A/N:
written in response to a fun conversation in the Room of Requirement tomarrymort discord server (16+) !
dedicated to Moni for inspiring the idea.
sober tom forgets what happens each time because 1. humour and 2. plot device. drunk tom remembers with a concerning amount of consistency.
for the full version of this story, which includes the images, find me on AO3 under user 'duplicity'!
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Thanks for Harry
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Tom was at his writing desk with a quill and inkwell laid out, as he set down the expensive stationery that he had borrowed (stolen) from Draco Malfoy's school trunk. Malfoy didn't know how to use these, anyway. Tom would have bet good money that Malfoy had never once thought to thank anyone in his life for anything.
Despite the distance from his dorm to the Slytherin Common Room, Tom could hear the raucous partying of his fellow housemates going on in the background. No doubt most of them were horrifically drunk and would regret their poor choices in the morning.
Tom was not drunk, of course. He was perfectly, completely, one-hundred percent sober. Absolutely sober and in full control of his mental processes.
With gravitas, Tom uncapped his swan feather quill, dipped it into the golden, ever-lasting ink that he had also borrowed (stolen) from Malfoy, and scribbled out a greeting in his elegant handwriting:
Dear Mrs. Evans-Potter...
On the other side of the castle, in the dormitory that belonged to Gryffindor's seventh-year boys, Harry Potter looked out the window at the moon and had the sudden feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.
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THE MORNING AFTER.
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Lily Evans-Potter awoke to an eagle owl staring through her bedroom window. It was not an owl she recognized, but it had nevertheless passed through the wards that she and James had set up around Potter Cottage, which meant it was safe. A glance to her left revealed that her husband was still asleep. It was a Sunday, so she would forgive his laziness on this occasion.
Lily rose from the bed and summoned her night robe, pulling it on and tying the waist shut. She grabbed her wand from the side table, then opened the window to let the owl hopped delicately onto her vanity table and stuck out its leg.
With careful hands, Lily unwound the bright green ribbon that was attached to a thick silver envelope. "I don't have any treats up here," she told the owl, "but if you're willing to wait a moment, I can go downstairs for you."
The owl chirped politely, then flew off.
Lily shut and locked the window. The letter in her hand was addressed to her. She sat down at her vanity and used her wand to remove the plain wax seal on the envelope.
Inside was a beautiful ivory card with silver embossing and floral accents. Written in a flowing script on the front were the words 'Thank You' in medium-sized letters.
Lily opened the card, curious as to who had sent her such a fancy thing. What she read inside was surprising. The cursive was neat and well-centered, but the contents were, well... concerning was the word that came to mind. A prank from one of Harry's classmates, perhaps? The problem with that was Harry had never mentioned anyone named Tom before.
She would wait until James woke up before she made a judgement call. Maybe he would have more insight into the meaning of this thank-you card.
[ Dear Mrs. Evans-Potter,
Thank you for giving birth to your son. I like him very much and think he is beautiful and talented. I don't like Quidditch, but I go to the matches just to watch him. He is always smiling when he catches the Snitch and I think that's very endearing. Please forward my thanks to your husband as well, who I'm told is where Harry gets his Quidditch skills from.
P.S.: Harry's eyes are lovely. Extra thank you for his eyes.
Harry's,
Tom M. Riddle ]
Tom woke up with no recollection of having done anything. Such was the potency of magical alcohol. He went about his day feeling tired and mildly dehydrated. He sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast and snuck glances at Quidditch Captain Harry Potter when he thought no one was looking.
As the morning wore on, Tom counted down the hours until Arithmancy class on Monday morning, which was the only class where he and Harry sat next to each other, and concocted plots and daydreams of asking Harry out to Hogsmeade.
James Potter took one look at the letter his wife had given to him and started laughing. It took several minutes for him to stop laughing long enough to form a coherent sentence, and even then he had to pause to wipe tears from his eyes.
"So it's a prank?" Lily demanded, poking her husband's arm.
"Oh, Merlin no," James wheezed. He was doubled over with hysterics. "This poor bloke's so gone on our son he's lost the plot! I think he must have been utterly wasted to send this. You remember how rowdy the parties got, don't you? People did all sorts of things."
Lily frowned. She and James had attended the match yesterday to watch Harry play, of course. "Gryffindor lost yesterday," she reminded him.
James frowned, straightening up. He glanced at the card, made note of the silver envelope that it had emerged from.
