AN: There's been a time skip of two years for reasons I will explain in the AN at the end.
"Harry, wake up." Harry felt his shoulder being shaken in an attempt to wake him from a deep slumber. Harry moaned in protest, grumbling as he slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Someone chuckled softly right by his ear, arms wrapping around his shoulders to help keep him upright. "You were mumbling in your sleep again. What did you dream about?" Harry was silent for a little bit, before answering dazedly.
"It was the day that they found out about..."
"Mm," the quiet voice hummed, the arms starting to pull Harry's shirt over his head, and Harry lifted his arms to make it easier, far too used to the morning schedule to find anything strange about it.
"It was... stupid."
"Yes," the voice agreed as Harry's legs were pulled over the side of the bed, "it was."
"I don't know why I still have that dream sometimes..." Harry muttered as he rubbed at his eyes before a new shirt was slipped over his shoulders, his arms going through the sleeves.
"Well," the buttons of the shirt were done up by thin, nimble fingers and Harry's vision finally managed to focus onto the other person, "it doesn't matter. It's just a dream after all. The reality has changed since then," Tom smiled kindly at Harry after he finished the buttons, leaning over Harry since he was standing by the bedside, "you only need me now, right?"
Harry smiled back, his eyes soft and content.
"Yes."
Tom and Harry trailed after the rest of the children, Harry just a little behind Tom as the dark eyed boy strode purposefully into the dinning hall. While Tom sat down at what had become their table, Harry went into the line with the other children. As he stared blankly ahead, just like Tom had taught him, he didn't notice that the dark eyed boy's gaze never strayed from him.
Harry hadn't changed much the past two years besides growing a few centimeters. He was still the same scraggily, bright eyed boy with untamable hair that he had been when he first came to the orphanage. The only major difference in his appearance was that his eyesight had been steadily getting worse, and he was desperately in need of glasses. Mrs. Cole, however, was far too unwilling to pass up the money for a pair of glasses to be given to one of the little monsters, so the emerald eyed boy had to squint most of the time. Tom was rather glad she didn't buy spectacles actually, as it made Harry even more reliant on him. It still irked him that what was his couldn't have the best though.
Tom, much to his satisfaction, had started growing a bit more, and had noticed that he was a little taller than the other boy a few days ago. However, much like Harry, his situation didn't allow much development, so he more or less remained the same except for aging. So instead of changing, he focused on cultivating the other boy to suit his wishes.
He was very pleased with the results of his efforts so far.
While Harry was waiting in line, he bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently, stretching to see above the other's heads in boredom. It looked like eggs and potatoes, a special meal that they only got once a week, on Sundays. Slowly, the line inched forward, and by the time Harry made it to the food, it had cooled down into a lukewarm state. His shoulders sagged dejectedly, but got the food either way. Luckily, the eggs on one plate had been buried underneath its fellow sickly yellow brethren, so some steam still rose from it.
When the apologetic boy came and sat down next to Tom at their table, he gave the plate with the warm eggs to Tom.
"Sorry," Harry apologized quietly, looking down at his cold food, "I should have tried to hurry up somehow... the potatoes are cold."
"I know, Harry," Tom soothed with a soft hiss, switching to Parseltongue when he said the other boy's name; a habit he had. He liked the sound of it in their second language. "It's alright. I think I've figured out the perfect measure of heat needed this time."
"What?" Harry questioned as Tom hovered a hand over the plate of food. "Tom, wait, last time-"
"It won't be like last time." Tom's voice was just a little harsh, his dark eyes darting to Harry out of the corners. Harry flinched back slightly, then meekly returned to looking at his plate, becoming silent. Tom's expression softened, and his voice turned coaxing. "I'll warm yours after, alright?"
Harry remained quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you..." he trailed off weakly.
Tom nodded, and turned back to the food, gazing intently. The two boys didn't make a sound, the clamor from the children surrounding them raising in volume to Harry, and he sunk into his seat like a turtle. After a few long minutes, triumph flooded through Tom's expression, and he dropped his hand down onto the table.
