XVI
…
The wards guarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were strong and complex if anyone ever stopped to consider them. The magnitude of protective wards that could cover the entire castle was such that they could only be sustained by old magic emitted from within the structure itself, and could only be guided and directed by a wizard of substantial experience. But they were complex in that they were fitted to the auras of every single member of the staff and student body. They could even be adjusted to accommodate visitors to the school. After all, how else would the inhabitants be protected from the invasion of unknown threats? The only exceptions seem to be animagi or magical creatures, which posed a rare threat in that animagi were registered with the Ministry of Magic.
The wards weren't perfect, but they were undeniably strong.
The wards were strong enough, in fact, that Harry could feel their refusal of him the moment he entered the gates and set foot on the grounds. He paused, not having expected the raw discomfort of approaching unfriendly wards. Why did he feel them now? In the six years he'd managed at Hogwarts, he never had to give wards a conscious thought.
Now fighting panic, he continued on towards the front steps until he could feel the actual perimeter of the wards a few yards in front of him. He didn't have to try crossing them to know it wouldn't be pleasant.
It was dark, and the wind was biting, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was noticed dithering around in front of the school's front steps. There was really nothing else for him to do but wait. Wards weren't something you could really sneak through.
While he knew it was only a matter of time, that still didn't calm his nerves at the sight of the headmaster and Snape at the top of the front steps. He tried not to look guilty or afraid, and just waited as the headmaster calmly descended the steps. The elderly wizard stopped just behind the wards which Harry knew was his intention. He motioned for Harry to come forward a few more steps and then held out his hand in a halting gesture. Severus watched them from the top of the steps, wand in hand but not aimed.
"Why did you not tell me, Harry?" The headmaster's tone was even and disciplinary.
He thought to ask what it was Dumbledore was referring to, but the under-the-brow glare forced him to reconsider.
"I...I couldn't, sir," he answered, still not completely sure how much the headmaster knew. Usually it was safe to assume he knew everything, but this was by far a more complex situation than his past infractions.
The headmaster nodded as if it were nothing he hadn't already known.
'I'll need you to remain still for a moment," he claimed, taking two steps forward and leaving the protection of the wards. Harry took an unconscious step back, halting the headmaster's advance. He spoke calmly as one might address a hysterical person. "I need only to scan your body for traces of dark influence. Understandably so, yes?"
It made sense. He'd just come back from seeing Lord Voldemort, whether the headmaster knew that exactly or not. He eyed Snape quickly, noting that while he hadn't moved from his position, he still held his wand deceptively at his side. Harry took a cautioned step forward forcing himself to breathe calmly.
The headmaster raised his wand and a muttered a spell that wrapped its way around his body, lingered, and then dissipated.
"There, not so painful, hm?" He turned back towards the school. "Come, the wards will mind you now. We will talk in my office." He followed the older wizard into the school aware of Snape's presence behind him.
o-
Lucius Malfoy was dead by midnight. That is, Riddle had finally taken it upon himself to lift the sustaining spells on Lucius' person and blast him into oblivion. He was in no true living condition, seeing as how he hadn't eaten or drank in at least a week. His son, lying wretched in the corner of his cell was unconscious, in a similar state of malnourishment.
As many times as he'd done so in the past, Riddle liked to imagine that he wasn't one to act out in anger. Instead, he imagined he was at all times collected and rational - except maybe just a few moments ago.
Malfoy's death was by no means an idea sprung of spontaneous malicious intent. He'd headed down to the cellar some time after Harry's departure with the intent of killing Malfoy, both junior and senior. After all, it had to be done and with his mind befuddled and a rare headache beginning, a nice fulfilling death might be what he needed to put him into perspective. But upon finding that Malfoy no longer had the Mark, and that he for some reason was unable to contact his followers on any level, the confused and angry tension within him swelled.
And so Lucius was no more.
However, the deed was far less satisfying than he'd anticipated. He wasn't entirely sure why he ever thought killing a starved and near-dead Lucius would be fulfilling, but it only left a bitter taste on his tongue. He thought it might be from the idea of taking his anger at the missing Mark out on the man, but of course Malfoy was going to die regardless. Draco, however, he considered for a long moment. Given the ill results of killing Lucius, there was little point in ending the life of another starved and near-dead Malfoy that may or may not have had a thing to do with Lucius' betrayal.
