Curfew Violations

-v-

15th Violation

-v-

Luna Lovegood awoke with the sunrise Monday morning, as was her habit.

Her mother had been a morning person too, and she'd impressed upon Luna the importance of meeting each day when it arrived. Said it was the best way to trick fate into giving you a free pass on all the bad things and letting you have a little extra luck.

Her mother had been quite fantastic and fanatical in some ways about unseen forces at work in the universe acting upon people on a daily basis.

Luna had never grown out of greeting the sun and doing yoga to relax her body first thing before each day. It did wonders for her constitution and mindset. She found that she liked being able to be utterly low-key and relaxed throughout any kind of stressful situations.

Running into Harry on Saturday had been more than fortuitous. And she thanked her lucky stars that she had been where she was at the right place at the right time to help a friend so desperately in need.

His aura that day had been shadowy along the edges, significantly dulled even with the brighter bits that seemed to gravitate to the magnetizing force field that seemed to radiate from Tom Riddle like so much poisonous gas burned off an otherwise innocuous plant.

If Luna were to describe Harry in one word in relationship to Tom, it would be—inevitable.

Like the break of a tidal wave descending upon the shore…you could see it, you could feel it, and you knew it had to happen at some point.

Luna had only helped along the natural course of eventuality. Harry was timid when it came to allowing outside forces to disrupt his thrumming rhythms, which otherwise would always be in sync to the point of making music of his spirit so wondrous that he sparkled like an aurora in her eyes.

If Harry was the aurora, Tom was his oval.

Facing directly the two of them in a setting all their own, Luna could only be in awe of their symmetry. Mama had always said that some things were instinctive, and some things you had to work at.

Granted—she had been trying to impress the modes of artistic expression upon her eight year old, trying and failing to make a masterpiece of finger-painting.

Luna still remembered the way she'd said with a tinkling laugh, "Lunar Moon you can't force these things. If it feels right it will flow. Here…which colors do you like best? If you know what you want to try, just do your best at it. If it doesn't work…try something else. But don't give up. Some things are instinct. Some things you must work at."

She'd been applying that principal for most of her life now…ever since her mother had imparted it to her.

Speaking to Harry that day in class out of the blue as she had, it had been instinctive. From the moment she'd observed him sitting at the canvas, she'd known this was someone she would mesh well with.

He was shimmering. He made her feel inspired.

So she'd spoke. And he'd responded. It was easy as breathing.

Luna wasn't hard to approach, but people she'd known had always been leery of her. She supposed it was because she was so in tune with the universe, to the point that they felt she was far too much.

When she wore things that made her feel good, no matter how they looked together, Luna always came out dressed a bit strangely.

Most of her peers preferred uniformity or trends. Luna's only requirement was that it felt right and added to her aura.

She knew everyone wasn't as in tune with their aural projections as she was. When she'd been younger, she had often tried to help people, but they took her advice for ignorance of societal norms and deemed her a weirdo, to be avoided or put in place whenever possible.

It got to the point that Luna had begun to turn more and more inwards for satisfaction rather than reaching out to anyone around her.

All of them were broken in some way, and if they didn't want help…she couldn't force it.

The jagged edges of people hurt when you tried to soothe them by force. She'd learned that the hard way, many times over. And after her mother died, outside pain was the last thing she needed when her own aura was so often in flux and Daddy had been a right mess too.

It took a lot of soul searching. And she'd been alone for most of it.

Until Daddy got his own self straightened out enough to accept her back, Luna had done her best to not be a nuisance.

Those were lonely times. But she'd come out of it all the better for getting acquainted with herself intimately.

She hadn't made any friends up to that point because so much of everything hinged on her instincts, avoidance of hurt, and soothing of her own hurts.

By the time she made it to high school, she was well on her way to being a person completed and satisfied in her affinity with everything around her. Be it people or concepts or whatever else made the world go round.

Things like romance or hormones…Luna didn't really bother with in relationship to herself.

Not because she shunned them, but because she knew when the time came and everything felt just right, she'd have it all.

And until that point in her life came, she'd just enjoy herself and living her life as it was as much as possibly possible—without compromising herself in any uncomfortable way.

The closest she'd gotten to being in love as you'd call it, would probably be the way she'd felt when she saw Harry.

It wasn't the type of love that demanded possession. It wasn't the type of love that made you go crazy.

It was the type of love that made you relax. That made you breathe and want to be there to see how much more beautiful something could become with your help.

It was the type of love hinging upon growth and helping growth to keep growing and flourishing in the right direction.

She thought it was a love that she could hold safe in her heart and be warmed by because it wouldn't hurt her, because it wouldn't hurt anybody else, and because she understood where it began and ended.

It was the kind of love where you just wanted to see them happy. Where you just wanted to see them sparkle and keep sparkling, whatever it took.

Luna knew…she knew her love for Harry was something she could keep for always.

And she was happy with it. She wouldn't let anything poison it.

She knew Harry had needs outside of her, and she would do and continue to do her best to facilitate them all. It was how she felt useful and continued to be needed.

Also…there were inevitabilities that never should be altered, that were dangerous to disrupt in any way.

Luna was perceptive. She knew when her reach, should it ever actually connect…would bring wrathful things down upon her head.

She didn't fool herself into thinking that what she felt was anything like the magnetism that pulled Harry into the eye of a storm he would never see…because he was standing in the middle of it, and it was guarding him.

She could see and sense so many jagged edges lashing out from the pole to which Harry gravitated.

And she would be alarmed and worried and dead set on getting him away from it, if she didn't also see how those impossibly sharp edges softened and curved in Harry's atmosphere, like smoke curling around a field, slowly but surely obscuring it from all eyes…until you'd wonder if there was ever a field at all, because of how well it was being hidden—protected jealously.

