Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter (sadly). I own only these plot bunnies. (This disclaimer extends to the entirety of this 'A Galaxy Made of Infinite Stars' work. ie: includes future chapters)

Tom Riddle was not in a good mood. If it hadn't been for the fact that he needed to maintain his perfect goody-two shoes act in front of others, he might have just snapped at his Slytherin housemate.

He seethed silently and subtly stabbed the green peas on his plate. He wished he were back in the common room. At least there, he could let his frustrations loose. And tell his companions to shut it if they knew what was good for them.

Or perhaps he should just head back to the Chamber tonight and let dear, old Amara free once more.

Yes. That would be better. Perhaps another petrification would cease such thoughts from the students' minds.

"What do you think, Tom?"

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course, it would be the fool Alphard who would drag him into the conversation. The idiot had always known to be a romantic. And a Black with poor self-preservation since he, unlike the others, obviously had not yet caught Tom's disgruntled mood.

"I do not believe in them, Alphard," Tom replied with an icy smile.

Honestly, how had a revision potions' lesson about Amortentia of all things lead up to this blasted topic? The love potion was the farthest from the fanciful – and sickly sweet, Tom thought with derision – delusions these fools were currently gossiping over.

"But Tom! You could likely have one!."

Tom didn't bother to refrain himself anymore. He rolled his eyes. Abraxas, seated to his right, caught the action and stifled an amused grin.

"Those are just fanciful stories, Alphard. Surely you lot have better things to talk about."

"But it's such a romantic idea," Walburga sighed from beside her cousin.

Evidently, with his engagement in the conversation, the witch had seemed to have forgotten about Tom's displeasure like Alphard.

Perhaps, Tom thought, the rumours that the Blacks are insane hold some truth. They surely like trying me.

And trying him was not a good idea. Everybody knew this fact, even if they bought his goody-goody attitude.

"How about we change this topic," Abraxas's voice cut in. "Have any of you heard anything more of the petrified students' state?"

Now this was why Abraxas was genuinely his best friend.

"Oh please, there's really nothing more to discuss about those incidents, Abraxas," Druella Rosier replied.

"Yes, it's the same story. They get petrified and nobody seems to know what to do. It's rather terrible," Walburga added.

"Which is why there's all the more reason to talk about such fanciful delusions Tom, especially during such times," Alphard said.

And this was why nobody else in this bloody table is my best friend, Tom thought bitterly even as he plastered a fake smile on his face.

He could see Abraxas snicker silently from the corner of his eye. If it hadn't been for the boy's previous attempt to change the topic, Tom would be more than miffed by the boy's actions. Alas, he had come to understand that maintaining a best friend came with some setbacks.

Such as said best friend laughing at your misery.

If Tom didn't get back at the stupid blonde ponce as much as said blonde ponce laughed at his expense, this friendship would have long ended up with someone in a terrible, terrible shape, honestly.

Of course, it would be Abraxas who would be in the poor state. Tom would be the one putting him in his place.

"You know –"

Tom stabbed another pea subtly as Druella talked again. He was surprised the Black insanity was already catching on to her even though she was only engaged to Cygnus.

Or was he honestly that good at hiding his emotions.

Tom doubted it.

With other students, he could understand the situation of not being read. But with fellow Slytherins, it was truly impossible that -barring Abraxas and a silent Theodore Nott – none of them couldn't figure out he was in a terrible mood.

Seriously. He had four peas brutally smashed against his plate, tragically deformed to the point that they could stand in for mashed potatoes and nobody would know the difference till they tasted it. How did one potion's session – a revision session at that – derail his companions' intelligence so badly.

Love must be why, a voice in his head whispered. It was a mocking parody of the voice of a twinkling old goat's but Tom didn't bat an eye at his own pettiness. He had always hated that old fool.

Love.

Tom scoffed internally.

As if.

Tom knew better. There was no such thing. At least if there was, it wasn't dished out equally for everyone. And Tom knew he was – as fate would have it – one of those who wouldn't get to taste that stupid emotion.

