Muggle!AU / Warning for implied sexual content (including implied BDSM), mild violence, injuries, implied past abuse, and harassment.
Harry could feel the billionaire's cold eyes resting on him for just a heartbeat, but he didn't dare to look directly at him. He kept his eyes fixated on the gleaming tile floor, his heels pressed against the wall, holding his breath.
Only for icy fingertips to slide under his chin and jerk his head up, forcing him to gaze into the darkest set of eyes he'd ever seen. Riddle's eyes were black, blacker and more bone-chilling than night, and Harry had to control himself from shivering as they studied him with unnerving intensity.
"You." Riddle's voice was low and gravelly, his jaw clenched, and it didn't take a genius to realize that he was angry. For what? Harry thought for a moment, and then —
Riddle's mouth curled up just a fraction in what could be considered a smirk. Without a word, he seized Harry's wrist and dragged him out of the line of servants. He thought he might have heard Ron give a soft cry, but Harry made sure to deter any foolish action — he glanced over his shoulder, quelling his best mate's worry. Don't worry, I'll be fine.
He wasn't sure how effective it was, but at least Ron didn't move.
And Harry knew he was telling his friend the truth.
Because Riddle was a good actor. And so was Harry.
So when the door to Riddle's study shut and he found himself pinned against it, Riddle's lips on his and his suddenly blazing hands tugging at Harry's uniform, he credited their joint acting skills. As Riddle's hands set his body aflame, he couldn't find it in him at that moment to blame himself for lying to his best mate.
And as Tom proved himself to be as good of a lover as he was an actor, Harry found that he didn't mind the deception in the slightest.
But it was too good to last.
Harry had always known to be careful, but he figured — maybe he could stay until morning. Maybe no one would notice his absence. After all, no one had ever asked, they had just given him pitying glances when they saw the bruises. They thought the bruises had come from a cruel man. They heard the cries, saw the handcuff marks around his wrists. Harry hadn't corrected them. It had been better that way, anyway.
"He needs to stop picking on you, mate," Ron had said darkly after one such encounter one night, as Hermione, the librarian's apprentice, tended to his "wounds" in the flickering candlelight. "You're not doing anything wrong and he's punishing you for it. I'd go up there myself and have a word with him if I didn't need this job so badly." Hermione pushed the candle closer at just that second and cast light on Harry's hand and the ominous expression on Ron's face.
Harry had used his unoccupied hand — the one Hermione had already treated and bandaged — and had rested it on Ron's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "I don't need you to fight my battles, Ron," he'd said gently. "I'm flattered, believe me. And I'd do the same for you, but we can't stick out our necks. Not now."
Ron had looked mutinous, but all of the life drained from his body as Harry's reasoning settled in. "You're right," he'd muttered. "But someday…Riddle's going to get what's coming to him."
Harry swallowed, and had been about to retort — he didn't know how he could persuade his friends against this, but he could try — but he'd considered it good luck that Hermione had chimed in before him. "And just what are you going to do?" she'd asked, half-scathing, mostly skeptical. "All of us are terrified of Riddle — don't lie, we're all terrified. We're all jeopardizing something by being here." She'd paused, glancing towards the door. "Except Malfoy, I suppose, his parents made him be here."
Hermione had paused again, and neither of the boys had interjected, but Ron had opened his mouth. However, Hermione had continued before he'd said anything.
"I agree, what he does to Harry is inhumane, but there is too much at stake." She had given Harry a sympathetic look. "You're very brave for putting up with this for as long as you have."
Harry hadn't known how to answer, so he just remained silent, staring at Hermione's nimble fingers as she swiftly bandaged his wrist. Finally, he'd said, "...I guess I'm just used to it."
And that had been the end of it, and nobody had asked any more questions.
Until this morning, when Harry crept out of Riddle's study and made his way to the wing of the mansion containing the servants' bedrooms — where he found an unwanted guest seated on his bed with his nose turned up, toying with Harry's spare glasses.
"Malfoy?" asked Harry, momentarily forgetting to lower his voice, heart thumping in his chest.
"Potter." Illuminated in waning candlelight, his fellow servant looked threatening. Harry gulped. "Odd to see you at this hour. You usually creep back when the moon is high."