Luna supposed it should be painful for her to be in love when she knew the limit of it.

But it just made her feel secure in a way she was sure most people would never appreciate…because it hinged upon the fact that even if she could only hover and be there and never touch…neither could anyone else ever hope to approach or disrupt the symbiosis.

It had been fortunate that she'd been able to slip in through the storm when she did.

It had been fortunate that she was smart enough to see and not be seen, hear and not be heard, speak and not be fully understood.

It was how she could slip beneath to radar to be in love but never in trouble for it.

Harry…bless his heart…he wouldn't push her away. He wouldn't ignore her. He wouldn't make her feel inadequate.

Harry would smile. Harry would shine. Harry would be there.

And Luna would smile. Luna would shine. Luna would be there for him every step of the way.

Luna would remain the moon to light the dark, while Tom would burn his fingers and break the sky to cage the sun.

Luna supposed she could be considered bad…because she didn't mind that. Because if the sun were caged, then the moon would never have to worry about losing sight of it...or seeing it disappear.

She would always know where to find him. She would always know where he was being kept.

And she could always be there to bask in his light from a distance close by…enough to feel the warmth always…but never be consumed.

Luna did the final stretch in her yoga routine and shook out her limbs with a deep sigh. It was a little after seven now, the sun was fully risen.

She stared out the window and smiled languidly. Secure in all her thoughts, wrapped safely in all her skin.

It was sure to be a lovely day, birthed on the tails of a productive weekend.

She looked forward to hearing all about just everything from Harry.

And it was with this hope in mind that she went about happily getting ready for the school day, humming a lighthearted tune with a perpetual bounce in her surefooted steps.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

It had been twelve hours—twelve hours, forty minutes, and thirty-six seconds and counting to be precise, since James Potter had been brought into the municipal office of Durmstrang Precinct.

Since his arrival Sunday evening, he'd been introduced and made to listen to department head Igor Karkaroff (the driest of dry windbags)—going on and on about the usual suspects they'd encountered in relationship to the string of substances and illicit funds being funneled throughout the area, linked back to the Phoenix Precinct headed by Albus Dumbledore and his ilk from which James had been dispensed on the double by recommendation and request.

A lot of the situation going on was dreadfully familiar. So much so that James had the distinct premonition of them being led in circles around the same backyard.

It was no wonder they'd phoned him in.

"The only warrants we've achieved thus far have been those of Lucius Malfoy and Percival Graves. Both of which are technicalities at this point."

It was only to be expected. They were both heads of distinctly powerful families with interests and holdings in industry and weapons respectively. The issue being that their interests were so far apart and yet overlapping at the oddest of points—was what brought them under joint scrutiny.

It was a flimsy justification.

The Malfoys had a blanket monopoly on luxurious trade and high society industrial advances catering to the wealthiest sectors, ranging from the upper middle class blue collared workers, all the way to the most affluent names in white collar marketing.

Last week they'd purchased stocks in the new international Acolyte Corporation, spearheaded beneath the banner of a man by the name of Gellert Grindlewald, who was only just branching out from the European pharmaceutical front into mainstream medical and preventative therapies, and gaining fast traction as a disreputable contender with a line of lawsuits being alleged against the company being kept hushed up from the mass media by substantial settlements kept on the DL by the higher-ups in governments being paid off for their complicity in the news blackouts.

At this same time—Percival Graves, an old hat entity specializing in stateside arms and weapons dealing falling under Durmstrang jurisdiction, got in random touch with Madame Olympe Maxime at Beauxbatons Inc., a custom fashion and vogue company in France, who reached out to Malfoy topside and worked out a deal that saw the stock prices over at Acolyte Corporation conversely shoot exponentially through the roof, and bounced a lot of questionable cash back and forth between the Grave and Malfoy holdings tax free.

While this type of collaboration between big names wasn't unheard of—the amount of cash transferred had raised alarms and brought on an investigation into the Malfoy and Grave interests.

Malfoy had been brought in overnight for questioning when the issue of his unpaid back taxes got highlighted. And Graves had been brought in for his mismanagement of charitable funds allotted right before the purchase he'd made as an anonymous benefactor to a new European company which sprouted up a month ago stateside under the banner of Acolyte Corporation.

This wasn't enough to keep either man beneath the government's thumb, but it was enough to shine a spotlight onto their dealings and find out why so much of their recent commerce seemed to be connected to this European fellow at Acolyte who had been accused of being linked to alleged substance rings and poorly vetted popular OTC products, before getting off on lack of evidence in his home locale.

It didn't help that luxury goods, weapons, and former pharmaceutical specialists had very little good connotations in sync.

And because Grindlewald wasn't exactly a known face topside, and the Acolyte Corporation in question (which had sprung up like a rotten daisy in recent times) was so new, there wasn't enough evidence for Durmstrang to book all three personas on anything concrete.

There were too many tracks being muddled.

Also…Lucius Malfoy had strong ties to branches in Phoenix, and Graves—while based in Durmstrang, was dealing with Malfoy for reasons unknown but seemingly connected enough to see them both benefiting from the arrangements in a worrisomely lucrative way.

With the two men in temporary custody, the clock was ticking on them being released before Durmstrang could ferret enough warrants to achieve any kind of long standing arrest or coup.

It was a clusterfuck in progress.

Should both men walk away, slapped on the wrists and scot free in a matter of hours, the department would be hard pressed to pin them with anything later—as they'd be well on guard from the government snooping through their trash and far less obvious about their dealings together at any future points.

As it stood…it was James' job to crack the combo and aid in un-fucking the knots of characters entangled at their collective doorsteps.

Sigh.

Thirteen hours in counting.