Lily stifled a smug smile. "Harry has a little silver serpent as his admirer." She shook her head. "No wonder he hasn't said a thing to us! He's probably embarrassed, what with the way you go on about Slytherins being the root of all evil."
"You think so?"
"What else could it be?" Lily asked. She took the card back and ran her fingers over the gold ink.
"Maybe he doesn't know."
There was a pause in which the two parents made eye contact and stared at each other. Then Lily said in a horrified voice, "Oh god, James. Harry doesn't know."
James began laughing all over again. Lily started smacking him, exclaiming, "This is not funny! This poor boy is in love with our son, who hasn't noticed in the slightest because he's as thick as his father!"
"Hey," James protested. "I notice things."
Lily gave his shoulder a pat. "If you think so, darling."
Monday morning, Harry sat down next to Tom for their Arithmancy class. Tom had his textbook open on the desk to the correct page for their current lesson. He'd placed it close to the middle in the hopes that Harry might decide it would be easier for them to share rather than go through the hassle of opening a second textbook up.
"Good morning," Tom said. Though he knew Harry was not much of a morning person, he made a habit of offering the greeting anyway.
"G'morning," Harry mumbled. He groped blindly in his bag for a minute, tugging out a roll of parchment, quill and inkwell, and his textbook.
Tom stifled a pang of disappointment as Harry set his book on the desk and flipped it open.
Harry located the correct page, then turned his attention to his parchment, which was presumably their homework from last week. He unrolled the scroll and spread it out on the desk.
For a long moment, Harry stared at the heading of his essay with a blank expression on his face. Then he turned his gaze to Tom and asked, "What day is it today?"
"It's October third," Tom said quickly.
"Thanks." Harry used his quill to scratch out the date written on the top right of his parchment so he could rewrite it.
Before Tom could say anything else, Professor Vector chose that moment to begin class. She summoned all the scrolls to her desk, then went right into her lecture.
Tom did not get a chance to talk to Harry for the rest of the class. When the lesson was over, Harry packed his bag and left hastily. Tom knew Harry had Potions next, which was all the way on the opposite side of the school, but that didn't make the abrupt departure feel any better.
With a sigh, Tom resolved to try harder on Wednesday to start a proper conversation. So long as he kept trying, Harry would have to notice his interest eventually, right?
Later that week, Harry got a letter from his mum asking if there was anything he wanted to share. It had been followed by a reminder that she and dad loved him no matter what, and that he could tell them anything he wanted to and they would not be upset or mad.
It was very odd. Harry couldn't think of any misdemeanours he'd committed lately, but maybe he'd forgotten something?
Harry wrote back that everything was fine and that the care was appreciated, but unnecessary. By the time dinner rolled around, he'd already put the strange letter from his mind.
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ONE MONTH LATER.
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Tom was having the worst day ever. Just that morning, he had learned that Harry was going to Hogsmeade with Ginny Weasley. Not even besting Granger in their latest Transfiguration test could lift his spirits. Everything was terrible and Tom was going to stab the next person who asked him if anything was wrong.
"Stop sulking," Parkinson said to him in the library later on, during their regular afternoon study session. "It's pathetic. You're Head Boy, Tom. Try and act like it."
Tom sneered at her. "I am not sulking. I am plotting Weasley's downfall."
Parkinson's expression only grew more skeptical. "Draco, we're taking Tom to Hogsmeade this weekend."
Malfoy was half-asleep, laid out on his History of Magic textbook, but he startled when Parkinson shoved at his head.
"What?" Malfoy said irritably. "I was working on my essay."
Parkinson rolled her eyes and repeated her instruction very slowly, like she was speaking to a toddler.
"But you and I—" Draco tried to protest, but the complaint died in his throat at the look on his girlfriend's face.
"We're going to get you tossed," Parkinson declared, slinging her arm around Tom's shoulders.
Tom made a valiant attempt at shoving her off. "We are not."
"We are too. You're going to have some Firewhiskey and forget all about Pothead and Weaslette. Besides, I bet he's not even into her that much," Pansy remarked. "Let's not forget how he followed Diggory around during fourth year. I think even the first years noticed. That boy is about as straight as Diagon Alley."
Tom had to admit hearing that made him feel a little better.
"Maybe you should take someone to Hogsmeade too," Malfoy said encouragingly. "Make Potter jealous."
