Tom was in the library about a week after the first time he sat at the Slytherin table. Everyday afterward, except when he was caught up studying, he would have his meals at the house table. No one would dare say anything to him, since it seemed Black had accepted him, and that seemed to be the word among the Slytherins. That Tom could tell so far, anyway.
He was just getting engrossed in the basic concepts of Transfiguration in a deeper part of the library, where few people went unless they wanted solitude and silence, when he heard someone clear their throat softly beside him.
He looked to his side, towards the noise, to see Black standing there with a slight smirk on his face.
"Hello, Tom," he greeted.
The younger of the two furrowed his eye brows slightly at his first name but responded in kind, "Hello, Black. "
"What are you doing here? Why are you alone?" The black haired man asked lightly, walking slowly and gracefully over to the table, sliding like the snake he was compared to into a seat across from Tom. He leaned slightly towards the middle of the table, only a small distance away from Tom. The small table between them argued little for personal space.
"I'm just looking into a few things, and I always come alone. Why would I want to bring some fool along to distract me?" Tom asked rhetorically as he looked back down at his book, trying to ignore the man in front of him.
"What are you looking up?"
"Transfiguration,"
"Why would you look up something so menial?"
"Well, I've already gone through most of the books on Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmacy, Charms, and Defense; so, I thought I'd look up the last main topic of the curriculum. It's not like I have much else to do."
"All of the books, or only selected ones?" Black asked, slightly intrigued. He watched Tom flip through the book in his hold, biting his lip slightly as he tried to read through some of the text while still listening to their conversation.
"Mostly the informative ones, if it only mentioned things vaguely, I threw it to the side. It's quite annoying to have a spell described but its named not mentioned just because it might be considered dark...or illegal." Tom added as an afterthought. He folded the corner of his book before shutting it, resigned to the fact, that he may have to take this book back to his rooms tonight since Black was intent on holding his attention.
"Is it all just theory, or practical as well?"
"I'm pretty well off in practical, there's only a few I haven't tried, for obvious reasons," Tom murmured, "why do you ask?"
"Curiosity, you've been such a mystery ever since you arrived here. We'd all thought you'd just be another boring child of a professor, but you're so much more now that I've been able to talk to you."
Tom felt his face flush slightly, only Harry ever spoke to him like that. He stomped on that thought before it ruined his mood and focused his attention back on Black with a small smile.
"Well, I don't know how I feel about being boring, I have it on good terms that I'm a terror,"
"Why'd you chose Slytherin, Professor Potter seems more like a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, isn't he annoyed with you for choosing our house, what with its reputation and everything people say about it." Black elaborated, focusing on Tom with an intensity that unnerved the younger boy slightly.
"He's really...relaxed. He's not the type of person who would condemn you for what house you're in or what side you choose. He judges people on their actions and...their heart." Tom spoke the word as if the very idea was foreign before he continued on, "It really doesn't matter though. He's not really my father, everyone knows that. Well, mostly everyone, we look alike, but he adopted me."
"Oh? That's why you have different last names?"
"Yes, my last name is after my biological father, a muggle. My mother's last name was Gaunt."
"Gaunt?"
"Do you know it?"
"You're positive that's what it is?" Black asked, cutting Tom off.
"Yes," Tom replied agitatedly, he remembered the papers from the orphanage, not that he'd tell Black that, but he knew that was his mother's maiden name.
The older boy only smirked wickedly, lifting a hand to ruffle Tom's hair, then sliding it down to cup the back of the boy's neck.
"We're going to be very good friends, Tom,"
"Is that right?" Tom asked bluntly, feeling heat suffuse his face with the hand on his neck, but also feeling awkward with the young man's touch.
"Yes, that's right." Black said as he pulled away, "By the way, my name is Arcturus. If anyone asks, you have my permission to use it. Only the older Slytherins know it, and most of them aren't allowed to use it. You should feel honored."
"Thank you, then, for the privilege," Tom answered, he'd meant to say it sarcastically, but it came out in an almost mystified tone of voice.
Arcturus seemed to be pleased by both the words and his tone of voice as he turned to walk away. "I'll see you around then, Tom." He said the younger Slytherin's name in such a way that Tom closed his eyes and savored the sound.