"There!" The dark eyed boy exclaimed under his breath, and he turned towards Harry as if to celebrate the victory. Small, but a challenge overcome nonetheless. He was not disappointed, because as soon as Harry had sensed the change in the atmosphere he had turned his attention back to the other, and was now staring at the steaming food with awe.
"Wow... and it only took you two tries too!"
"Keep your voice down Harry." Tom scolded lightly, but quickly switched to admiring his work again as Harry slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sometimes you have a very odd way of speaking."
Harry's eyes widened slightly, his hand falling lightly from over is mouth and into his lap. Images flashed over his eyes; a dark closet, Dudley's silloute from a flash of lightning, a cobblestone street on a rainy night, the date September 16th 1936 on a newspaper-
Harry shook his head to dispel the memories, and laughed awkwardly, turning sheepish.
"Sorry." He had realized that he would not find any way back home in his current situation several months into this time. However, every time he had come close to leaving the orphanage, Tom had stopped him. Not knowingly anyway, but just the thought of the other boy stopped Harry from packing up his few belongings and walking away from the hellish orphanage.
It was the only thing. How could he leave when Tom would remain stuck there? Harry had a sense of separation from the orphanage, but Tom could never leave, no matter how much he hated and loathed the place. Somehow, they both knew that. Until the building burned down, until it was squashed into nothing and everyone inside was dead, Tom would forever remain chained to it.
That's why Harry never entertained the idea of running away with him together. Forget the fact his secret would have to be revealed, the simple knowledge that Tom would be tied at least mentally to the orphanage was enough to crush any possibility of the two of them living in the streets.
"Let me heat yours as well." Tom's voice cracked through Harry's thoughts, and after a moment's pause, Harry pushed the plate of freezing food towards the boy next to him.
At least they'd have hot meals now. Harry would have to practice the heating trick Tom developed.
"Children! Pay attention now!" Mrs. Cole's scratchy voice boomed through the dinning hall. As all heads except Tom's turned up to look at her, she cleared her throat before speaking again. "We will depart from church directly to go to the beach, which means we will not be coming back for the day. So make sure to bring your things."
As soon as the warden had given the cue to go, all the children shuffled out, racing each other to get to their rooms and pack whatever they could carry. Harry and Tom stood up and trailed behind the rest, walking side by side up to their attic room. Harry shut the door behind them and followed Tom up the steps.
The room hadn't changed at all in the past two years. There wasn't even another bed put in, as when Mrs. Cole expressed her feelings on the idea of all the trouble and money it would take to buy a bed and install it up in the attic, the boys told her that they preferred sharing the one bed anyway. So the issue was dismissed, and the two boys remained as inseparable as they had come to be known as.
"Tom, are we going to explore the caves again?" Harry asked, grabbing a satchel and setting it on the bed, snatching a small booklet and a pencil on top of the desk and stuffing it in.
"Of course." Tom sat down primly on the chair in front of the desk, crossing his legs, opting to watch Harry pack everything both of them would need on the day trip in the satchel they managed to grab out of the bags Mrs. Cole provided the children.
Harry had learned very quickly that Tom would rarely do any work for himself, instead getting someone else, which usually meant the bright eyed boy, to do it for him. He didn't mind though, it was much better than how the Dursleys ordered him to work, and it wasn't as if Tom didn't do anything for him in return. The two of them had an odd, unspoken system in which Harry would do little chores like get Tom his food or pack things Tom would need, and Tom in turn would shield Harry from the other orphans and the adults running the place, he would also act as an example for Harry. The dark eyed boy was the leader in their friendship; Harry being the omega to Tom's alpha.
"But last time Mrs. Cole..." Harry trailed off, pausing in his scurrying around to look at the other boy, who examined his nails dismissively.
"Mrs. Cole won't find out. Not if we're careful. We have to be better at sneaking off, making sure no one will see us." Harry pushed the last item into the satchel, and clipped it shut, giving a determined nod.
"Right. Well, let's get to church," Harry said as he threw the satchel over his shoulder. Tom tsked, not getting up from the desk chair.
"You hate church," Tom stated, looking up from his nails.
