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.

"Well, the bad news is that I can't tell whether it's a female or not," Harry panted as he and his Magus ran through the rocky terrain of the mountain, the predator hot on their heels.

Or rather, almost upon them. There was no way in hell they could outrun an enraged Roc that had taken to the skies.

"That's bad news?" Tom managed to drawl as they jumped and slid down a steep decline. In the closing distance, they heard the shriek of the angry bird as its war cry.

"Just trying to look at the whole picture."

"Oh, well, in that case, I think you're on to something," Tom said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Really?"

"No."

"Oh," the Fighter panted, "well—STOP!"

The Magus was caught off guard by his companion's yell, and he didn't stop soon enough as his momentum brought him skidding past. He felt the rocks crumble beneath his feet, the ground disappearing, the jolt of fear that told him in its panicked, quivering voice why Harry had shouted.

Hidden by bushes and boulders, there was a cliff.

It was almost surreal, the feeling of closenotquite falling, and then a yank at the back of his robes, pulling him back to safety and beautiful ground.

"Thanks," the Magus mumbled.

"No problem."

Another shriek of the Roc had them breaking out of their metaphorical Eye of the Hurricane, and Harry sighed as he drew his weapon.

"Looks like it's confrontation then," he declared.

"Previous jokes aside, you're really confident enough to take it on?" Tom asked numbly.

"Nope," Harry immediately replied, "but what else is there to do? It's not like we can abandon everything we've worked for just because of some bird."

"That bird wants to eat us," snapped Tom.

"…Are you scared?"

"Nonsense," he sighed, "but if you look around, we're not exactly on our ideal fighting ground."

"Good point," admitted Harry. "I guess we can just—"

A rumble shook the ground, rolling waves of dissonance that caused the very earth to shake beneath them. The mountain quivered. And then, Harry vanished. Where he once was before was… air. Tom froze.

And then the ground gave out beneath him too, and he was falling again.

Above, the massive body of their pursuer covered the sun, shading them for a moment before it turned its eyes on them, a vicious gleam in its eye. The Roc fell into a dive, rocketing towards them in an act of finality. The intruders of the mountain would be eliminated. No one would disturb the treasure. There would be peace again.

Tom thought that, though there were certainly worse, this was a rather absurd way to go. Eaten by a damned Roc. Because he fell off a cliff. Someone up there really hated him.

But it wasn't to be. He felt a burst of air wiz past him, and then he saw something with feathers meet the Roc with a glint of sharp talons. There was another shriek—chaos—and the odor of rust burned the air. Tom vaguely saw some red as the Roc's huge body was pushed from its dive into the cliff side of the mountain, and then he was being bodily grabbed and hauled up back to blessed ground.

Wait a second—

The Magus glanced up, taking in the sight of a gigantic hawk maneuvering through the skies. In the position where he was—basically, at its talons—the thing blocked out the sun, but Tom still noted the beautiful plumage and coloration of the bird. It was only when he was gently dropped off did he catch the color of its eyes.

"…Harry?" Tom breathed, seeking a sort of physical confirmation. The Hawk dipped its head.

An angry shriek broke them from their connection, and Tom saw the giant Roc again up in the air, breast bright red but still determined to get rid of what it saw to be a threat. Harry did not hesitate, nudging Tom closer in land before taking off into the skies to do battle with the larger bird of prey.

So he sat there, catching his breath, staring up with wide eyes, utterly transfixed by the violent dance of flight the two predators were caught in. Beaks clicking, talons clashing, wings beating against the air, feathers flying—there was nothing else like it. And he couldn't do a thing.

The thought was mildly upsetting, but it was hard to concentrate on his own feelings when he felt the anger and defensive nature of Harry leaking across the bond. Apparently he was very upset—his Magus had almost been eaten, after all. If that wasn't enough to completely wreck the naturally calm nature of his partner, Tom didn't know what was. It was somewhat of a pleasant surprise, to have someone care so much after years of being left without it.

Honestly, he couldn't even think Harry would lose with the emotions and thoughts that trickled through their connection, and as such it was really, really hard to do anything but watch. His Fighter was going to win, and damn it did he want to see it.

But all that confidence was for naught when the Roc struck a lucky blow. It was an unexpected cuff to the head, hitting the shoulder blade along the way up, and clearly caught Harry off guard. He had no way to defend against the incoming strike, and so the hawk plummeted down to the merciless terrain below.

Tom froze. "Harry…" he breathed, and then abruptly began to scamper to the edge of the cliff to watch in hopelessness his partner's fall.

But no, perhaps he wasn't useless. They were bonded now, weren't they? And even though Tom's magic was sealed from outward manifestation…

He grabbed onto the bond like it was his lifeline—his, not Harry's, because death be damned, Harry was not going to lose, never mind die—and yanked with a strength he knew he had but rarely used. Surprise, recognition, and warmth flew across the connection so fast it made Tom's head spin, but he knew Harry got his message, and despite the pulsing pain in the background that the whipping air just made even worse, Harry got the message.

And thus, Tom was audience to a marvelous sight he never had the pleasure of seeing before. Harry was shifting, and he could feel it, feel it almost like he was the one falling and falling and changing, and oh sweet Merlin he didn't even know he had those bones, could feel there, and it was strange and it hurt but not quite so much to Harry, almost as if the pain was familiar and welcoming, because the shift would be successful, he knew that much through the Fighter's confidence, and it was as miraculous as it was exciting, the adrenaline pumping through his veins all of a sudden and opening his eyes to the world Harry lived in—

And then he was there, completely one with his Fighter, seeing through the sharp eyes that were not his, beating his wings that were not his, opening his beak wide to shriek a battle cry before spiraling upwards in a burst of speed.

But the moment was gone a second after, and Tom was back in his body again, watching two giant Rocs collide with each other. He saw talons rip through feathers and flesh, spilling a horrendous amount of blood, but inside he knew the other was not dead, if only because Harry did not want to kill it.

Victory won, one Roc flew towards the cliff where he sat while the other dropped down, staggered, caught itself in a shaky flight and took off to who knew where to lick its wounds.

Tom opened his mouth to say something, maybe a "good job" or "congratulations," but both sounded ridiculous, so he said nothing at all. The giant Roc bent down to his eye level, looking at him with curious, green eyes, and then suddenly the beak and feathers and everything else along with it were gone.

"See? I told you everything would be okay!" Harry announced, feet firmly on the ground and smiling as if he hadn't just been a large, fantastical flying beast.

"I don't exactly remember you saying that," Tom snorted, "In fact, I recall you saying you had no confidence at all."

"The sentiment was there!"

The Magus sighed. "…Let's just get out of here. We have to climb back up, remember?"

Word Count: 1415

Word Prompt: Intrude