Curfew Violations

-v-

16th Violation

-v-

He hadn't planned it.

But sure enough, they'd had a test in Professor Snape's class and he'd finished early. It had been spontaneous to text Harry directly after. He knew his boy had Biology that period on the same floor. It would've been a shame to sit idle when there was another more…appealing option. And so, swiftly he'd typed—after excusing himself from the classroom to the baleful glaring of Professor Snape—

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

He hadn't been sure he'd get a reply. His boy may not have even had the phone with him (which would've been something he'd have taken umbrage with).

But no sooner had he made it to the restroom, than his phone had pinged with a return text.

Sender Harry: Be there 5 mins.

It was game on.

Tom sent a random smiley back to Harry, then snapped his phone shut and waited hidden in the restroom—heartbeat ratcheting as he listened for the sound of footsteps approaching.

He heard Harry coming down the deserted hall long before he got his hands on him. His boy had to be running with how fast those steps were falling.

Tom grinned crookedly and licked his lips, eyes dilating to pinpricks as the footfalls slowed in the bathroom entryway—he heard the soft panting of Harry catching his breath before the boy's body drifted into view around the wall buffering the entry from the hall.

Tom's arm shot out and he yanked—seizing Harry and pinning him (once again breathless) against the wall beneath him. Their bodies pressed hard together as his mouth greedily plundered Harry's own, like a man possessed with hunger…a burning need to completely devour.

Harry tasted so good.

It was like coming home and diving off a mountaintop, plunging headlong into a hot spring…all at once.

Tom lost coherency of thought—(hearing but not hearing "N-nice…hah…to see you too.")—as he briefly allowed Harry up for air, just long enough to smirk indolently (punch drunk on endorphins) and whisper hotly into his boy's ear, voice deep and husked over with want, "Miss me, darling?"

His boy's only response was to reel him forcefully back in for more…and more…and more.

It was a wonder they weren't naked against that wall with the way their hands were just everywhere on each other…tugging and pulling and feeling every bit of skin hidden beneath cloth so utterly unwanted but necessary for public decency.

Harry ground up against him, and Tom met his boy thrust for thrust—large hands squeezing and gripping until the danger of cumming in his pants was more than prevalent.

How they stopped themselves would forever be a mystery.

But…Tom supposed it had been Harry—coming back to himself in the midst of things enough to choke Tom with his own tie, forcing the other to pull away from his lips on a strangled breath, glaring halfheartedly with rosy cheeks, wheezing at his heavily flushed boy—before rolling his hips forward in an indignantly adamant fashion against the suddenly unyeilding line of Harry's body—which boasted a cock hard enough for Tom to feel poking angrily into his groin beneath the tautly stretched material of their uniform slacks.

Harry panted shakily, chest moving up and down against Tom as he graciously loosened his hold on Tom's tie—just enough for the taller teen not to be seeing spots continuously from lack of oxygen.

"T-Tom…class...bell…"

Tom made a horribly disgruntled sound deep in his throat, irritated to no end for Harry's panted out, untimely warning.

He gave Harry's backside a last punctuated squeeze for paltry vengeance—refusing to be the only one so thoroughly dissatisfied with things as Harry's breath hitched tellingly, and his boy moaned and trembled against him—right before reluctantly stepping away, releasing Harry from the wall far enough for the boy to stagger against him, then into the sinks—turning the faucet immediately to cold, and splashing his heated face and neck with frigid water repeatedly.

Tom adjusted his pants and smoothed his uniform over until nary a crease reflected back at him in the mirrors above the sinks.

Perfect as could be once more—he leered down at his boy, who was stepping wordlessly out of the restroom after having cooled his head; hurriedly adjusting his own (significantly more rumpled) uniform as best he could without actually pausing to look.

Tom followed suit, starting off silently behind Harry in the direction of his own class at the opposite end of the hallway—his strut purposefully slowed, enough to glance around in time to catch Harry staring back at him and toss his boy a wink and wave, feeling gratified and utterly charmed by that familiar flustered blush and goofy grin which wonderfully lit Harry's entire countenance.

It went without saying they'd be seeing each other again soon enough.

With that in mind, Tom paused outside Professor Snape's classroom and fished his phone out. Again pecking a quick message and sending it off to Harry with a smug smirk before reentering the room.

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

"How nice of you to join us again, Mr. Riddle."

Professor Snape drawled, deep voice cutting through the otherwise silent air as soon as Tom sauntered back through the door. He raised a highly skeptical dark brow when Tom merely smiled back politely and insisted, "Apologies Professor. My stomach was a mess."

"Perhaps you should have visited the nurse then. Stomach bugs should not go untreated."

