Title: All Things Come Around
Author: S. Hart
Warnings: SLASH! Yup, male on male. Cursing, references to violence, maybe even violence. You know, all that stuff.
Rating: PG-13
Why? There's Tom Riddle, some gay love, cursing, a bunch of Slytherins being Slytherin. Are ya with me?
Disclaimer: Aah, it's not mine, it belongs to the mind of the great J.K Rowling who should be yelled at for killing Sirius Black. Well, Tommy isn't, Hogwarts ain't, future references aren't for the most part. Um... yeah. Wiley is mine, and so are the names that are just floating around. All mine!
Author's Note: This is pretty much a quick introduction to Wiley and the relationship he shares with our beloved Dark Lord. There will be flashbacks in bold italics so when you seem them, they are flashbacks! They will be the memories of when they met. Or if I say in the beginning of the chapter in my little note. This is a flashback It is what it says it is. Now have fun, litte kiddies.
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Chapter 1
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It's 1945, the world is at war with Germany going at the second world war. Then again this was the muggle world, and the wizarding world didn't really care much about muggles at this point. Muggles are the non-wizard folk if you caught that much. Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the rule of Professor Dippet, was in fact ignoring this war started by muggles at a great level of ignorance. In fact, a particular Slytherin fifth year was not following this great ignorance and writing many questionable thoughts down in his journal; a journal no eye would see until much later.
"Aah, yes," was the calm, husky murmur of the young man. His raven feather quill was in the reach of the grasp of white ivories. Sly chuckles rolled off his tongue with such elegant ease, it made him laugh a bit harder, but he was calmed in a short while. He was sitting at the side of four-poster bed wearing the mandatory uniform issued by the school: gray pants, white oxford shirt, tie of the house colours (green and silver in his case), and the long sleeved gray sweater. Also, plain black working robes were worn during the school hours, this in fact was not school hours or he would not be sitting about idly and writing. He would have been in class, he was never one to break the rules of skipping class. His light brown hair had fallen into hazel eyes with a rim of darker brown on the edge, these eyes were plastered onto the opened writing book on his lap. He was of fifteen years, and this was his fifth year being taught the skill of wizardry. He was Wiley Rider, a Slytherin fifth year was the knack of getting into trouble with his simple writing.
No, simple is the wrong word for his work. His work was not simple. His work was difficult, not to write but to understand. Not for you to understand the words, but to understand the man behind the words. People just don't get Wiley when they read the words he writes. He's grown accustomed to it, and he's figured out not to share the works with those that don't appreciate them: the professors. Light eyes darted over to where his text books lay unwanted for the moment, mind forced a hand to pick the top one up and open it. A low groan was produced from vocal chords, and he eyed the page he had to read then answer questions about. "Tom?" his chin lifted, and head turned before he spoke, with eyes shifting over to an older young man in his last year at the magic academy. This young man was of age seventeen, had short cropped black hair that was neatly groomed, and had these dark teal eyes with flecks of gray, sometimes there could be some crimson in them. Wiley figured he was the only one that noticed.
Tom was deep within a book by the time his name came to him. Single brow rose to a perfect arch, while eyes were yanked from the pages he read onto the boy calling for him. He was perched up on top the bed Wiley leaned against. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, and his torso was twisted just a tad so he supported himself with one elbow. His body favored Wiley's side of the bed. "Yes?" he retorted with his cool, silky voice he was best known for. It carried a cold way about it that if produced correctly could permit shivers to run up your spine. This time it was not permitted, not produced in this way. It was given a soft tone to it, one that he used only with this young man leaning at the side of his bed and probably requesting help on the homework he recieved three years back, or maybe it was two? It didn't matter, all that did was that he already correctly answered the questions Wiley had yet to answer, so therefore it was only pratical that Wiley request Tom's help. Would Tom allow? He should see, he should see.
Wiley's gaze had drifted back down to the book, a glazed expression crossed them, and in a soft whisper he spoke again, "I don't like Herbology, Tom." It was a quiet complaint, though not whine. He never whined. Well, never in the sense that it was about disliking to do assigned work. Whining was only essential with one thing and at certain ages. Parents were the one thing, and the age didn't really matter, though it was the timing of the whining. Yes, Wiley had figured this all out during one summer. He gets to be quite bored during the summer holidays. Oh, such an unfortunate child to be bored during the summer break! He did love the summer, but it got tiresome and he figured out things that truly were only meant to be figured out by those in ane extreme level of boredness.
A tiny smirk graced the handsome features of Hogwarts' Head Boy, "And what am I suppose to do about that?" It wasn't like he wasn't going to help the younger boy that seemly befriended this hard-to-get man with such ease. He enjoyed the boy's odd sense of humour, cunning responses, witty works, and well of course what he was so famous for at Hogwarts his ability to get into trouble with a simple opinion that wasn't very simple.
The skinny younger man on the ground just gave a helpless shrug. He didn't know. Shoving the books off his lap, he got up looking at Tom, "Take out Herbology with your great magic skills." This comment produced a few hearty, cold sounding chuckles from the older one. It also brought the older one into a sitting postion, though legs still were to the side and arm propped his weight up. Tiny grin flashing on Wiley's face, an idea coming into his head. He stepped up onto the bed, kneeling on it next to Tom with his dress shod feet dangling over the edge. The homework was long forgotten in the mind with only two tracks, the grin still held out... grins never really did on this one.
And the book was long forgotten by Tom, it rested beside him on the other side with it's bookmark in place. When the grin came to Wiley's face, he had realized what was being thought or so he guessed rather close and it wasn't to do with Herbology or any of the homework left undone on the floor to the side of his bed. Wiley was inching closer to him, a sparkle was caught in the eyes of the fifth year. "They should be coming in at any moment," was Tom's warning of the rest of his dormmates. They had been off at a Quidditch match on this Friday evening. Quidditch never fancied either of the two boys, that being the reason why they decided to stay put and not have school spirit, or root for their house's team which was playing Ravenclaw.
Groaning, Wiley stopped his futile attempts at advancing on the boy before him. He sat on his feet in a kneeling position. "So?" he inquired, his head tilted to the side. No one would intially do this especially toward a young man with such strong hatreds, though Wiley did... he jutted out his bottom lip and pouted.
"You're acting like a four year old!"
"So!"
Tom glared at the fifth year boy, but there were only a few minutes left before the other seventh years would barge into the room and start talking with such ehusiasm about the Quidditch game. He moved in, closing the space between them, letting his lips brush against the younger boy's for a brief second, with a satisfied tease, he pushed the boy away, "Scram!"
Wiley was ever so pleased and did just that. Eventually he would get more, he knew it.
A/N: Beautiful, ain't it? Good! Anyway, next chapter will be a flashback probably or mostly of one. You need to know the background.