tw this chapter for explicit sexual content, homophobia/slurs. if you're not here for smut, once the clothes come off you can scroll down to the next line break!

thank you to Dutch for the beta on this chapter 3

brief recap of the previous chapters:
harry went to the homecoming party, puked on bellatrix's shoes, left then realized he couldn't go home because of dudley, and has now decided to knock on tom's window.

Chapter 5: Full Steam Ahead

Rap. Rap. Rap.

Tom looked to the window in bewilderment. When he caught sight of Harry's face on the other side of his bedroom window, his bewildered expression melted into confusion, then realization, then... satisfaction? Harry clung to the window frame while Tom leapt up off the bed and cranked the window open the rest of the way to let him inside.

Harry crawled through the opening, ignoring Tom's half-hearted offer of assistance, and landed on both feet without too much of a wobble. His heart was going a mile a minute, slamming awkwardly against his ribcage. The warm air of Tom's room against his sweaty, flushed skin was not helping matters.

For a moment, they looked at each other, and then Harry said, injecting as much breathless confidence into the word as he could, "Hello."

Tom was smiling, his eyes shining with amusement. "Hello, Harry."

Harry waited for more, for Tom to say something else, but Tom seemed content to let them stew in this mildly uncomfortable silence and relish in Harry's embarrassment. Well, Harry wasn't here to be embarrassed. He was here for Tom.

"I left the party," Harry said, unsure where to begin.

"I can see that."

"I puked on Bellatrix's shoes," Harry said thoughtfully. Then, as he was reminded of the consequences of that particular action, he added, "She's going to murder me on Monday."

Tom's brows rose. "This sounds like a long story. Why don't you sit down?"

They sat down on the bed. Harry tried to pull together the proper timeline of the night's events in his head. So much had happened since he'd last seen Tom at the 7-11.

"You were right," Harry said finally. That was the point, wasn't it? Tom had tried to warn him and he hadn't listened. "I shouldn't have given in to her. Now everything's fucked. Neville probably hates me. I came here because I didn't have anywhere else to go and I—I just—"

Tom's hand landed atop Harry's own, successfully stalling his brain from producing any more words. "It's alright," Tom said. "I understand."

Harry was now feeling slightly hysterical. The casual physical contact was not helping. "You probably think I'm insane. Knocking on your window in the middle of the night. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His breath hitched in his throat. "I was just looking for—looking for—"

"For an escape?"

Harry couldn't explain. He couldn't vocalize the stupid, hopeless dream he'd had as a kid. The dream of having someone to—to just hold him and tell him everything would be okay. Someone to take care of him and protect him.

Reality was cruel. There were no saviours, no heroes. Harry had learned this lesson time and time again, that the only person he could rely on was himself.

He had every reason to be bitter about his lot in life, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to think that the world only held pain and misery. When warmth and kindness was offered to him, he wanted to accept it. To feel that he deserved it.

So Harry defied expectations. He did well in school so he could earn scholarship money, he made an effort to be cheerful when the world was dreary and cold.

If no one would help him, then he would help himself.

Harry's eyes drifted over Tom's face, over those dark eyes and that pale, flawless skin. Tom acted cold and unyielding, like he was made of marble. Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Tom had a bit of warmth tucked away somewhere deep inside.

Harry glanced down at where their hands were touching. "The world out there fucking sucks."

That got a stronger reaction. Tom scoffed and gave Harry's hand a condescending pat. "And this is only occurring to you now?"

"No," Harry admitted. "But that's not what my point is."

"Then by all means," Tom murmured, gesturing flatly with his free hand, "continue."

"The world sucks, but that doesn't have to be, y'know, the end of the world." Harry scrunched his face up, willing his sentences to sound more intelligent. "There can be good things. Little things. Reasons for the world to not suck."

Frustrated at his inability to articulate his thoughts, Harry ran a hand through his hair, no doubt ruining the remnants of hair gel that Narcissa had forced upon him. "Maybe everyone else is awful," he said, "but I'm not. And you're not. That's something, isn't it? It's a good thing."

"Maybe so," Tom conceded. "But that doesn't change the fact that we live in this world, Harry. We have to live knowing these remorseless cretins are allowed to walk the earth, uninhibited. Where's the value in any of this? In trying to conform? Nothing matters. So long as people like the Black sisters exist, the world will never be good."

Harry didn't agree. "You act like you don't care, but you do. You do care, or else you wouldn't have tried to warn me." He shuffled so that his knees were touching Tom's thigh, so that he could grab Tom's other hand and hold it tight. "The rest of the world doesn't have to be good, Tom. Leave that world outside. When I'm here, when I'm here with you, this world can be good."