He could maybe be home by Tuesday—Wednesday morning at the latest.

Standing as Karkaroff addressed him directly—James smiled and said, "I'll start with Graves. Let Malfoy sweat a while."

Before heading into the first interrogation room behind officers Krum and Gatsby; the best good-bad interrogation cops in residence at Durmstrang. Krum, middle aged and solemn, being the more affable of the two, with Gatsby scowling permanently at his side, looking every stern inch the irascible schoolmaster set on chastising delinquent students.

James thought Gatsby should loosen up a bit.

At this rate, Graves was likely to get duked before they even got past the pleasantries.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

When Harry stepped off the bus at Hogwarts Monday morning, he was met by Luna lingering on the sidelines, decked out in ribbons and her eccentrically accessorized uniform and waving serenely at him.

Harry's grinned and automatically waved back, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder and making a beeline in her direction.

Luna fell into step beside him, linking their arms together, and Harry slowed his gait to accommodate her shorter legs. "Morning Luna—did you have a good weekend?"

"Oh yes. It was very nice. What about yours? How were things with Tom?"

Harry blushed lightly for the expected query and cleared his throat gently. "Hn…well…things went good. Kinda great actually—thanks for what you did, by the way. Saturday started rough..."

Luna raised both eyebrows as they crossed the school threshold, and she tugged him into the dining hall as his feet began to trudge.

"I did think you seemed off that day. Its good things got better though. Would you like to talk about the morning or skip to the nicer bits?"

Harry scratched his cheek, dislodging her arm as he reached and bagged an apple, cinnamon pop tart, granola bar, and strawberry milk bottle.

Luna chose an apple juice, egg sandwich, and small bag of banana chips. Giggling as Harry grimaced for the last addition to her bag and raised a dubious brow. "I don't mind the real stuff, but those chips make me nauseous."

"It's an acquired taste. I quite like the salty-sweet combo." Luna replied breezily, appropriating an empty small table out of the way but in view of the dining hall entrance as Harry sat down beside her and hung his backpack off his chair.

Luna started in on her egg sandwich and said around a mouthful, "So…nicer bits first?"

Harry nodded and tore open the wrapper around his granola bar. "We hung out a bit…went to the park. I drew him. He let me draw him for class…"

Luna nodded for him to continue and gave him her undivided attention as he trailed off, eyes going up to a corner in remembrance and cheeks flushing lightly. "After this and that, we decided to go back to his place…and well…you know…"

Luna's eyes gained a decidedly mischievous gleam, and her lips quirked as she swallowed, drinking a bit of apple juice to wash down her mouthful, "I don't know. Could you be more specific?"

Harry fidgeted, eye twitching as he stared into her silvery gaze and bit off a chunk from his granola bar to avoid answering right away.

Luna was patient. Harry drank from his milk and grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table to dab primly at his mouth before clearing his throat and saying, "Suffice to say, we made the evening count."

Luna blinked. "You had sex."

Harry coughed. Luna amended. "You had lots of sex."

Harry choked and downed half his milk.

"…yes."

Luna nodded sagely, as if it were a matter of course. And then she asked, "Was it good?"

Harry shut his eyes with a groan, face going redder than his apple. Luna clucked her tongue and nudged his foot beneath the table. "Of course it was!"

Harry opened his eyes with a hiss, glancing around sheepishly before shooting Luna with a pouty glare which she rightly giggled at. "Just checking—good friends don't let friends have bad sex."

Harry bit his tongue, amused in spite of his awkwardness, "And if it had been bad?"

Luna shrugged and polished off her sandwich. "Then in good conscience, I'd have to recommend therapy…or another boyfriend."

Harry laughed outright, feeling lighter than ever, "If Tom heard that, he'd go mad."

Luna smirked, eyes flashing. "I'm counting on it."

Harry blinked.

"They say angry sex is good sex." Luna quoted, matter-of-factly. Harry just shook his head with an overly fond smile.

"I don't know if I could handle Tom angry."

Luna winked. "You'd survive."

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered, "Tell that to my backside…" wincing on cue as it gave the ghost of a sympathetic twinge.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

There were few things in life more annoying than having your day ruined at sunrise, Tom thought.

In the wake of getting a very irritating call that Monday morning, well before he'd been set to depart for school or even wake up, and then subsequently starting the day at school in the most intolerable fashion…namely, without being early enough to accost Harry, because reasons…Tom was irked.

Backtracking to that morning—after his successful rendezvous with Harry the Sunday evening before, Tom had done a bit of last minute homework (because he is actually still a student and does have actual student obligations to fulfill) before turning in for the rest of the night; Tom had been awoken at stupid o'clock before his alarm to the sound of his exclusive business ringtone going off on his cell.

The ringtone he set for the express purpose of denoting a non-pleasurable call of the serious variety never to be confused for his darling calling him up.

It was just his luck that Karma was indeed a bitch and had decided he didn't get his beauty rest after his long, delightful weekend exploits.

Click.

"Talk."

"Hello. Riddle. Long time no speak."

"You have ten seconds."

"Sheesh…always such a hardass. I mean really—"

"Six. Five. Four…"

"Malfoy's been hooked. Yesterday at Durmstrang. He's in holding."

Tom frowned and released a muted sigh, glancing at the time displayed on his phone and deciding it was too early for this shit.

"How."

"Beauxbatons and back taxes. Also Graves."

Tom bit out a curse and sat up in bed, ruffling his normally immaculate hair into tousled array.

"My father?"

"Haven't told him yet. Came to you first."

Tom sighed. Dumbass stool pigeons would be the death of him.

"Good. Let me know when he's out again. Also, shred the account."

There was a splutter on the line, disbelief patent and thick.

"B-but…"

"Did I stutter?"