How could someone insinuate so much in one word; especially a name, which under normal circumstances wouldn't have much of an actual meaning. He drew a deep breath and gathered himself, both exhilarated and annoyed. He was beyond excited that Arcturus had approached him. The young man was one of his few idols at Hogwarts. He had so much power over most of the students, especially the Slytherins.
On top of that, people practically tripped over themselves trying to acquiesce his wants and needs. That's what Tom hoped for one day: people who were more than willing to do what he wanted and asked, without having to actually say anything to prompt the action. He wanted to be the center of someone's world. No. Not someone, everyone's.
That was much easier to handle, he wanted to be the center of everyone's world, and not have to worry about attachments that would hurt him or infuriate him.
With that thought, he gathered his books and left the library to attend dinner. If Harry could play around, why couldn't he? It was almost the end of their first year at Hogwarts, if things were like this now, how would they be by the end of his Seventh year?
Besides, if Harry could do it, Tom could do it. He wasn't the type to back down from a challenge, even if a gauntlet had never actually been laid down.
A devious look consumed his face as he made his way to the Great Hall. He managed to wipe it partially off his face as he entered, making his way towards the Slytherin table; more specifically, towards Arcturus. He caught Harry's eye, having felt the older man staring at him. He held the green gaze for a few seconds before deliberately turning away, and seating himself next to Arcturus.
A feeling of empowerment rushing through his veins as the Black heir ordered his ensnared admirers to make room for him. None of them questioned Arcturus, or Tom, they old did as told. There were welcoming greetings, and small talk, but nothing became confrontational or out of the norm. They welcomed him and silently acknowledged that Arcturus favored Riddle and they could do nothing about that.
"So, what do you plan on doing for the summer hols?"
"Nothing in particular; I'll probably spend most of my time with Salazar in the forest."
"Salazar?"
"He's my pet ball python, he likes to play hide and seek in the wood behind our house,"
"Maybe he just gets lost,"
"No, he likes to play; he thinks he's being sly when he tries to trip people. He finds it humorous."
"You speak as if he's able to talk,"
"He can talk,"
"In snake language,"
"Exactly, he speaks in Parseltongue, what did you think I was talking about, English?"
"You understand Parseltongue?" Arcturus whispered, leaning his mouth towards Tom's ear before pulling back to search the younger boy's eyes for an answer.
Tom only smirked as he leaned toward the other boy, "Of course I can," he hissed for the Black's ears only. Giddiness overtook the older boy as he stared at Tom in a stunted wonder. "Bloody wicked," Arcturus murmured, raking his eyes over the younger boy. A lust in his eyes that Tom didn't realize.
He did realize, though, that he loved both Arcturus' attention, and pleasing the other boy.
"You won't tell anyone, though, will you? It'll just be our little secret, right?" Tom murmured, a lilt taking over his voice as he stared at Arcturus with hooded eyes.
Arcturus' guard dropped slightly, almost unnoticeable as he looked at Tom with a slight softness, as he answered. "No one else will find out,
"Thank you, Arcturus," Tom answered quietly; enthralled by the power he had over the older boy. He'd reacted exactly how the younger boy had wanted him to. Tom had played him easily, almost too easily. Was this really the Black-Hearted King of Slytherin?
Tom thought that Arcturus' green and arrogance made him sloppy and weak. He was glad he was smart enough to learn from the mistakes the people around him made. Nothing was worth demeaning yourself like Arcturus was, leaning on every one of his words. He was completely throwing away his reputation, which had taken years to earn, just so he could, literally, have a piece of Tom.
The more Tom pointed out Arcturus' intentions, though, the more he didn't seem to mind them.
~LLL~
"So where's Tom?" Abraxas asked as he sat down on the couch as Harry handed him a cup of tea before sitting down next to him in front of the fire.
"He spends a lot of time with Arcturus these days."
"Arcturus Black?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"Well, nothing, of course, but his family is fairly dark."
"So?" Harry asked quizzically as he pulled his legs up, so his knees were against his chest. His tea balancing on his knee.
"You don't mind that Tom may be pulled into the darker side of this world?"
"Why must their always be sides?" Harry questioned tiredly, "He can do as he wishes, he can learn from his own mistakes. Why, which side would you prefer him on?" Harry asked curiously, laying his head on the older man's chest as Abraxas wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"Would it matter?"