"Not as much as you..." Harry muttered, only partially to himself. "But the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can explore the caves." Tom shrugged, which was the closest he'd ever get to acknowledging someone else was right, and stood, walking to the stairs that led out of the attic. Harry made sure all the lights were out before hurrying after him.
The boys sat next to each other in the audience with the other orphans, Martha, and Mrs. Cole, listening to the priest and his booming voice. The seats were hard and uncomfortable even though they were cushioned. Behind the priest up on a pedestal was an absolutely beautiful stained glass window depicting the Virgin Mary. Everything seemed large and imposing, the rituals tense and stiff.
Neither boy bothered to listen to what the man was saying, but Harry knew it was full of fire and brimstone. It always was. They ignored the priest as he looked right at them as he spoke of Hell and damnation. The man was a good friend of Mrs. Cole, which meant that he was convinced they were the devil's spawn. Tom often jibbed that he would enjoy having Satan as a father.
The orphans were sitting as far away from the two as they could, and Harry caught ear of whispering. He looked over blandly at Billy and Gabriel in the pew before them, speaking quietly and looking over at them from time to time. Harry had a bad feeling whenever Billy would look at him, the blonde had always avoided Harry and Tom ever since that day. So when Billy was looking at Harry, it meant something tedious was going to happen.
The two friends quickly turned their heads away, and Harry reached over and lightly tugged at Tom's sleeve, jerking his head in Billy and Gabe's direction. Tom glanced at them, making the two twitch, then looked back at Harry, shaking his head dismissively before turning back to the priest with a blank face. Harry soon did as Tom implied and pushed it from his mind.
However, as soon as everyone stood up and started to move out of their benches, a grey mouse scurried down the aisle, headed for the door. It crawled over Tom's foot in its desperate attempt to escape, and Tom stiffened, only Harry able to see the utter disgust on his expression. With a quick movement spurred on by instinct and a hate of uncleanliness, Tom lifted up his foot and brought it down onto the creature with a sickening crunch and squish. Harry slowly looked over at Billy and Gabriel standing in the aisle, dumbfounded and disgusted looks on their faces.
Tom only wiped his shoe clean of blood and bits of brain matter onto the red carpet. Unconcerned, he turned and started making his way out of the church.
"Come on Harry," Tom called quietly over his shoulder. Harry nodded and hurried his steps to follow him, turning his back on Billy and Gabriel. He ignored the whispers just like Tom taught him to.
The waves crashed against the rocks and sand, spraying the children running around and playing. The water was too cold to swim, but the children wouldn't allow their fieldtrip to go to waste, and they quickly found ways to entertain themselves. Mrs. Cole had situated herself at the back of the beach, sitting in a foldable chair planted into the cold, grainy dark brown sand. Martha stood at attention next to her, and together they watched lazily over the children.
Two boys were far away from the group, climbing through the long grass surrounding the edge of the beach. Tom and Harry had veered off into their cover the moment that they had lagged far enough behind the line of other children. Once Tom had judged the distance far enough that warden wouldn't notice the two, by now, black dots headed towards the high cliffs at the end of the beach.
The nine year old boys hiked up onto the rock formations that they had to cross in order to get to the series of caves carved into the cliffs. They stuck close to each other, being pelted with sea spray and the harsh winds.
"Tom!" Harry shouted out over the winds, shielding his eyes against the onslaught. "Maybe we should go back! It might be dangerous!"
"We'll be fine!" Tom, who almost never raised his voice, was forced to in order to be heard, and he glanced back over his shoulder at the other boy. "We're close! And we won't be able to come back for another month! I don't want to waste anymore time, let's hurry!"
Tom forged on ahead, leaving the other boy pausing in his steps, before muttering a hesitant affirmative and pushing against the wind to follow. But suddenly, the bright eyed boy felt his weight shift, his foot slid over the slippery rock, and for a brief moment he felt like he was floating. Harry cried out in surprise, knowing that in a few seconds he would feel impact.
"Harry!" The bright eyed boy tried to blink back the pain, but he could feel his mind going hazy. Through a black lens, he saw many different shades of grey, and he realized absently that he saw little flashes of white here and there for split seconds. Past his muffled hearing, and the sound of Tom's panicked voice, he heard the crashes of lightning. The darkness spread, and he could only hear things through a tunnel, and barely registered the feeling of being hoisted up, and half carried, half dragged over the slippery rocks.
