A/N:
dedicated to Chef, who adores this AU. this is simply a second installment and this work is still considered complete. it is worth noting that i have increased the story rating for warning for mentions of torture/medical violence in this chapter!
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2 Tame 2 Boyfriend
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"Are you done yet?"
"No," Harry said. He did not glance up from his forensic psychology homework because Tom had already asked that question less than a minute ago.
Tom, who was sprawled sideways on the couch, pouted at him. "I'm bored."
"Mhmm."
"I would like to cuddle," Tom added.
"What did you do when you were bored before you met me?" Harry asked as he wrote down a new sentence in his notebook.
"I murdered people."
Comments like this reminded Harry why he sometimes had to pay attention to Tom even when he didn't want to.
"Listen, I'll be done with this in…" Harry looked at the clock. If he gave a number that was too big, Tom would refuse to wait. If he gave a number that was too small, Tom would wait for a minute or two, then get impatient when Harry didn't miraculously finish ahead of schedule.
"Twenty minutes," Harry decided. "How about that?" His quiz mark would just have to suffer a little. Again.
Tom made a pleased noise as he shifted on the couch, rolling onto his back and folding his arms over his chest.
"Did anyone offend you today?" he asked a few seconds later, which was his way of making small talk.
"Nope," Harry said. "No one has offended me."
"Not even Dumbledore?" Tom asked hopefully.
"Nope."
Tom lapsed into momentary silence. Harry managed to answer two more homework questions before Tom spoke again.
"Are you done yet?"
"No," Harry said. He glanced at the clock on his laptop. "It's barely been ten minutes, Tom."
"I could make time slow." Tom's tail flicked through the air in a lazy arc. "I could trap us in a time bubble. Then you could do your homework later."
That sounded like an extreme abuse of power just for the sake of obtaining some cuddle time.
"The more questions you ask me, the longer it'll take me to finish," Harry pointed out.
"Then don't finish." Tom sat up. "Tell them your dog ate your homework."
"I'm submitting this online," Harry protested, but Tom had already transformed into an enormous dog and trotted over to plop his giant head on Harry's lap.
Harry was not fooled by the dog-like behaviour. Or the puppy eyes. Or when Tom picked up Harry's notebook with his teeth and somehow swallowed it down with one snap of his massive jaws.
"I need that back," Harry said, exasperated. "Those are my notes, Tom. For the entire term."
In a flash of dark green smoke, the notebook reappeared on the table. Harry shoved it away from the edge so it wouldn't be in danger of digestion via demon-dog boyfriend, and studiously ignored Tom's tail thumping on the floor.
"Stop distracting me so I can finish," Harry said, returning his eyes to his laptop screen.
Tom rubbed his nose against Harry's thigh and stayed quiet. His tail even quit thumping. But after a few minutes, Harry could hear a faint whine building in the back of Tom's throat.
Now, Harry was aware that Tom was a manipulative little shit.
Sadly, that knowledge did not make Harry immune to said manipulations.
With a sigh, Harry reached down with his left hand and delivered head scritches. Tom's tail immediately began thumping again, but the noise was rhythmic and non-obtrusive, so he let it be and refocused on his schoolwork.
After three more mind-numbing questions, Harry finally gave up on forensic psychology.
"Okay," Harry said, sitting back in his chair and stretching his back. "All done."
Within seconds, Tom had resumed his usual form and hoisted Harry over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Amused, Harry let himself be carried off to bed for snuggles. Sometimes he felt less like Tom's boyfriend and more like Tom's all-you-can-cuddle buffet.
"I'll kill someone for you tomorrow," Tom promised as he lowered Harry onto the bed and began the very important process of delicately stripping off Harry's sweatshirt.
"No killing," Harry said, only his voice was muffled by the sweatshirt being carefully dragged over his head. He had previously made clear that his clothes were to be treated with respect during the removal process, or else cuddle prohibitions would be put into effect.
Tom grinned, pinning Harry's hips to the bed with his large hands. "I could make you change your mind," he purred, eyes flashing red. "Soulmate."
Harry wasn't that much of a pushover. "No killing," he insisted.