Pansy scowled at him. "That is the worst idea I've ever heard. Why in the name of Merlin would we want Potter to think he's taken? Potter is a Gryffindor! He's too noble and self-sacrificing to go after someone who's in a relationship."
While Malfoy vocally backtracked, Tom laid his own head down on the table. He didn't think he could stomach the sight of Harry and Ginny on a date at Hogsmeade without wanting to murder someone. Even the promise of free alcohol would not be able to deter him from that.
Harry was convinced that the whole concept of relationships were secretly from an alien planet. Ginny had asked him to go to Hogsmeade with her to make Michael Corner jealous, and he had agreed to it, but he didn't really understand how it was supposed to work. Would they follow Corner around all day? That sounded kind of stupid.
But Ginny was his friend, and so he would help her out. Hopefully she wouldn't expect them to go to Madam Puddifoot's or something. Harry had nightmares about that place.
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SEVERAL BAD DECISIONS LATER.
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After many free drinks, Tom had told his annoying friends to bugger off so he could write a very important letter. This letter was so important, in fact, that he had locked everyone out of the boys' dorm room so he could write it.
Determined to make his feelings known, Tom took out a fresh, blank thank-you card, uncapped his quill, and got to work.
[ Dear Mr. Evans-Potter,
Your son went to Hogsmeade with a girl today. It made me very upset. I saw him buy her a Chocolate Frog at Honeydukes but all I could think was how nice his face was. His face is very nice, like your face, but better. Thank you for existing so he could improve upon it.
P.S.: Harry is also very fit. I don't think I can thank you for that but I wanted to mention it.
Harry's,
Tomlemort ]
Perfect. Tom capped his quill and got to his feet. If he ran to the owlery fast enough, the letter would be in the hands of Harry's father before the day was out.
Just like last time, Tom would not remember doing any of this in the morning.
"This is terrible," Lily said as she read Tom Riddle's latest card over her husband's shoulder. "We have to do something about this!"
"We don't even know if Harry likes this boy," James said reasonably. "But I'll tell you what: I'll buy him a bottle of Firewhiskey and send it his way. Maybe all he needs is a bit of liquid courage! Imagine what he would do if we got him really plastered—"
"You're a scoundrel, James Potter. The last thing this boy needs is more alcohol!"
"It got him this far, didn't it? He's already got you wrapped around his little finger."
Lily's gaze turned mutinous. James paled.
"What I meant to say," James corrected, "is that he has your sympathy." He looked down at the card, then added, "I'd really like to know how he keeps his letters so neat and tidy when he's this sloshed, honestly. It's downright impressive."
The next morning at breakfast, an owl swooped into the Great Hall and delivered a small package wrapped in plain brown paper to the Slytherin table.
"Is that your family owl?" Ron asked, pointing.
Harry looked up. "Is it?" He squinted across the room. The owl was a tawny owl, yes, but there were plenty of those around, and at this distance, Harry couldn't tell if it was his parents' owl or not.
"If so, it's at the wrong table," Hermione said primly as she cut into her omelette.
The three of them watched as the owl circled once over the Slytherin table, then departed.
"Can't have been," Ron decided. "Why would they mail something to a Slytherin?"
Tom unwrapped his mystery package. Underneath the wrapping paper was a cardboard box filled with Chocolate Frogs. There was no note attached, but that didn't stop Tom's mind from jumping to conclusions.
"Who's sending you chocolates?" Malfoy asked curiously, leaning over to look.
Tom shut the box quickly and yanked it off the table. "None of your business."
On Monday morning, Tom placed a Chocolate Frog on the corner of his desk, where his textbook usually was, and waited.
When Harry came in, Tom said, "Good morning," and smiled.
"Morning," Harry responded. He paused as his gaze fell upon the table. "Late breakfast?"
What?
"What?" Tom asked, bewildered.
"The chocolate," Harry said. His cheeks coloured. "Nevermind." He sat down and started pulling things out of his bag.
Tom disliked feeling like he'd done something wrong. It was only ever Harry who made him feel this way. Tom knocked the chocolate back into his own bag and tried to pay attention to the lesson. If Harry was playing games with him, he wanted no part in it.
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SOME WEEKS LATER.
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Harry went home for the winter holidays. For some strange, unfathomable reason, his parents asked him a lot of questions about the Head Boy, Tom Riddle.
For Tom's eighteenth birthday, Draco and Pansy sent him a bottle of Odgen's finest.