Tom stared as if he was seeing Harry for the first time, as if some strange, distant puzzle piece had at last fallen into place. Slowly, Harry raised a hand and pressed it to Tom's cheek. Tom's skin was cool beneath his palm. Harry could imagine that his touch was melting Tom's stony exterior, revealing the true emotions that lay underneath.

The gentle touch seemed to spark Tom into action—his hand settled on Harry's wrist, fingers wrapping gently around the bone. For half a second, Harry was worried Tom would pull his hand away. He worried that he'd misread Tom's intentions somehow, that maybe Tom wasn't gay and he'd just gone and fucked everything up for the second time tonight.

Tom didn't move. It was as though Harry's confession had taken him entirely by surprise and he was unable to react. Maybe... maybe Harry just had to be bolder.

Harry shuffled even closer, bracing a hand on Tom's knee. "I really like you," he repeated. "I really—" Harry could feel his face going red. "I—" God. This was going nowhere. This was not going to work.

Determined for something to go right, Harry adjusted his hand on Tom's face and leant in, trying to telegraph his intentions as best he could. His nose skimmed along Tom's cheek before their lips made contact.

Harry's lips were clumsy and slightly chapped, inexperienced with the act of kissing, but Tom's were warm and smooth. Someone gasped, Harry couldn't tell who, and then Tom's hand slid to grasp the back of his neck, pulling Harry closer.

They kissed for what felt like several minutes before Harry got the hang of it, how to avoid accidentally banging their teeth together, how to breathe when his head was spinning and spinning with a hazy sort of delight.

When they broke apart, Tom's face was flushed pink, his eyes so dark they looked nearly black, and Harry wanted to go further. He wanted to do more.

Before he could change his mind, he took Tom by the shoulders and pushed him down on the bed. Tom landed on the pillows with a soft thump as Harry bent his head to kiss Tom for the second time.

After some heavy snogging, Harry was panting hard and Tom had his hands up Harry's shirt like his life depended on it. Maybe the shirt would come off soon? Harry wanted to see Tom without a shirt.

Tom pulled back to nip at Harry's jaw in a playful way that Harry decided was definitely kind of hot. Slowly, Tom trailed kisses along the side of Harry's face, stopping only to nibble lightly at his earlobe.

"How far are we going tonight?" Tom breathed, his hands sliding to Harry's hips, thumbs hooking into the belt loops.

How far? Harry had no prepared answer for that. Not in a million years had he thought they would end up here, like this. That he'd ever meet someone who would look at him the way Tom was looking at him.

Come Monday morning, Harry was going to be a social outcast, but tonight was not Monday morning. Tonight belonged to him and Tom.

"We're going all the way," Harry said firmly, and sat up so he could take off his shirt.

"That works for me." Tom pulled his own shirt off and set to work on Harry's belt.

Soon enough they were kissing again, only Tom's hands were roaming over his arse, which felt nice, and their clothed erections were pressed together in such a way that made Harry's legs go weak.

Harry hadn't experimented too much with sex aside from the occasional fist-in-mouth wank in his bedroom, but now that he was close to having the real thing, he felt he understood why so many of his classmates chose to sneak out at night to see their partners.

Every time the hard bulge of Tom's cock rubbed against his own, Harry saw stars. Tom kissed at his neck, sucking and licking until Harry was squirming, grinding down in an attempt to get himself off.

"Not yet," Tom said, practically purring as he worked Harry's briefs off, shoving them down, down, down. Harry shuffled, reaching to work them over his ankles and toss them away. It was awkward, but by the time it was done and he was balanced on the bed, Tom was also naked, and suddenly that was all that mattered to him.

"Have you—" Harry started, then stopped. What he wanted to ask was if Tom had done this before, but he was embarrassed to admit his own lack of experience.

"Come here." Tom beckoned with a hand, and Harry could only obey, crawling forward until he was straddling Tom's hips once more.

Tom bent in to kiss him, tongue sliding into Harry's mouth with ease. It was warm and wet and not uncomfortable. Harry braced a hand on Tom's chest and adjusted his hips. It was like an electric shock whenever their cocks bumped together. Harry gasped each time, but Tom swallowed the noises up like he was greedy for it, leaving Harry dizzy and wanting.

"Hold on," Tom muttered, stretching over to his bedside table and opening the top drawer. What he pulled out of it was a brand-new bottle of lube.