Tom took his seat and folded his hands primly on the desktop before him. "I assure you, sir. I do not require medication. It was merely bad eggs."

Professor Snape snorted, begrudgingly pacified and amused as he ever let on—before switching his attention from Tom to snap up the class at large, "Those of you still struggling with this test have likely failed already. Holding onto your papers longer will not change this fact. You have until the bell."

Tom felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with a text against the backdrop of his classmates low-key panicking, and he fished it out discreetly to check the screen. His face split with a slight, affectionate grin for his boy's cheeky reply.

Sender Harry: yes your majesty

The third period bell rang a scant few seconds later, and Tom was out the door again swift as a bullet.

School bag in tow, he largely ignored any dismayed classmates hoping to catch his attention bemoaning their collective misfortunes for a Monday test as he exited the room—making a beeline for his next period up on the third floor—satisfied with every step bringing him closer to his next encounter with Harry.

Third period was uneventful.

The only good thing about Government was that it covered the law, and Tom was very much interested in knowing all about the law in detail…being that he needed very much to always be (or appear to be) on the right side of it.

This was a class that he paid attention in and took good notes on (all other boredom aside).

It was also a class in which he asked a lot of hypothetical questions. He was quite certain his professor either thought him an aspiring lawyer or criminal at this point (possibly both), but Tom couldn't be arsed to really care.

The Professor this class was a retired Prosecutor after all, and honestly gave a lot of good insights into the system, from:

"No Mr. Riddle, it is actually illegal for lawyers to give any advice outside of the bounds of client confidentiality."

All the way up to and beyond:

"You would not be accused of murder if a person just happened to fall off a building in front of you, should there be no outside trauma to the body. It would always be classified as suicide."

Also:

"Yes. Insider trading is illegal mainly because it is unfair. Yes. If you are the only one privy to information which you share with someone else who invests because of it even if not on your direct behalf and it gets back to you in any way shape or form, the benefits of said transaction, you will be prosecuted."

It never hurt to have it spelled out.

Tom was a stickler for knowing the rules (as it was ever so important if you wanted to bend them).

"Of course, I was just curious Professor Giles. No, there is no need for you to be concerned. (Glib laughter) I approve of the law and all of its holes. Yes sir. That was a joke."

Plausible deniability was a thing—a useful thing.

It helped that Tom was such a good student, and very handsome with the nicest smile.

Everything got put past him.

Most students would hate to be in Calculus I, or any other math class—for the longest period of the day, but Tom didn't mind, as the work was straight forward numbers and calculations which he could do and be done with without any unnecessary details draining on his mental space.

It was the perfect class to exercise his multitasking skills as he drew up plans for investments in progress and future stock shuffles in his notebook, in between completing whatever lesson they were rehashing for that Monday's period.

It helped that their teacher was the type to not care what else his students got up to during the longest 4th period hour, so long as they turned in all work on time and didn't make a nuisance of themselves.

Professor Kumar was good like that. He also tended to skive off and do whatever it was he did in his spare time when lunch rolled around, leaving his (decidedly small) class to their own devices for the remainder of the period.

(Saying once primly, "You're not preschoolers. You can make it to the dining hall and back here without a chaperone. Now shoo.")

Calculus I was largely an elective. Only those actually good at math or who were intellectually inclined enough to enjoy numbers in any advanced manner took the course.

This meant—Tom respectively didn't get bothered often during 4th period, by inanities of students focused on anything besides academics or padding their college resumes.

It also helped that he was the only Junior taking the course. As it was split into two semesters, with the second part beginning in the spring…and most juniors were more worried about the grueling end of the year cumulative finals rather than adding more difficult coursework to their loads before their (hoped to be largely empty blocked) senior year.

Tom was just capable (…special...) like that.

And crunching numbers was a good exercise in detail orientation. After all, if you didn't use a skill…you lost it.

It just wouldn't do for Tom to remain other than sharp and fully aware at all times of what he was doing and all it entailed. He wouldn't stand for careless mistakes.

Calculus was a good exercise for his infrequently called upon skillsets.

In all actuality, Tom was well above his junior class peers in most all things. The only reason he elected not to be skipped forward to his Senior year after testing out was because being a student even after he was technically legal at eighteen would afford him an extra layer of anonymity which could be a nice concealer for anything he did background wise in the matter of his business dealings.

After all, he was a responsible high school student not yet graduated.

The authorities would be hard pressed to open an investigation into such an upstanding young member of society, yet to actually be unleashed into society.

Also…you met some of the most interesting people your age when you were in the right demographic.

Case in Point: Harry Potter.

Though unexpected…Tom would be loath to leave his boy behind before absolutely necessary. He may have it all laid out prospect wise, but Harry was that something extra he'd been lacking for so long that made his life more…just more.