[ Dear Mrs. and Mr. Evans-Potter,
I don't understand your son. He sent me chocolates but acts like it never happened. He says good morning to me but doesn't want to share a textbook. I don't think he is dating Ginny Weasley because I saw her snogging Michael Corner on the fifth floor but he's not dating me either so everything is sad.
Sorry, I forgot this was a thank you card.
Thank you for Harry.
Harry's,
Tom Lordemort Riddle ]
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START OF SPRING TERM.
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Harry was beginning to worry about his parents. His mum in particular was acting very odd. She kept telling him he needed to pay more attention in Arithmancy class. Harry had been a bit miffed about that for a moment, because hey, his grade in Arithmancy was decent, thank you very much, but Mum and Dad had been quick to reassure him that it wasn't about his grades at all.
Which begged the question: what was it about?
Dad had also asked him how Ginny was doing, and so Harry had reluctantly related the disastrous fake-date they'd taken together at Hogsmeade. He was never going to look at the colour pink the same way again.
"That's good," Dad had said once the story was over, which made no sense and left Harry more confused than he'd been to begin with.
Still, there was no harm in listening to what his mum had told him to do.
Right?
Monday morning. Arithmancy class. Tom entered the classroom to find that Harry was already seated and looking wide awake.
"Morning!" Harry said as Tom sat down cautiously next to him.
"Good morning," Tom said. "Did you have a good holiday?"
Harry smiled at him. "It was great! How about yours?"
"It was alright." Tom tapped his fingers on the desk, then admitted, "I spent it here at Hogwarts."
Harry looked at him for a moment, and Tom wondered if he was about to be pitied. He didn't think he could bear that coming from Harry.
"You know what," Harry said slowly, "I always wondered what it must be like to stay here over the holidays. The whole empty castle to yourself. Do you go exploring?"
The question caught Tom off guard. "Sometimes."
Harry nodded as if that made sense. "I think—"
Whatever it was that Harry thought, Tom did not get to find out, because Professor Vector cleared her throat at the front of the classroom, effectively cutting Harry off. Harry shot him an apologetic look and turned to face the chalkboard.
Tom found himself unable to listen to the lesson at all, distracted as he was by Harry's sudden change in behaviour. This was the first time they'd talked for more than a few sentences about something other than school work. It was nice. He hoped it would happen again.
"My mum keeps asking about Arithmancy," Harry complained, knocking his head against his bedpost and leaving it to rest there. "I don't understand! Why are parents so insane?"
"What even happens in Arithmancy?" Ron asked. "It's just maths, isn't it?"
Harry had taken Arithmancy because it was his mum's favourite class. He didn't particularly hate it or enjoy it, but he did fairly well. "Nothing happens in Arithmancy," he said. "Professor Vector lectures every class and says we don't have the time to go over homework questions. If we need help, we go to office hours."
"You have the class with Hermione," Ron pointed out. "Better than office hours."
"We have assigned seating, remember?" Harry said. "I'm sitting next to Tom Riddle." Alphabetically, Potter was closest to Riddle on the roster.
"Riddle," Ron repeated, face scrunched like he'd bitten into a lemon. "What a prick."
"He's not so bad," Harry said mildly. Tom always said good morning without fail, regardless of how late Harry staggered in.
"If you say so."
"When," Parkinson said, slamming her book down upon the table, "are you going to ask him out?"
"When the time is right," Tom said irritably.
"And when will that be?" she demanded. "When we've graduated? When you're on your deathbed?"
Tom had actually made lots of plans that revolved around him following Harry around for the rest of their natural lives, but this seemed like a bad time to bring that up. "Soon," he said evasively. "And even so, it's none of your business."
"They've been talking in Arithmancy," said Draco, who was a traitor that Tom was going to trip down the stairs at the next available opportunity.
"Only talking?" Pansy scoffed. "It's only taken, what, seven years for Potter to acknowledge that you exist? I'd hardly call that progress."
Tom glowered at her. After Malfoy died, she would be next.
[ Dear Parents,
I can't send these to Harry because he doesn't know I like him, but you can have them as a thank you for making him.
Tom ]
"I'm going to have to speak to Severus about the amount of alcohol these children are consuming," Lily said.
"They're adults, dear," James said as he placed Tom's bouquet of pink roses into a glass vase. "Let them figure it out on their own."
Lily sighed. "I hope Harry does like this sweet boy. It'll be so disappointing for him if it doesn't work out."
