It had been an eventful past few days, to say the least. After spending a post Exploding Snap night in the Hospital Wing the pair had returned to the common room and changed before heading to breakfast where they'd been subject to snickers and mimicked head-butting and swoons. Surprisingly Tom hadn't seemed overly annoyed by the mild jeers. Or maybe he was just far better at controlling his emotions when he wanted to be than even Harry had given him credit for. A very amused Dumbledore had joined in on the action as well, passing a deck of Exploding Snap cards back to Tom along with his paper on Un-transfiguring canaries.
Even the Knights of Walpurgis had begun poking fun at them and Tom bore all of it. Expertly keeping the truth of what he felt off of his face no doubt in an effort to impress him. He'd be lying if he were to say it wasn't working, at least to a small degree. Especially when he was intimately aware of how it felt to have the entire school making fun of you; at least he had some respite and that most of the attention was focused on the fact that he had knocked out Tom, and the fact that he himself had been knocked out as well was largely overlooked.
By the time Friday had rolled around once again Harry was more than happy to collapse into bed and pass out. So when he opened his eyes, sleep disturbed by a faint clattering sound, and squinted into the darkness of his curtained off bunk to see a winged Golden ball hovering over his bed he couldn't help but think that he was dreaming.
A Snitch? The golden metal gleamed in the dim light, its wings beating at ridiculous speeds. It lowered itself, shot backwards a few inches and then rose to the top of the drawings on his bed before returning to where it had been hovering a moment before. Yes, it was unmistakably a Snitch. A Snitch loose in the Slytherin dorms. In his bed. He had to be dreaming, surely; suffering withdraw from the persistent lack of participation in his favorite sport.
The Snitch drew back slightly as he sat up, detecting movement. Slowly, he raised his hand. Eyed the little orb as best he could without his glasses on. His hand shot out, closing around the little ball before it could act to dart away. It was cold against his skin. The diaphanous wings, brushing over his hand as they closed, felt disconcertingly real.
"Impressive."
Harry nearly fell out of bed in shock when Tom's voice sounded quite suddenly from beside him. The taller boy reclined against his bedside table, hands planted on either side and ankles crossed one over the other, his dark eyes holding the same glint as the Snitch's metallic body in the shadows.
"Didn't mean to startle you, Precious. I apologize."
"Tom? Did you…" He glanced from the Snitch to the other boy and back again, understanding dawning as to what had happened. "You stole the Snitch?"
"No." He straightened up and pulled back the curtains surrounding Harry's bed, revealing the open box of equipment and pair of brooms which were sitting on his own. "I stole the Snitch and everything else."
"Tom-!"
"Oh, hush!" He chided sharply. "I went through too much effort to have you admonishing me as if you're channeling that awful matron at Wool! It's not as if I won't return them once we're finished!" Tom softened his tone quickly, his face shifting into something that may have been apologetic though his sight was too blurry to really tell. "I wanted to do something for you; you said that you enjoyed Quidditch so I figured that we could go down to the pitch and play."
Tom step forward again and gently slid his glasses onto his face. With his now clear vision Harry could see the other boy, his long fingered hands protected by leather gloves and his lithe body ensconced in a fitted black wool coat. Coiled around his neck in a poor imitation of Nagini was a green and silver Slytherin scarf. There was a rosy tent of cold to his pale cheeks, hinting at his recent return from outside.
"Bundle up and get your cloak." He held out his gloved hand imploringly for the Snitch that Harry still held. He place it in Tom's hand, watching the other's slender fingers curl around the Snitch before it could escape again. After returning it to its proper place and closing the lid, he shrunk the box and brooms and set them in his pocket. He then perched on the edge of his bed and waited patiently for Harry to change into warmer clothing than his pajamas.
So this was the angle that Tom was going with? It made sense, given the line of questioning Tom and engaged him with and the following incident with the Exploding Snap. Still, with the obvious distaste that he'd shown for brooms it was a bit of a surprise that he'd do this. Harry rose from his bed and skirted the foot of it towards his trunk, noticing as he did so that Nagini was watching him from beneath Tom's bed. The outline of her form just barely visible in the gloom.