"No, it wouldn't," Harry confided firmly. He felt a tenseness in Abraxas' body diminish as the man spoke,
"How are you so amazing?"
Harry felt his face flush and awkwardness consumed him, "I don't know so much about amazing, I'm just me."
"How odd, are you sure you're Slytherin material?"
"I was never in Slytherin; I was self and home taught."
"Curious and curious,"
"I live to impersonate the mysteries of the world, Harry Potter, at your beck and call. So what's it like, being the Director of the School Board?" Harry asked, changing the subject as he drained his tea and set the cup and saucer on the floor. He put his head back on Abraxas' chest and the man pulled him closer.
"Very uneventful, I go to lunch meetings, answer questions, and make an appearance every now and again. Usually, I just sit in my office and answer the questions of people who have no idea what they're doing. How about you? How's teaching at such a magnificent place as Hogwarts? What did you do before you began working here?"
"Well, Hogwarts is great. The kids are great, the flexibility is great. I don't get out much, so it's great you come to see me. It's safe, and it pays well. I still do what I did before I came here. It's a job that follows me, I guess, since I was the one who started it. I own Marauders Warding. I do the odd job now and then when I have the time, or I schedule them for the summer."
Abraxas pulled away from him, turning to Harry to face him. "You own Marauders' Warding? The company that did the Black's warding, and the Parkinson's and whom even I've employed to protect my manor?"
"I don't ever remember your name, I remember a Malfoy, but it was a woman." Harry responded quizzically.
"That would be my wife, Harry,"
"You're married?" Harry asked in astonishment.
Abraxas' laugh reverberated throughout the room as he shifted Harry's hair fondly. "Did you think I wasn't?"
"Well, I mean...how old are you?"
"I'm in my thirties, I'm not dreadfully old I'll have you know. Most wizards live until they're at least a hundred and fifty, and even then they usually don't look older than their sixties or seventies. Once you hit the one hundred and fifty mark, though, I'm afraid age seems to become evident."
"You look older, though, I thought you were at least forty,"
"The joys of being a distinguished gentleman, I suppose. I have to say, when I was younger, it was to my advantage. I was never accused of being underage."
"Must be nice, I still get carded in muggle London and Diagon Alley alike. Except in the muggle world, they think I've somehow faked my identification. That in its self is weird."
"What's it like, living in the muggle world?"
"Will you tell me, in return, what it was like to live in the wizarding world all of your life?"
"Of course,"
"Well, it's simple. There are just some things you'd rather do on your own. Like cook, I don't mind cooking and most times it relaxes me. There's also more for us to do. Before I adopted Tom, I lived a very active life. I would run a lot, train, and study. I brought some of that with me, and Tom occasionally goes running with me in the forest behind our house. We read a lot; Tom went to primary school before Hogwarts and I spent my time building Marauders' Warding. I guess it's very quiet. Everyone's fairly nice, and people don't pry. We get by on our own. Usually, I have problems when I come into the Alleys. I remember a horrible encounter with a supporter of Grindelwald a while back that left me dangerous for days."
"Do tell," Abraxas urged.
Harry could feel the man's curiosity, almost as if it was a palpable thing. He wondered if it was curiosity about Harry, or the information he could gather about the supporter from that day.
"Well, there's nothing much to tell, Tom and I had a bit of a row and he took off. The man was holding him by his scruff, dangling him a few inches off the ground. I can't say I reacted very well, but I think the man learned his lesson."
"A cutting curse that was lethal with trace amounts of the Cruciatus curse left in his body," the murmur was filled with amazement as Abraxas looked Harry over once again with a new respect shining in his eyes.
"As long as you don't hurt me or the ones I love, I don't care what side you're on. Well, I suppose I do care, but there's nothing I can do about it. So it's not here nor there." Harry finished quietly; curling back up besides the blonde man as he wandlessly urged more wood towards the dwindling fire in front of them.
Abraxas didn't even nod; he only laid his arm back across the couch, partially around Harry, and changed the subjects, talking about meaningless things. Things like people breaking etiquette during important meals, things he'd done as a kid that he couldn't believe he'd gotten away with, how he couldn't wait for a child of his own and how he hoped his child was like Tom.