Not that he needed it. (He violently squashed that tiny, tiny, tiny part of him that maybe, maybe, still yearned for it.)

No.

No.

He was above such things.

Love was a weakness anyways.

It was the kind of thing that led you astray from your goals. From your destiny to be great.

It was the kind of thing that led you to be destitute and husband-less while nine months pregnant, Tom thought as he stabbed another unfortunate pea, eyes darkening a tad.

He didn't notice Abraxas' concerned look.

It was the kind of thing that had left his mother – squib though she was – abandoned by a muggle who had no fucking right to abandon her.

Another pea died on his plate.

It was the kind of thing that made an able woman (irrationally, Tom thought) choose to wallow in grief and death than to care for her new-born infant.

A kind of thing that made said woman poison a muggle's will with the strongest love potion in the world and then feed him an antidote months later in her delusions and guilt.

Tom seethed silently as the feeling of betrayal and guilt washed over him again.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. Or who exactly his emotions were aimed at. Anger at his father for abandoning him. Anger at his mother for being pathetic and selfish enough to not care for her son. Anger at his grandfather and uncle for belittling both his parents. For telling him the truth of his mother's actions. For making him feel guilt at taking the life of a man who he had been angry at for hating him.

For making him realise during their lunatic rants that his muggle father – whom he had rashly killed with two words – had had every right to hate him and his existence after having been bewitched against his will by his dead, squib mother.

A part of Tom wished he had never bothered to look for family. Never bothered to indulge that tiny, tiny, tiny part of him that had always harboured fanciful delusions that he had a loving family out there. Anyone honestly. Some long-lost brother. Some amnesic grandmother.

It was all due to that tiny, tiny, tiny part.

And its yearning for love.

Tom's fork's tips bent slightly, unbeknownst to anyone else, as he pressed his against his plate forcefully.

"Tom, calm down!" Abraxas' voice cut in a soft, urgent whisper from beside him.

Tom breathed.

Perhaps one person had noticed after all – oops.

"Seriously Tom, I really think you should reconsider. The idea cannot all be fanciful."

Tom sighed as he was dragged back to conversation by – surprise, surprise – Alphard.

"Honestly Alphard. It's bollocks," Tom replied back, disdain leaking out of his voice despite his restraints. "Soulmates are not real."

It took him a moment to register the quietening of the Great Hall.

Oh joy. It seems he had lost most of his restraint after all. He had hissed a bit too loudly at the Black family member.

"No, they are," Druella argued back.

Tom lost his cool.

"Then pray tell why nobody has honestly found their supposed "soulmate" during their lives?"

Abraxas nudged him softly to alert him that the whole Hall was listening in. Tom didn't pay heed. He had noticed the silence of the Hall first anyways.

"Who is to say people haven't?" Alphard questioned back challengingly.

Tom raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Well, nobody's certainly mentioned it to anybody, have they?"

"It's probably because people just want to keep things private," Alphard insisted.

"Or maybe it's just no such things exist for it to be advertised," Tom replied back without missing a beat.

Alphard rolled his eyes. Tom seethed at the boy's audacity to do that to him.

"Seriously, why are you so against the idea of soulmates? It's romantic."

"It's delusional," Tom bit back. "There is no such thing as needing someone to complete your soul. Your soul is already complete, idiot."

"It's not about completing each other's soul. It's about being the mirror to your soul. The perfect match. Your equal in all ways."

Tom sighed.

"That is not logically possible unless you and the person grew up in the exact same way, feeling the exact same feelings and thoughts. There's the saying that says no individual is the same. Even twins are different in this world, Alphard. And you are here expecting a stranger to be a replica?"

"Your soul's match doesn't need to be a replica of you, though. It could be entirely opposite. But that's the beauty of it all. They still match with you. They complete your life. They add that something that is missing to your life that even you don't realise."

Tom hated that tiny, tiny, tiny part of him that had the audacity to sigh in longing for such a someone. For such a soulmate.

He struck it down viciously. He struck down Alphard's words viciously with his own words.