Tom wound his tail around Harry's ankle, which tickled. "But if I'm very good," Tom breathed, "I can have a little torture, can't I? As a treat." His hands slowly dragged their way up Harry's body, from hips to waist to rib cage.
"No," Harry repeated, but his voice was pitched funny, thoroughly ruining his reprimand.
Tom hummed and planted his face against Harry's neck. His left hand was now creeping down Harry's chest towards the waistband of his trousers. "Fine," Tom breathed. "But you're mine for tonight. Deal?"
"That tickles," Harry protested half-heartedly. "And only if you agree to the regular rules." No lasting marks and nothing that would prevent him from attending classes normally tomorrow.
"Fine. Deal?" Tom pressed, licking a warm, wet strip down to Harry's collarbone.
"Deal," Harry said. A faint prickle of magic washed over them both, sealing the promise in place. He was better at detecting Tom's magic now than he had been at the start.
"Wonderful," Tom said in a sultry voice, and vanished all of Harry's clothes with a wave of his hand.
The next day, Harry didn't make it two steps out the door of his building before he had to stop, turn around, and glare at Tom.
Tom, who was in dog form, wagged his tail. He was apparently very proud of himself.
"Did you set this tree on fire," Harry said. It wasn't really a question, but it had to be asked.
Tom nudged Harry's calf with his nose instead of answering.
Aggrieved, Harry thought back to yesterday. Had he gotten into another altercation with a tree or a piece of paper and forgotten about it?
"Seriously," Harry said as he examined his fingers for paper cuts. "Why is this tree now a giant stick of charcoal?"
Tom swapped forms and folded his arms over his chest. "My spawn are displeased by my extended absence. So while you were asleep, I tied Bellatrix to a tree and set her on fire."
"Your what? And you what?"
"To set an example, you understand."
Harry said, "Uh," in what he felt was a very intelligent way, considering the nonsense that had just spilled out of Tom's mouth. The oppressive stink of ash in the air was not helping.
In response to Harry's incredulous expression, Tom frowned. "It was rather strange how delighted she seemed. I suppose to each their own. Who am I to judge someone's personal preferences?"
Harry started walking again. Standing in one place wasn't going to help any of this make more sense, and he still had to get to class.
Then something else occurred to him. "Your… spawn… aren't going to come here and hurt anyone, are they?" he asked.
Tom reached for Harry's hand and twisted their fingers together. "Not unless I ask them to. Or unless they want to be chained to a tree and set on fire."
Harry shoved his free hand under his glasses so he could rub at his eyes.
"Don't worry, precious. They are aware of our deal." Tom pecked Harry on the side of the head, just behind the ear. "No one will devour your soul but me."
It was kind of reassuring to hear that. It could be construed as reassuring if Harry stripped away the lens of demon-speak and paid attention to the deeper meaning.
"Thanks," Harry said, and he meant it.
Tom beamed at him. "You're very welcome."
That weekend, Harry got back his term paper for his forensic psychology class. Dumbledore had given him a failing grade. Harry held his paper up, squinting at the scrawl of red ink that read 'N for Needs Improvement'. What was this, primary school?
"Bones for broth," Tom intoned darkly, peering over his shoulder.
"You cannot make broth from my professor's bones."
"But he failed you."
"And yet, murder is still not the answer," Harry replied, rolling his eyes back to glare up at Tom.
"A cauldron's worth of soup would only require half of his ribs and a leg."
"No."
Tom sighed. "Fine. It may take two legs if the bones are in bad condition."
Harry shut off his laptop and headed for the couch. Tom, of course, followed him over.
According to Tom, there were two ways to sit on a couch.
Tom was the couch, which meant that Harry sat on 'the couch' and was cuddled within an inch of his life. Tom was on top of Harry while Harry sat on the couch, which meant that Harry was more of a Harry pancake than anything else.
Today, Harry was the pancake. But it wasn't as bad as it could have been—Tom had spread himself over Harry's lap like a large cat. Then he'd rolled around, trying to get comfortable, and eventually settled for knocking Harry over and crushing him flat against the couch.
"Not that I don't appreciate everything you do for me," Harry said carefully, "but don't you have people to torture, you know, down there?"