Harry noticed the entire time that Abraxas tenseness left him, he obviously wasn't used to people accepting him so easily, even if his choices were his own to make. It was the fact that they were different and dark.
He also realized that the man didn't mention his wife again, which he was both grateful for and annoyed by. Surely, his wife deserved more or his dedication, loyalty and attention than he obviously offered towards her. Were the times so different? Or was it a pure-blood thing? He realized that Lucius had been the same way about Narcissa, although as far as he knew the man had never been unfaithful towards her.
At least Abraxas son had inherited some type of respect.
~LLL~
It wasn't long before final exams were taken. The older students taking their NEWTS and OWLS, while the younger students trudged through the torture of comprehension exams that their professors had created for them.
Tom was more of a tyrant than usual, and Harry thought it must be related to the fact that Arcturus had spent the last month preparing for his OWLS and spending less and less time with Tom until it came to the point where the boy was back to spending his evenings in his and Harry's rooms. It was very odd, and very uncomfortable, to be in the same room with Tom. To be in their rooms and still feel as if they'd never known each other for more than a day in their lives. The distance was terrible; all Harry wanted to do was pull the boy into his arms and erase the past four months from their lives.
The more he wanted to pull himself away from Tom, and let the boy stand on his own, which he was futilely trying to prove he could. The more Harry wanted back what they'd had before coming to Hogwarts. He wanted long nights talking about books they'd read, discussing theories or histories, or even just sitting by the creek by their house as they enjoyed the warm weather.
This didn't feel right, and Harry knew that when something didn't feel right, it probably wasn't in the right. That might be his Gryffindor sensibilities shining through, but the conscientious part of him was usually bulls eye for these sorts of things.
It was going to be a very long summer, one he hoped that he and Tom could work through. Every time he tried to make it better, it only got worse. Tom was smart enough to know how those things worked, maybe if he talked to the boy, again, they'd be able to work something out where they weren't pushing each other further and further away. Even though some of it was unintentional, he knew some of it was knowingly. Besides that, he didn't want to drift so far apart that in the end there was nothing left to pull them back together.
He didn't want bridges he needed around him to be burned down just because he was too stubborn to turn a water hose on.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts and glanced around his room before slamming his trunk shut and locking it, everything he'd need for the summer was packed. Now, he just had to wait for Tom and they'd be leaving to the train station so Harry could apparate them home.
He shrunk his belongs and dropped them into his pockets. Even though this had felt like his home, before, and sometimes it still did, he had a home in London. That was his home, Hogwarts was just a place, and it wouldn't be there forever (hopefully, it would) and he needed to stop holding onto things that made him feel safe. He had to be strong for himself and Tom.
He was supposed to be here to help Tom, to give him what he hadn't had growing up. He couldn't do that if he was absorbed in everything and everyone else.
He left his room to help Tom finish packing his things.
"How's your friend, Arcturus?"
"He's fine, he said he'd write to me over the summer, said we might be able to spend some time together."
"You probably could, I don't know how comfortable he'd be in the muggle world, though, so you'll have to find out where he lives so I can take you to visit."
"Really?" Tom asked, a slight surprise coloring his voice.
"Of course, he's your friend, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is."
"Alright, then, you can go see you friends if you want to during the summer, as long as it's okay with their parents. Do you have everything?" Harry finished with.
"Yes, are we taking the train home?"
"I'm afraid not, it's the end of term; you'll have to excuse me. I just want to go home and curl up with a good book and a roaring fire. If I didn't enjoy working with the students so much, I'd seriously say this job had more bad parts than good. What about you, what are you going to do when we get home?"
"I haven't decided yet, maybe go to sleep,"
"Do you want to stop for anything before we go home?"
"Like something to eat,"
"Maybe, or maybe something to do over the summer when you're not with your friends? A game, some books?"
"Can we go a different time? I just want to go home and unpack, it's been a long and tedious school year."
"It has been, hasn't it?" Harry asked wryly. "Just think of what it'll be like when you actually attend classes."
"I rue the day that I'm forced to sit in a classroom with the cretins you call students." Tom said agitatedly.
"I'd have to agree with you on that actually. I never liked being in classes with people I didn't know. I guess that's why I never attended any type of schooling like Hogwarts," Harry spoke from his memories of classes he had without Ron and Hermione those first few years as he sympathized with Tom as he lied, "we're going to have to work on your patience and people skills if we don't want you in detention every night."