"People find many things missing in their lives, be they rich or poor, Alphard. Finding somebody who would honestly fulfil every single want and need that a being as selfish and greedy as humans can turn out to be is honestly impossible."

Alphard shook his head.

"They don't have to be the world's ideal person, Tom."

Tom scoffed.

"Doesn't that make them lose the whole soulmates are perfect characteristics?"

"Perfection is a perception. It changes from person to person. What you find to be perfect may be somebody else's definition of imperfection."

Well Tom was rather hating Alphard and his imperfect mindset.

"Next, you're going to go on everybody out there – those millions and billions of people living in this world – has such a soulmate who simply fits all their perceived perfection ideas. In this world where people fret over not finding the perfect dress or the perfect grade or even perfect partner for your married life."

Alphard raised his chin.

"Yes. I do believe everyone has such a soulmate, even if not everyone can find them."

"Nobody's found them," Tom snapped back.

"Well doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Maybe it's because they aren't true that nobody's found them!"

"Or maybe people don't just realise that they've found them and are living happily."

Tom was not one to give up. But perhaps this was going to be one thing he wasn't going to try and win. The Black insanity was said to be incurable for a reason, after all.

"Alphard that is very, very delusional and if you want me to take it positively, then its very, very, very and I mean VERY optimistic and naïve thinking."

"What's so wrong in believing that someone out there for you that is the best match?"

"That's what people do when they date and eventually settle with someone, idiot. They all don't go claiming to be soulmates, do they?" Tom asked with a drawl.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"They don't go about saying their soulmates there because they aren't."

"Oh, how would they know that? For Merlin's sake they settle down thinking that's their best match."

"Oh, you will know if someone is your soulmate, Tom."

Tom rolled his eyes at the whole conversation.

"Oh, how exactly? Are you going to spout some ridiculous notion that the person's soul will sing in their soulmate's presence?"

"For someone who doesn't believe, you certainly seem to know these details," Alphard replied back.

Tom gave the boy an affronted look.

"These are the details you and Walburga giggle over loudly in the library instead of letting us studious folks revise, Alphard!"

Tom was distinctly satisfied at the red creeping up Alphard's neck at being called out for that and for the snickering their so far silent audience were giving.

"Why do you got to be so pessimistic?" Alphard shot at him.

"Why do you have to be so naïve?" Tom dished back.

"There's nothing wrong in believing, Tom."

"There's no proof or evidence to show that there is something worth believing in."

Alphard rolled his eyes.

"Just watch and wait, Tom, you're going to eat those words when you find your soulmate."

Tom shook his head.

"Gee and what would make me such a lucky person as to be the first one to find such a soulmate," Tom asked, voice dripping with scepticism. "What, you expecting such a someone to fall from the skies to prove your theory true Alphard?"

Alphard shrugged.

"Who knows. Maybe that might get you to stop being so pessimistic about life, Tom."

Tom gave Abraxas a pleading look. The Malfoy heir shrugged back helplessly.

"Alphard that is not how life works. Let's just assume your theory is true for some barbaric reason. People don't just fall down from the skies."

"Soulmates might," Walburga cut in with an impish smile.

Tom snapped.

"For Morgana's sake you guys! No! Look, anyone – take me for example –"

Tom held out his hands in exasperation, shooting Alphard a completely frustrated look.

" – opening my arms and looking to the heaven is not going to make a soulmate or any person just drop down from the sky!" Tom snapped.

Utter silence.

Tom supposed everyone was simply astounded at the fact that he – perfect, Tom Marvalo Riddle – had become so riled up over a matter. It was despicable and if Tom were in the right state of mind, he would have berated himself for his lapse. He would have smoothed out that frown on his face and resumed his normal nonchalant façade.

But he was not in a clear state of mind.

He had found out about his father's abandonment during Yule. Found out his mother's treachery after killing his father and grandparents. Petrified innocent students after romping around the castle (undetected of course) in misery and grief and hate.

