The Tragedy of Our Love
School: Beauxbatons
Theme: Fate
Mandatory Prompt: [Genre] Tragedy
Additional Prompt: [Quote] "You'd be surprised who the love of your life turns out to be. After all, Adventure fell in love with Lost." by Erin Van Vuren
Year: 3
Wordcount: 3060 (leeway used)
A/N: AU after GoF. Tom Riddle retains the ability to love, so he acts OOC at times because of that.
Warning: Character death, underage relationship, big age gap in a relationship (Harry is about 15, and Tom is about 70.)
Long before they had fallen in love, Fate herself had written their fortunes in the stars. Their love was their destiny—and their tragedy.
Twice upon this age of star-crossed lovers…
Albus was drowning in frustration and despair. He loved Ariana—really, he did—but he wanted to be making his mark on the world, not stuck at home, caring for her.
He scuffed along the street, his mood matching the overcast sky. Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't see the approaching figure, and the impact sent them tumbling to the ground.
"Sorry," Albus said, standing and brushing himself off. "I'm Albus. I don't think I've seen you around before."
The other youth's blue eyes were amused. "I'm Gellert. I just moved here. I'm living with Aunt Bathilda." He gestured in the direction of the house behind him.
They shook hands. Gellert's grip exuded warmth, and Albus was filled with a sense of homecoming. He let go reluctantly, disconcerted by the ensuing feeling of loss.
They clicked instantly. Still standing where they had collided, Albus and Gellert talked for hours, jumping from the laws of Transfiguration to the legality of the Dark Arts. When it began to rain, they took refuge in Albus's house before continuing, barely even pausing for breath.
In the days following, Gellert was never far from Albus's mind. They talked all day and all night, and on the rare occasions when they ran out of things to talk about, they sat together in comfortable silence.
Albus had never loved anyone as much as he loved Gellert, and he was sure no greater love existed.
It was a time of joy and happiness.
Each day, Gellert's German-accented "good morning" and crooked smile suffused Albus with warmth. At lunch, as their knees touched under the table, his heart fluttered. At night, when they departed to their separate houses, a painful longing permeated his chest, only assuaged by the fact that he would see Gellert again in the morning.
They made plans together. Plans for the Deathly Hallows. Plans for glory. They had arguments of course, like any couple. Albus soon realised some of their ideas were radically different.
But it didn't matter.
Gellert was his soulmate. They were together and in love, and nothing else mattered. Not even his strange sense of foreboding each time he and Gellert argued over what should be done with Muggles.
Unlikely soulmates fall in love…
Harry was drowning in frustration and despair. He knew it was safer for him to stay at the Dursleys, especially since Voldemort's rebirth, but he wanted to be out fighting Death Eaters, not weeding the garden for Aunt Petunia.
As Harry tugged at a dandelion and tossed it onto the weed heap, he felt someone's eyes boring into him. When he looked up, a young man was standing outside the fence with his hands flat by his sides, as if he were uncomfortable in his own shoes.
Harry scrambled to his feet and smiled a welcome. The youth remained awkwardly silent, and after a brief pause, Harry held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Harry."
"I'm Tom. I've just moved in next door." Tom grasped Harry's hand with a friendly smile that warmed Harry's heart. He had dark brown hair that shone in the sunlight and a straight nose. Harry felt a vague sense of familiarity, but he tried not to stare as he puzzled over the resemblance.
They clicked instantly. Tom being a Muggle didn't matter. He talked about his travels, and Harry found himself confiding in him about things he had never told anyone else—how he'd grown up in a cupboard and how his aunt and uncle hated him. Of course, his words were carefully tailored to fit his Muggle audience.
But one day, as Harry was helping Tom hook up his computer, Tom muttered under his breath, seemingly unaware of his audience, "Why do Muggles have to make things so terribly complicated?"
Harry's heart started beating so loudly he was sure Tom could hear. Was Tom a wizard? Did Tom know he was Harry Potter? The scar was usually covered by his hair, but it was possible Tom had caught a glimpse of it.
Tom made no mention of it, though, even after they divulged their wizarding backgrounds. Harry sighed with relief and figured that as long as his scar stayed hidden, he could still be just Harry.
When he was with Tom, Harry felt an unaccustomed freedom. He laughed and smiled easily, almost forgetting about the dangers lying ahead of him. Before he knew it, Harry had fallen head-over-heels in love with Tom.
Each day, when Tom wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, his heart skipped a few beats. Whenever Harry woke up from a nightmare, the mere thought of Tom would bring a smile to his lips. As they weeded the garden together, Tom's hand brushing his filled him with warmth.
But appearances were deceiving. They were in an animated discussion on the Patronus Charm—Tom believing the spell was too difficult for most wizards to be useful—when Tom's carefully crafted charms flickered, revealing his blood-red eyes, bald head, and noseless face.
Harry realised who Tom was.
Tom—the Tom he had fallen in love with—was Lord Voldemort.
Surely not! The Tom he knew was kind and sweet and gentle. But Voldemort was an insane megalomaniac who certainly didn't care about anyone's feelings—least of all Harry's.