Tom released a low, grumbling sound. "They bore me."
"Everything bores you."
"Not you," Tom said, lifting his head so he could shoot Harry a winsome smile.
"Well, you aren't torturing me," Harry pointed out. "So I don't see what your point is."
Tom sighed. "Torturing humans for their transgressions has gotten repetitive over the centuries." He paused and adjusted their position on the couch, pinning Harry more firmly against his torso. "Torturing living humans on Earth is much more fun. Their reactions are delicious." As if to emphasize his point, he licked the shell of Harry's ear.
Harry did not squirm. He did not. "There are other interesting things to do on Earth. Things other than torture."
"Things like you?" Tom hummed.
Harry wasn't fooled by the saccharine tone. "Things like hobbies," he said.
Tom blew an exasperated gust of hot air over Harry's head. "What hobby do you imagine I would enjoy?"
"I don't know," Harry said defensively. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "Maybe normal cooking? Cooking without bones?" What other non-violent options were there? "Some people build miniatures." Maybe Tom would enjoy lording over a tiny kingdom of figurines just as much as he enjoyed lording over… a large hell pit full of demons.
"Miniatures," Tom repeated thoughtfully. His tail swished through the air a few times before settling under Harry's t-shirt and curling around his waist. "Like this one?" He conjured a miniature model of Dumbledore and floated it into Harry's line of sight.
"No," Harry said.
"Are you sure?" Tom proceeded to use magic to tear off the Dumbledoll's limbs one by one. "I'm enjoying myself very much."
A little voice in Harry's head was concerned that Tom had somehow connected the doll to its real-life counterpart. But Tom usually preferred to torture in person so he could enjoy their agonized screams. So Dumbledore was probably safe. Hopefully.
"All done?" Harry asked, once all the limbs had been littered onto his living room floor.
"No." Tom ripped out the figure's long, snow-white beard and tossed it aside. Then he flicked a finger and set all of the little Dumbledore pieces on fire.
Harry wrinkled his nose at the reeking scent of burning flesh. "That's gross, Tom. Get rid of it."
Tom vanished all the mess and nuzzled the top of Harry's head.
"You better not hurt him," Harry said. "I mean it, Tom. Leave him alive or else."
Tom only hummed and dipped his head to nibble at Harry's jaw. The kissing felt very nice, and Harry's day had been long and stressful, so he allowed himself to relax under Tom's touch. It was a touch that quickly wandered into questionable territory after a couple minutes of light petting.
Eventually, Harry was forced to concede that neither of them would be going anywhere any time soon. So he gave into it, mostly hoping it would make Tom forget about wanting to debone his forensic psychology professor, and it seemed to work. Tom did not bring up Dumbledore for the rest of the afternoon.
After a late dinner, Harry even allowed Tom to curse the tenants in the flat next-door for being too loud. He did have to talk Tom down from flesh-eating head lice to regular head lice, but that was a pretty normal weekend negotiation for the two of them so he didn't think too much about it.
On Sunday morning, Harry woke up to an email from his program head stating that Dumbledore was in the hospital and someone named Umbridge would be taking over his classes for the rest of the term.
The expressionless look on Tom's face would have been more convincing if not for the very rapid swishing of his tail.
"Tom," Harry said in as cross of a tone as he could manage, "did you or did you not put my professor in the hospital?"
"I did not put him there," Tom said, wrapping his arms around Harry's torso. "Someone put him in a car and drove him there. That someone was not me."
"Are you the reason why he's in the hospital?" Harry clarified. "I told you not to do anything!"
Tom laid his chin atop Harry's head. "I only removed his largest bones. He felt no pain, and I left him alive, just as you asked." He sounded very pleased about his clever circumvent of Harry's directives. "Last I checked, the doctors were calling him a medical miracle. He should really thank me for making his pathetic life more significant in the eyes of others."
Harry made an incomprehensible noise of despair, prompting Tom to pet his head with one clawed hand, as if to soothe him.
"I didn't even make broth," Tom said with a sigh. "All the bones have gone to waste."
"But what did you do with the bones?" Harry asked, after a pause.
