Harry smiled to himself as she left the room. He had missed Ginny. And it wasn't just the sex, even though she was a pretty good lay. She was comforting, and that was hard to come by in a world which had buffeted him about in waves of (unpleasant) surprises around every corner. This relationship must have been rather tough on her, he mused. He lay back on the bed again, recalling what had been said when they went their separate ways.
" What's up with you Harry, seriously."
"What do you mean, what's up with me?"
"You know jolly well what I mean."
"No. Why are you so pissed?"
She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes and Harry felt rather intimidated – like her mother, she could be downright scary when angered.
"Do you know that I'm not having it too easy here? First you throw me off when we're young. Fine, I was being a desperate idiot then. But now? When we first started out everyone stared at me as though I might be a fame-digger or a danger-digger – what the hell, everyone just stared at me and you all the time. When You-Know-Who seemed to lose his steam, I thought I'd have a bit of quiet time with you and we could be closer, but you seem addicted to hunting him and keeping track of him or something. You have your head in the clouds half the time. You're perpetually jumpy. You get so worked up when you don't have some crazy-ass thing to do. And sometimes when we're together, you seem bored. Argh. Damn everything. I hate it."
She turned away from him and sank into a chair.
"So what's your point?" (Even he felt retarded saying that)
"Oh god. You see, you don't really understand anything, do you? I just don't know where we're going right now. We're both not very happy and I wish things were different."
Harry's face went red. He didn't want to get angry but it was hard to control his rage nowadays. He said through gritted teeth, "All very well for you to say. I don't think you understand either. Lucky you. You haven't had someone out to kill you at every corner. You haven't lived the life I had, getting pushed around by Muggles and then coming to the wizard world to miss getting killed once a school term."
She looked really hurt.
"That really isn't the point, Harry. It's not that I don't feel sorry and frightened for you a lot of the time. I know you haven't had the most smooth-sailing life. But admit it, if you didn't have some excitement you wouldn't be able to sit still."
"That isn't true!" Harry shouted. They both sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Harry knew she was expecting him to reach over and hold her, but he refused to. He felt cold and distant.
Finally she got up. Her eyes were red, he noticed. "I don't know what you think. But I feel we're aimless and there isn't much substance. I'm not sure if this can work out," She said quietly.
Harry didn't look at her.
"I guess we both want different things right now."
"Alright then. Fine." She began walking slowly out. "Let's just be friends, Harry."
As she left the room, Harry called half-heartedly. "Ginny…"
But she didn't hear him.
Harry sighed just thinking about it. He wasn't sure what he wanted right now either. But surely Ginny's door hadn't been closed forever. I mean, a girl doesn't just walk in on you masturbating and randomly decide to fuck the shit out of you does she? He smiled to himself slightly gloatingly as he finally got off the bed and moved quietly out of the room, throwing on his Cloak as he went because it was too late to be caught out wandering. He padded silently down the corridors, finally allowing himself to reflect on what had happened in the Great Hall that that day. He could barely think about it before feeling utterly distracted in his confusion.
It isn't possible, he thought. Everyone is hoodwinked, or something. For a brief moment he toyed with the alarming thought that the McGonagall and the teachers might all be under the Imperius curse, but he decided that that was impossible – it was hard for a bunch of Dark wizards to go lurking unnoticed in the grounds, and having gone through all the scrapes he had, he was pretty familiar with the glazed look that came over the face of a victim – McGonagall's eyes had looked as sharp as ever, albeit a little worried. Harry sighed and resolved to speak to his two friends as soon as possible and see if immediate steps should be taken.
Just then, he heard something – footsteps. He held his breath, dodging behind a statue to avoid the main walkway. The steps were quick, confident, powerful even, and Harry wondered.
He almost fainted when a tall, handsome Tom Riddle came striding round the corner, looking broody, but walking as though he had every right to be out and about at this time of night. Shit, what's he wearing under that? A tank top, under a thin cloak loosely thrown about his body. Harry stared at the lean muscles rippling slightly in his neck and felt very strange. He flushed slightly and hissed mentally at himself for gaying on a young Lord Voldemort. Fuck you, you idiot. All you should do is jump out now and curse him till he can't breathe, eat or fuck. The thought of Tom Riddle fucking immediately brought half-materialized (and highly dirty) visions dancing into Harry's mind. Damn bloody hell. Harry felt his cock harden and felt an urgent need to rub it against something.
"Who's there?"
Harry froze. During his pleasant ruminations he had obviously betrayed his presence somehow.
Riddle glanced around suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "I'm warning you. Don't you dare slink about and hide from Lor -- Tom Riddle," he called out, slightly louder.
That slip of the tongue brought Harry back to reality. This was Lord Voldemort, for Merlin's sake. Not an achingly hot seventeen-year-old sex-god. He had to do this.
Harry Potter slid off his Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes before stepping out into the hallway, wand at the ready.
"It's just you and me now, Voldemort. I've been waiting for this."
Riddle looked only mildly surprised. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Call me Tom Riddle. That's my name."
"Fuck you, that's not your name, coward. This is all going to end here, with a duel. I'm going to make you pay for everything you've done."
Harry rushed it out. He had rehearsed these words many times in his moments of solitude, but now it came out sounding, well, like crap.
The other boy raised his eyebrows.
"You've been following me? Or have you just been waiting here all night wanking all by yourself?"
Harry smiled slightly despite himself. Wanking. That was obviously newly-acquired terminology. Probably learnt it from Muggle boys in Reading. He decided to stay silent. After all, Riddle was closer to the truth then he probably thought.