A scant week ago, he wouldn't have imagined himself plotting around holding onto another person.

He wouldn't have imagined himself digging out cubbies in his future for the insinuation of Harry into previously nonexistent blank sectors of his plans.

Harry had yet to develop a full skillset, so Tom would be keeping close tabs on all his boy's interests, in order to facilitate the smoothest transition possible for the boy into his exclusive orbit after graduation.

Before that—they'd have to be even more careful to keep in touch once Tom was officially released into the wild.

Perhaps Tom should look into any positions opening up in the school that he could take up, if only to have an actual excuse to remain on site at Hogwarts.

What was that he'd heard about a Self-Defense class being tentatively offered to the lower years within the next year or so as an extracurricular?

He vaguely recalled Avery, his classmate in Social Studies (which split the block with Government three days out the week)—mentioning the post was a new one being offered with no permanent teacher as of yet, because Principal Dippet was being pressured by the school board to add more physically driven classes to the curriculum outside of the sports clubs and teams which students could always voluntarily avoid.

Apparently the board thought teenagers having the option of not sweating out at any point during the academic school year (after elementary and middle school) was untenable, and felt they should at least be offered some physically demanding class which would serve the dual purpose of an unofficial elective true Health and Physical Education course.

At the time Tom had scoffed and cited the fact ("Society is largely sedentary. You can't force action upon the paralytic and slothful.")—much to Avery's amusement.

The teen being rather physically active in his spare time without being a meat head in any sports clubs, had said rather optimistically in return, ("Maybe if they had the option that would change. I hear auditions for the post are to be held during the summer, and so long as you're an adult you can apply.")

Avery was a senior just over Tom's age, and would be nineteen by the time the summer in question rolled around.

He'd expressed his interest in maybe trying out for the post as a part-time job in between college interviews and preemptively deciding an agreeable field of study to go into. He thought it could be fun.

All Tom could hear now echoing in his head was an opportunity.

If Avery held the post just long enough for Tom to graduate, Tom could certainly take it up right behind him after getting the guy to quit the post on Tom's schedule.

It would be easy for Tom to do a Self-Defense course, because he was no slouch physically. And thinking further on it…he'd definitely be able to get Harry in his class at some point, which meant having even more justified cause to see the boy.

And if he founded an after school club attached to the class…Tom smirked as the wheels in his brain kept turning. He tilted his head and idly worked a Calculus problem as he considered.

Harry may or may not be athletically inclined. He didn't know. He needed to find out.

His boy wasn't out of shape. Tom could attest to this fact, being so intimately acquainted with that body. Harry had a nice set of legs.

He was quite a bit smaller than Tom in height and build, enough that Tom could carry him no problem. (This would always be a plus in Tom's books. He liked being able to handle his boy.)

Possible (unlikely) growth spurts aside, Tom was sure he could get Harry working up a sweat and enjoying it in no time. His boy was artistic and mild yes, but there was ferocity there too…and daring…

He would like to see Harry doing something active.

On that train of thought, Tom completed and began the next problem in his Calculus book—mulling over this new Harry related issue and flashing back to his promise to Diggory for the tennis team new recruits—half a semester indeed.

He wondered…maybe Harry could be convinced to try out. If only for Tom to assess his true physical readiness and know how hard it'd be to get Harry committed to a physical course of work sponsored by Tom.

He would be…reluctant…to share Harry with a whole team of guys for any stretch of time…but Harry could always quit after the initial tryouts, and even if he somehow made the cut Tom could always talk him out of becoming committed to the course…a thank you for the consideration but no thank you, type situation—in which Harry declined actually joining the team (at Tom's encouraging behest).

After all—academics would always come first, and Harry needed to focus.

Tom huffed inaudibly and ignored the way his general plotting time was being consumed by his new favorite mental diversion.

It was in this way that Tom passed fourth period, until lunch time. Alternating between mapping out Harry's and his future time and doing Calculus problems offhand until his stomach complained and he broke for lunch alongside his dispersing classmates.

He was actually quite hungry.

It was twelve o'clock—lunch would end in half an hour; and the freshmen had likely been and gone already.

Tom still held the slightest anticipation for glimpsing his boy in the dining hall.

He'd caught him that once after all. Nevermind he'd been with that girl.

She was tolerable—but only just.

If there was an extra spring in his step as Tom made his way to the ground floor dining area, waving and smiling politely at a few clamoring passersby (saluting without engaging), he didn't note it so much as everyone else seeing him on the go did.

Everyone else including certain persons catching up to his shadow and trailing well behind with a permanently devoted air, travelling quietly and unobtrusively enough to be well and truly overlooked in the backdrop of milling students and professors on break.