He must have changed. Voldemort could never have even pretended to be nice. Tom must be different. Harry shut his mind to the memory of the pain from the Cruciatus curse and the weight of Cedric's body as he escaped via the Portkey. Tom wasn't like that.
The huge age difference between them didn't matter either—although Tom looked to be about twenty, he was nearly seventy. But it wasn't important because Tom and Harry were connected at a soul-level, as if they were always meant to be together.
Tom was his soulmate, and nothing else mattered. Not even his strange sense of foreboding whenever he remembered his scar and the event that caused it.
Opposites but equal in every way…
Gellert had never thought he would fall in love. People of his calibre were few and far between. It wasn't as if anyone would ever approach his brilliance—let alone match him as his equal. He was sure he was destined to be alone, and he'd convinced himself he was content with that.
Until he met Albus. From their very first meeting, Albus had made an impression on him. The more time they spent together, the more he realised how perfect he and Albus were for each other.
They were intellectual equals—until he'd met Albus, Gellert had never encountered anyone who could keep up with him. He adored their lengthy debates about magic, life, and philosophy. Even though they didn't always agree, Gellert respected his lover's ideas and his skill at debating.
They were also magical equals. Gellert wasn't ashamed to admit that Albus probably knew more spells, but he still usually won their duels—not even his love for Albus stopped him from being ruthless in combat.
Albus was his soulmate.
The only thing that frustrated Gellert about Albus was his foolish idealism. Albus wanted to conquer the world without bloodshed. He thought Muggles and wizards would be able to integrate and get along. He was absolutely, infuriatingly unrealistic.
But Gellert wouldn't change what they had for the world. He had Albus. They were in love, and that was all that mattered. He shut his ears to the warning voice that said he and Albus wouldn't last.
One fights for the darkness…
Tom had never thought he would fall in love. He had never thought he could fall in love. He was the Dark Lord, after all, and dark lords did not fall in love—let alone fall in love with their prophesied enemy.
And then there was Harry.
It was supposed to be easy. A simple mission while the rest of his Death Eaters lay low. Capture the trust of Harry Potter and rejoice at his heartbroken expression when he realised who Tom really was, before Tom tortured him until he begged for death. Harry had managed to thwart his plans three times now, and that deserved a more painful death than a couple of Crucios and a simple Avada Kedavra.
Finding where Harry lived was laughably simple. A small bribe later, and Lucius—and in turn, Tom himself—had access to all of the Ministry records. The ward's forbidding nature prevented Tom from entering, but all he had to do was lure Harry out.
But like everything Harry Potter-related, things didn't go as planned. Tom found himself understanding Harry, learning his heart, and then, before he knew it, he had fallen in love. He hadn't meant to, but Harry…there was just a certain charm to Harry that drew Tom in like Dementors to a vibrant soul. Spending time with Harry was like coming home after a long day; there was a sense of rightness when they were together, as if Fate herself had willed it. Even the wards themselves supported their romance, as soon after this realisation, they welcomed him in.
That shouldn't have changed anything. Tom had told himself many times before that love was a weakness—a weakness for him to exploit in his opponents. This time, though, love was his weakness. He couldn't bring himself to kill Harry. Not any more. Not after Harry had won his heart and captured his soul.
Love was painful and baffling. It made things confusing when they shouldn't be. Tom didn't understand love. His heart told him he should stay with Harry, but he had a war to be fighting.
He shouldn't love Harry Potter. Why did his heart have to go and fall in love—especially with the Boy Who Lived? Harry hated the Death Eaters. He wanted nothing to do with the Dark Arts.
But Tom couldn't give up everything he'd worked for all his life just because he had given in to his heart and become weak.
Was it his destiny to choose between his ideals and his heart?
When Tom was with Harry, everything else became superfluous. The war didn't matter. They were just Tom and Harry—two people in love—not the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived. Nothing mattered but their love, and Tom ignored the whisper in his brain that said they could not last.
The other champions the light…
Albus knew love could not conquer everything. Despite their feelings for one another, the vast ideological divide between them could not be bridged, even by love as powerful as theirs.
Was Albus a bad person in falling for someone who would experiment with Dark spells without a second thought?
Albus tried to believe he wasn't. He wasn't responsible for the actions of his lover. There was nothing wrong with loving Gellert.
But honestly, he didn't know. He watched guiltily as Gellert tortured people, saying it was for the greater good. He knew his silence made him complicit, but he also knew he loved Gellert, no matter what. This love was the one thing he could count on always being true.
That conviction was challenged the day Ariana was killed.
Albus didn't know who had fired the deadly curse, but the uncertainty tormented him. He didn't know which would be worse: discovering it was his hand that had dealt the blow, or Gellert's. He had resented being forced to stay at home, but he hadn't wanted Ariana dead. They were family, after all, and even his love for Gellert couldn't fill the gaping hole left by his sister's absence.
He couldn't continue to support that monster—as he now admitted Gellert was—any longer. He had to somehow tear himself away and learn to live with the agonising knowledge that Gellert would always have his heart.
The next time they met, Albus knew it would be on opposite sides of the battlefield.