Harry felt his breath catch. They were really going to do this. They were going to have sex.

"Do you want to be on top?" Tom asked casually, swooping over to pepper Harry's shoulder with kisses. "I don't mind."

Harry's brain was fuzzy. "I want you to touch me," he admitted.

Tom grinned. "That, I can do." He placed one final kiss on Harry's collarbone, then put his left hand on Harry's hip, tugging until Harry got the hint and scooted up.

Harry was almost painfully hard, the tip of his cock weeping precum. As Tom's erection brushed against his, Harry stifled a soft noise of anticipation.

"I've got you," Tom promised, popping the lid off his lube and pouring a generous amount into his hand. "A little closer," he instructed. "A little more—"

Harry whimpered. Their lengths were next to each other, hot and heavy. It felt like his heart was going to burst in his chest.

"That's it," Tom breathed, then wrapped his large hand around them both, smearing lube all over, and gave their cocks a firm stroke.

This time, Harry did moan, dropping his face into Tom's shoulder as Tom worked his hand up and down, jerking them off together. Slowly at first, then harder and faster, each rough tug sending a sharp jolt of pleasure up Harry's spine.

All too soon, Tom stopped. Harry was flushed and panting, sweat beaded along his hairline. He'd been so close to coming that his arms were shaking.

Tom's hands smoothed over his arse, kneading and spreading the cheeks. "I'll try to be quick," Tom said roughly. "But you need to relax."

"Okay," Harry whispered. He pressed his face into Tom's neck, breathing deeply. Tom smelled nice, like musk and spearmint and something similar to old paperback novels.

Gently, Tom's finger teased at the pucker of Harry's arse. His hand was wet, but not overly so. Harry heard the sound of the lube bottle again; when the finger returned, it was coated with the stuff. With some fumbling, the fingertip slid in. It felt funny, like it wasn't supposed to be there. Which, Harry thought distractedly, it wasn't.

"Try not to move," Tom muttered. "It's easier."

Harry tried to hold still. Tom worked his finger in and out, loosening Harry's entrance, then added a second finger. It was a tight fit that burned slightly. Harry kept quiet, though, and focused on the deep, heavy sound of Tom's breathing to relax himself.

After a few moments of spreading two fingers back and forth, Tom grunted and added more lubricant. "Rock yourself on me if it helps," Tom said. "You have to be into it."

Harry shifted his hips, pleasure pooling in his gut as he rubbed their pricks together. Tom slid his fingers back in and started to thrust them back and forth with more vigour. The fingers felt better this time.

"Okay," Tom muttered after a while. "Okay." He placed a steady hand on Harry's shoulder, nudging him up.

Harry sat up and eyed Tom's erection. He knew what he was supposed to do, but he was having a hard time figuring out the correct way to do it. Luckily for him, Tom seemed to be content with taking the lead on things.

Tom shuffled them around until Harry was in the right position, then reached between them with his left hand, slicking his cock up once more.

"Just lower yourself on me," Tom said, sounding breathless. His other hand was curled over Harry's hipbone. "Slow as you need to. I'll help you."

Harry could do that. He could do that. Carefully, he sank down. The blunt head of Tom's cock pressed against his hole, pressing and pressing until it popped in. There was a burning sensation, but it wasn't too bad, it wasn't the worst thing, so Harry kept going. Surely once it was all the way in, it would feel good?

Tom was swearing under his breath, his clammy grip on Harry's hip tensing the further down Harry went. "Shit, shit, slow down," Tom said suddenly. "Slow down."

It felt like hell to stop, but Harry did. His thighs burned with the effort of holding himself still. Tom's hands slid to grip his arse, supporting the weight, relieving the pressure a little.

"Fuck," Tom muttered. "Fuck, Harry." His hips twitched, bucking slightly. Harry groaned as the last inch or so slid in, and that was when his restraint gave out and he dropped the rest of his weight down, his arse pressing flush against Tom thighs. The burn was there, but it was okay. Harry rocked experimentally and felt his arse clench in response to the stimulation.

"Harry," groaned Tom, "Harry."

Harry glanced up. Tom's eyes were half-lidded in the dark, his lips slick with saliva from their snogging. He surged up to capture Harry's mouth in a kiss. The sudden motion did odd things to where they were connected; Harry moaned as Tom's cock shifted inside him.

Tom tugged him back down, his warm hands running down Harry's back before they settled on his hips, gripping tightly. Then they started to move, Tom thrusting upwards with rough, jerky motions. Their kiss turned sloppy as they jostled the bed frame. Harry felt warm all over; the fullness buried inside him made his own cock throb with need.