"No sir. It'll be done before the afternoon."

"Good. If father asks, the deal fell through. Malfoy fucked up. Ignore Graves."

"And the excess?"

Tom massaged his forehead and counted to five—in Latin.

"Funnel it. Spread it as thin as possible."

"Got it."

Tom glared at his wall.

"And Barty?"

There was a loud gulp in his ear. Tom smiled maliciously.

"Let Malfoy know…next time, he's out. Cut off. Completely."

If you could hear a nod, then Barty was doing the bobble head.

"Understood."

Click.

Tom closed the line out abruptly. Mondays…

Barty Crouch Jr. was the family accountant and gopher, for lack of a better term. Barty Sr. had been well and truly within Tom Riddle Sr.'s pocket.

But being that his son, Barty Jr. had beef with him and intrinsically knew and had learned the ropes even better than his aged father did, Tom had since gotten his fangs into the younger of the two to exploit for his own purposes.

It had been child's play stealing that particular asset's loyalty initially from under his father's banner once he'd gotten enough dirt on Barty Sr. to rightly bury the Banker, and offered the bulk of blackmail material to his son to use in whatever way he saw fit after having been verbally and physically abused coming up in such ways as to warrant quite a bit of repressed hatred boiling in the blood.

Tom had a soft spot for Barty Jr. in that they shared an affinity for future patricide.

It was an unspoken agreement that neither of them would stand in the other's way of facilitating the ruination of their sires in any of their future dealings or endeavors together.

This suited them both to a tee.

Tom would be hard pressed to find a more diligent subject to use for the overhead management of his personal interests in the funding department. Being that he was under the legal threshold, he wasn't able to pay Barty Jr. over the table for his work, and thus had to get creative about the reward system.

On paper, Barty Jr. was very much in the employ of Barty Sr. under Riddle Sr.'s directives.

But behind the scenes he was Tom's man through and through. It helped that while working with Tom, Barty Jr. had built up quite the surplus of funding which would be enough to see him independent from his father and working at his own behest as soon as Tom became legal enough to be named a possible legit employer.

In addition to accounting, Barty Jr. was an information guy. Always with one ear to the ground on the goings on of people related to the Riddle investments and any possible dangers lurking on the horizons waiting to trap and doom them all.

Riddle Sr. thought Barty Sr. had it on lock. But it was his son that took on the mantle and did the real grunt work behind the modern day scenes.

Far be it for Tom to pull his father's coat, lest said pull resulted in the man's untimely fall down a few dozen flights of stairs.

All things said, he was showing quite a bit of restraint in not offing the man outright.

First degree murder wasn't a good look for the scholastic records.

Tom yawned and smiled lazily for his pleasant turn of thoughts. Glancing at the time again, he debated disturbing Harry…but decided his boy should have the rest Tom didn't get and resolved instead to get his fill at school.

The week was only just beginning.

How lovely.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

After dealing with a bit of cleanup on his end with the investments being threatened by so much stupidity on the Malfoy and Graves front, Tom made it to Hogwarts minutes before the bell for homeroom rang—much to his everlasting chagrin.

There hadn't even been time for him to reasonably seek out Harry.

The day was off to a winning start. Joy.

It was with a smile that didn't reach his eyes that Tom swanned into Homeroom, greeting his assorted classmates with nods and courteous waves as he took his seat at the front of the class—hoping upon hope to avoid any extraneous conversation while counting down the hours to his officially scheduled Harry-time.

"Psst…"

Tom's eye twitched. Ignore it.

"Pssssssst…Riddle!"

No such luck.

The teacher hadn't even made it to the classroom yet, and this fool was whisper-shouting behind him (knowing better than to touch his person).

"May I help you, Dolohov?" Tom drawled; face a mask of polite indifference.

"I was gonna tell you last week, but I couldn't find you Friday. Diggory wants you at the courts this week after school. Says we're training club newbies and you promised him half a semester."

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes. Tennis captain, Cedric Diggory—of course. Dolohov wouldn't disturb him for anything less monumental than hitting a ball back and forth across a court to the insipid cheering of less coordinated sports fanatics.

Taking a breath, Tom tamped down on his irritation and reminded himself that he did need some fitness and tennis wasn't horrible.

Also, track season wasn't till the spring, and his schedule was booked; otherwise, he could do that instead. Alas—tennis was the only plausible option.

Meaning he had to play nice with the resident ball boy and his master.

"Of course. You can inform him I'll be there."

Dolohov grinned, shooting Tom thumbs up. "Right on. I'll be sure to pass it along. We're getting a new round of freshies this year and Diggory wants them trained right."

Tom nodded and turned away from Dolohov just as the teacher walked through the door.

"Good Morning class. It's good to see you're all here. No weekend accidents. No deaths in the family, I presume."

A few weak laughs were all that met the semi-dry salutations of Professor Burbage.

Tom's smile was fixed and he tapped his foot noiselessly as she began the roll call. In Junior homeroom, there was little going on besides roll call and the rush to complete forgotten (ignored) weekend assignments, obligatory study, or test cram sessions before official classes.

He would've been out the door already if not for the sudden influx of attention his peers seemed bent on giving him.

It didn't help that Tom was the tallest thing in the room—although his placement at the front of the class stemmed some of the less tolerable attentions from the ne'er to do wells lurking in the back, leering at his profile.

One in particular was staring at him blatantly from their position in the far corner, ignored by most everybody, including Tom himself.

Breathing shallowly and making a study of the tall, handsome teen with no little hero worship in his beady, greedy little eyes.

That would be Pettigrew—the Rat.

Everyone tended to avoid him, and Tom was no actual exception, save his lack of open hostility towards the rotund, unfortunately rat-like boy.