That was true, but Harry was too stubborn to directly admit to it. "You do realize that that's weird, right? Almost like you're a stalker."
Malfoy didn't deign to reply. Instead, he cocked his head in the direction of the door. "Mind if we chat outside? I'd rather not disturb your slumbering mates."
Hah. As if. His heart lodged in his throat and hands shaking, Harry had no choice, so he exited the room with Malfoy at his heels. He was barely a few steps into the hall when the door shut behind him —
— and Harry felt himself being shoved against the wall, his head cracking against it. Dark spots swirled before his eyes, and through them, he could make out Draco's face. His sneering mouth, his narrowed eyes.
"Malfoy?" he mumbled dizzily, and for some nonsensical reason, his mind traveled to Tom — they'd been in this same position not two hours ago. But while Tom's eyes had glittered with the promise of devouring Harry alive, Malfoy looked like he wanted to turn Harry into a black and blue painting.
"Hush, Potter," Malfoy muttered, thin lips pursed. "I just want some answers. Or else…" He trailed off ominously.
"I —" Harry struggled, pushed against Malfoy's body, but after so much vigorous activity, Harry's bones felt like brain matter. He simply couldn't find the strength to shove Malfoy back.
Malfoy seemed to realize this. "Too tired?" he taunted. "Being Riddle's pet must be exhausting."
Harry sucked in a breath.
"You're not as subtle as you think, Potter." Malfoy's grip on his lapels tightened ever so slightly. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't — Malfoy was —
"All I had to do was stand at the top of the stairs," he continued, "and you weren't even quiet." He shuddered. "It's a wonder that no one else heard you."
With a surge of energy, Harry shoved at Malfoy again and was rewarded by Malfoy stumbling back, looking briefly disoriented, and he made no move to trap Harry again. Harry was panting from the effort, but managed to gasp between breaths, "What do you want?"
"Don't you think that it's unfair that you have a leg up over everyone else — literally?" Malfoy snapped. "When it comes to climbing the ranks, when it comes to getting promoted, who do you think he's going to choose? That was a smart play, Potter, but I'm going to expose you for the cheater you are."
"Cheat — what are you babbling about, Malfoy?" Harry growled, but internally, fear took hold. "I'm not climbing ranks — I'm with him because I want to be, promotion or not."
"Oh sure," his assailant drawls, "that's what they say when they're caught. What do you think will happen once I tell your Weasley and Granger? Once I reveal it to everyone else? They're going to turn on you, Harry Potter. Riddle will try to protect you, but your life will still be miserable. And your friends — your friends will never trust you again."
"And you think I don't know that?" Harry demanded, taking a step forward. "And if I have Riddle wrapped around my finger, as you claim, I should have no problems getting you thrown out if you reveal anything, right?"
"I do know that," Malfoy murmured silkily. "But your friends will still know. And if I get thrown out, I have a family to take me back in. If your friends drive you out, you do not."
Harry stiffened as memories flashed before his eyes. Sitting on the curb drenched in rain, with nothing more than a suitcase, and his teeth chattering. His uncle had had enough of him and had tossed him out on the street.
He remembers a limousine. An extended hand. An offer of sanctuary. And Harry didn't refuse.
Tom's family had offered him safety, protection, and Harry had always been grateful, but…
That had been years ago. Harry had forced himself to bury the memories, but Malfoy's words had dredged up memories that he never wanted to recall again.
And Malfoy had overstepped. He'd always been nasty, but this…this was…
Harry took another step forward, trembling and hands curling into fists, but before he could do anything, the door to the servants' beds burst open. Ron stepped out, yawning, bouncing on his toes. He stopped when he saw Harry and Malfoy glowering at each other, and he immediately hurried over to Harry's side. "What's going on?" he asked, glaring at Malfoy.
With a substantial effort, Harry wrenched himself away from Malfoy and turned to Ron. "Nothing," he said hastily. "Malfoy was being a prat. Bullying Neville isn't enough for him anymore." He shot a glare at Malfoy who opened his mouth, undoubtedly to counter Harry, but Ron beat him to it.
"What did he say? Did he hurt you?" Ron balled his fists and Harry felt a stab of pride — and guilt. He hadn't necessarily lied to his best mate now, but he had been misleading him for a long time.
