ignorant of the day everyone else held in such high regard. The rumour mill had been churning for weeks with various theories, each more farfetched than the last.
"Me," says Harry quietly, disbelieving, "it was me."
Riddle looks at Harry with hard eyes. "You know," he snaps. Harry bristles, no he did not bloody well know. Then Riddle sighs, seeming to deflate. "I'm not glowing for you, am I?" he asks.
Harry shakes his head. "No," he says.. He's now standing over the book, and it's definitely glowing gold—the same gold his soulmate should be, and Harry wants it to stop pretending a book cannot be his soulmate. It just can't. "What is this?" he asks. He doesn't know if he should be feeling hopeful or fearful.
"I won't take it back," says Riddle his voice tight, "I won't." Harry notices that Riddle is gripping his wand tightly, his entire postured coiled as though barely under control. He's never seen Riddle this on edge before. Riddle glances up, and seeing Harry so unsure in front of him, says, "You can touch it. It should be yours."
Harry reaches out a shaking hand to touch the book. It feels disappointingly ordinary beneath his fingers, the plain black leather slightly warm. Riddle's watching him with intense grey eyes. "You'll keep it safe, won't you?" he says. He says it as though it's the most important thing in the world to him.
"Yeah, course," Harry says. "But what-?"
Harry breaks off as Riddle slides off the desk, coming to stand right beside him, and Harry is suddenly very aware of how much taller Riddle is. Long fingers come up to caress his cheek.
"Kiss me?" asks Riddle. It takes Harry a moment to process what Riddle has just said. He can feel Riddle's body so close to his own; his hot breath ghosting over his face. He nods before he's really aware of what he's agreeing to. Then Riddle's leaning down, an arm wrapping around Harry's waist to pull him even closer. The kiss is just barely chaste. Harry can feel warm lips sliding over his own, expertly mapping out the shape and curve of his lips as he does his best to messily kiss back. He briefly wonders if Riddle is going to be disappointed in him as a kisser. When they break apart, Riddle doesn't let go of Harry, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Harry's waist.
"I almost didn't," says Riddle. "For your sake. But I've never let anything come between me achieving my goals before and I will not start now. I will be great." He says it with such conviction that Harry believes him.
"You're still you," says Harry, almost desperately. He wants his soulmate, wants it all to be simple like it was going to be this morning. "So we can still-"
"No," Riddle cuts him off. He picks up the book and pushes it into Harry's hands. "That's the best part of me. It's the best part I can give you."
Harry frowns, clinging to the small book. "But I want all of my soulmate," he says feeling his voice fracture, knowing he sounds like a spoiled kid.
Riddle smiles. But it isn't a kind smile, or the polite smile that he so often uses—this smile is feral. It's a smile that makes Harry see, so very clearly, the monster lurking underneath. "No, you don't," Riddle says. "That part of me is the best I can give you. I never would have glowed for you. Not this part of me."
Suddenly, Harry can't stand to be near him. He takes a quick step back, but he feels like he's pinned by Tom's intense gaze. "Take care of me?" Tom asks quietly. Harry nods and then flees from the room, clinging to that small book.
It's the last time Harry sees Tom Riddle. The next time they meet, he has become Lord Voldemort.
Word count: 1,294
Written for Round 1 of the OTP challenge.
Soulmates.