They lay together on the bed, Tom pushing in and out, Harry panting and squirming each time Tom brushed a particularly sensitive spot inside him. Not longer after, Tom came with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering as Harry felt wetness spill into his arse.

Tom's cock slipped out, leaving Harry's arse cool and damp. Harry was still hard, further aroused by the sight of Tom's orgasm, but there was also a tightness in his chest, pride in knowing that he'd made Tom fall apart.

Harry lay down, resting his head on Tom's chest while Tom panted for breath. He was sure they were done, that Tom was too tired for more, but he was proven wrong after a few minutes went by and Tom sat up, flipping them over so that Harry was now the one pinned to the bed. It seemed Tom had taken the time to catch his breath and was now determined to keep going.

"Your turn," Tom said, his voice deeper than normal. He took Harry's length in hand and started pumping.

Harry whined at the sudden burst of pleasure, his back arching off the bed. Tom bore down on him, mouthing at Harry's neck, sucking marks into the skin. It was a lot at once. Harry didn't last long, spilling himself onto Tom's hand after a few more strokes, his entire body alive and burning with what felt like fever.

As Harry shuddered through the aftermath of his orgasm, Tom nuzzled his cheek, kissing his temple, then flopped onto the bed, leaving Harry to stare at the ceiling. Harry was tired. It had been a long day to begin with, and the sex had zapped him of his remaining energy.

Some minutes later, Tom got up from the bed and walked off. A light went on outside the room. Probably the bathroom, Harry thought. When Tom came back, he ran a damp cloth over Harry's arse and cock, wiping away the mess, then tossed the cloth into the wastebin. That was odd, but Harry wasn't aware enough of his surroundings to comment on it properly.

Tom crawled back under the covers, arms outstretched, and tugged Harry towards him like a teddy bear. Harry was too tired to move, but he was happy Tom wanted to hold him. Tom rotated them both until they were lying back to front, with Tom as the big spoon, his arm wrapped tightly around Harry's waist.

"Good night," Tom mumbled against Harry's messy hair.

Harry would have said good night back, but he was already asleep.

Lights flickered overhead as Harry wandered down the empty hallway, feet dragging on the floor. All the classrooms were deserted and there was an odd smoky fog drifting in from the front of the school. Where was everyone? Where was Tom?

Somehow, Harry knew that Tom was not nearby, but that didn't stop him from searching anyway. As he stepped into the fog, he was struck by the idea that Tom must be in the cafeteria. The cafeteria was where Harry had first seen him, so that was where Tom would be.

The longer Harry walked, the worse the fog got, but eventually he found the large double doors of the cafeteria and shoved them open. When he passed through the threshold, however, he knew something was very wrong.

The fog was thick and grey, blocking most of the tables and chairs from view, but there were clear silhouettes of people standing in a loose circle around the cafeteria opening.

One of the silhouettes drew closer, solidifying into the frightening form of Bellatrix Black.

Bellatrix's heeled boots tapped loudly on the floor as she approached him. "Hello fag," she said cheerfully. "Did you have a nice night?"

How did she know? "How did you know that?" Harry asked, willing his voice to sound strong. The shadows on the edge of his vision loomed closer as Harry's hands balled into angry fists at his sides.

Bellatrix laughed. It was a shrill sound that echoed painfully in the large space of the cafeteria, playing over and over until it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

"Oh, Harry," she crooned, clucking her tongue like she had disappointed him. "I'm like oxygen! I'm everywhere."

Harry turned and bolted for the doors. Suddenly, there were chains holding the push bars together. Harry shook them desperately, hoping they would break somehow. He was too aware of the surrounding silhouettes that were closing in on him.

"Really, Harrikins," Bellatrix continued in a non-nonchalant voice that dripped honey, "sleeping with psycho trench coat kid? You're done for. Everyone is going to know that you're a good-for-nothing freak who likes it up the ass."

In the background, a chorus of sickening laughter followed her delightful proclamation.

Harry spun around, his back pressed against the hard surface of the cafeteria doors. She was right. He was done for. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They would come for him, and when they did—

"Why are you so determined to ruin my life?" Harry demanded, feeling close to tears. "What did I ever do to you?"

Bellatrix strode forward and seized him by the neck, shoving his head back and leaning in until their chests were inches apart. Her nails dug sharply into his skin, applying pressure that felt like it ought to be burning. Her ruby-red lips stretched into a menacing smile.

"Oh, sweetie," she said softly, squeezing down on Harry's windpipe with her bare hand. "I do it because I can."