"I doubt I'll get detention, most of the teachers like me for the sheer fact that I tutor my friends in their classes. It'd be really redundant for them to punish me. Then they'd just be punishing themselves with their students' stupidity."
"Too true, you're ready to go then?"
"Yes, I'm ready,"
"Alright, then, off we go." Harry said with a beaming smile towards Tom.
The boy nodded and hoped the awkwardness of Harry trying to communicate with him wouldn't last the entire summer. He preferred the give and take of his friendships with his Slytherin friends as compared to the never ending guessing game he seemed to be playing with Harry.
It was a learning game, though, he supposed. The more they both tested their waters, the more they knew about the other and their boundaries. Tom didn't think it'd be long before they knew exactly how to incessant the other with nothing but a few words. He didn't like the thought of always being at ends with Harry though, especially because of verbal barb-wiring back and forth just because they couldn't be mature about things.
Even though Harry was being an idiot now, and Tom was using his own game against him, it didn't mean he didn't still like the other boy. He didn't want Harry to disappear from his life, ever, and while arguing once and a while was fun. He never wanted it to be about serious issues, especially ones that would decide whether or not he would continue living with Harry.
The man might have adopted him and taken him from the orphanage, but he could just as quickly abandon him as he'd taken him up.
He let his mind trail off that line of thought though as they both arrived in their living room.
"I'm going to go to bed,"
"Kay, we'll go out for lunch tomorrow and then we'll try and get in contact with the Blacks to see if you can go over, like you wanted too."
"Really?"
"Yep, sleep well, Tom."
"Good night, Harry," Tom replied, happiness bubbling up in his stomach. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad this summer. He'd thought Harry had changed so much during their time at Hogwarts, especially since meeting Abraxas, but now that they were home, things seemed so…normal.
*^*^*^*^
They ended up going out into muggle London to get something to eat, and Harry reveled in the freeness he felt, not having to worry about which wizard was on which side of the war. He had a swagger to his step that was relaxed and smooth as Tom seemed to walk stiffly besides him. He didn't allow the other boy to get to him, however, as they made their way to the restaurant. An overzealous hostess seated them before a perky waiter requested their beverage preference.
The place was quiet and dim, and Harry felt his relaxation settle further as he and Tom ordered their meals. Neither one spoke to break the silence before their food arrived. Harry dug into his as soon as he got it, so it took him a few mouthfuls to realize that Tom wasn't eating. He was just glaring at someone behind Harry.
The older man could feel the magic licking at his sense as he warned, "Tom, don't you dare."
"What do you mean?" the young boy asked, staring over Harry's shoulder at the muggles at the table.
"If that food leaves your plate, I'll ground you."
"You wouldn't."
"That's what you think."
That is obviously what Tom thought because in the next few seconds, two things happen. One: Tom's food disappeared off his plate. Second, the muggles began screaming as food fell from the ceiling.
"Give me your wand, now." Harry hissed furiously. "We're going home and you're in your room."
"No."
"Accio Tom's wand. Yes, we are." Harry then signaled for their bill, his food forgotten, and his mood sour and angry.
Once the bill was paid, Harry stood from his seat quietly, the mood between the two strained. He grabbed Tom by his upper arm and almost wretched him out of his seat; the younger boy hissing at him to ease up. Harry ignored the parsel words though and basically dragged Tom out of the restaurant like the angry 'parent' he was.
He only stopped for a moment to apparate them before he let go of Tom as if burned.
"Go to your room, now." He spoke coldly and precisely, too pissed off to do much else. If Tom said one more thing or did something else to further Harry's ire, the older man didn't think he could hold his temper. Thankfully the younger boy only glared hatefully at him before moving off to his room, slamming the door once he'd entered.
Harry, just like his little look alike, started slamming things around as well, mostly the cupboard doors as he got a towel, a crystal glass and a bottle of fire whiskey.
He filled the glass up to the point some sloshed out before he slammed the bottle down on the counter, grabbed the glass, threw the towel over his shoulder and headed to the shower.
He balanced the glass on a towel rack that was right by the shower, one where he could shower and reach a few inches to gather his drink without it being watered down. He turned the hot water on before stripping and stepping in.