Pettigrew wasn't a wall-flower or any kind of flower…he was just disturbing. It wasn't in only his looks. The way he comported himself, made him seem smaller than he was.

And he slipped unnoticed in and out of spaces where you'd always swear he wasn't.

Tom didn't make a study of noticing the Rat particularly, but he was aware of when he was being stared at. It would've been enough to make him shudder if he were made of less stern stuff.

As it stood, the Rat had never done anything to harm or inconvenience Tom ever in his memory, and therefore…Tom was tolerant and allowed him to look his fill.

After all…even the oddest individuals could be useful under the right circumstances.

There was something to be said for flying so far below the radar as to be nonexistent.

You could get away with a lot.

Tom could grudgingly respect that. Perhaps even use it someday.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Second period found Harry taking notes in Biology, mind wandering in his own little bubble at the back of the room, as they went over parts of the cell and cataloged the differences and similarities between osmosis and diffusion in provided bubble charts.

This at least was something he'd been over in eighth grade, and was very much just a refresher course.

Harry wasn't bad at science. It was just when science and math got together to create abominations of study (like chemistry) requiring mastery of both scientific facts and equations that he became a struggling dunce.

He was quite good at remembering straightforward information. When all you had to do was read and remember, school life got a whole lot easier.

Once again—his thoughts turned to Tom, and he smiled as he continued to write, wondering what the other was doing right now. It would have been imprudent of him to have called first thing Monday morning when he didn't know Tom's full weekly schedule.

Harry didn't want to seem needy…or annoying.

They'd seen each other the whole weekend at different points, and they'd come extremely far in the physical aspects and from a historical facts standpoint.

He could now confidently say he had a profile built up of Tom that was fuller than (smokin' hot, wicked smart, and possessive with stalker-tenacity), because he just knew Tom wouldn't be forthcoming about all the things he'd told Harry in the privacy of his home that he'd never even dream of mentioning to anyone else.

Because Tom was proud and had a flawless image to maintain—and Harry was the only person Tom cared to allow to see him behind the veil, because Tom demanded to see Harry in all the same in-depth ways.

Harry felt privileged being entrusted with Tom…the real Tom…in all the ways he had been.

He didn't want to accidently overstretch his fascination by getting all weird and clingy and calling Tom at all hours for no reason but to hear his voice…because he actually could do that now.

Tom had gifted him a cell phone. Which rested securely in his pocket, where he could feel it should it vibrate at all with the only number he actually had programmed into it.

Maybe he was being stupid about not having called. If Tom didn't want to encourage his clinginess, why would he have given him an open line of communication when he didn't have to?

Nevermind the fact that Tom wanted to always be able to reach Harry…Harry was only slightly less confident as to how much liberty he was allowed to take with a two-way device in contacting Tom.

Calling Tom at school would be a definite no-no. He didn't actually know Tom's schedule, and to interrupt him at any point in such a public setting when he could be busy or doing something actually productive with his time would definitely get him scolded…he thought.

Brrr…brrr…

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping his head around as his thigh vibrated and nobody else seemed to hear the low buzzing of the phone in his pocket.

Swallowing thickly as his pulse leapt, Harry slumped in his seat and slowly retrieved the phone from his pocket.

Sliding it out and flipping it open beneath the desk and blinking as a low ping alerted him to a…message?

Clicking the little envelope icon flashing on and off the screen, Harry bit his lip and covered his mouth to suppress a grin as he read the short digital text missive.

Sender Tom: Breaking from Chem. test in the 1st floor bathroom. Meet me there…now?

Harry glanced up at the professor checking turned in work at the front desk, then looked at the time. It was twenty minutes till the bell. His classroom was at the end of the first floor hallway and he could be at the bathroom in less than three minutes if he power walked.

Carefully…Harry pecked a stilted reply with the keys. Not actually being used to the text feature and fumbling a little with the letters sharing the number keys.

~Be there 5 mins.~

Harry licked his lips and urgently raised his hand to get the professor's attention, just as a smiley face popped up on his phone screen.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"May I be excused to the restroom? It's an emergency." Harry surreptitiously stuffed the cell back into his pocket and affected a rather panicky constipated expression.

The Professor shooed him out the room on the double with a hall pass.

Harry was out the door and hitting the deserted hallway at an almost dead run, heading for the first floor boy's room.

Upon entering the restroom he was yanked and slammed bodily into the wall, with Tom being pressed hard up against the full length of him, and a mouthful of hot tongue being directly imposed.

Parting on a harsh gasp once Tom allowed him to breathe after a few drawn out seconds, Harry panted shakily with his hands clenched in the fabric of Tom's pressed uniform shirt, "N-nice…hah…to see you too."

Tom smirked indolently, and murmured deeply into his ear, "Miss me, darling?"

Harry's only reply was to pull Tom back in by his tie and force their lips back together, running his fingers up into the back of Tom's hair and gripping the strands with a shared throaty moan.

The next few minutes were a blur of heated mouthing and grinding and hands groping, skimming just shy of fully discarding their uniforms.

When Harry stumbled out of the bathroom again, rumpled and well kissed after having splashed his face with cold water, tucking his shirt hastily back into his pants and smoothing his hair, Tom strutted in the opposite direction back down the hallway.

Throwing a wink and wave over his shoulder as Harry couldn't help but look back and blush happily with a sappy grin as they continued on their separate ways.

It was good to know they'd be seeing each other again soon enough.

Harry re-entered his Biology class with a relieved expression, handing the professor back the pass and taking his seat at the back of the room again.

Brrr…brrr…

Harry carefully checked his phone again—snorting softly at the message pinging on his screen.

Sender Tom: See you fifth period. Our chamber seventh floor, be punctual or I'll come looking.