Tom slowly went to his knees on the floor of the cave, cradling Harry in his arms, laying him on his lap. He was panting from the exertion of battling the weather and carrying the other boy to the caves while trying not to slip himself. He had decided that the others were too far away to be safe to get help from, and had managed to get them both inside the caves, away from the onslaught of rain, ocean spray, and winds. Now all he had to worry about was making sure that Harry would last through the storm long enough to be able to get help.
Yes, he was fine with asking for help. For this. Only for this. He refused to let Harry leave him behind, just as much as he refused to let Harry fall behind him. He cursed his lack of ability to take care of them both in this situation, but he felt that if he took the time to sulk right then, he would lose Harry. It was a test of survival, and at this point, he barely knew what to do, so he was forced to rely on instinct and base knowledge.
He carefully stripped Harry of his jacket, making sure that his head was elevated. He knew that Harry had hit his head on the rocks, but it was too dark to see if the skinny boy was bleeding or not. However, he wasn't taking any chances. He balled the jacket up, and put it under Harry's head, carefully laying him down. There, now if there was a cut, then it wouldn't get dirtied.
Tom looked at the satchel still hanging around Harry's shoulders, and opened it, searching blindly through it. His fingers found a cylinder shape with a bulge on the tip, and he grinned in satisfaction as he pulled the object out and looked at Harry's dimly lit face as lightning flashed outside.
"You're always prepared for anything," Tom stated to the unconscious boy, reaching down and stroking his cheek, "good boy." Tom pressed a button on the object, and while he had to shake it a few times to get it to work, he soon had a beam of light to shine on his surroundings. Of course Harry packed a torch, even if it was going to be used to see his injury rather than exploring dank caves.
Tom carefully turned Harry's head, and directed the light onto where there was sticky red liquid shining on a patch of his dark hair. Tom panicked inside, there was a lot more blood there than he was comfortable with, and he hurriedly searched through the satchel for something to use. He smirked grimly, thinking how abnormal of him, to be panicked. But again, this was Harry. Probably the only person he'd ever care about to any extent. However, that did not excuse his lack of control. He slowed his movements, huffing through his mouth as he found a cloth, a canteen of water, and a few bandages. Perfect.
The dark eyed boy then calmly cleaned the wound, wrapping bandages around Harry's head. That's when he noticed the sweat on the other boy's scarred forehead. No. No, did he do something wrong? No, no, of course he didn't. It was just natural. It had to be. But what if it wasn't? Could something have gone wrong? Is it just that he caught a chill on top of everything? It was possible, it was raining, and they were drenched. Tom felt a little woozy himself in fact. But he needed to take care of Harry first.
Tom took the cloth, pouring more water on it, rinsing out as much of the blood as he could, then wiped the sweat off of Harry's face, repeating the process and leaving the cloth on his forehead. Tom, satisfied with his work for now, sat back against the wall of the cave, and closed his eyes. He was rather tired...
He wasn't sure for how long he had dozed off, but Tom woke with a start as thunder crashed uncomfortably close by. His dark eyes immediately darted over to the still unconscious form of Harry, turning on the torch and directing the beam on him to make sure nothing had happened while he was sleeping.
He looked better, thankfully. His skin had regained what little color he had, and his expression was peaceful. Tom scooted closer, peeling the cloth away from Harry's forehead, shining the light on it to check if the sweating had stopped. It hadn't, but there was a great deal less. Tom renewed the warm cloth, placing it back in its previous spot.
The dark eyed boy then checked outside, and was pleased to see that the storm had slowed to a drizzle. He went back to the wall of the cave, leaning his back and head against it. He felt cold, and he stared up at the stalactites hanging from the rock ceiling as he shivered. Tom absently studied the rock formations, finding them absolutely fascinating.
Tom snapped out of his daze when he heard the sound of feet shuffling on rock, pebbles rolling from being kicked, and he looked towards the entrance of the cave. There he saw two children a few years older than him staring right back, standing in surprise at finding the two monsters in the dark. He slowly eyed the boy and girl up and down, and noticed that they had started to shake. He couldn't help the smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth. He didn't know why he found it funny, but even in this state the other orphans looked pathetic.
