Summary: Tom Riddle, one of the century's most powerful Magus prodigies, claims he doesn't need a Fighter. And he doesn't; Bestia-type Fighter Harry Potter just happens to be a convenience when he picks him up. Drabble Series!

Warnings: Slash, AU, fighting (possible blood mention)

Pairings: TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle / Harry Potter), EVENTUALLY: [[past LE/JP (Lily Evans / James Potter), past LE/SS (Lily Evans / Severus Snape), -maybe- SB/RL (Sirius Black / Remus Lupin)]]

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Their small, though no less important, day spent talking and becoming accustomed to what the bond between them may or may not let them feel, may or may not let them know, or may or may not influence them with easily affected their daily interaction. If anything, the bonded pair was closer, more comfortable with constant touch, more trusting.

They would have to be, and it helped that it wouldn't take more effort.

Regardless, their trek up Half Moon Mountain continued, and, as they grew closer to the summit, Tom came to realize a very uncomfortable fact.

The barrier was getting stronger.

Though surprising, it wasn't exactly out of the range of possibilities… and the thought and knowledge that Tom's magic would be suppressed again easily brought a grimace to his face. He also knew that Harry was particularly fond of his magic, not dependent on it but the bond did strange things to one's mindset.

The purpose of a Magus-Fighter bond, after all, had always been survival at the core.

More than that though, Tom just didn't want to feel useless again—defenseless. What if they were targeted again? No more assaults came, but who knew? What if they were camping right at the top, lying in wait for them to fight the Roc, and when they were weakened—

The thought of Harry, lying in a pool of blood, suffering because he was trying to desperately protect Tom's defenseless form was a terrible, terrible future and the Magus could not bear it if that became a reality. Even now, the mere view of it in his mind's eye caused him to grind his teeth together and grow tense.

"Is something wrong, Tom?" Harry, he found, not only had a natural instinct in knowing when something was bothering him, but also had the senses to confirm those instincts. His physical discomfort most likely had made itself known to the Fighter, and it didn't help that his magic grew erratic. At the very least he knew that even if it was suppressed, the bond would still allow him to filter it to Harry.

"Just the barrier," Tom muttered.

Harry shot him an understanding look. "It's getting worse, isn't it," he said quietly. "Will you be… okay? Does it hurt?"

"No," replied the Magus. He didn't need to say that it was a loathing to be so restricted again, his companion already knew.

The Fighter hummed, moving closer until their shoulders bumped. "It'll be alright."

Tom stopped and looked up at the angry clouds that had already moved in. Questioningly he glanced at Harry, a wordless inquiry as to what would come.

"Yeah," the Fighter sighed, "it's going to rain. A bit farther up's a shelter that I was going to say we should stop at—I saw it when I went hunting this morning."

"How badly?"

This time, Harry was the one who glanced up. "It has potential. The clouds are heavy, but up there the winds are pushing rather hard, so who knows. It might only be a light shower we're getting until they're blown away."

As it turns out, they weren't lucky enough for a quick drizzle. Sitting under the shelter, which was a rock formation that extended out to make a large niche that they sat in, it was easy to hear how hard the rain came down. Tom watched it with a certain unease, finding future hardships in the rough downpour. He vaguely heard Harry sigh, and the next thing he knew, a large cougar had wound its way around him to curl up and act as a rest he could recline on.

The Magus buried his fingers of one hand in the soft fur, finding the silky texture comforting and the answering purr reassuring. He idly scratched his Fighter behind the ears, enjoying, if only for the slightest of moments, how easy it was to please Harry.

And that was when his thoughts came to a halt.

"Harry?"

Inquisitive, intelligent cat eyes looked up at him questioningly.

"Do I…"Tom paused uncomfortably, "do you feel like I treat you… like trash…?"

Comprehension, and perhaps a bit of anger stared up at the Magus, the memory of Bellatrix and Rodolphus clear in Harry's mind. A growl dissuaded any other ridiculous thoughts, and for good measure, Harry butt his head against Tom's hand and curled closer, nuzzling his companion in a display of intimate affection.

The Magus snorted. "Right. You're just a masochist—I forgot."

The cougar growled again, harsher this time.

"I know," Tom assured quietly. "The rain simply makes me feel… far too melancholic for my liking." As if to agree, Harry laid back down, head resting on his paws as he shut his eyes to the rain and the outside world. His concentration lied solely on the hand that still scratched behind his ears.

Word Count: 808

Word Prompt: Unease