"It's nothing serious," he semi-lied, suddenly acutely aware of the throbbing lump on the back of his head. "C'mon, Ron, let's go. We don't want to be late."
Ron looked as though he was unwilling to let Malfoy off so easily, but he didn't protest as Harry pulled him back into the room. He could feel Malfoy's gaze burning into his skull and trepidation swelled in his stomach.
This wasn't over yet.
The moment the door swung shut, Harry found himself pushed up against it, his wrists pinned by Tom's hands, but he did not anticipate the hot, sharp flash of agony when his head slammed into it. Nor could he muffle the pained cry that escaped his lips.
Tom detached himself from Harry's neck — he was accustomed to a different kind of cry from Harry, and this one had sounded distinctly worrying — and his eyes roved over Harry's face, searching for any visible injury. "Are you hurt?"
Harry cast his gaze down, which did not satisfy Tom. He gently tugged Harry away from the door and towards the window, where pale orange light from the setting sun spilled through the glass and onto Harry's face. He cupped Harry's face tenderly and brought it closer to his.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled, but Tom didn't stop. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair and his expression abruptly turned cold as he came into contact with the lump. Harry flinched and Tom's eyes darkened.
"Who did this to you?" he demanded furiously. "Who did this to you?"
Harry didn't know how to answer. In the heat of the moment with Malfoy, he'd threatened to get him thrown out, but now, he couldn't bring himself to voice Malfoy's name.
Just one word. Just one word would end it. He had found a loophole in Malfoy's intimidation, but he — he —
"Tell me." Tom's voice had softened, but there was still malice in his tone. "Tell me, and I'll make sure they never lay a hand on you again. You are mine, and mine alone to touch." He cupped Harry's face again, sending shivers down his spine, and stared into Harry's eyes intently.
After a long, tense moment, Harry gave in. Just like that. Perhaps it had been the allure of Tom's promise of vengeance, perhaps Harry's resolve had just given way. Perhaps he'd finally come to terms with the fact that Malfoy had been a thorn in his side for far too long.
"It was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Malfoy was gone two sunrises after Harry's confession. As per Harry's request — though Tom had argued — he had been discreetly escorted from the mansion by security. When the rest of the servants woke each other and noticed one missing from their ranks, the speculative whispers began.
"What do you reckon happened?" Ron whispered as they got dressed. Hermione was not with them, she was with the female servants getting dressed in the next room, but Harry did not doubt in his mind that she would make a beeline for him when they saw each other next.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry replied nonchalantly, shrugging.
What had happened is that Tom had asked the head maid, McGonagall, to assign more duties to Malfoy. When the rest of the servants had gone to bed, Malfoy had been held back and left alone performing said extra duties, and security had surrounded him.
Tom had promised to ensure the Malfoys' silence — Draco would doubtlessly inform his wealthy parents of the suspected circumstances around his departure — and Harry knew he should feel relieved. But part of him was still worried. He was worried about his friends — sooner or later, he would have to tell them about his and Tom's relationship. Convince them that somehow, Tom wasn't completely bad. It wouldn't be easy by any means.
But at least, Harry thought, he could do it on his own terms.
2324 words
Written for:
Assignment 1, Ancient Studies Task 3 - Write the trope: The Millionaire/Billionaire (When a less fortunate character encounters/works for someone of substantial/notable wealth that eventually leads to them bonding)
NeonFae's Nibbles - Chocolate Eclairs - (word) Sanctuary / (dialogue) "Who did this to you?" / (pairing) TomHarry
Treat Yourself - Candle & Tea - (word) escape
Puzzle Club - Puzzle 5 - (color) black
Yearlies
1000 - 478. HarryTom
Musical - 283. Lettin 'em know we're gonna stand our ground
365 - 39. Jeopardize
Writing Club
Book Club - 6. (Word) Flame
Film Festival - 24. (Emotion) Vengeful
Games Corner - Yellow: Coventry Street - (character) Tom Riddle Jr
Showtime - 14. Second Midnight - (word) Thorn
Trope of the Month - 9. Action: Glaring
Ari's AU Armory - 10. (word) Deception
Snail Mail - 18. (Action) Lying
Snake Nest - 7. Mushu (Mulan): (character) Ron Weasley