"What are you smiling at, Harry Potter? Anyway, I don't have time to take out a stick and play games with you. Scoot off."
And with that Riddle strode off. Harry stood there for ages, dumbfounded. He was still shocked when he was getting into his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. Why was it that his brain just couldn't seem to reconcile a snake-like, wraith-like Voldemort with a tall, hot, broad-chested boy? They were, after all, one and the same. Both evil, scheming maniacs. But with Voldemort in Tom Riddle form Harry couldn't do what he felt was his duty. He couldn't curse him half-dead. He couldn't even put up the slightest pretense of doing so. He felt weakened. He felt unable to attribute anything foul to this beautiful boy. Okay. He felt attracted. As much as he had loathed the Voldemort of yesteryear, he now dug the current manifestation. But that couldn't possibly do.
Maybe I'm freaking out. Maybe it's true that he's just Tom Riddle again. Maybe I shouldn't take drastic actions yet.
Harry decided not to worry Ron and Hermione yet. All the same, an eye had to be kept on Tom Riddle and his nightly wanderings.
The next day…
Throughout the next day Ron and Hermione kept glancing at him, rather worried. Finally Harry put them at ease temporarily.
"It's okay, guys. I'll just talk about it when I'm ready." They nodded at him, slightly comforted if not entirely convinced.
When everyone in the dormitory had fallen asleep that night, he crept out again, picking up his Cloak and then replacing it again, resolving not to be a coward. He crept out to somewhere near the area he had met Riddle the night before and waited. He could hardly believe it when once again, he heard the same quick, confident footsteps after a quarter-hour wait.
Harry contemplated springing out and cursing him, but that would be dishonourable, and extremely unrefined. Curious to find out where Riddle was heading so purposefully to, Harry put a mirage spell on himself – something he had learnt from Hermione. She used it to study for other subjects in class (because she'd mastered the ongoing lesson the year before), or to snog Ron in privacy. Harry knew because he'd barged in once on the latter scenario, having shifted his chair over to glance at an apparently serene Hermione's parchment and gone within the "mirage bubble", breaking it. Within a split second the serene Hermione had appeared on Ron's lap, acting in a most undignified manner.
Silencio. Harry followed Riddle down the hallway, feeling slightly sneaky. Then Riddle stopped suddenly and turned to face the wall.
Wait a second. Wasn't that the hidden entrance to the prefects' bathroom? What the hell?
"Bubbling Butterbeers," whispered Riddle, before moving in through the door that had appeared. Harry quickly followed him in before the door shut. This must be some sick joke. I'm not going to stand in here watching Riddle wanking. At the thought, Harry suddenly felt crazily excited. Or maybe I am.
Riddle took out a towel and change of clothes that he had kept neatly bundled up beneath his cloak, placing them on a ledge. Harry could barely breathe in excitement. Then very slowly, he slid off his tank top. Harry's eyes widened. Riddle's back was broad, leanly-muscled and gently tanned. His waist was tapered in. The skin covering the expanse of his back was flawless, flexible, hugging his gorgeous form delightfully. Harry felt himself hardening. Riddle shifted slightly at that moment, and by moving to the left a little, Harry got a breathtaking view of his torso. If it were possible, it looked even more delicious than his back. His chest was supremely well-built – Harry could almost see the pecs tensing slightly as Riddle shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His nipples were small, dark buttons. Harry felt like licking them. With that thought, his trousers began to feel unbearably tight. He reached down and undid his zip, pulling out his cock and squeezing it gently.
That was when Riddle stepped out of his boxers.
Riddle's cock was huge. Easily porn-size, thought Harry, swallowing. It was only semi-erect, but Harry could see that it was perfectly formed, smooth, thick, evenly-muscled. A thin trail of hair led from Riddle's navel, thickening at his pubic region. Harry could barely control himself. He began to rub his cock faster now. He groaned as he thickened in his own hands. He closed his eyes, trying not to overwhelm his senses with more naked Riddle for a while.
When he next opened his eyes, Riddle was standing in the bath, turning on the overhead shower – he clearly wasn't too interested in the thousand and one taps. Harry immediately noticed, as the other boy turned to adjust the faucet, that his bum was tight and muscular. It was begging to be grabbed. Fuck. The water came gushing down.
For a while, Riddle just ran his hands through his hair. Then he moved a hand down and held his big cock. With a thumb, he caressed its head for a while, cupped his balls. His cock jerked to attention. Then Riddle held it firmly in one hand and began to stroke. And stroke. And stroke. Harry felt like he would collapse. Riddle was making deep sighs of pleasure as he touched himself. It was almost unbearable for Harry to watch. His cock was aching more by the minute. Harry spat on it and stroked firmly before slapping it several times against his flat stomach.
As Harry watched, mouth dry, Riddle formed a ring with the fingers and thumb of his other hand. Placing a hand against the wall for support, he then thrust heavily, gasping as he did. He began a rhythmic thrusting motion. Harry bit his lip as he got a full view of the other boy's cock. It was fully erect now, angled upwards, swollen and thick and long. The skin of it was flushed. This was beautiful porn.
Harry felt pressure building in his balls and closed his eyes in utter pleasure, rubbing himself faster. It wouldn't be long before he came. His breath came in hoarse, uneven pants, his hips bucking with every stroke.
Right at that moment, he felt a strange sensation. It was as though a sheet of silk had suddenly fallen off him very gently. He opened his eyes in confusion.
Standing right in front of him, cock in one hand and fleshlight in the other, was Tom Riddle, naked, delicious and immensely shocked.
Fuck.