Harry could feel his insides fluttering for the commanding tone of text. And he bit back a wide grin as he pecked his reply.

~yes your majesty~

Closing and pocketing the cell, Harry finished off his notes and jotted down the homework with a pleased smile on his face—never noticing the set of eyes boring into his back from the opposite far corner of the classroom, engulfed in shadow.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Deviation—it was easy to spot, if you spent as long as he did watching...just watching.

That was the only good thing about him. He tended to fade into the background. The only time the other ever noted him really was in homeroom. Of course that was only to be expected.

He was smart like that.

It didn't help that they didn't really share any classes in common; being that the other was so high above everyone else. And he was just mostly skating by, waiting to hopefully graduate in his appropriate year.

It was pure chance that he'd seen them. Both of them. Together. When he did.

It had started last Wednesday when he'd been skulking in the shadows of the 7th floor corridor. Keeping an eye on The Secret Chamber which the other had disappeared into as was often his custom for study hall.

He didn't have to actively announce his presence because he knew the other's schedule. And so, he was always where he needed to be to catch a glimpse.

And if he took a few (dozen) pictures for his album later…well, the other was a prime specimen of maleness. He could be afforded a bit of admiration.

But back to last week, that Wednesday afternoon, when he'd been lurking as per usual.

He'd never be so bold as to try and enter The Chamber, because heaven forbid he actually disturbed the other. But he was content to spend his own free time waiting for the other to be on the move again.

It was like a sport. He thought. And the other was always punctual and on schedule in all things.

It made it easy. It made him relax. It made him feel secure in knowledge of the other that most did not actually possess.

For when the other disappeared, people just let him. Nobody knew where he went because he didn't broadcast it. Even though the other had specific habits and haunts if you were mindful of his patterns.

It just happened to be a known hushed fact that the other laid claim to that room on the 7th floor specifically, because nobody else could get in and he'd been known to disappear on the seventh floor, which was basically vacant, in a regular fashion.

The only logical location for him to disappear to on that floor was that locked room. The Secret Chamber.

But moving right along—he'd only been watching since sophomore year. As a freshman he'd still had some notion of maybe finding a niche.

But being as he was…he quickly gave up on fitting in like that. And therefore, looked around and decided to do the next best thing with his scant few talents. It wasn't easy at first.

He'd had to find the proper target, and then work around his own schedule which differed a lot from the advanced placement schedule of the other, which he'd picked out.

That was probably why he'd so spectacularly managed to fail Biology freshman year. Because he was rarely where he was supposed to be and he only liked studying…certain things.

What he knew about the other was that he was fundamentally perfect. He had no flaws. It wasn't natural.

That made him a freak—a freak in all the ways that counted. Just like him. They were both freaks.

It was a funny thing to take solace in and have in common. He knew the other was far more attractive than he could ever hope to be, but that was fine. It didn't detract from his freakiness.

Case in point…the other was a loner. It wasn't as apparent to the untrained eye as it was to him, but he knew forced separation when he saw it. And it was like a balm to his soul.

To know a kindred spirit was flourishing in the limelight…while maintaining all his separateness.

It was gratifying. It was inspiring. It made him want to watch.

And watch he did…and watch he'd been doing—when he'd seen the first deviation.

That red tie freshman, that boy…that completely unremarkable, non-freakish boy, with no qualities worth mentioning in the same breath as the other had traipsed his way…bold as you would please, into the Chamber last Wednesday, doubtlessly disturbing the other with his unwelcome presence.

He had watched this in righteous affront. Watched with bated breath as the (usually locked door) swung open at the boy's touch and he'd walked into the room the other had been in for half an hour already doing whatever it was the other did in his free time.

Now…being the watcher that he was, he had seen the other in a few select states.

Courteous by default to authority figures, tolerating to noisy classmates below himself, and tactfully suppressing irritation at the audacity of certain pushy individuals draining on his valuable time—being the main modes of expressions he had captured, in photographic film…reverently.

It was because of his familiarity with the other in these various states, that he could very well imagine the other's reaction to being disturbed by the uppity freshman entering his territory.

Therefore—he had waited, patiently suppressing a smirk for the altercation and subsequent ejection of that freshman (sure to be scarred for life) by Tom's fury.

This was an event that never came to pass. This was an event he had expected, anticipated with all of himself—and it never happened.

He was stupefied.

The freshman had stayed in that room until the sixth period bell rang, and he had lingered just long enough to see the boy come tumbling out the door, looking markedly different from when he'd went in.

No.

Was his only horrified thought.

It couldn't be.

The other would never have lowered his standards so. He was a freak like him. He didn't do things like that.

He was above it. So far above it the very notion was laughable. That freshman…surely he had seen wrong.

But it had happened again the next day. And the deviations continued until the end of the last week.

It had been enough to set his nerves alight—making him jittery with the notion that the other could remotely be turning into something less lonely than himself.

That the only thread connecting them was being or had been irrevocably snapped.

It was untenable…to the point that he'd been staring blatantly at the other during homeroom (the only actual class they shared) that day, willing the other to acknowledge their commonality—to acknowledge his existence.

Because if that slip of a freshman could enter the other's world being so utterly non-freakish, then surely he could stand to garner some attention himself.

But this was a dangerous concept.

He recognized; and had since turned his attention to more viable forms of retaliation. Namely…paying attention to the one disrupting the other and causing such deviant behavioral patterns.

It just so happened that he was still in a few freshman classes that the boy was in, given his rather abysmal academic records.

It had been easy to switch his attention to the non-freak that had entrapped the other so. And the more he watched…the more he despised.

It came to a head when that boy had looked down at his lap during Biology, obviously pecking away at some device, before raising his hand and leaving the classroom.