Tom's tail curled around Harry's calf, tickling the skin there. His grin was full of delight as he said, "I buried them, obviously."
After suffering a long day of Monday classes and running errands, Harry arrived back at his flat to find strangers in his kitchen.
"Welcome home, beloved," Tom greeted him, dragging Harry into a too-tight hug.
"Thanks," Harry said, smacking lightly at Tom's arm until his grip loosened. "Care to explain what's going on in the kitchen?"
Tom smiled. It did not look the slightest bit innocent. "Soup."
"Yeah, not an explanation." Harry untangled himself from Tom's embrace and wandered over to the two demons who were stirring an absurdly large pot on the stovetop. Closer inspection revealed definite human bones sitting in some unidentifiable liquids. "Is that bone soup?"
"I'm not the one making it," Tom said immediately. He came up behind Harry and tugged on his hand. "Why don't you come to bed, precious?"
"It's—" Harry checked his watch. "It's only seven, Tom."
"Early demons catch the early humans."
"That is not possibly a real saying." Harry stuffed a hand under his glasses so he could rub at his eyes. "Is that or is that not a pot of broth made from my professor's bones cooking on my stovetop?"
"I'm afraid I cannot confirm as I am not the one—"
"Ugh," Harry said. He was not in the mood for talking Tom down from extremely questionable criminal activity. He didn't even like Dumbledore that much, for crying out loud. "Can you at least put some new bones back or something? Put him back together? I really don't want to get stuck with Umbridge for the rest of the semester."
Tom frowned, his lips pursed in thought while he considered Harry's request. "She could also become soup, if you wished. It would be very easy."
"No. Just fix Dumbledore so I can graduate without my grade in forensic psychology suffering even more than it already has."
"If I fix him," Tom said, "will you try my broth?"
"No."
Tom sighed. "Fine. But after, we'll cuddle."
"After you go and fix him," Harry said firmly.
Tom's frown deepened.
"Any kind of cuddling you want," Harry added. "But that means you never do this again."
"That doesn't sound very fair," Tom groused. "What if you later decide that he must be punished for something? If we make a deal now, I won't be able to do anything."
The only reason why Harry made any deals at all with Tom was because they were, supposedly, magically binding. "Any kind of cuddling you want," Harry repeated. "I'll even let you trap us in a time bubble, how about that?"
Tom's eyes flashed a bright, glittering red. It was utterly terrifying, and Harry immediately regretted the vagueness of his offer as Tom snatched up his hand and shook it.
"Deal," Tom purred, and his enthusiasm was so strong that Harry felt the ensuing magic spread warmth through him right to the bone.
At the hospital, Tom loomed invisibly over Harry's terrible professor. In his clawed hand was a potion that would regrow a human's missing bones. Based on past observations, he knew the process was long and exceedingly painful. Tom's tail swished happily at the thought as he poured the entire potion of Skele-Gro into Dumbledore's lax, unprotesting mouth.
"If you fail Harry a second time," Tom told him, "I will allow Bella back on Earth and instruct her to dice your flesh up for chunky human stew." Even though the professor could not hear him, Tom liked to imagine the answer.
Dumbledore said nothing, but his face contorted in a way that suggested he was in a great deal of agony. Tom didn't mind the lack of response too much. His imagination was very good at providing imaginary screams and pathetic pleas for mercy.
"Have a nice night," Tom told the gasping old man in a polite tone. "I'm off to cuddle with Harry. For the next several months. Or possibly even a year, depending. I'm sure I can get away with quite a lot before he realizes I've gotten us partway through having sex."
The old professor wheezed in response. Tom almost wished he could stay to watch the regrowth process, but Harry was waiting for him at home, ripe for cuddling. It was too good of an opportunity to pass on. Very rarely did Harry give him free reign to do whatever he wanted. There were always so many pesky human limitations that Harry insisted on adhering to.
But with this new deal, Tom had grand plans for a lovely sabbatical full of naked Harry on his lap. It was all very exciting stuff.
"Thank you for the bones," Tom said. "They were extremely helpful." He patted the old man's boneless leg once, then vanished on the spot.
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END.
