Tom could not actually sleep that night. Which was certainly not something that he was used to, especially with everything going exactly as it should be. His Knights were infiltrating the Ministry at an impressive rate now with Harry Potter's help, Dumbledore was becoming unwise in his desperation, and he was in the full possession of Harry Potter. Well, possession was a loose term. He liked to think about it that way, of course, but Harry Potter was a special case among his possessions; for Harry Potter to be a worthy possession, to reach his full potential as a possession, he needed some room to be free and to grow naturally. That was the beauty of the man – his freedom. And perhaps, that was why Tom couldn't seem to drift off for the first time in years.
Harry Potter was more than just a possession.
It had not really hit him until he began to reflect on the chilling jealousy he had felt when the man admitted to what he had been doing with the backbenchers; it made him uncomfortable thinking about it now. It had felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over his head, draining the heat from his very soul. He had felt like he was going to throw up on the spot. He had been shaking on the inside, despite being able to hide it at the time.
Tom could say with a fair amount of confidence that that was not the feeling he would be getting if somebody had used his toothbrush.
That meant that Tom had allowed himself to fall into very dangerous territory. Of course, the bastard had known himself that this would happen, it was only too obvious in retrospect. From the very start, Harry Potter had led him towards this feeling by displaying it himself; he had trusted Tom to have his wand back; he had taken an interest in Tom's childhood; he had supported Tom when they had gone to the orphanage. Knowing, that in his own time, Tom would do the same for him, trusting him to cast the cruciatus curse on him, supporting him directly after that, and then Harry Potter didn't have to do anything at all to get Tom to take him to bed.
He had opened Tom's feelings, knowing that with these examples of friendship what Tom would soon enough feel. Knowing as well that Tom would trust that Harry Potter felt exactly the same, because logic alone - despite the memories of gentle words, teasing looks, the way they danced - logic alone would not have been enough, but trust; that was the key in this. Trust allowed him truly to believe that the feeling was mutual.
And this is what kept Tom up. The infuriatingly fast and hard pounding of his heart against his chest, not knowing what to do because this had never happened before. He had never thought himself capable of the feeling. But of course nobody had given him reason to feel it. Merlin, he wanted badly to be pissed off at the man for doing this to him, for giving him this weakness, yet at the same time he knew that it was done not out of malice, but a genuine belief that this would be the right thing for Tom. But what would his followers think? Surely they would not approve.
But they already knew. Gah! They already could see it, he'd been so fucking foolish, he hadn't hid it from anybody but himself! Everybody would have seen him dancing with the man at those balls, when Tom never danced before Harry Potter came along, and had not cared at the time that they would have seen the man walk past the meeting door topless-
But of course he didn't care. Why should he? His followers knew of his power, oh yes, and they would not dare change how they saw him based on his own personal matters, his own intimate relations. It was none of their damn business, what he did in his own time. They would follow with the same reverence as they always did.
Yes, that was it. It would be nothing, to them, that Harry Potter was intimate with their leader. Especially once they learnt of his important role in moving their plans forward, saving them from a horrible fate of failed tyranny; they would not question the man joining Tom at the top, and there was no doubt that that was where Harry Potter belonged. It was all fine. He had been worrying needlessly, like a frivolous young lady with her eyes on a handsome man. Much of his recent behaviour had been irrational in such a way; staring so intently at the man in the restaurant, enamoured by how fluid his every movement was... no; that was not appropriate of him. But it was all resolved now.
...
So why was he still awake?
Ah, flashbacks.
How Harry Potter had dared to move from his bondage that night... The punishment he had given was not nearly enough. That would need correcting, in his thoughts.
It may be a while longer, before Tom got to sleep.
'Have you realised?' Harry wondered, staring up at the ornate ceiling.
Of course, even if Tom had realised, Harry would not find out straight away. Presumably, when the occasion called for it, the lust element of it would not be denied acknowledgement. But feelings would be a harder one for Tom to swallow. Harry wouldn't bring it up, as much as he was tempted. He had all the time in the world, really. There were more important things. Namely, the letter from Dumbledore.
When Harry was ready to fall asleep on his bed, an owl had started tapping irritably on his window, and he had recognised that elegant scrawl immediately:
Hadrian Potter,
I hope you will pardon me for taking the liberty of writing to you. I have, of course, heard nothing but praise from your dear friends, and I thought I should like to know you better.
Would you mind meeting me at the Hog's Head tomorrow at 4? A chat and a nice drink may be just the distraction we both need from all this political business, don't you think?