If Tom were more alert, he may not have missed the eyes on his back, glued manically to his broad shoulders floating above most everyone in the halls.

If he were less focused on the one thing consuming his mind now…perhaps he would have noticed, perhaps he would have seen.

As it stood—he wasn't.

More's the pity.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Harry and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder eating a later lunch than usual, being that Professor Flitwick's class had gotten so very interested in their discussions of Shakespeare as to have neglected the usual break time they took as a unit to go to the dining hall.

Professor Flitwick had followed them down before everyone dispersed and the dwarflike man had taken his own lunch presumably back to the teacher's lounge, leaving his students to mix and mingle as was their wont until lunch ended.

They all knew how to get back to class by the lunch ending bell after all.

Harry and Luna sat in view of the dining hall entrance, eating in companionable silence and trading absent nudges with little smiles exclusively for each other above and beneath the table.

Harry liked to think he had made such a good friend already, without any strenuous effort on his own behalf. The ease which he felt next to her quenched his deprivation for his former Griffin posse.

Not only had it been because he was new in town that he hadn't socialized (at all) since arriving, but he really didn't want to try and replace Neville or Hermione in any way…not just yet.

It had been a strange peripheral aversion. He still didn't know most of his classmates. They didn't go out of their way to know him either.

And that was fine for Harry. It had been fine for a while—until Luna.

Luna was just un-ignorable. He couldn't explain the draw exactly…it just felt right that he allow her in. It felt good to have her there.

They didn't even need to be talking and he felt giddy and content enough to just be next to her, eating and basking in her calm as a counterpoint to all the cacophony of randomized students all around them.

Luna came easy…like a midsummer's breeze, floating through the air and cooling him down when his body and brain so wanted to overheat.

Conversely…Tom was encompassing. Tom was an ocean on fire…if that made any sense.

Harry felt like he could drown in Tom while being burned to ashes with the way his bones disintegrated and his mind latched onto Tom in every blank instance of thought not even related to the other teen.

It was like he knew being with Tom could ruin him for anyone else. As instinctively as he knew Luna was welcome in his heart. Tom was…he was…he was coming straight towards them.

Harry blinked rapidly and swallowed reflexively as Luna stilled next to him, staring at the taller teen approaching their table with a loaded tray—only to gracefully plonk himself in the chair in front of the duo, cross his legs at the ankles, and smile—mouth stretched in a catlike expression of contrasting glee and veiled hostility as his eyes traveled over them and glinted at Harry and Luna sitting so close together as to be touching sides.

"Hello darling...and Miss Lovegood—don't you both look cozy."

Harry flinched for the ice layering that statement, and as happy as he was to see Tom again (so much sooner than he'd anticipated), he knew a brewing storm when he saw it.

Tom appeared too pleasant, much too placid as he speared his fork through whatever that was on his plate (Harry wasn't sure, it might've been vegan) and opened his mouth to bite down.

As Tom chewed he gazed directly at Harry, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side like a predator quaintly considering his next meal.

Harry felt his gut clench, and he automatically pressed closer to Luna (earning a displeased glare from Tom) as his insides began to roil with the deep-set, molten heat Tom always ignited.

Harry couldn't get a word out around the sudden lump in his throat.

"Hello Tom. It is good to see you again. I hear you and Harry had quite the lovely weekend." Luna chirped lightly, unaffected by the tensions building in both boys (for different reasons) as she drank from her juice bottle and smiled back at Tom, no little amusement curling the corners of her mouth in a conspiratorial fashion.

Tom's eyes slid lazily from dissecting Harry to appraise the happy blonde girl, apparently unaware of her precarious status of not-quite-interloper in Tom's calculative estimation.

"Yes…quite. I suppose I should thank you for your timely intervention."

Harry's ears burned, and he averted his eyes to his plate, poking ineffectually at his food as he listened raptly to Tom bantering with his friend. Oh god…

"Oh, it was no bother. I was happy to assist a friend in need." Luna's smile turned teasingly feral as an inspired gleam lit her silvery eyes, "Two friends in need…I reckon."

Tom stared silently as his mind registered the almost blasphemy exiting the girl's mouth.

"You reckon…" Tom drawled. Luna grinned, "I do."

Harry cleared his throat in the loaded silence which followed. Piping up in a voice laced with nerves, "I didn't think you'd be here at this time. I mean…we are quite late for our class today, but running into you here is…err…"

Harry trailed off, feeling bashful in an irritating way and blushing lightly as Tom looked at him with eyes lit by unvoiced laughter for his boy's running commentary.

"Fortuitous?" Tom completed for Harry, voice light and smoothly imposed.

Harry's eye twitched, "—I was going to say..."

Tom interrupted again, feeling mischievous, "Utterly delightful."