He'd counted the minutes in growing suspicious dismay as the boy remained out of sight. Until finally, the boy had returned…and he could see…he could see so well what must've happened.

He stared at the boy until a black, tarlike substance began bubbling in his guts and choking his throat with bile.

It was sickening. It was unacceptable.

The other could not be with that. The other could not be like this.

For he knew it had been the other and no one else that had left that boy glowing like heaven had shone a light on his unworthy little heart, leaving him blessed in such way as to be untouchable by the very laws of nature.

This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening.

At no other time had this happened in the past. The other had been beyond this. The other had been above this. The other was letting himself be pulled down.

This had to be stopped.

He knew.

It had to be. He would see to it…someway, somehow.

The other needed his help. He would help him. He would see him separate again—as always he should be.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Third period found Harry reuniting with Luna at the canvas, and working in companionable silence on the portrait he'd begun of Tom for the assigned project.

Referencing the sketch he'd done Saturday with soft eyes, and rendering a changed likeness of Tom onto the canvas with loving strokes and muted watercolors. Briefly glancing at Luna's canvas next to him, Harry blinked and tilted his head.

It was interesting is what it was. Definitely busy and abstracted.

"Is that what my aura looks like?" Harry asked curiously, earning himself a dreamy smile from the girl as she added more green to the canvas.

"It is now. Last week, it was beautiful but not quite so bright. Now it's practically blinding. Splendid. I can't pick what to focus on, so I just capture everything as best I can. It's pretty, no?"

Harry nodded, thinking it reminded him somewhat of a rainbow through a kaleidoscope.

Surely he wasn't so needlessly complex in her eyes…but it was captivating. And yea…he could say pretty, for all the blending colors.

"It is. Pretty…the way you paint it."

Luna nodded in satisfaction and continued adding to the palette. "I only paint what I see. You're beautiful Harry."

Harry blushed and blinked rapidly for the way she so readily stated that. How she could say such things so easily, he'd never know.

Smiling sheepishly, Harry refocused his gaze on the Tom appearing live and in color beneath his hand working with his brush, tenderly over the canvas.

"I'm honored you think so." Harry murmured softly, missing how Luna gave him a significant look, smiling slightly before saying, "Anybody with the right eyes can see it. Tom sees it too…I know."

Harry felt like his face was going to be a permanent cherry at this rate. He refrained from saying anything back and merely focused on completing the portrait of Tom coming so wonderfully alive.

He wished he could take it with him after. Because suddenly…he was feeling as though he didn't want to share it—didn't want to leave it behind to collect dust beneath a tarp in the classroom.

Even though it fit the theme…something very special to him…he suddenly felt he didn't want to share. He wanted to keep it private. Because no one would quite be able to appreciate it for all that it stood for to him…

Luna was the only one who would perhaps come close. But everyone else, they'd just see…well…Tom was very handsome, wasn't he?

Harry's hand stilled on a stroke, and he just stared silently at all he'd rendered.

He wanted to kiss it…

"My my…Harry…this is quite lovely. I do hope you'll allow me to show this piece to Mr. Riddle. I think he deserves to see."

Harry jumped as Professor Trelawney materialized at his shoulder, smiling widely and nodding her head at his project.

Harry spluttered around his deepening flush. "P-Professor!"

"Don't be shy. This is quite a nice piece of art. Your subject is rather spectacular. I can't say I know the depths of your thoughts on the matter, but I can see you treasure him from how well you've captured his likeness. Although…I can't say I have ever seen him look so softened…it's quite revealing."

Harry chewed his lip and murmured, "He always looks like this to me. I guess…it's the only way I can see him in my mind."

Trelawney's eyes gleamed knowingly and she squeezed his shoulder, "Then I will say you are a very fortunate young man, to have seen such a face and be able to hold it so well in your memory. Yes. He is very special to you."

Harry nodded and felt something tight loosen up in his chest.

Huh.

Maybe it'd be okay to share it…just for a bit…after all.

"Could I possibly have this portrait back at some point?" Harry inquired.

Trelawney smiled, "Why of course. As soon as the week is out and I've collected from all my classes, we'll hold a viewing the following Monday in each period to admire all of the submitted projects—and you may each collect your pieces to take home once they're off display."

Harry relaxed. "Perhaps I'll even have the principal make an assembly of it in the gymnasium, and we'll allow the whole school to look and appreciate the fruits of our class's labors for an afternoon or evening. We can include more than just this project; we'll make it a midterm showing."

Harry blinked and felt his pulse begin to quicken in rising panic. "Err…"

"Yes, yes. I think that's what we'll do. Each department is supposed to do at least two assemblies a school year after all. This will be perfect."

Trelawney walked away from Harry, murmuring rapidly under her breath and floating back over to her desk.

Harry's mind was awhirl and he tried valiantly to steady his breathing, but to no avail. Oh god…

"Harry—you're pale." Luna frowned slightly at him and tugged at his sleeve.

Harry, on the cusp of hyperventilation turned to her with dilated pupils. "Assembly…?" He squeaked.

Luna's brow smoothed out and she squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. There'll be enough pictures that no one will really remember who did what. And your work really is lovely, so you should not be ashamed of it."

Harry laughed nervously, "It's not s-shame…it's just…do you think he'd be alright with being on display like that? I mean…I arbitrarily used his face…"

Luna sighed and slid her stool over to rub Harry's back in soothing circles, "He let you draw him, didn't he?" Harry nodded. Luna continued. "And you told him it was for class, didn't you?"

Again, he nodded. Luna patiently explained. "He's taken Trelawney in the past, and he knows her methods. If he had a problem with you using his face in an assignment that she'd possibly have on display, then he wouldn't have let you draw him to begin with. Tom is sensible like that."