His winter clothes, much like the rest of his clothing, were far from fitting let alone fitted like Tom's. A fact which didn't escape the other boy who side as he stepped forwards again, gently wrestling control of his scarf free from him and tucking it securely around his neck.
"Why do you wear such clothing, love?" He asked with a click of his tongue. "Don't get me wrong darling, I find you absolutely striking regardless-and to another point it's one's personality that matters-but it would do wonders for your figure to wear something that doesn't make you look as if you've suddenly deflated."
"I'm not able to access my full inheritance until I'm of age, Tom. I can't afford to waste money at the moment buying new clothes when these are perfectly fine."
"Do you think I do either?"
"How could you possibly not afford what you wear when you're the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Slytherin's fortune was spent long ago. But for two near priceless heirlooms, His heirs have been left penniless for generations before mine." There was a note of bitterness in his voice. "All of my clothes have been Transfigured. I can do it for you as well, if you'd like?"
"Maybe some other time, Tom." He said. Both watched the scarf slide through his fingers like water. "We should head out before the caretaker makes another round."
"Fair point." He said. "Shall we?"
They proceeded down into the common room and opened the portal out into the halls before throwing the cloak over themselves. If concealing himself Ron and Hermoine had been difficult now that they'd grown to taller but still mostly equal heights, concealing himself and Tom-who was taller than even Ron was-while in thick winter clothing was even harder. They kept stepping on the backs of each other's shoes and their feet kept coming into view.
"Ouch!"
" Sorry."
They managed to make it to the staircase and started up it.
"Watch the step! The step!"
Harry's reply was cut off when he nearly tripped over the first step. Tom had to grab him by the forearm to stop him from falling out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak. The pair had to pause by the front doors until the caretaker moved on and exited the Castle.
Cold air blasted them as they stepped down to the grounds. The cloudless black sky was filled with millions of stars and the green blades of grass were lined with frost; they crunched beneath their feet as the two boys hurried down to the Quidditch pitch and ducked between the stands.
Once safely within the pitch black shadows of the pitch they removed the cloak and Harry swiftly stuffed it into his robes. Tom removed the box and brooms, returned them to the normal size and popped the box open.
"I think it's best we nix the Bludgers."
"And the Snitch, too."
"Tosh." Tom picked up the Quaffle and examined it briefly by the light of his wand before giving it an experimental toss into the air. "Why would you think we shouldn't release this marvelously devilish golden ball?"
"Because it's pitch black out here, Tom." Harry said. He could clearly remember how it had been next to impossible to spot the Snitch in the storm during his third year and didn't want to even attempt to imagine trying to find a loose Snitch in the dead of night. No matter how many stars there were. "If we lose the Snitch they'll know someone 'borrowed' the school's equipment and we're sure to be in trouble."
"You'll be able to see the Snitch fine, Precious." He said, pulling the little ball from its bound position and tapped it gently with his wand. "Candenti."
A brief flash of white light shot from the tip of Tom's wand and the Snitch began to emit a dim golden light. Nowhere near bright enough to be seen from the Castle and attract attention to their activities but able to shine like a beacon regardless. The gentle glow made Tom's sharp features appear softer than usual.
"I see you've noticed what it does." He released the Snitch and tossed it high into the air; its wings snapped open and it zoomed over towards the crest of the far goalpost. "I invented that spell myself. Just a few days ago, actually, for precisely this purpose. I don't know much about Quidditch, didn't actually bother to research it and have never been to a game, but I'm aware that the soul of the game-if you will-is the Snitch."
The pair watched the little glowing orb plummet like a stone, come to an abrupt stop and then scoot off towards the Slytherin corner of the stands.
Tom bent and picked up his broom. "Shall we?"
"We shall." Harry looked down at his broom "Up!" it leapt into his hand.
"A show off, I see."
"I don't see a mirror anywhere, Tom."
The dark brunette shook his head but didn't dignify his snark. "Flying is in your blood?"
He nodded as they mounted their brooms. Harry noticed that Tom seemed relatively uncomfortable with proceedings and they weren't even off the ground yet. "My dad was a Chaser for Gryffindor when he went here. Was head boy in his 7th year as well, despite not being a Prefect. Won a couple of trophies."
"Did he win one for special services to the school?"