The girl's name was Amy Benson, a freckled, mousy haired girl that kept her locks in tight braids. She often kept to herself, which was normal seeing how she had only recently come to the orphanage. She had, however, recently started to open up to a few select boys. For whatever reason, she would go out of her way to ignore any girl that tried to approach her. She hid behind the boy, Dennis Bishop, her blue eyes shimmering with fear.
Dennis Bishop was, Tom supposed, somewhere between a plain and handsome boy, with dark hair and eyes. It was no wonder the girl would follow him around like a love struck puppy. He was the sort that always would take care of new orphans, a perfectly good Samaritan with high morals. On more than one occasion he would stand up to Tom like he was playing a hero. And on more than one occasion Tom would make him hurt. He was honestly always mildly annoyed with the boy. Even now, Dennis kept a brave face, putting himself between Tom and Amy Benson. Tom could almost laugh.
The deceptively cherubic boy turned his head away from them dismissively, instead looking back at Harry to make sure that there was nothing needed to be done. He was pleased to see that Harry was still on his way to a steady recovery, and he scooted over to renew the cold washcloth again.
He could feel the intruders' bewildered stares, but he didn't pay them any mind. If they wanted to act the part of an audience, he saw no reason to shoo them away. He just wished they could make themselves useful somehow. Even if he was loathe to let them touch Harry, he didn't have the energy to carry him back to the beach. If they would not be aware of doing it, maybe he could comfort himself with the thought.
Tom turned back to look at Bishop and Benson, and saw Dennis twitch. They hadn't moved at all from when he last paid them attention. The corners of his mouth lifted up slightly, and he adopted a gentle face, his voice soft and quiet.
"Can you help me? He hit his head..." Dennis shook his head rapidly, whether to dispel his shock or his thoughts, Tom couldn't be bothered to figure out.
"No, you can carry him yourself, Riddle. Amy and I aren't going to be doing anything for you."
"Really?" Tom slowly got to his feet, and his comforting smile twisted into a smirk, even if his voice remained soothing. "Shame, you're going to do it even if you don't want to." He wasn't really sure what he was doing, his head felt like it was filled with cotton as soon as he had stood, but he'd never let them know that. All he knew was that he wanted to get Harry back to the beach so the both of them could rest.
"H-how are you going to be able to force us to do that...? P-people aren't your servants to order around!" Amy ignored Dennis's hushed warning, and stepped out from behind the boy. "He's hurt and you're just sitting there!"
Tom's eyes immediately narrowed in irritation, and he took a step towards them warningly. "In case you haven't noticed, you thick girl, I've been making sure that nothing further happens to him. And I'll continue to do that. Which is why you two are going to help me, and you won't dare remember even laying a grubby, filthy finger on him."
The two children shrinked away from him, gripping onto each other's hands. Dennis was the first to speak, but Tom was far too preocupied with trying to test getting inside the other orphans' minds to listen to another moral speech. Harry needed to get back to a bed, and Tom didn't want to waste anymore time.
He had honestly never tried to exert his control on a person, he normally relied on his face and way with words. But his eyes sparked when he felt a wisp of something to grab onto in Benson, and he latched onto it with sharp talons, pulling at it so hurriedly it nearly ripped. Outside his mind, he registered a girl's shrill scream, and Bishop's panicked and accusing voice.
Tom blinked, no longer reatreated to his mind, still keeping a relaxed grip on the part of the girl's mind he had snatched. He stared at the trembling girl on her knees in front of him, clutching the sides of her head. Her pupils were dilated and shaking, staring unblinking at the ground as she started to tear out the hair grasped in her fingers. Bishop leaned over her, standing by her side and trying to unlock Amy's fingers from their grip, shouting at her with a panicked voice before turning a hateful glare at Tom.
"You-you monster! How could- why would you do this?!"