"Sanocorpus regera"
Color and form instantly returned to Draco's body.
He decided he was going to release the boy. He wasn't quite sure where this capacity for mercy was coming from but he wasn't much in the mood to dwell on it. Unlocking the cell, he activated a levitation charm and moved the boy outside the manor where he sent him back to the Malfoy estate.
It was freezing out, and the moon highlighted his smoky breath in the air. Deciding the numbing sensation of biting winds was a good thing, he lingered outside. His hands trembled and twitched minutely; it had never actually stopped since he'd woken on the floor in his hallway some hours ago. In a way it reminded him of how little control he now had over the situation, if he ever had any. Somehow he got the feeling his control had been an illusion, one that could be cleared away at anytime by some unseen force. After all, with the Mark gone and his connection to it, he had no immediate way of contacting his Death Eaters. And yet, what would he tell them if he could? That he was working WITH The-Boy-Who-Lived as opposed to against him and everything he stood for.
"TOM!"
The scream startled him so severely he made some sound of surprise that he was at once glad there was no one around to hear.
"Merlin, what is it boy?"
"Help me! Five Aurors, not a lot of time."
"Where are you? Hogwarts?"
"The Forbidden Forest. Hurry!"
Had he stopped to realize it, Riddle might have noted that he didn't even hesitate or consider Harry's call to be some kind of trap. His own Death Eaters wouldn't have gotten his help that quickly. He disapparated and reappeared somewhere in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, wary of what may have been waiting for him when he got there, He could hear sounds of running - several sets of footsteps. Then he felt Harry's power, drumming and heightened in his state of anxiety. It was a matter of minutes before he nearly ran into him.
"Geeze, what took you so long?"
"What's going on?"
"I'll explain later. But they're tracking the dark magic on my body."
"But there is no…"
Harry turned so that Riddle might see the garnet jewel sparkling in his ear. He'd actually forgotten about it.
"I can't remove it. You have to, quickly."
There were shouts and the footsteps turned to their direction. Riddle ignored them and cupped Harry's ear in his palm. With a whispered charm the stud vanished. Without removing his hand, he apparated them back to the manor.
o-
"I guess he knew about it all along," Harry concluded after explaining the events of the previous hours. Riddle nodded, not at all surprised. It was only a matter of time before the ancient wizard discovered Harry's visits and took an interest. It was clever to track the presence of dark magic on Harry's person, though the wards on the manor prevented any sort of tracking spell from ascertaining its location.
Riddle summoned himself a glass of brandy, and after giving the frayed young man a considering glance he summoned one for him as well. While the trembling of his own hands had gone down to a mere unsteadiness, he could see Harry was still shaken by minute tremors. The surprise of being met by Aurors at his school was likely still fresh, as was his escape into the Forbidden Forest.
Harry took a small sip from the glass, acquainting himself with the taste of real alcohol. It was heavy and sweet on his tongue, and it distracted him long enough for Riddle to light the hearth and take a seat near it. Harry stared down into his glass for long moments before downing the rest of its contents in one shuddering gulp. Riddle was suddenly glad to have only given him a small amount. He wasn't so sure getting the boy drunk would help figure out their situation, and when Harry wordlessly held out his glass for more, Riddle waved a hand, causing it to disappear. At the younger wizard's distraught expression he beckoned him over, and then guided him down onto his lap.
"Alcohol is not what you need," he claimed, slipping his fingers into the boy's hair. The effect for both of them was immediate; Harry's body melted into it, and finally, the trembling ceased.
And Harry could agree, maybe alcohol wasn't what he needed.
"I can't go back there. They think I've…"
"Given yourself over to the Dark Lord? Well," he began leaning back, "I can't imagine why they should think so,
He let out a snort of sorts before falling silent. Riddle had established a thoughtful and relaxing petting rhythm when Harry suddenly asked, "Why do you trust me?" Into the silence that followed he continued, "Not even the headmaster is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt anymore."
He could feel Harry's uncertainty as if it were something tangible. It was a good question considering his own followers had tried to destroy him. Just as he'd gone to Harry's rescue without giving it a thought, it wasn't really something he could explain.