Harry opened his mouth and tried again. "By all standards—"

Tom broke in, gaining momentum. "Invigorating. Mystifying. Beyond the pale."

Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tom continued, "Stop me when I hit the mark, darling. I know you think highly of me."

Luna playfully interjected, "Try extemporaneously brilliant."

Tom snapped his fingers and nodded in her direction, smirking with his eyes glued to Harry as his boy finallypopped a fuse and snapped, "Initially maybe—but now unbearably annoying."

Tom pressed a hand to his chest and mimed a hurt expression. "Why…how rude, Harry. And here I was—thinking you actually liked me. After all we shared, after all we did…you only wanted my body…"

Harry leg reflexively jerked out, and his foot connected hard with Tom's shin beneath the table. Tom winced and grinned smugly, saying offhand to Luna as she continued munching and enjoying their theatrics, "My darling is quite abusive, no? Perhaps it is a lack of discipline."

Luna swallowed and offered, "I hear the right amount of spanking can be cultivating."

Tom hummed thoughtfully as Harry bristled and pinched Luna on the arm. Luna blinked. "Ow. What was that for?"

"Stop encouraging that." Harry hissed lowly, pointing a finger at Tom and all his Tom-ness. Luna giggled coyly and stage-whispered, "But he's having fun."

Harry blinked and glanced dubiously at Tom, who by now was staring back at the both of them looking rather relaxed and far less ruffled than he was when he sat down.

"Yes. I am enjoying myself." Tom replied succinctly to Harry's unvoiced inquiry, lips quirking as his boy seemed to sputter and deflate all at once.

"Must you be so…" Harry pouted and made a motion with his hand in the air. Luna snorted softly. Tom raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, "So what? Magnificent?"

Harry's eye twitched. Tom continued, "Breathtaking? Fascinating? Marvelous?"

Harry bit into his lunch and deadpanned around his mouthful, "Sure sure…whatever you say, your egregiousness."

Tom smirked. "I'm horrible now? You wound me."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "You could do with some wounding."

Tom took another bite out of his own meal, chewed, swallowed and said, "If you wanted to hurt me you need only request. I can be accommodating."

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He just stared at Tom. And stared…and kept staring.

Luna giggled and poked Harry's cheek. Saying softly as Tom raised a brow for Harry's lack of response, "I think you broke him."

Tom grinned and reached across the table, tweaking Harry's nose and chuckling as Harry came back to life and batted at his hand midair. "Nonsense, Miss Lovegood. He was merely caught up in visualizations, such a dirty little boy."

Harry spluttered indignantly as Luna replied, "I think you're right. The lad doth protest too much."

Tom nodded sagely, and dodged Harry's foot beneath the table. Clucking his tongue in amusement and spearing another forkful of his diminished meal. "Now now…we're in good company. No need for embarrassment."

Harry glared and snappishly replied, "You're the biggest embarrassment here. Honestly. The things you say in public."

Tom's eyes glinted, and he purred. "So if I say them in private you'll be more amenable?"

Harry blushed darkly and stared into Tom's hazel eyes, catching his breath as a red light seemed to enter the irises. Harry murmured thickly, all thoughts of lack of privacy exiting his mind, "Try it and we'll see…"

Tom blinked. Luna grinned. Harry smirked.

Tom sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, pinning Harry with a heated look. "No take backs, darling."

Harry bit his lip and suppressed an excitable little grin as he murmured, "Yes your majesty."

Tom chuckled.

It was so on.

Luna merely polished off her lunch and smiled serenely for Harry and Tom's symmetry. It was lovely to watch such things up close. What she wouldn't give for a camera…

She was sure they didn't realize how picturesque they were sitting across from each other, falling into each other's eyes so obviously and ignoring the rest of the world.

It was visual poetry.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

They were multiplying.

He clenched his fists and stuck to the shadows as he observed the unlikely trio seated in a location appointed well enough for him to see everything but not hear a word.

It was like a silent horror show—he thought. All his worst nightmares come to life.

The other was well and truly in thrall. It was centered on that Potter boy…and being added to by that additional girl. The other never would have lowered himself to be in the company of such plebeians (in a public venue no less) before that boy showed up.

The other had been out of reach and always took his meals in solitary fashion, where he could observe and watch from the shadows to his heart's content. He'd gotten some of his best relaxed zoomed in shoots of the other sitting in this very dining hall before.

Always solitary, always undisturbed—alone.

It was galling—utterly vexing to have seen the way the other collected his tray (as per usual) before spotting the damnable duo and altering his whole itinerary to slum it at their table.

For the first time in ever he had seen the other animated with laughter. Honest laughter. Enjoying himself to the exclusion of other people who had surely noted the unusual sight of the other sitting with two freshmen and being personable.