It had taken a moment of unplanned confession to his best friend and unplanned break down in said best friend's arms in the Chamber of Secrets for him to realise that he could do better.

That he was better than the people who abandoned him despite being family. Despite having their own struggles and reasons for abandoning him.

And this was all including the fact that he was still reeling in the fact that Abraxas had seen him cry. Tom had never been so vulnerable in his life. He still was not fully comprehending the fact that that little blonde ponce had held him and stayed by him despite knowing what he did. Or that Abraxas had willing given an Unbreakable Vow to guard his secrets despite Tom forgetting to ask in his miserable state.

So really.

Tome Riddle was not in a clear state of mind.

Therefore, he really should be given some slack for his current lack of composure in life.

And if he cursed when a portal that shimmered in the colours of the galaxy and its constellations shimmered above him on the ceiling and swiftly deposited an adorable raven-haired teen who happened to have the most mesmerising emerald eyes onto his lap, well –

Tom really should not be judged.

It was not something that he had been expecting honestly.

He stared down at the adorable bundle on his lap, ignoring how his arms had gone to loop around the boy's waist as soon as he had landed on Tom. If there was a deafening silence enveloping the hall from the people around him, Tom did not bother to acknowledge it yet. He was mor'e focused upon the way in which he was finding his soul – his full, remorse-filled, cured-from-his-stupid-hocrux-ritual-thanks-to-Abraxas'-help soul – was singing withing his being.

Why the hell would his soul sing? Seriously, souls were not made to sing unless –

Oh.

Tom felt his memories of Alphard and Walburga's annoyingly chipper voices, from the countless study sessions where they talked instead of studied, wash over him.

The soul would sing in the presence of one's soulmate.

Soulmate.

Tom found that tiny, tiny, annoyingly persistent part of him that yearned for affection flare up in hope. (He cursed its audacity internally)

"So –"

The soft, soothing voice from the raven before him broke him out of his thoughts. Tom turned his attention back on to the boy. If his heart stuttered slightly at the awkward and shy smile he was receiving from the boy on his lap, well then that was a secret Tom would keep to the grave.

" – I'm Harry – Harry Potter –"

Twin sputtering sounded from the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. Tom couldn't really blame Fleamont or Charlus Potter for their shock. It was astounding what Harry's words were implying.

He was from the future. His soulmate was from the future.

Tom tightened his arm around the boy's waist ever-so-subtly, squashing the insecure part of him that wondered what would happen if Harry had to go back to his original time. If Harry had to leave him. (Tom would not be allowing that if he had any say in the matter)

He had only met the raven now but Tom was finding himself wanting to keep the lean teen all to himself for eternity. It was strange. He knew he was possessive but this yearning he had over Harry felt different.

" – Uh, could anyone, um – care to tell me where I am?" Harry continued his dialogue, choosing to ignore the chocking from the other side of the Hall after a momentary pause.

(He likely did not know what to do even if he did acknowledge the Potters' – not that he knew that yet – shocked choking.)

Home, Tom wanted to reply to the teen, as cheesy and cringe-worthy as the reply was sounding.

But instead, he tightened his arm around the teen - blatantly this time - ignoring the way the boy's jolted slightly in surprise and his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. (To Tom's delight he – Harry that is – did not try to pull away)

"Hogwarts," he replied eventually, knowing the rest of the hall – still reeling in stunned silence – would not reply to the boy. "You're at Hogwarts."

Tom stared into the emerald eyes that were somehow captivating him.

"And I am Tom Riddle, Harry Potter."

Your soulmate.

.

.

.

.

.

At the back of his mind, Tom acknowledged that he could forgive the Blacks and their tendency to irk him for this one instance. After all, their craziness did lead him to the boy he was hosting on his lap. And if he was less persistent against scolding Alphard, Walburga and Druella for their giggling over ridiculous theories, well - nobody bothered to mention it out loud.

A/N: Hi! Hope you guys liked this. Please read and review! :)

Also, if the font looks weird on ur screen, im sorry. My settings have gone crazy :) Just bear with it...thanks...