"I highly doubt at this point you can find a reason to return to wasting your time at that school while your true potential goes unfettered. Besides," he continued in Parseltongue, "we're too alike…who will understand you?"
He nodded his agreement and settled back to let Riddle's hand work its magic. When he fought to escape the Aurors and ended up tearing through the forest all he could think of was getting back to Tom. And while some part of him worried for a moment that Tom would abandon him as well in his moment of need, he had to try.
Harry rested his head against Riddle's shoulder, allowing his breath to wash over the older wizard's neck.
"Aren't you going to ask why I trust you?" Harry asked at length. "You are Lord Voldemort."
Riddle sighed, trying to ignore the way Harry's lips brushed against his neck when he spoke. "Honestly Harry, I don't believe you've seen me as 'Lord Voldemort' since you returned to me."
Actually, Harry thought, he'd been Tom Riddle instead of Voldemort since Harry had first seen his restored features months ago. Riddle continued.
"Besides, that is a role I am no longer able to play."
"Why not?"
After a bank of silence he answered, "Who is Lord Voldemort without his followers?"
"What about your followers?" the younger wizard asked.
"They are no longer mine. The Mark has gone much the way of your scar and I am no longer connected to them."
"Oh," he said at length. He wasn't quite sure what else to say, yet he couldn't help but notice the similarities in their situations. They no longer had a side in the war. Together, they were truly alone, if that made any sense.
Riddle made a noise of agreement, causing Harry to glare. For what must have been the first time, Riddle looked apologetic. "It's as though both The-Boy-Who-Lived and Lord Voldemort have managed to fade from existence."
Harry snorted. "Seems a bit morbid."
"I was thinking 'liberating', but I suppose it's a matter of opinion."
"I'd rather not have an opinion right now. Too much has happened within a twenty-four hour period and I'd rather not think about it." He scooted in a bit, as if to make himself more comfortable and felt Riddle stiffen. He did it again as an experiment, and Riddle's hand stilled in his hair.
"Harry, unless you're truly ready to finish this…"
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked innocently, trailing his lips over Riddle's neck and what was exposed of his shoulder. What did he mean? He wondered, as Harry opened the top few buttons on his shirt and slipped a hand inside. He caressed and pinched, never once lifting his mouth and quite enjoying the way Riddle's thoughts had suddenly stilled.
Since when had he been able to do this to Riddle, Harry wondered while grazing his graceful shoulder with his teeth. Unfortunately, it startled Riddle out of the little reverie he'd been suspended in and he pushed the boy back enough for him to stop his attentions.
"What?" Harry asked trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
Riddle wasn't sure what to say, but what happened in the hallway hours ago still irked him. For some reason it didn't seem wise to have sex again so soon after what happened the first time.
"Considering I barely even remember what happened 'the first time', I'd rather just try it again on our terms."
"You can hear my thoughts with the cloaking spell?"
"If you were using it just then, yes."
"Yet another effect of our…earlier activities," he said with distaste.
"I understand why you're put off after that, and maybe if I could remember it more clearly I might be as well. But right now all I can remember is not wanting it to stop."
Riddle did remember this as well, as broken pleas that filled his head and blunt nails on his back. No, Harry hadn't wanted it to stop at all. But there was the spell to consider. He found it hard to imagine that in another situation Harry wouldn't have protested a little to not using lubrication.
"Then we'll use it this time. Besides," he continued after a pause, "I owe you."
"And how did you come to this conclusion?"
"You came for me, despite obvious risk and the chance that it could have been a trap."
"You don't owe," he deadpanned. "In fact, I'm not sure that it's possible."
It took a moment before Harry realized what he was saying and he couldn't respond. He could have been wrong, but it was beginning to sound as if Riddle's conscience wasn't as dead and buried as once perceived,
"Well, maybe it isn't possible. But I can't imagine a time where I thought I'd ever be in this position," he explained, indicating their physical closeness. Riddle had stiffened during the conversation and Potter decided to take another route. "But this isn't something I want to think about either. So, it isn't possible. Then do this because you agreed to show me."
Riddle considered him silently. Harry had meant to add something cheeky about alternatively getting rid of his hard-on by himself, but those searching eyes still tended to fog his brain. They were no longer the burning red embers they used to be, but were darker and wine-tinted like brandy (his natural eye color perhaps?) And like brandy, they made his body feel flushed.