"They'll figure it out," James said again.
"Will they?" Lily retorted. "Have you forgotten what happened with Amos' son? Or with Cho Chang?" Harry didn't notice romance until it ran him over on a broomstick.
"Have more faith in Harry!" James protested. "I'm sure he must have realized by now. Even I'm not that thick."
"You're useless," Lily lamented with a sniff. "At this rate, poor Tom will die alone."
"You are far too invested in this," James declared. "Fine. I have an idea on what to do, but you have to hear me out before you start yelling at me."
"I already know I'm going to hate this idea, but let's hear it."
Harry read over the latest letter his parents had owled him. Then he read it over again. And again. And again, just to be sure.
"Still on about Arithmancy?" Ron said sympathetically.
"No," Harry said.
"Then what is it this time?"
Harry handed the note over. There was only one sentence written in his father's handwriting. Taped to the back of the card were five shiny gold galleons.
[ Please ask Tom Riddle out on a date.
Love,
Mum and Dad. ]
Tom was eating dinner in the Great Hall when Harry Potter came over to the Slytherin table. He seemed nervous as he stopped next to where Tom was sitting with Draco and Pansy. Did he want to ask something about Arithmancy? They'd been talking more in that class lately. Maybe Tom had left a piece of parchment behind? He didn't think he was missing anything, though.
"Tom?"
"Hello," Tom said brightly. Too brightly. Maybe he ought to tone it down. "Harry," he added in lower octave.
Harry gave him a funny look. "Er, right. So, um, I wanted to ask you something..." His eyes scanned the table of Slytherins, all of whom were listening in while also pretending not to.
There was a lengthy pause.
"Ask him what?" Parkinson said impatiently.
Harry coughed. "Did you—would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Tom couldn't breathe. Malfoy stomped on his foot under the table, and the sharp pain helped him refocus. "Yes," Tom said, "yes, I would like that."
"Great," Harry said, sounding relieved. "Great. Should I—should we meet here? Or, no, in the courtyard? Or somewhere else?"
"Anywhere," Tom said. "Anywhere is fine."
"Okay. So here?"
"Here."
"Okay." Harry shuffled his feet, then said, "Okay, I'll see you in Arithmancy?"
Tom nodded, unable to speak. Harry walked back to the Gryffindor table.
"That was painful," Parkinson said dryly. "But I'm proud of you, Tom. Should have known it would be Potter who finally grew the balls to make it happen."
Tom ignored her. He was delirious with joy and he was not going to tempt fate into ruining his sudden good fortune by being rude to Pansy.
Harry's date with Tom at Hogsmeade was great. Tom was a better date than Harry had expected him to be. They had lunch at the Hog's Head, where Harry insisted on paying with the money that his dad had given him. Tom had kicked up a fuss, but he conceded almost right away when Harry offered to let him pay for the next one.
Next, they went for a long walk around the village. Halfway through their walk, they started holding hands. Tom seemed alright with not talking a lot, which was fine by Harry, who didn't know what to say without embarrassing himself. It was comfortable and nice. Harry shared a little about his plans for after Hogwarts and listened to Tom talk about the NEWTs he was taking.
When the date was over, Tom walked him back to the Fat Lady's portrait and kissed his cheek in farewell. It was very gentlemanly and sweet.
"How was it?" Ron asked later that evening, when they finally had a moment to talk in the common room.
"It was really nice," Harry said happily, thinking of Tom's relaxed half-smile and the cute little curl of hair that fell over his forehead. "I think we're going to go out again next week."
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SEVERAL WEEKS LATER.
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[ Dear Harry's Parents,
Harry is the best boyfriend. He makes the best jokes and has the prettiest smile. I love how his eyes light up when he gets excited. I think he will make an excellent Hogwarts Professor, which is what he told me he wants to do when he is old enough.
I also learned from Harry that it was not him who sent the Chocolate Frogs. Thank you for the chocolates but I prefer having your son instead. His shoulders are also very good for resting on, but don't tell him I said that. His snogging is only okay but we are working on that as much as possible.
Love,
Tom Riddle
P.S: I remembered to put this at the end this time. Harry doesn't know I liked him since the start. Please don't tell him. Thank you.
P.P.S: Sorry for the bad card. I ran out of the nicer ones I took from Malfoy. ]
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END.
A/N:
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thank you (haha) for reading!