A. Dumbledore
The Hog's Head was certainly an odd choice for Dumbledore... It was a pub known for being a fairly good place to have a private conversation, and was often used by wizards with darker backgrounds. Dumbledore could have met Harry anywhere he chose – the Three Broomsticks, The Leaky Cauldron, even Hogwarts – but for some reason he chose the most notoriously shifty wizard pub. Perhaps he had managed to enlist Aberforth to keep an eye on the conversation. Tom should probably know about the meeting, nonetheless.
So, out of bed once again, and Harry walked over to his desk to pen a brief letter:
Tom,
Meeting Dumbledore at 4 tomorrow in the Hog's Head on request, thought you should be aware.
Harry
His owl flew out of the window, and Harry knew that there wouldn't be need for a response, so finally he was able to get to sleep.
Harry kept his shoulders squared as he entered the tavern, though he was sure not to make his entrance too eye catching; he was wearing a simple black robe so as not to draw attention to himself, though the hood was not up. Not to his complete surprise, Harry found that both Dumbledore and Tom were sat in the pub, at opposite ends of the room, Dumbledore smiling contently to himself as he sipped a butterbeer, Tom brooding over a tankard, hidden by a glamour. Harry had not asked him to come, but he supposed it was only natural for Tom to want to observe, due to the strong distrust of Dumbledore.
The Hog's Head had a low ceiling, and Harry had to duck to dodge the occasional wooden beam. The dirty walls were lit by gaslights, and the scattered tables tilted on the uneven stone floor. The barkeep, a man with a beard greyer and shorter than Professor Dumbledore's, grunted occasionally as he cleaned a glass.
When Dumbledore noticed Harry, he stood up with a wide smile, and that twinkle in his eyes.
"Hadrian, wonderful to see you, do sit down," he beckoned, and Harry did so, obediently. "I am so glad you were able to join me at such short notice, I do apologise if I've caused any inconvenience."
"No, none at all" Harry reassured, smiling himself. His back was to Tom, but he was sure the man would be keeping a sharp eye on the interaction. "I was pleasantly surprised to receive your invitation, Professor."
"Albus, Albus, please," the old man insisted, practically wafting the title away. "Besides, the pleasure is all mine. I have never gotten to speak to you properly, despite my desire to, your presence in this country being quite sudden. It seems there is a, ah, force, shall we say, that's preventing us from talking," he smiled again, the twinkle in his eyes intensifying.
"True, we seem always to meet at the wrong times!" Harry agreed. "I don't think the chances of us being interrupted now are so great, though."
"No, I suppose not. I must confess however, that from what I have heard from you I am fascinated. You have incredibly progressive views for a wizard of our time."
"Ah, well, I suppose I owe that from having traveled a great deal. The British wizarding community is rather isolated in its current state, don't you think? Not a great deal of international relations, it really does appear to be weakening us."
"I quite agree, Hadrian, very wise words from a man as young as yourself. Yes, we are growing distant from our roots. It is a great shame. But of course I promised conversation outside of politics! Let's see, do tell me of your upbringing, it must have been rather unique might I say?"
"Unique indeed, I'm afraid" Harry let his face turn grave. Lying is best done with as much truth as possible. "I grew up an orphan."
"I am so very sorry to hear that, how insensitive of me" Dumbledore hastily said, sympathetically.
"It's okay, don't worry. I am partially glad for it. While I would have very much liked to have grown up with a loving family, if I had, I would not be where I am now. As tragic as it is, having no parents has helped me grow. For the first years of my life, I was brought up with my aunt and uncle. You may think that I was fortunate to have family available to care for me, but no. They did not care for me other than a roof over my head and food. My mother was a muggleborn, and this was the family of her sister. They abused me rather terribly in their fear of my magic. They drilled into me that magic didn't exist, very fearful that I would grow up like my mother. I didn't learn that it was real until I left them."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly, eyes understanding, but Harry wondered if the man was already making the links between him and Tom in their childhood.
"That first part of my life taught me how to survive. Taught me how to be strong. Taught me how cruel humanity could be. Then, one day when I was out with my aunt and uncle at the age of 7, I suddenly fell out onto the road. I suspect I was pushed, but it didn't matter; here, I performed my most extreme accidental magic. I appeared on the other side of the road. A wizard had been the only witness, and he took me away."
"He kidnapped you?" Dumbledore asked, brows raised.