The older wizard's thoughts flew by rapidly as the idea took hold. The boy was aroused – more than he probably should have been for the amount of actual contact, but he seemed to be fully rational. His eyes were clear and dark green, like a lagoon. Potter watched him until his cheeks began to flush, but before he could look away, Riddle took him by the neck and kissed him. The smaller body leaned in almost hungrily as Riddle plundered his mouth.
There was almost a surreal quality to it. The boy genuinely wanted him, and so long as it didn't need to be said aloud, the feeling was mutual. This was undoubtedly the first time his attentions were desired for simple pleasure since he'd been a student. His followers made advances, even before his restoration. But those he dealt with and discouraged with the utmost seriousness. After all, it wouldn't do to have them think he could be influenced by something as base as sex. What Harry offered was something different entirely.
Nimble fingers worked to part the lapels of his shirt before he grasped them firmly. His grip wasn't enough to cause pain but it startled the younger wizard nonetheless. Riddle continued to kiss him possessively, having unconsciously decided that if he was to cancel memories of their previous encounter, he was to be in control.
Riddle realized he'd been fairly accurate in his past assessment that Harry had a great capacity for obedience. After all, he fell easily into his role, allowing the older wizard to grip and explore him, Nothing seemed to clear his mind quite like Riddle's touch, and it was precisely what he needed. The grip on his wrists was firm but not painful in the slightest. In fact, it was comforting.
Their eyes had drifted shut during the exchange, but as Riddle broke the kiss to smooth back the boy's hair, Harry looked up at him and froze.
"Your eyes are…kind of glowing."
"Yours too."
They both sat in stillness for a brief moment as if deciding what to do next before Harry remarked, "I don't feel any different."
"Good, nor do I." He continued to kiss Harry's neck and chin, feeling himself grow hard at the soft sounds he emitted. Harry held onto Riddle's neck, trying to figure out when his thoughts started melding together seamlessly. The older wizard slowed his pace and reached for the hem of Harry's thick sweatshirt. It was a hideous garment he thought, and slid his hands under it with the intention of removing it. However, the gasp it earned encouraged him to take a detour and caress the sides and stomach.
It was addicting, really – the feel of warm, willing flesh under his fingers. He didn't realize he'd become distracted by it until Harry made some sound of impatience and began to slide the sweatshirt off himself. Riddle let him divest himself of the garment before sliding his thumbnails over the newly exposed nipples. Potter arched into him at the sharp sensation but Riddle held him firmly at the waste. The kiss that followed was a hungry one.
"Just relax, Harry. You're doing so well."
He wasn't sure if it was the sound of his name spoken into his mind, or the tongue skirting the roof of his mouth, but suddenly his trousers were far too restrictive. Harry reached frantically between them to free his erection but Riddle's grip enclosed around his wrist once again.
"Tom, I need—"
"Need what, Harry? This?" He taunted while undoing the front of Harry's jeans and pulling forth his erection. Harry bucked into him shamelessly. "No, then. Perhaps this…?" He suggested, sucking a pink nipple between his lips. Harry gasped, wanting to press into Riddle , but his grip on his hands hampered a lot of his movement. Riddle still held the ever-hardening cock in his hand and began to pump it in tune with his suckling. The boy was panting heavily, but Riddle paid it no mind. He just swirled his tongue around the little nub of flesh and smirked when Harry's hot semen coated his hand.
Harry's body went limp in his arms, but the euphoric thoughts escaping from him indicated that he was at least conscious. Riddle whispered the cleaning charm and stood with the boy still in his grasp.
"Wait…Wait, what's…what are you…"
"Relax, boy. I only prefer a bed for what I have in mind."
Once again they crossed the threshold to his bed chamber. Harry had only a vague awareness of the rest of his clothing disappearing off of his body before they reached the bed and the cool air of the room chilling his skin. The room was dark enough that his eyes had to struggle to adjust, a situation that was exacerbated by Riddle lifting his glasses off his face.
"You know, I can barely see you unless your eyes are open."
"You won't need to. Just feel," he answered softly.
