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.

Note: Beta'd by Chrono Mephistopheles. Next chapter will be a bit more exciting.

By now, their trek up the mountain had certainly made progress, but the resulting consequence was, once again, the blockade upon Tom's magic. Harry once again returned to full-time hunting duty, taking care of their breakfast, lunch, and dinner protein and pointing out possible nuts and berries that his Magus could scavenge.

It was close to their old arrangement, only now Tom had gotten a taste of what it was like to be back to normal again, and to have that so quickly ripped out from under him…

Harry sympathized. He really did. The frustrated look he sometimes caught upon his Magus' face as he stared as his palm, the cold eyes that would occasionally glare into the fire… he understood that. He got that, the feeling of helplessness, of knowing that you could be stronger than you were now, but you simply weren't… as a Bestia-type, he had been forced to go through those times too, when he couldn't get the transformation down quick enough or one form of himself being weaker than another, especially the issue between his animal and human forms…

He had been there. So he got it. But that was a trivial detail because he could sense Tom's displeasure and he was unable to do anything to remedy it, only provide the comfort of a friend and companion.

Idly, Harry wondered if it would be different if he could give that of a lover's, but then he pushed the thought away. He shouldn't be thinking of such things—not in the situation they were in, because now it was a practical confirmation that he would be fighting the Roc solo.

Not that he was bitter about that or anything! And he wasn't completely alone. Tom would simply be at a disadvantage and—and—

Harry admitted that the barrier was affecting him, too, indirectly as it seemed. The small, fleeting time he had to accustom himself with Tom's magic had been sweet, and he wished for the feel of it again, because right now, Tom did not feel whole to him anymore. He did not feel complete without his magic.

Thankfully, through their bond, there was still some marginal magical contact. This time around, Tom was only sealed from physical manifestations, not a complete cut off.

But still…

He shook his head. No time to get distracted now—fetching dinner was an important task. He didn't want to go too far because he missed his prey. The sound of scampering feet met his ears, and Harry briefly shut his eyes to concentrate on the light, beating sound before shifting forms instantaneously.

Tonight they would have rabbit.

A large, grey owl sliced the night sky, spiraling down somewhere into the foliage of a group of trees. It was silent, until the frantic rustle of bushes sounded, and a slow, lusty growl followed the vision of a large hare darting out into a clearing. There was nowhere else to run.

The prey lay flat on the ground, having accepted its fate of becoming a meal for the predator. Mercilessly, a large cat pounced from the bushes, snatching it up in its jaws. Harry snapped the neck before carrying it back to the camp, running on all fours as the night provided perfect coverage for his lithe body. He disappeared into the shadows, and the relative calm of the clearing returned. He would only take what he needed, and no more.

Tom glanced up as he felt his Fighter approaching the cave they were currently staying at. It wasn't all too much of a cave either, rather a large niche in the mountain that they could both fit into, as well as build a fire in to sleep by. He instinctively watched the entrance for Harry's form, expecting a human to walk in as he always did, and was surprised when he met the eyes of a panther instead.

It slinked forward on all fours, head down as it carried the brown rabbit in its jaws. Very slowly, it placed down its prey by the fire, and the creaking of muscles as well as the expected blur happened in the blink of an eye. A human sat in its place.

"Rabbit alright for you?" Harry asked conversationally.

Tom shrugged. "Rather that than nothing."

He hummed and took out a small knife, beginning the prep work, a basin of water by him that had been fetched earlier.

"…Are you worried?" the Magus asked at some point during their meal. It was so sudden that Harry didn't comprehend the question until a few seconds later.

"Huh? Worried about what?"

"The roc."

He blinked. "Oh! Well… it'll be fine. 'Sides, I'm strong. Nothing to worry about, really."

"Then what's gotten you on the edge?"

Harry's forehead crinkled. Had he been overly cautious recently?

Seeing his expression, Tom sighed. "You're not as… calm as you usually are," he said slowly.

"…That's true, I guess. Then again, we haven't been attacked for awhile. Either they've given up or they're bidding their time. Can never be too careful."

"Don't think I don't know you go out scouting every night besides hunting," Tom accused quietly. "It's more than that."

"It's not," Harry replied. "That last attack wasn't a joke… those two were strong."

"So were we."

"Not strong enough," the Fighter argued. "I… you shouldn't have… imagine what it would've been like if they had fought with those assassins! We probably wouldn't have won. Not then."

But Tom heard what had been unsaid. I should've been able to protect you better. He felt disgusted—to be indirectly called weak, or at least helpless, was not something acceptable. And it was even more unacceptable because it had been true. At that time, he had been helpless. He had forced Harry into that desperate, wild, hopeless situation. He wished he could say he didn't need that protection, but Tom would be lying if he did. Because now, without his magic again…

Harry sighed, sensing his Magus' discomfort. He shifted into his cougar form; meal done and feeling slightly better if he was in this form when cuddling up against Tom. It wasn't that he didn't want to offer comfort as a human, but he doubted his Magus would appreciate it, so he crawled right up to him as a large, wild cat and eased into a curl as Tom's fingers found their way to his ears.

It'll be fine, he wanted to say again. I'll always be with you. There won't be anything to fear. Together, we'll be unstoppable. We'll protect each other, fight side by side whether it's in mind or body, as equals always should. But his current form stopped him from saying those words, those dangerous, dangerous words, and so he made no sound at all. Now wasn't the time.

Later that night, when Tom had finally fallen asleep, using his anxious—though slightly amused at the situation—Fighter as a pillow, Harry turned to look out into the night as the fire began to fizzle out. He knew Tom wasn't used to being weak. He had always been the best amongst the most powerful—the one who stood atop the highest mountain that the rest could never think to reach or even see.

And because he knew this, Harry steadfastly held onto his drive, his motivation. It didn't matter if he was a means to an end (though certainly by now he probably meant a little bit more than that) or an accident that happened to work out right. He held onto the thought that this partnership had a destiny, had a fate, had a reason to be in existence, and if it didn't, then at the very least that he sure as hell had made one by now.

Use me any way you like, he thought privately to himself, I'll be your sword, your shield, your wand, your staff, your core, your greatest strength and your greatest weakness—your everything. I'll be the treasure you must protect, the most dangerous trap that guards you. I'll turn back time and go through it all again, if you just… if you just…

He didn't know if he was talking to the Fates, or to Tom, and then he wondered when he became this devoted, this loyal, this truthful and this fearless. What had happened? In the end, did it matter?

He thought of Luna, and the oddities of the universe. He thought of life, and death, and the silly wishes he made on the stars that peaked through the treetops of the Forest at night when he was a child. And, when he finally lulled into a dozing, drowsy state, Harry wondered what Tom thought of, and if their thoughts ever melded into one.

Word Count: 1459

Word Prompt: Protect