Their love will burn as hot as fire…
Harry knew love could not conquer everything. Despite their burning love for each other, he couldn't ignore the fact that Tom was a dark lord, someone who had committed thousands upon thousands of atrocities. Harry, although he disliked the title, was the Boy Who Lived, the prophesied vanquisher of Lord Voldemort. Tom had even told him about the prophecy surrounding them, although neither knew its full contents.
Did Harry's love for the Dark Lord make him a bad person? This was the person who had murdered his parents. How could he love the person he was destined to kill?
Harry didn't know. He wished he could ask his friends; he'd been too shy to mention Tom at first and, later, too worried about their reaction—they would think he was insane for even giving Tom a chance. Tom had changed, though. The Voldemort they knew would never act so lovingly, so…human. Surely they'd see how Tom was different?
The only thing Harry knew for certain was he loved Tom with all his heart, and Tom loved him.
But that certainty was thrown into turmoil one evening when Harry's scar seared with a vision he couldn't disregard. In the beginning, when Harry had first discovered Tom's identity, he'd had nightmares of Tom killing him, telling him that, of course, it was all a trick and that no one would ever love him. But those were just that—nightmares—and they soon went away when it became clear Tom wasn't Lord Voldemort. But this was real. Tom—in his Dark Lord guise—was torturing a prisoner without any qualms, even joyfully cackling as the prisoner screamed.
Harry had known Voldemort was capable of such horror, but Tom was always different. His heart had told him Tom had changed, but now he saw with terrible clarity how wrong he was. Tom was still the evil monster who had tied him to a tombstone and relished in his pain. Tom—his Tom—was still a sadistic bastard to everyone but him. He had no choice; he had to make a clean break. And maybe, one day, his heart would stop yearning for Tom.
Besides, the prophecy said Harry was destined to kill Tom. He had no idea how he could ever kill the person he loved, but it might be easier if he kept reminding himself who Tom really was.
Something told him that when they faced each other next, they would be fighting on opposite sides.
And one shall vanquish the other…
It had been several years since Gellert had last seen Albus. The war had not been kind to either of them, but Gellert's heart fluttered when he caught sight of his former lover.
Despite the fact they were on opposite sides of the war, Gellert still loved Albus with all his heart.
Gellert knew his duelling skills surpassed Albus's, even without the Elder Wand. He knew if he won this battle, the whole world would be his for the taking. No one else would be able to stand in his way. Only Albus had the power to challenge him.
But he couldn't kill Albus. His curses fizzled out even as he put more and more power into them. It was his lack of resolution—his inability to isolate his emotions and extinguish those compassionate eyes.
Albus had no such qualms, however. Within minutes, Gellert was wandless and bound in chains.
"Kill me, then. You've won," Gellert whispered to his once-lover.
He stared at the wand pointing at him. As it trembled, Gellert lifted his gaze to meet Albus's blue orbs and saw immense sorrow and, shockingly, love—something Gellert had thought he'd never see again. The same sorrow and love that shone from his own eyes.
After a few moments, the wand lowered. Gellert let out a breath of relief. He hadn't thought he would live to see another day, but the weakness they shared stayed both their hands. At least it wasn't just him whose heart was captured by the other.
"I can't," Albus said. "I can't do it." He turned around, calling out to the people who now surrounded them, "Lock him up."
Just before the guards dragged him off, Gellert whispered, "I couldn't do it either." Then, head held high despite the chains binding him, he marched off to face his fate.
For the world cannot survive while their love thrives…
Tom hadn't seen Harry after their separation. In the few years since, he'd been overcome with loneliness, for now that he had lived life with love, the whole world seemed bland and mundane without it. The war kept him occupied, but even that had become tedious.
Tom wished he and Harry could have stayed together, but it was for the best that they hadn't. Without Harry in his life, he could focus on the war and finally achieving his goals—although Harry still had his heart.
Tom knew he could easily defeat Harry in any duel. Even if Harry had spent the past few years training feverishly, Tom had many more years of experience and a far greater arsenal of spells. He knew if he won this battle, he would win the rest of the world. Harry was his only threat—through love, not power.
In the midst of their duel, as their eyes met, Tom came to the blinding realisation that he couldn't do it. He couldn't fight his Harry. He couldn't extinguish those green eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't act against his heart. Love was his weakness, and it would bind him forever.
Around them, the battle raged. Curses flew between the Death Eaters and the Order. A stray Killing Curse rushed towards Harry. Time slowed to a crawl. Without a second thought, Tom leaped into its path, blocking it with his life.
The bright green curse raced towards him. As red eyes met emerald-green for the last time, Tom saw sorrow and love in those green orbs, and his red eyes kindled with love in return. He whispered, "I couldn't let it happen."
Then, all he knew was darkness as he met his fate.
Twice upon this age of star-crossed lovers…
Unlikely soulmates fall in love…
Opposites but equal in every way…
One fights for the darkness…
The other champions the light…
Their love will burn as hot as fire…
And one shall vanquish the other…
For the world cannot survive while their love thrives…
A/N: Thank you to all my amazing Beauxbatons teammates for beta'ing my stories this season. You've all improved my fics so much. May the best team win!