Only a little nervous, Harry closed his eyes and felt Riddle settle over him. His mouth descended slowly onto the younger wizard's, sending sparks of pleasure straight to his groin. He wound an arm around the older wizard's neck and ran his free had over the skin of Riddle's back. He flinched only slightly as the boy's fingers danced their way down his spine and back up his sides. They memorized his shape, the gentle ripple of muscles beneath his shoulder blades and the way his spine just pushed the surface.
Never before had Harry ever been so aware of another being. He was learning the sensitive areas of Riddle's body (who would imagine Lord Voldemort had erotic zones?) based on the subtle reactions to his touch. So far, he was most sensitive at the base of his spine where he sucked in a breath and pressed his body close to the younger wizard. Riddle was completely hard at this point but was in no rush to end things. He took hold of Harry's hands once again, and with a spell, had them bound above his head to the headboard.
At this, Harry opened his eyes, a little thrown off kilter by his loss of movement.
"Just feel," he reminded, running his fingertips down the sensitive undersides of the boy's arms. He shivered in response, then flinched as the fingers skirted his nipples. Light tingly pain trailed in the wake of Riddle's expert hands - Riddle had somehow activated the pain curse. Of course, it was the severely watered-down version and Harry squirmed, not really trying to get away from it or towards it.
This torture went on forever it seemed, awakening every nerve in his body. Devilish fingers traced and encircled his cock, still burning with the curse. He was panting and mumbling ceaselessly, praying for release in whatever form Riddle decided to give it. Riddle enjoyed Harry's desperation, and only when he felt he'd been driven sufficiently mad did he stop the curse.
"Are you ready for me, Harry?" he purred the name into the boy's flushed skin.
"Gods yes."
"I can't hear you, Harry."
"Yes! Tom, yes…"
Tom shifted around a bit and slipped a suddenly oiled (did he have a spell for everything?) finger into the boy's entrance. Harry bucked into it wildly enough that Riddle had to flatten a palm down on his stomach to still him. He worked the one finger for a moment and then added another, and finally a third. Harry was moaning, his head turned to the side.
Riddle oiled himself, doing so quickly so as not to come. Then he gripped the boy's waist and pushed in.
"Bear against me. That's it."
Harry's mind was caught in a whirlwind of sensation. His skin tingled and Riddle inside him was strangely fulfilling. Above him, Riddle was gritting his teeth. His thoughts were fast and hazy in Harry's mind as the boy's body clenched sinfully tight around him.
"Is…is it ok?"
"…"
"Tom?"
"Merlin….so tight…"
The next time Riddle pushed in he brushed gloriously with the prostrate sending Harry into a desperate frenzy. By the time they established a rhythm both were dizzy with pleasure. Riddle's mouth covered his again and moved to his neck and shoulder, leaving kisses and small bites all over. Harry was close, and wrapping his legs around the body on top of him he came with the next maddeningly deep stroke. It didn't take the older wizard long to follow suit, and he soon came with Parseltongue dying on his lips.
For a long time there was nothing but the sounds of their breathing in dark. When Harry's thoughts wandered back to him he realized Riddle hadn't moved save for the even rise of his chest against his own.
"Tom."
"…"
He thought to call into his mind but decided against it. Riddle was very clearly asleep. It was funny really, how humane the idea was. He remembered Riddle telling him that he didn't need food or sleep after his restoration, but here he was passed out after amazing sex like any other guy, It was…funny.
Funny or not, if he didn't move Riddle from where he was strewn on top of him, then his legs were going to go numb or some equally uncomfortable effect. Unfortunately, he didn't think he could move himself after all of that, let alone someone else. Riddle was by no stretch a heavyset individual, but right now his wiry frame was all dead weight on Harry's chest. So Harry did the only thing he could think of.
"Mobilicorpus."
Hand outstretched, Harry guided Riddle's unconscious body to the vacant area beside him and settled them as best he could under the bedclothes. Riddle probably would have been mortified at Harry's chosen method, but he shrugged it off. Beggars can't be choosers, or something to that effect.
He waited for sleep to claim him, feeling the many stresses of their situation hovering on the edge of conscious thought. In the morning, he and Riddle would have to figure out what they were going to do, but for now he was content to focus on the sounds of Riddle's even breaths.
o-