Tom, however, didn't take his eyes away from the girl. He stared as she trembled before him on her knees, writhing in agony. Bishop's hate filled screams were muffled by the overwhelming euphoria Tom was experiencing. He'd never felt so alive as he did in that moment. He'd always felt that everyone else should be subservient to him, that they should be bowing down before him. But something had always held him back from getting what was rightfully his. The knowledge that he wouldn't get away with it, that there would be consequences he'd rather not deal with. But that was gone now. No one would find out if he just... hurt them a tiny bit.
Dennis Bishop let out a bone chilling scream as he fell to his knees right where he was standing. He gripped his head, squeezing his eyes shut and screaming until his voice grew hoarse. Yes... yes, this was what should happen. He should be standing above all of the filth and unnecessary people just like this. But something was missing.
Tom looked around the cave, his eyes immediately finding the still unconscious Harry, a jacket under his head as if it could be a pillow. Oh, that's what it was. Tom stepped over to Harry, and he held out a hand to the boy laying on the floor of the cave, like he was so beneath everyone else that he couldn't even live like a human being.
"Harry," Tom smiled gently, his voice a soft hiss, "come, stand with me." The skinny boy's body rose upright, and it floated over to the smirking, dark eyed boy. Tom grabbed onto Harry's hand, and gently pulled it in front of him, holding onto thin, pale hands. The invisible strings holding the unconscious body upright broke loose, and Harry slumped into Tom. Dark green eyes softened slightly, then turned back to the other children still writhing in pain, and Tom chuckled.
"P-please..." it seemed Dennis was still able to speak, maybe Tom hadn't hurt him enough, "st-sto-!" Amy had suddenly bounced on Bishop in what appeared to be a fit of madness, pinning him to the ground as she wrapped small hands around his throat and pressed.
"Mn..." Harry's head turned to the side, and he tried to pull his hands away from Tom's to rub at his eyes, but the other boy only sunk sharp nails into his skin, his grip turning firm. The slight pain dispelled the grogginess Harry felt, and he blinked his eyes, seeing the scene in front of him. Bright green eyes widened, and as Dennis choked and struggled, Benson unusually quiet, he couldn't seem to quite process what was going on. Completely disoriented, he looked to see who was holding him, and when he saw Tom's face, confusion made his eyebrows furrow. "Tom...? What's going on...? Why are they...?"
"Shh..." Tom closed his eyes, and Benson removed her hands just before Dennis fell unconscious. The older boy lied there, eyes blank as he stared right at Harry. Despite Tom shushing him, Harry struggled weakly, trying to get away from the blank stare. "It's alright, Harry, he isn't dead... just listen to me."
"No, Tom, I-I don't-" Harry couldn't even cry out from the scorching pain when Tom brushed a finger over Harry's scar. His eyes widened, and he let his head fall against Tom's shoulder to get away even as the touch quickly went back to gripping onto his hand.
"I said listen to me." Tom looked back at the silent, unmoving children before them, and chuckled. The chuckle soon turned in a quiet, insane laugh, his pupils dilating. "Look, Harry. This is how it should be. It's so easy, I know you can do it too."
"What? No! No Tom, I won't do that to other people!" Harry flinched as Tom dug his nails in so hard into his skin that pinpricks of blood welled up, Tom's dark eyes narrowed.
"I say you can do it, so you will. Are we clear?" Harry nodded vigorously, squeezing his eyes shut. He was scared. He didn't know what happened, but Tom was acting strange, and doing bad things. Tom was even hurting him. He touched his scar, which after that first time he had avoided at all costs. "Good," the dark eyed boy said as he loosened his hold on Harry's hands, "then we'll start practicing on these two."
Why was he acting like this?
"Don't worry, Harry."
All he remembered was a storm, and lightning.
"They can't feel anything anymore anyway."
Bad things always happened when there was lightning, didn't they?
Harry shook as he lifted up one hand, the other still being held by Tom's, and a tear slipped down his cheek as the screams started.
Yes. They did.
AN: The reason for the time skip is that nothing of great importance would happen until the caves, so I couldn't skip all the way to when they're eleven. But it's time to celebrate, because next chapter they'll finally get their letters~!
I'm sorry for the long update again. I ran into many problems, but I've managed to work through them. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter and that it didn't disappoint.
Reviews are always appreciated!