The other was RUINING everything. His whole image was being jeopardized. And all for that boy—that horrible, horrible little non-freakish boy, not worthy of a split second of the notice the other was showering him with.

Reject. Reject. Reject. Reject.

Delete. Delete. DELETE.

This couldn't go on. It couldn't. IT COULD NOT.

He was chewing his cuticle, and he tasted copper on his tongue as his teeth bit through the skin as the other reached out and touched the boy's nose.

Looking for the entire world like a besotted fool. Inasmuch as the other could appear being who he was—who he had always been.

Unacceptable. Unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE.

He was seeing red, eyes blacking out and blurring around the edges. (Stop it you're changing it won't be good stop it)

His thoughts were beginning to fracture—the pieces of his sanity breaking off and lodging somewhere in the floor beneath his feet, being crushed beneath his heels as he zeroed in on that boy and felt a searing hatred consuming his soul.

If only he'd disappear. If only he didn't exist. If only he was gone.

Gone. Gone. GONE.

The other would turn back. The other would be okay. The other would be perfect again.

It was still fixable.

He had to move fast.

Fast. Fast. Fast. FAST.

A bottle of pills rattled unheeded in his pocket, and his focus narrowed on the boy as the other finally got up from the table with the preemptive bell marking the end of lunch.

The damnable duo followed suit not long after and ditched their trays.

He got up and ditched his sparsely touched own, appetite having been ruined for good, and detached from the shadows to drift after the boy at a safe distance.

Heedless of his own fifth period class looming in the background. He followed the boy until he and the girl disappeared into their classroom on the third floor.

Hunkering down in an alcove, he waited for the fifth period bell to sound and determined that the day would not end before he nipped this whole issue in the bud.

His head gave a riotous twinge, and he winced and shook it jerkily to clear the spots from his vision.

What a bother.

He would endure. Endure. Endure. Endure.

The other depended upon it.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Luna and Harry went their separate ways as the bell sounded for 5th period, saying their goodbyes and going in separate directions.

Harry had to use the restroom, so he found the nearest one and did his business.

Coming out the restroom a few minutes before the warning bell, the hallways were basically deserted. Harry started off up the stairs to the seventh floor.

He was looking forward to seeing Tom again. For all the irritability he displayed in the lunchroom, it had mainly been in jest.

He'd been happy to see the other teen. So happy and flustered he let his attitude to take over, as often it did in their interactions. Tom—of course, had taken everything in stride, not even biting Luna's head off in the least.

Bantering back and forth with him and interacting with Luna in a non-hostile manner Harry still could hardly believe.

It was nice. It had been really nice.

Harry huffed a little at the top of the 6th floor staircase and stared out and upwards at the next long flight of stairs leading to the seventh floor corridor he'd have to climb.

Really…did the stairs have to be so fiendishly long? Hogwarts really was stupid big.

Looking over the banister Harry swallowed as he could see down over quite a few floors he'd already gone past. Amazing was the only word for the construction of the historic school.

Even Griffin hadn't been nearly as big, and that was counting the dormitories in separate towers.

Geez…he could get a complex about his lack of activity if the stairs weren't so gigantic as to be winding either way when taken one after the other from the 3rd floor.

Slowly he walked down the hall and stepped onto the bottom stair of the final staircase leading to the 7th floor.

Up and up he ascended.

By the time he reached the top he was quite tired. It didn't help that it was right after lunch period that he was being expected to make such a climb.

Maybe he should start exercising more…

Harry sighed and stood up straight, but paused mid-step away from the stairs as an unfamiliar figure a bit shorter than even himself appeared coming towards the stairs, blind-carrying a massive, teetering stack of books which hid his face from view.

Attempting to side-step the person, Harry instead somehow wound up in the direct path of the fast coming, heavy laden, determined figure.

The sudden impact of their collision knocked the remaining wind out of him—and then he was flying through the air, falling backwards beneath a rain of books and tumbling back down the long flight of stairs before he could even cry out.

Pain exploded around him as Harry went head over heels at unstoppable velocity.

His head hit the floor with an audible CRACK at the very bottom.

The world grayed out to black.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

A dark red pool of liquid spread slowly in a morbid halo beneath the boy's head—there was no movement.

He stared fascinated at the slightly twisted, prone and bleeding body.

He wouldn't touch it. His work was done.

Collecting the fallen books from their positions spread over the stairs with a happy little smile, he piled the books back up and stuffed them into his empty backpack—for once not lamenting the bulging sack and its unfortunate load on his shoulders.

He disappeared down the stairs to make his next class on the lower level, which he was late for.

With any luck the boy wouldn't be an issue ever again.

The other should thank him.