Tom.... Tom was horrible. If he wasn't sending Harry's sexual frustration soaring, he was being a deviant of a whole other sort. Harry sighed, frustrated, as he reached over to take a swig of his drink, enjoying the burn it made on its way down. The slight pain clearing his mind.
He went through the motions of his shower monotonously, mechanically as he scrubbed his skin like it was sludge instead of flesh.
He'd downed the rest of his whiskey before he'd finished his shower, the room encased in steam as he stumbled out of the shower. He felt slightly dizzy and realized a hot shower was going to make the alcohol he'd drunken affect him faster.
He left the glass on the rack and fitted the towel around his waist, the cold air in the hall a shocking change from the steam warmed bathroom. It didn't stop him from dragging his feet to his room and crawling under his blankets from the bottom of the bed and burying the side of his face against his pillowed as he fell asleep in the bath towel, his hair still wet and his world slightly tilting.
*^*^*^*^*^*^
It wasn't hard to catch the pattern the summer was destined to follow after the first few days. Tom was stubbornly obtuse, and Harry held his infamous temper in check as long as he could.
That was to say, after about two weeks, he finally relented and let Tom ship himself off to Arcturus' for the next two weeks. It was a quiet day after he finally told Tom he could go to his friends. The boy was more even tempered, smug even. Harry was alright with that, though, because as soon as Tom had left, he'd laid down on his could with a tumbler of chilled whiskey and enjoyed the silence until he felt lethargic enough to go to sleep.
The next evening, he owled Abraxas and they arranged to have dinner in Diagon Alley, Abraxas' treat. So the man insisted, at any rate. Harry wasn't going to turn him down, though, so he spent a few hours before their dinner getting ready.
He foolishly criticized himself in the mirror, wondering why he was getting so worked up about a stupid dinner with a stupid blonde who was married.
Harry tried to convince himself he was just doing it for fun, and failed horribly. With a deep breath, he deemed himself ready for dinner before Apparating to their meet up spot across the way from the restaurant.
Abraxas was already there, and for a few brief moments, he thought he was late. The man smiled as he began apologizing and waved him off.
"Nonsense, you're on time, early even. I just wanted to get here before you so you wouldn't get lost or worried. I know you weren't raised in the wizarding world, from our talks, so I thought I'd reassure you by being early."
Harry tried really hard to squash the fuzzy warm feelings he was experiencing before he smiled happily at the man and reached for his hand. "My own personal escort, how dashing!" He joked as Abraxas took his hand in stride and linked it with his own.
"Yes, I do try,"
They both walked in a comfortable silence, the night's warmth enjoyable.
"So how has your summer hol been so far?" Abraxas asked as he slowed his walk to a linger as the two of them began to hold a conversation.
"In a word? Hell. Tom's been off the wall the past few weeks. I understand he's growing and he has new friends and influences, but he's just so erratic all the time and angry. It's like he lives to undermine me."
"Maybe he's jealous," Abraxas suggested.
"Why would he be jealous?" Harry asked, feigning innocence as he offered Abraxas a quizzical look.
"Well, when you adopted him, it was just the two of you. Perhaps he's angered that you spend your time with your classes and me. He doesn't seem to be one who shares."
"No, he's really not. I thought we'd settled that during the spring semester, though. We were doing alright, awkward but alright, until we went out to dinner the day following the beginning of our break."
"What happened?"
"Well, we went to dinner, as I said, but we went in muggle London, and he ended up dumping his food on the muggles across from us."
Abraxas began laughing before he even realized what was happening and Harry had a put upon look on his face as he glared at the man, "It's not funny," he said before cracking a smile, "okay, it is, but he shouldn't have done that! Spite breeds ignorance and hatred. There's so much more to live for in life, rather than supremacy over beings that have nothing to do with our world."
"So you don't agree?" Abraxas edged.
"No, I don't care! So long as no one is killed or hurt, I don't care what anyone thinks!" Harry stated vehemently.
"Such an idealistic way of thinking,"
"I'd like to think revolutionarily optimistic." Harry pouted.
He smiled as the arm entwined with his own pulled him into a hug and he laughed as Abraxas buried his face against his neck and nuzzled, sending ticklish feelings all throughout his body.