Harry was thankful for the darkness, as even with how close they were standing it hid the momentary flash of anger at the memory of exactly how Tom had come to receive that reward in the first place from his sight. "Nothing quite so prestigious. Just a few things pertaining to Quidditch."
"Then perhaps you can out do him." They rose steadily off the ground. Tom's knuckles were clutched white against the handle of his broom. "You certainly seem at home on a broom." Was that a tremor in his voice that he heard? "Why didn't you try out for the team? From what I hear from Lestrange our House's Seeker is abysmal."
"I might've considered it." A lie. Even if he weren't technically a part of Lion House in this time, he would never play for Slytherin. It felt like a betrayal. "But I have a much more important matter to concern myself with this year."
"I already know that you're going to beat me, if nothing else than because I feel far from sound balanced on this matchstick," subconsciously Tom clutched the broom even tighter; Harry was of a mind to worry that either the wood or his fingers would soon break from the stress, "May the best man catch the damn thing."
Even on the positively ancient school broom Harry outpaced Tom without really having to try. He might've considered, for the briefest of moments, going easy on him but quickly pitched the idea. Well aware that doing so would not be overlooked by Tom and would not be met with a very pleased reaction.
The taller boy was hesitant in the air. Uncomfortable. Even frightened, perhaps. Harry found himself amused by the way that the young Dark Lord was all but laying on his broom, gripping it with both arms and both legs as if his very life depended on it.
The Snitch darted away from Harry, shooting off to the right and across Tom's range. The Slytherin Prefect's hand shot out, fingertips brushing the tip of one of its wings, but closed around air. The little orb plummeted. Tom balked and pulled up on his broom, yanking it to a stop, while Harry dove like a falcon. Snatching the little ball out of the cold air and pulling out of the maneuver so close to the earth that his feet brushed the frozen grass.
"Showy git." Tom's hair was so ruffled from their flight that it almost rivaled Harry's normal bird's nest. Despite his best efforts to present an annoyed front, his relief at being back on the ground and off of the broom were far too obvious to make the act effective. "Have fun?"
"Yeah." He admitted, handing the Snitch back when Tom held out his hand again. "It was nice to fly again."
"Obumbro." Tom tapped the tip of his wand against the Snitch a second time, the golden glow going dark. "Glad that you enjoyed it because 'nice' is not the adjective that I would choose to describe it."
"Not a fan of flying, Tom?"
"I have no problem with flying nor with heights. Hanging hundreds of feet in the air with only a couple inch thick stick to prevent you from falling to your death, however, is not my idea of a good time."
"Rather have a Thestral or a Hippogriff?" He asked him.
"I'd rather have anything-even something so outlandish as, I don't know, of flying car; not that anyone would be mad enough to invent something like that-than a broom!" Tom didn't need to know that Ron's father, being obsessed by Muggle artifacts as he was, had created just such a 'mad' invention. Not yet at least. "Not that any of that is real flying."
"You talk like you can 'really' fly."
Tom puffed his chest up proudly, looking smug. "I'm the most ingenious student ever to walk Hogwarts' hallowed halls. Of course I can fly!"
"You have wings, then?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry."
"But it's a rule of magic that you can only fly with a flying charm." He protested. "At least that's what Hermoine would say whenever Ron and I would talk about it."
"Practical one, is she?" He chuckled. "There's nothing wrong with dreaming, love. And where you're far more intelligent than any of my other followers, you're far from the genius that I am."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Any time." Tom grinned. "Every rule has its exception, Harry. A loophole. Sometimes it's just a matter of finding it." He tilted his head back to look up at the sky. "Such a beautiful night. Perfect conditions. We'll put these away and then I'll show you a taste of what I can teach you."
Rather than shrink the box again he picked up one handle and Harry grabbed the other and, with the box between them and a broom in each of their free hands, the pair proceeded back to the supply shed to replace them where they rightfully belonged. After re-locking the door behind them, Tom held out a hand to him but when he didn't immediately move to take it he offered another smile. This one sweet. Promising.
"I know what I'm doing. You don't need to be afraid that I'll drop you."
There were a million more efficient ways for the other to go about killing him if he were really of a mind to do so. After another moment further, he set his hand in Tom's slightly larger one.