"Yes, he did. There's no denying that what he did was illegal. But more importantly to me, he saved me. This man, a German, as it happened, took me away from my abusive family and raised me as his own. He was a traveler, and I was taken to all varieties of different wizarding cultures, and muggle ones too. This part of my life, I learnt to love. He raised me as a strong wizard, and he raised me to value love above all. When he died, not long after my 18th birthday, I didn't cry, nor did I mourn; I held my head high, I buried him, and I vowed to be the man he wanted me to be. And that is how I became who I am today."
Harry wasn't lying too extremely when he spoke of travelling – immediately after the war, he had wanted to escape, and so for a year he didn't return to Britain. The man who "saved" him was based on his childhood image of Dumbledore. It could perhaps have been his life in another dimension.
"That is truly a fantastic tale, and as I had guessed, incredibly unique. You must have a very strong will."
"I'd like to think so."
"I would love, Hardrian, to be able to say I had a childhood as different as yours. I didn't, though I would argue I grew just as well from it. In my experience, Hadrian, I too learnt about love, though in a more devastating way."
Harry wasn't sure what to say. Dumbledore wasn't actually going to tell him about his childhood, was he? Him, an apparent stranger, when he didn't think it was important enough to tell the boy who looked up to him like nobody else? Though this was a new timeline.
"When I was just leaving Hogwarts, I fell in love with a German boy around the same age as myself."
Apparently so.
"Our minds seemed completely the same. We were both intelligent, ambitious, and most of all we wanted to make an impact on the world. But what we wanted, Hadrian, is not what we wanted. It was what he wanted. And I, in love as I was, thought that I wanted it too."
Dumbledore shook his head gravely.
"What Gellert wanted, was wizard supremacy. He, and I at the time, felt that wizards should rule over the muggles, and keep them in check. As you know, Hadrian, my views now are in no way that extreme. I would never again consider such a horrific thing. But then, I did. For love. But it was a selfish love. I didn't learn until one fateful day. It haunts me still. We got into a fight. I do not even now know whose spell it was, but… my sister died, that day. She was terribly ill."
Harry knew the story, but had never seen the genuine pain in Dumbledore's eyes while it was being told. And it was no difficult to work out just why he was being told this. Dumbledore was sharing his secrets, trusting in Harry, 'for the greater good' – to stop Harry from siding with Tom. He could see the similarities in their situation, and wanted to 'save' Harry from his fate.
"I had wanted to see the best in him, but... he grew up to be Grindelwald. As you may well heard, I defeated him in battle, and had him locked up. I learnt, then, that love for the world is greater than love for personal happiness. Would you not agree?"
Harry nodded "There is indeed a lesson there for everybody to learn."
Dumbledore smiled at that.
"I'm afraid, Hadrian, that I must be off. Head teacher duties and all of that. It was a pleasure talking to you."
"You too, I am most honoured to have had your company."
The two men stood and shook hands, and Harry watched Dumbledore exit, purple robe dragging against the stone. Harry ordered a quick drink, giving time to allow Tom to exit far enough away from him and Dumbledore to look like his own exit was unrelated. If Aberforth really was on board with his brother on this, Tom would not want to be caught eavesdropping.
It was then a while longer before Harry found Tom at the apparation point, glamour now gone.
"I can't believe he expects you to believe that load of rubbish – as if Albus Dumbledore was in love with Gellert Grindelwald" Tom sneered.
"It's true, actually. Not that he ever told me himself, of course, when he knew me. I had to find out through some horrid woman's biography of him," that was mostly what Harry had taken from that meeting. Dumbledore only told people these things when he thought it would benefit him, and Harry should not at this point be surprised.
"Ah."
"Hm. Regardless, it's a load of rubbish all the same. He thinks I'm like him, but I'm not. He doesn't understand what I've truly been through. All my life I've been sacraficing for this "greater good" and I've never benefited from it. I came here for myself, and I'll be damned if I don't follow that through."
"I understand."
"Thanks though, Tom."
The man frowned. "What for?"
"Why for protecting me, of course!" Harry exclaimed, eyelashes fluttering.
Tom's frowned deepened. "We both know that Dumbledore is a force beyond our individual control; he clearly suspects you of actively assisting me, you would not have been safe in the tavern alone."
"Oh I know" Harry reassured. "I'm grateful all the same."
Tom just rolled his eyes and apparated away.
So... I'm thinking maybe a couple more chapters left? I'm coming to a good sort of place to round things on, and I don't want the fic to drag. It'll likely be one more chapter and then an epilogue - feel free to give me ideas on what you would like to see in the epilogue, though I do have a vague image myself of how I want it to be. Thanks for reading!