"If only everyone thought like you, the world would probably be a better place. Disorganized and crazy, but better."
"Hey, I'm not crazy,"
"I never said or implied anything of the sort. Now, I believe I promised you dinner."
"Yes, yes you did," Harry answered softly as the man led him to a beautifully lit and decorated restaurant.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
"How was Arcturus'?"
Tom shrugged and Harry could tell he was stopping himself from saying something nasty, so Harry let it go.
"You ready to go back to Hogwarts?"
"I guess."
"Alright, then," Harry said awkwardly, "I'm here if you want to talk." He offered lamely before going to his room. He wasn't running away though, he did have summer work to grade after all.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The summer continued and ended in silence, the awkwardness between Tom and Harry so evident they didn't even try to break it anymore. It left Harry in a funk, though, and during sorting ceremony Harry couldn't even bring himself to clap for anyone while they were sorted. Not even when Tom was sorted into Slytherin.
Then, when the food appeared lavishly on the tables, he picked at a few things, never really actually getting the food into his mouth.
He was completely and utterly ready to bury himself back into the work of being a teacher like he had been when he'd first started. It was very valid and easy distraction from the mess that was becoming his personal life.
He missed his evenings with Tom; he missed playing with Salazar and Tom in the woods behind their house. He missed the plethora of questions that Tom would assault him with at any given time in a quest for more knowledge. He missed the times where they would sit in silence and walk away having had their own silent conversation.
He missed a lot of things; he couldn't decide which hurt most, though, the things he missed, or the fact that the person who he'd shared them with seemed to not care for what'd he'd lost.
Either way, things would probably only get worse before they got better.
He only wished his insight now was as bad as it had been in Trelawney's class.
*^*^*^*^*^
"Stupid mudbloods," Tom said in passing as he and Harry made their way to their rooms. Tom frowned slightly as he felt Harry stop. He turned to the man and unconsciously took a step back.
"Give me your wand."
Tom did so automatically, very used to this sort of 'punishment,' Harry would ground him by taking his wand.
"When we get to our rooms, straight to bed. I don't want to hear a word from you. Then, when we have breakfast, in our rooms tomorrow, you can explain to me why I'm grounding you for the next week and a half."
"Hey! Tha-"
"Shut up, Tom, you're not going to win this one. Room. Now!" Harry practically shouted. The people who had stopped to watch the DADA professor dress down his son almost cringed.
Professor Potter rarely, if EVER, raised his voice.
Tom pouted, his stance absolutely rigid and angry as he took off at a calm, but pissed, pace to their rooms, trying not to show everyone how he really felt.
It was embarrassing, mortifying even, to have Harry do that. Especially in public with people he interacted with daily, with people he was finally getting to know because he was starting to fit in.
It was downright betrayal! Harry never did things like that in public. He'd never called Tom out on his behavior in front of people. Not even if the people couldn't tell or hear what was going on.
The action made him furious, his stomach twisting in a way he'd never felt before. It almost felt like he was going to be physically sick, and he felt his eyes burn with that and the notion of humiliation Harry had inflicted on him.
That was one thing he hated, when he was at the orphanage nothing mattered, no matter what punishment he'd get for whichever reason, but here, with Harry, it hurt so much more, and for a moment Tom realized why. He actually cared about Harry. He cared about what the older man thought about him, strived to be a 'good boy' for him, so others wouldn't hate him, so Harry wouldn't hate him.
If this was the result, what was the point? If he couldn't even satisfy Harry, who had told him he'd accept him no matter what. To the point Tom had believed him! Then who would accept him? Tom snarled as he entered their rooms; stomping to his room as he acted his age for once, before slamming the door loudly.
Harry cringed as he heard the door, his pace much slower as he entered their rooms. He almost had half a mind to follow the boy and dress him down some more for such behavior. Instead, he sighed as he closed the portrait door and headed towards his liquor cabinet. He wasn't exactly a person who enjoyed drinking for the acquired taste.
He usually drank it to drown his conscious so he could fall asleep and be able to carry out Tom's punishments. If he could make it through the night without apologizing because of guilt, he could wait out the punishment easily. It was just his stupid Gryffindor Martyrdom. He couldn't help it. It had nothing to do with Tom; it did have everything to do with Harry's conscious though.