The shadows surrounding them swarmed in, surging forward, their clawed hands reaching up to tear him to pieces. Harry thrashed wildly, but Bellatrix's grip was like iron; he couldn't escape it.

An ice-cold hand gripped his ankle, tugging downwards, and Harry screamed. He screamed and screamed until the dream world jerked out of focus, replaced by Tom's concerned face hovering over him.

"T-Tom?" Harry's teeth were rattling in his skull. He could feel the phantom pressure of Bellatrix's hand around his neck. Everything was blurry and off-kilter, like he was underwater. "Tom," he repeated, panicked, clutching at Tom's shoulders. "It was a dream?"

Tom's hand smoothed over his forehead. "A nightmare. Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Harry sucked in a shaky breath. "Just a nightmare."

Tom shifted, tucking Harry's head under his chin and wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. It was nice. It felt grounding. Harry closed his eyes and let Tom rub his back while he got his breathing under control.

"Better?" Tom asked in a low voice.

Harry nodded once, then opened his eyes. "I have to go," he said reluctantly.

"Go?" Tom's grip tightened. "You don't have to go just yet. You can stay."

"No," Harry said, stumbling over the word, "I have to go—" He struggled out of Tom's embrace and nearly fell out of the bed. His clothes were all over the floor, but where were his shoes?

"Where are you going?" Tom asked. The question was... flat. Devoid of emotion.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to Bellatrix's house." There was a shoe under the bed. Harry bent to retrieve it and winced as his sore muscles protested.

"I thought you were done with her. Or was that a lie?"

"I—" Harry straightened up, shoe in hand. "It was stupid. I was stupid. She's going to come after us, Tom. I can't let that happen. I'm going to go apologize, beg for forgiveness, I don't know. I'll do whatever she wants. It's only until the end of senior year."

Tom's gaze darkened. "You'll do no such thing." He slid out of the bed and grabbed the sneaker out of Harry's hand, tossing it away. "You're not going anywhere near her."

"Hey," Harry protested. "Stop that!"

Tom seized Harry by the elbows, drawing him close, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You don't need her to keep you safe, Harry. You have me."

Harry did feel safe with Tom, but that wasn't the point. "I'm going to fix this," he said firmly. "I don't want you getting into fights because of me."

Tom eyed him curiously. "I see you're not going to change your mind about this."

"I'm not." Harry ran his hands over Tom's arms, then rocked onto his tiptoes to give Tom a kiss. "Everything will be okay, I promise. Don't worry."

Tom sighed, tipping his head forward until their foreheads met. "Then I'm coming with you."

"What? Really?" Harry blinked. "You want to do that?"

"Of course I do." Tom smiled, pulling away. He picked up Harry's shoe and handed it over. "Moral support, let's call it."

Harry took his shoe back. He was still wary. "Okay. Only if you want to."

"I do," Tom promised.

They both got dressed. Once they were done, Tom kissed him again until they were both breathless. Harry was equal parts terrified and giddy. He was terrified of what Bellatrix would do to him, but he was also full of giddy affection for Tom.

"My father is away on business," Tom said as they left the room, "so we should be safe to leave."

Harry reached for Tom's hand and was gratified when Tom laced their fingers together. "Thank you for coming with me. I don't think I said that yet."

Tom's answering smile warmed Harry from head to toe. "We're together now, aren't we? Your battles are my battles."

Harry smiled back. Tom resumed leading them down the stairs and towards the front door. There was one more thing Harry wanted to say before they went to Bellatrix's house, but he wasn't sure how to go about it.

He finally summoned the courage to speak up while Tom was in the midst of locking the house up. "Um, Tom?"

Tom paused, key halfway pressed into the lock, to look at him. "Hmm?"

"You're my first," Harry blurted out. It was important to him that Tom knew this, that what they had was special.

"First..." Tom trailed off, then said, "Boyfriend?"

Harry's face coloured. "First, um, everything."

Tom took his time in turning the key and putting it away while Harry waited nervously for a reaction. Then Tom joined their hands back up and gave Harry's a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's go," Tom said kindly. "The sooner we're done, the sooner we can come back."

Harry felt relieved. "Yes, okay," he said, nodding rapidly. "Let's go."

They dropped hands as they stepped out onto the street, but as they walked, Tom's hand occasionally bumped against his, and Harry thought that even if they couldn't hold hands in public, the knowledge that Tom wanted them to was more than good enough for him.

A/N:

if you know what happens next, then you know. if you don't, it'll be a fun surprise haha