It was all for the greater good.

Poor stupid boy.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Tom was in The Secret Chamber, having gone up almost directly after lunch (only visiting his previous classroom to collect his things)—in order to better prepare for his boy and their tutoring session cum rendezvous.

He did have a lesson laid out. After all, it wouldn't do for his boy not to benefit scholastically from their faux tutoring premises.

That would reflect poorly upon them both—and would be counterproductive in the long run for maintaining their sanctioned time during school hours without obstruction.

Tom was very much looking forward to getting his hands on Harry again.

When the final warning bell sounded for the beginning of 5th period, Tom expected to see Harry coming through the door.

A few minutes passed with no sign of Harry and Tom frowned.

Fishing out his cell phone Tom pecked out a message. Perhaps his boy had gotten held up for some reason or wound up visiting his 5th period class for no good reason even though Tom had told him to come straight up.

Tom's eye twitched.

~ I'm waiting. Where are you? ~

No reply to his text came. Tom's frown deepened and he made his way to the chamber door.

This was very unusual. Harry would have replied at the very least if Tom messaged him. Some excuse would have been given.

Something was off.

Something was wrong.

He left the chamber and made his way down the hallway to the stairs. Everything was quiet, utterly silent.

That was the reason he liked it up here. No witnesses.

At the top of the staircase he stared down and laid eyes on the prone body at the bottom, from a distance.

Even from way up at the top, Tom knew who it was.

His heart stopped working.

He was frozen until he wasn't.

He couldn't have said if he'd jumped or flown to the bottom, but suddenly he was on his knees, kneeling in a puddle of red staining his perfect trousers…pressing long, trembling pale fingers to Harry's neck.

The only relief to be had in his body was the fact that Harry was ALIVE—as could also be noted by the continuous red spreading around his knees.

Maintaining his composure enough to not move the body (…oh god...not the body…HARRY), he took his cell from his pocket and rapidly punched the number for Madam Pomphrey's emergency line at the Hogwarts infirmary.

"You've reached Madam Pomphrey—"

"A student has fallen from the seventh floor stairs. Harry Potter. Freshman. He's in critical condition and bleeding out."

Tom voice was steady even as his eyes dilated and his heart restarted to pound restlessly in his chest, threatening to burst from his ribcage.

No…no…no…NO!

"On my way. Call the office. Tell them -Code Red Level 7-."

She hung up. Tom dialed the office. He spoke mechanically, voice deadened of emotion. Harry kept bleeding.

Tom hung up. His eyes remained rapt on Harry, on Harry's blood, on Harry's pale face devoid of life.

Tom didn't know that he was breathing. He wasn't blinking. All he could see was Harry.

All he could hear was Harry—his name…reverberating, echoing over and over, again and again, in his head—escalating in crescendo to the point that his thoughts were drowned out beneath the cacophony.

What happened…what was happening?

Tom's breath came faster.

How did this happen…how could this be happening?

Medical personnel had arrived.

This shouldn't be happening…this shouldn't have happened.

He was being gripped beneath the arms and stood on his feet. Somebody was talking to him. He couldn't hear.

They were moving Harry. There was a stretcher.

He was being held back, someone was holding him back. Harry was being taken away.

Harry was leaving. Harry was leaving. Harry was LEAVING.

Why couldn't he move? He was being restrained. Someone was yelling. Someone was screaming.

His throat hurt. It hurt so bad it had to be bleeding.

Bleeding…bleeding…bleeding…like Harry…

There was a pinch in his neck, and suddenly the world went black.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

"All classes will remain in 5th period. Repeat. All classes will remain in 5th period."

Luna frowned as the message sounded on the school wide intercom in lieu of the usual 6th period bell ringing. She was on the 6th floor in Arithmetic 101 with Professor Vector.

The woman calmed the restless class and phoned the front office. After a beat, she hung up the phone.

"It seems there's been an accident. Medical personnel and cleanup are in the halls. We are to remain in this room until the situation has resolved."

Luna blinked and a sense of wrongness overtook her.

The certainty that it wasn't an accident was lodged in her mind. She couldn't voice how she knew. Some things just came to her in fits and spurts like this.

Whatever was happening out there…it had been malicious.

She just hoped Harry was safe wherever he was at the time. What a thing to be happening at the beginning of her first full week back at school.

The unease persisted.

Luna wished she could call Harry. His very atmosphere, even distantly…would calm her.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

Tom opened his eyes to an unusual sight.

"I must say, when you crack you go all out." That was his father's voice. Tom frowned. He pushed away from the surface of a white sheeted bed.

The sterile smell of the infirmary assaulted his nose. His mind was muddled. He turned his head to look at his father, who was sitting calmly at his bedside—unconcerned as ever.