"That's it, Precious. You can trust me." His voice had shifted into a seductive silken purr. "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you to."
Knowing that Tom wouldn't do anything until he complied with his wishes, Harry did as he was told. The other's grip on his hand tightened slightly, firm but not painful. The temperature around them dropped and something wet, like mist, slithered across his cheek. He suddenly felt odd. As if he'd been wrapped in something buoyant and dropped into a deep body of water.
"Alright. Open them."
The first thing he saw when he did was Tom's face. The other boy was smirking at him like the cat that got the cream and snickering slightly.
"Git! You tricked-!" The words died on his lips when he realized the flag atop the highest tower of the stands was eye level with and to the right of them. His eyes grew wide as saucers and Tom's amusement intensified even more, but Harry was too busy looking around and below them to really notice.
He couldn't believe it.
Black mist coiled around them, bearing them up like an artificial cloud. Clearly and unmistakably present, but somehow see-through and not at all obstructive of their vision. They had to be at least a hundred feet off the ground, simply hanging there as if gravity was nonexistent.
"You really… we're…?" He couldn't comprehend how he could've possibly ever escaped Voldemort once, let alone as often as he had, when he could do things like this as a school boy. "You came up with this yourself?"
"Of course." They rose a bit higher. "Rather more impressive than a broom, I think. Now, it's time I showed you what this spell can do."
One moment they were hovering stationary and the next they were soaring towards the Black Lake at a speed which put his Fire Bolt to shame. The acceleration was instantaneous and dizzying. A rush of adrenaline which came from nothing else, a high that nothing could compare to, and Harry loved it.
Tom's control was astounding. Their altitude dropped steadily as they approached the Lake until they were skimming across the water. So close that he could see the bottom through the glass-like surface, falling rapidly away as the depth increased until nothing could be seen of it at all. Harry stretched out a hand, allowing his fingers to drag a shallow gash across its undisturbed veneer. The cold biting mildly into him through the fabric of his gloves.
He was jerked back aloft with a shocking suddenness. Rocketing hundreds of feet into the air, their speed dropping with each foot they climbed until their momentum ran out completely. In the moment where they hung suspended together at the apex of their ascend he could see the true smile on Tom's face, his blue eyes reflecting the stars that now seemed only inches away from their grasp, back arched in a graceful curve that Harry knew he-all thin limbs and bony protrusions of elbows and knees-could never hope to imitate.
And then they were falling.
Hurdling back to earth at a speed that took all breath and thought away. It was all danger, and power, and Tom and if the other boy let go he knew that he would be dead; no amount of luck could save him from the fall like that. But Tom did not let go, did not drop him just as he promised he wouldn't, and Harry could feel the magic taking hold again. Arresting their fall little by little until they were descending at a gentle, harmless pace like leaves dropping from the branches of a tree or flakes of snow drifting on the winter wind. They'd been righted at some point and Tom's hold had moved to his wrist and they were heading towards what looked to be an island barely longer than half the Quidditch pitch was wide. Entirely bare but for stones of different sizes.
Even after they'd returned to solid ground unharmed and the black mist had disappeared Tom did not immediately let go of him.
"I can feel your pulse racing." He said softly over the gentle lapping of the water now surrounding them on all sides. "I hope I didn't frighten you."
"That was incredible." And it was. Flying on a broom, no matter how fast, would never be quite the same again. "You didn't frighten me at all."
"Good." He let go, then, and stepped back. "I can teach you, sometime. I can teach you that and so much more. You'll be powerful, like I am. And together we'll be unstoppable."
They certainly would be. Though for which side remained up in the air.
"Let's focus on getting you to be able to produce a Patronus in some capacity before we distract ourselves with anything else, Tom." He said, sidestepping the subject.
To his surprise the other didn't call him out on it. The taller boy moved to the good sized boulder nearest them and sat down, resting his back against it. When Harry looked at him quizzically he beckoned him over.
"Come here, love. The stars are out in force tonight and there's not a cloud to be seen; you and I should take advantage."
When he moved closer Tom pulled him down into his lap, drawing him against his chest and pulling his coat closed around them both. The brunet's arms were around him and his back was pressing against Tom's chest but at the moment Harry couldn't care less. While they had been flying he hadn't noticed but now that they'd stopped he felt frozen through and the other boy was warm.