"I'm sure he'd be pleased to be seen on your canvas as something you deem special to you." Luna finished with a serene smile, patting Harry's back and making sure he saw her sincerity and was no longer freaking out unnecessarily in his head.

Harry released a long sigh, and finally, gave a shaky smile.

"You're right. I was being stupid…"

Luna shook her head, softening her gaze, "Not stupid, considerate…and careful. You don't want to hurt him in any way—especially not inadvertently…because you love him."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and stared at Luna with wide eyes, cheeks aglow with telling warmth.

Luna tilted her head and smirked. "You do love him, don't you?"

Harry's mouth opened and shut…then opened again, voice cracking a little, "I—I do…?"

Luna laughed softly, patting him gently on the cheek. "Of course. And I love you."

Harry blinked—with lips parted and saying nothing, utterly speechless as a riot of butterflies began fluttering around causing a mess inside his abdomen.

"Luna…" He whispered, not knowing quite what to say. He'd barely known her a day…and Tom for a while longer…but still…

Why was everything spinning so fast?

"Breathe, Harry…in and out…that's it." Harry sucked in a breath sharply and did as Luna bid, having not noticed he'd stopped sucking in oxygen.

Still consciously breathing, he felt unnaturally hesitant as Luna smiled and squeezed his knee, saying soothingly, "You don't have to say anything back. It's just a fact. But you need to know…I'm here. For as long as you want me."

Harry relaxed and covered her hand on his knee with his own. "I do care for you…"

Luna smiled, "I know." Harry continued earnestly, "And I love Tom. I really do."

Luna nodded, "Of course."

Harry bit his lip and said, "I want you around for as long as you want to be."

Luna's mouth morphed into a significantly broader grin, "You may be stuck with me for quite a while then."

Harry laughed and playfully rolled his eyes, "Now where have I heard that before?"

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

In the wake of so many confessions, Luna and Harry left third period arm and arm, leaning comfortably on each other and walking to their next class…each settling in their own thoughts.

Harry had completed Tom's portrait, and Luna said she was nearly done with hers. Just a few final touches, she maintained. It was quite interesting to try and capture something that fluctuated and grew in splendor by the day.

Harry thought Luna was swell—but he did worry a little about her love. He knew it couldn't be like what he felt for Tom, because he could never just be beside him and not want to literally jump his bones, or vice versa.

There was absolutely nothing remotely platonic about their interactions.

Luna and he were physical only in the way that she didn't mind touching him, or linking arms and such, but she never pushed for anything more intimate.

But he felt like he was getting far more out of their acquaintanceship than she was—especially as she claimed to love him. Harry just didn't want to accidentally give her a wrong impression or wind up hurting her.

Because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he could never give her all of what he'd given and continued to give to Tom.

He didn't want her to think it was anything against her, personally…and he did like having her around. She was like the sister he'd once had in Hermione, but had lost and found again in recent times.

Although she and Hermione were quite different in temperament, with Hermione being the bossier and more opinionated of the two, but there was still that kinship he felt when either of them had been or were around him.

It was familiar and familial.

He just didn't want to accidentally wreck that in some way.

But she'd told him he didn't have to respond. So…he guessed she was alright with what they had.

Tom would be pissed if he found out though. Harry cringed. And he'd only just gotten permission to keep her.

Was it him or was this day getting longer and longer? Harry wondered—as they crossed the threshold of Professor Flitwick's classroom, taking seats next to each other and cracking open their books in unison.

"Today we will be discussing Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Turn to page 234 in your books class. Will you begin reading for us, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gave a start and looked down at the specified piece. Taking a deep breath he began, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove; O no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken…"

"Very good. Pick up Miss Lovegood, dear."

Luna opened her mouth, reading from where Harry dropped off, "It is the star to every wandering bark whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out, even to the edge of doom."

Harry couldn't help but meet Luna's eyes as she finished, and Professor Flitwick eagerly started the dialogue within the class.

Something passed between them, and Harry smiled softly.

Luna blinked and quirked her lips, shrugging winsomely—as if to say, 'What can you do?'

And wasn't that the kicker?

What could you ever really do…about love?

-v-

End Violation.

-v-

A/N: I must say…this Violation really put me through it. Even though it basically flowed…I had gears turning in so many directions that even I was shocked at everything actually happening. I am #LegitScared at this point of you guy's reactions. Because we literally just threw a whole bunch of new characters into this fic's soup.

Is it okay to #Panic now?

I feel like panicking. Also…#TheRat…was that too much? Not enough? How did I do? (That was a POV I didn't wanna do so much as felt utterly compelled to add…).

I'm still going where the muses direct, and I had to actually draw a #Timetable for Harry, Tom, and Luna at school in order to keep #SchoolGeographics from getting screwy. I almost cried when I couldn't remember what floors all the classes were on.

#WhenFicsGiveAuthorsHomework

Beyond all the school crap, we got a lotta mischief happening on the James front. Also, Barty Crouch Jr.

I've read him used so well in many other fics at this point—that I just had to take a whack at writing him. I hope you guys like his character here! –Sigh- I feel like we covered a lot and so little this chapter.

But a lot of important things did happen or are beginning to happen. So yeah. I think we dun good.

Until the next Violation, I look forward to hearing back from each and every one of you. Also…feel free to help plot conspiracies on the James front because I am a #Newbie at writing actual criminality, and could use all the extra inspiration you can #ShootAtMe.

I promise…I will seriously consider any plot devices you see fit to plonk down in the comments.

As always, stay safe in 2020!~ Happy Holidays!

Obligatory Disclaimer: It was in my stocking. So yeah...its mine!

~Ravenslith-FledglingMoon~ 🌺🐍🌕