"What are you doing here?" Tom croaked.

Ouch. Why was his throat so sore…what happened to his…voice…?

"Apparently you had some kind of breakdown. Never thought you'd be the squeamish type. Some kid takes a tumble and you lose your mind."

Tom's eyes widened as it all came flooding back to him. Riddle Sr. flinched as his son's arm shot out and the teen yanked him forward by his shirt—very near snarling in his face.

"Where is he? WHERE'S HARRY?!"

Riddle Sr. frowned and grabbed Tom's wrist—wrenching at it, but he was unable to dislodge Tom's grip and gave up with a disgruntled sigh, "They took him to St. Mungo's. Last I heard he's in the Emergency Room."

Tom's grip fell away from his father, and he was up and off the bed in a flurry of movement. Ignoring his father's protests as he stumbled to his feet, head swimming, mind whirling with implications.

Harry was in the Emergency Room. Harry was in trouble.

"Hey—HEY! Where do you think you're going like that?"

Tom froze halfway to the infirmary door, and whirled around with a poisonous glare to his father, hissing aloud, "St. Mungo's. Do not stand in my way. You will die."

Riddle Sr. rolled his eyes hard and gestured to Tom's clothing. "You look like a beat up homeless person. At least change your pants."

Tom looked down at his slacks, which were stained reddish brown from the knees down. Remnants of Harry's blood soaked into the legs.

Silently he looked back up, expression closed off—eyes distant. Harry's blood was on his pants. That was Harry's BLOOD.

"Will you calm the fuck down?! Sheesh…" Tom's father stepped forward, shoving a bag into Tom's chest. Saying by way of explanation to his near hyperventilating son, "There are clothes in here. New pants, new shirt—fix yourself before leaving. You have an image to maintain."

Tom grabbed the bag and his father left the infirmary, unsympathetically shutting the door behind himself.

Mechanically—Tom unzipped the bag and stripped out of his rumpled and stained school uniform. The clothes were obviously his father's, but they fit him well.

He shoved the dirty clothes back into the bag and stepped out into the hallway, ignoring his hair, which was only a little less perfect than usual from when he'd been lying down—unconscious.

Handing the bag off to his father, who was stood wordlessly in the hallway waiting on him, Tom murmured, "Thanks." Then he left the man in the dust, staring after his tall, rapidly departing figure.

Riddle Sr. stared after his son with a deepening frown as he clutched the bag.

It was the first time he'd ever been called to the school on premises such as this. Although he didn't show it, he'd been shaken.

They said Tom had snapped. Tom had raged and screamed as they took that boy away.

They'd had to tranquilize him for his own good and the safety of their medics. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to depart the premises safely with the student.

He'd never heard of his son doing anything so uncharacteristically erratic.

In all things, Tom Jr. was calculated and methodical—an almost despicably uppity and controlled brat.

It was unheard of for Tom to be shaken by anything like the misfortune of some random kid. There had to be a story here.

Could it be?

Had Tom made some kind of human connection which he'd never done or had during all the years Riddle Sr. had known him?

It was unimaginable. It was incomprehensible.

It was scary.

-v-

xXOXx

-v-

When Lily got the call from the school that afternoon, she'd been in the middle of weeding the garden.

Hearing what had happened—she'd dropped everything and driven straight to the hospital. Harry was in surgery when she arrived, being tended to by the doctor.

Beside the door, situated on the bench there was a familiar stone face.

"Tom…" she'd whispered wonderingly, staring at the young man leaned over on his elbows, face expressionless and contemplating the wall as he waited.

He looked up when Lily said his name, and Lily felt her heart clench as recognition flooded his face and a distinctly lost look flashed through dull, hazel eyes—once so cocksure and full of life, now deader than a corpse.

"Tom." She repeated, stepping forward until she was in his space.

"Mrs. Potter…he fell…"

Never had two words sounded so damning to her. A sob burst from her throat and her arms were around Tom's hunched figure, wound tight before she even had the conscious thought to touch him.

Clutching Tom's head to her chest, Lily sank down beside him and rocked them back and forth, receiving no resistance to her motions.

Her tears fell hotly, one by one down her cheeks into Tom's hair.

"I heard."

There they sat, Tom imploding and being held together by Lily falling apart for the both of them—as they waited and waited for the results of Harry's surgery.

It was a very grim day.

-v-

End Violation.

-v-

A/N: This feels like a quiet moment. Yeah…I think we all need comforting now. Free hugs will be issued in the comments—but bring your own tissues, I haven't enough.

I have to ask…who saw this coming?

Obligatory Disclaimer: I own #DaTrainWreck.

~ Ravenslith-FledglingMoon ~ 🌺🐍🌕