He could feel his resting heart beat against his back and Tom's scent surrounded him in a thick cloud, spicy and unmistakable. The Slytherin Prefect hummed in satisfaction when he melted against him, resting his chin on his shoulder.
"You are schooled in astronomy, yes?"
He nodded. "Yeah. But about the most useful thing I learned in the subject was that Europa is covered with ice, not mice."
Tom chuckled. "That'd be quite the place if it were covered in mice."
"Nagini would love it."
"Sending her there would be an extinction level event for the mice and she'd grow to the size of a Basilisk." He said. "When were you born?"
"July."
"When in July?"
"The 31st."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw surprise flash across the other's face. "Imagine that. You and I are approximately half a year apart in age; I was born the 31st of December." He raised his right arm and pointed into the sky. "Do you see that star there?"
Harry nodded.
"That's Polaris, the North Star. Just to the right of it there is Leo. Your birth consolation." Tom said. "Leo, the Namean Lion of Greek mythology. One of the twelve labors of Hercules, which he was forced to undergo after killing his family, was to slay the lion but it was no ordinary beast. It's pelt could be pierced by neither iron bronze or stone. After ultimately strangling it, he placed it in the heavens as a conquest."
He gestured to another cluster of stars, these incredibly dim in comparison to those around them. "That one's mine. Capricorn. The Gods of Olympus had gathered for a picnic beside the Nile, as the tale goes, when a monster attacked them. They were all swift to shape-shift and escape but Pan, God of the Wild, couldn't decide exactly what it was he wanted to turn into before jumping into the river to get away. His upper half stayed out of the water and transformed into a goat, but his lower half transformed into a fish."
"I wouldn't have thought your constellation would be something quite so ridiculous, Tom."
"At least mine isn't the symbol of Gryffindor." He shot back with a snort. "Your gloves are wet. Did you stick your hands into the water while we were flying over the lake?"
"Maybe?"
"Merlin, Potter. Are you trying to get frostbite!" Tom pulled his gloves off with his teeth and then reached for Harry's, peeling them away before the other had a chance to form a protest. His fingers had turned white from the cold and the backs of his hands were splotched with red, which had the unfortunate effect of making the lettering etched into his flesh stand out even more plainly. He tried to remove his hand before the other noticed, not wanting him to ask, but was too late.
Tom's fingers tightened, pinning his numbed hand in plain sight.
"Harry." He asked softly. "What does 'I Must Not Tell Lies' mean? And why did someone force you to use an illegal Blood Quill to etch the phrase into your hand?"
Bitterness and anger filled him at the thought of the awful pink toad and the hell that she and Fudge's administration at the Ministry of Magic had put him through the year before. He couldn't afford to lose control and give something away. Not while fully aware it wouldn't be overlooked."
"Last year one of my tutors was… Out for me. Her name was Dolores Umbridge and, well, she made it her mission to turn my life into hell."
"Because you were lying to her?"
"Because I was telling a truth that she didn't like."
Satisfied by his answer, Tom lifted his hand to his face and softly pressed his lips to the scar. "It seems I've three people on my list to payback, now." He said softly before slipping his own gloves onto Harry's hands. He pulled him closer and nuzzled into his hair. "I'll never allow anyone to harm you again and get away with it. You're mine. Mine to protect. And protect you I will, always. Regardless of your self-perceived ability to 'fend for yourself'."
It was hard not to be affected by the honest devotion, even if it wasn't rooted in an honest motive.
"Thank you, Tom."
The dark brunet hummed softly again and then pointed to something else in the sky.
"That constellation," he explained, "is Pegasus."
As Tom launched into another explanation of the story behind yet another example of what to him appeared to be little more than a shapeless blob of silver dots Harry relaxed further into his embrace and closed his eyes. It would be so easy to fall for him if he kept doing things like this. Even though he knew who he was dealing with. Knew why Tom really wanted him. Knew that all of this was just an act.
Despite Nagini's warning and his own poignant memories of the pain and suffering which Voldemort had caused to both himself and those he cared most about, Harry found it difficult to resist the temptation to simply give in to Tom Riddle.