A whisper in his ear.

Breathless.

Lips caressing.

"Such a good boy..."

"Harry!"

His head snapped up; standing in the doorway of the compartment, Hermione beamed at him. Behind her, he caught flashes of red and dark brown. Ron and Tom were with her. She swooped down to give him a hug and any other time he would've let her but then flashes appeared before him; images of soft skin that was moistened with vanilla bean lotion and gaudy looking bright red long nails. He put his hands up to stop her, scooting away slightly, though it hardly offered much of a distance between them.

The smile vanished from her face, hurt by his rejection. He quickly felt the need to elaborate.

"I'm sorry. I'm just sore from all the work the Dursleys made me do."

She nodded with reluctance as she sat down across from him. Beside her, Ron had plopped down. "That's just Harry's way of telling you he doesn't want to break a rib," the red-head said with a grin. He was smacked on the shoulder for that remark.

"I don't hug that hard!"

"I don't know," Tom drawled, speaking for the first time. Harry's eyes diverted to his boyfriend. "I seem to recall my life being sucked out when you did it to me."

Ron laughed loudly. Hermione glared, her cheeks coloring to a faint pink. Harry was unsure whether that was from embarrassment or anger.

The Gryffindor barely refrained from gasping, his heart rate exploding when he felt a pair of lips press a kiss to his temple.

"Such a good boy," She whispered, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh on his ear. "I'll be sure to tell Petunia you behaved well today."

From where he was sitting didn't give Harry much room to move but he whirled around best as he could, eyes momentarily widening. He felt the eyes of his boyfriend and friends boring into him. Mouth suddenly dry, he fumbled to explain.

"What's wrong?" Tom demanded. His eyes roved over him, studying his face, looking for a reason.

"Nothing, you-" Harry licked his lips. "You were on my arm. It, er, really hurts after all the weeds I had to pull."

It wasn't a complete lie. Tom had leaned over, putting the majority of his body weight on Harry's left side, subsequently-his arm. The Slytherin frowned but otherwise pulled away.

"From weeds?" Ron sniggered. "Might want to start working out if weeds hurt your arm, mate."

Harry gave a faux smile. "Guess you're right."

Fingertips slithered up his arms. Every so often, he would feel a slight grip. Had he dared to look at her face, he would see a gleam of admiration. A greediness that would've made his skin crawl.

"Harry!"

Tom gently nudged him. Harry jerked. A faint hint of amusement clouded the Slytherin's face. "You were daydreaming, love. I daresay Hermione doesn't appreciate being ignored."

"No," She agreed pointedly.

"Sorry," Harry ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just-"

Ron's face was screwed up in a grimace. "Don't tell me it was about Tom."

Tom, with a faux haughty attitude, sniffed and tugged at his shirt collar. "And if it was? We all know Harry has great taste."

"Wouldn't be so sure," Ron muttered and then yelped when a stinging jinx came his way. "Ow!"

"Anyway," Hermione interjected, having had enough of what she perceived as nonsense. "I asked you if you were ready? Our O.W.L.s are this year you know."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron groaned with visible annoyance. "Don't think he forgot. You've been reminding us since last year."

"As she should," Tom said smoothly before Hermione could ire be heard. He had impeccable timing when it came to things like that. "After all, they're quite important. I would have assumed-" He raised a perfect eyebrow, "coming from a wizarding family, Ron, you would know that."

Ron started to go red. Contrary to what most saw, Tom did like Ron and regarded him as a friend. He simply enjoyed winding him up, which was fairly easy to do. "I know they're important, you bloody git!"

Tom paid him no mind. His long fingers threaded through Harry's unruly hair, unknowingly causing his breath to hitch and his mind to imagine long red fingernails. "I have no doubt Harry will be successful. He is rather gifted at defense. Of course, I doubt he'll match my results but that's hardly a slight against you, darling, you know that."

Red

Red fingernails.

Scratching.

Dragging.

"Right," Harry managed to say. His mind was cloudy, foggy. He barely heard his lover's teasing.

"I'm so nervous," Hermione was fretting, petting Crookshanks-who Harry didn't remember seeing until just now-roughly by the looks of it. The feline meowed in irritation which made her glance downward. "Oh, sorry, Crooks."

"You're going to fail if you keep doing that," Tom informed her. She looked nothing short of horrified at the thought. "You've got months to prepare. Don't fret and make sure you take breaks often."

"Pot calling the cauldron black," Harry muttered. Tom was a bloody nightmare around exam time. He'd practically live in the library, huddled at a table in the back corner where no one dared to interrupt. He'd sneak in endless amounts of tea, leaving dark rings on his papers. Quills scribbling, parchment papers crumbling, huffs of frustration. All for his boyfriend to do exceptionally well like always, his mood calming down to one of serene-or as close as it could be-leaving Harry to roll his eyes. "How about you take your own advice?"

Tom chuckled. "Then I wouldn't have achieved such high remarks. I can give advice not intended for myself."

Harry didn't dignify him with a response.

"Just don't make another first year cry this year," Ron advised, the grin cracking his straight face.

Tom wiped off an imaginary piece of dust from his clothes. "That wasn't intentional."

"Still," Hermione spoke up, her tone disapproving, "that was a horrible thing to do. She just asked if you could reach a book for her."

"I'll admit I may have overreacted a bit."

"A bit?" Harry stared at the Slytherin incredulously. "Tom..."

"Alright," Tom conceded, "so I did. But I also believe I've taught her a valuable lesson about bothering people."

Hermione gave him a dirty look.

Harry scoffed, stiffening when Tom wrapped his arm around the Gyrffindor's shoulders. "Come now, love," Tom snuggled close to him, "don't be like that. I've come to realize my behavior was unbecoming for a Prefect."

"Did you apologize?" Hermione inquired, though she already knew the answer.

Tom regarded her before repeating, "I understand what I did was wrong-"

Ron snorted.

Harry wiggled out of the embrace, moving Tom's arm off him and scooting as close he could into the corner. "You're warm," he said before the Slytherin could say anything.

"I'm warm?" Tom clearly didn't believe him.

"Yes."

"Well, then, Harry," Tom said like he was speaking to a small child, "why don't you take this-" He lifted up a portion of Harry's sleeve, "off?"

He was wearing a plaid shirt over a blue t-shirt. It covered some of the...remnants up.

"No," Harry said. "I don't want to carry it. It's fine."

Tom looked exasperated. "Your face is red."

"He's right, mate," Ron said. Hermione looked concerned.

"Why are you wearing that, anyway? It's blazing outside."

"I didn't have much else," Harry said, hoping that was enough to satisfy them. They all knew the Dursleys weren't eager with joy to rush out and buy him any needed clothes. Despite having money of his own, he hadn't the chance to change it over for muggle money.

"Blasted muggles," Tom hissed. "I ought to kill them."

"For not giving me clothes?" Harry rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

"For neglecting you!"

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said. "It isn't right. You can't be expected to live like that."

"Even Mrs. Cole ensures that we have enough clothes," Tom added. Harry could only shrug. What else was he to do? "You're getting new clothes for Christmas," he could hear his boyfriend muttering to himself.

"It's not much of a surprise if you tell me now," Harry pointed out.

"I'll obliviate you," Tom said even though Harry knew he never would.

Hermione gasped, scandalized. "You can't do that!"

Tom was only just kept from rolling his eyes.