He could never tell when he'd push the boy too far, or if he was doing everything right, or maybe there wasn't a right and he was just fucking Tom up further and setting him up for failure. Really, though, what type of example was he as a parent? His own had died when he'd barely been over a year old, and every other authority figure in his life either, lied, died, or manipulated him.
That wasn't a really good track reference of influential figures in his life. Harry just hoped he had enough common sense and compassion to continue to care for Tom, and some type of Slytherin wit to keep him from leaving. For once, Harry wished that the Sorting Hat had been right the first time. That he would have been best off as a Slytherin. What better way to befriend a Slytherin than to act like one, or rather be one.
He rolled the bottom of the glass on the coffee table by the fire, watching the amber liquid trace the sides of the crystal in waves as it changed colors as the fire reflected off it.
It was hard, and he'd realized it for what it was many times. That whole 'being a parent is a learning thing.' Well, that was true at any rate. He didn't know what to do; whether to discipline him or let him have free reign. He didn't exactly know what had caused Tom to become Voldemort, not precisely anyway, but he knew he'd do anything prevent it.
He took a gulp of the amber liquid before closing his eyes and he leaned back on the couch. He tensed all of his muscles for a few seconds before letting them relax and taking a deep breath.
He woke up a few hours later, or at least it seemed that way, to the sound of water running from the shower. He realized Tom was awake and sighed. He moved slightly, his body seizing from the stiffness. It was slightly painful and he realized he'd dropped his liquor throughout his sleep. He slumped to the side and closed his eyes again as he lay out on the couch. He wasn't used to being angry; he also wasn't used to sleeping in the coldness of a room whose fire had died through the night without a blanket to cover himself.
He felt a chill through his body and shuddered slightly, feeling sluggish. He really hoped he wasn't sick. Now, that he thought about it though, his first year teaching at Hogwarts had been stressful, but now that he was teaching and Tom was attending classes, things became indefinitely harder. He rarely slept now, rarely ate. He was actually surprised that it'd taken this long to get sick. He whimpered quietly as he curled up on the couch, lethargic and hazy; his mind falling back into a state of incoherence. Oddly, he heard a door closing, or something similar, perhaps, far away. It was inconsequential to him, so he focused on breathing, his eyes closed because when he opened them the world spun as he tried to keep them open.
He heard shifting, and thought that perhaps he was imagining it. He was, after all, asleep. Besides, it was cold, so very, very cold, and Harry let out a shaky, keening breath as he felt the cold seep further into his body.
Then there was warmth, a small hand shaking him as a voice called his name, then he heard the word dad spoken in hysteria before there was warmth everywhere and not just in the small hands that had been shaking him. It was silent for a long time, and Harry thought he'd finally succumb to sleep again before there was brightness in his vision that he couldn't ever compare to something he'd seen previously, as cold, strong hands lifted his eye lids, one by one and then felt his forehead.
He felt dizzy, the room was disorienting; he felt arms around him, arms lifting him, it wasn't Tom though. The room continued to spin, the motions rising in intensity before he was settled onto something he distinctly recognized. It was his bed.
He heard muffled sounds, voices, maybe. Then the surface dipped and a warm, small body held him as he shuddered from the cold. Was he still shuddering? He thought he'd stopped, was Harry's final thought before he succumbed to darkness and silence.
Harry awoke warm, and foggy, he felt a weight on his side that was the source of his heat. He quickly realized that he also didn't feel like he was close to death anymore. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, noticing a head of black hair and instantly recognizing the body as Tom's. He studied the boy's face, noticing the tear tracks that painted shimmering lines down the young boy's face. Harry smiled softly, almost sadly.
Tom was twelve now; in the four years he'd been with the boy, he'd never seen him cry. He'd seen eyes bright in frustration, but he'd never saw tears.
Perhaps it was a testament to the progress he was making, even to him, Tom seemed like a normal little boy. Sure, he acted out sometimes, but it was mostly in retaliation to other children bullying him; or to get Harry's attention, it was usually the latter.
Abraxas was right, though, and Harry knew that.
Now, though, he also knew he was jealous that Tom spent all his time with Arcturus. Almost as if he thought Harry didn't understand him anymore.
They really were too much alike.
