Defeated, done, prisoner, isolated — what all these words had in common were that they were true and yet not, as Tom stole another finger and wound it gently around his hand. Or better yet, he held onto it and then another and more again. Until breathing with every stir were the twitches of Harry's hand, brought upon by a dream as he sunk further into the bed. Perhaps aware or unaware or merely sleeping with little care for there was no need for him to think while his boyfriend was right here. Because Tom was holding him and because Tom had him here, tucked away in a dormitory where they could sprawl and be queer. And catch a breath or a snore or a whine for something more, tangled below the waist as their arms drew them closer. Where he loved him as he loved he when Tom pressed him very gently, kissing him as one would when kissing a special thing — loving him in all the ways that were synonymous with loving Harry.

As he tiptoed from his hair and from his cheek and from his jaw, as he wandered from the sleeves and from the buttons of Harry's front: Tom knew he was a goner and that he lost this little war, that he was a prisoner to the feelings stirring about within his heart. And even then, he felt free. He felt strong next to Harry, as if there was nowhere he'd rather be when Tom hugged him with all his being. Digging lightly with his nose and chasing the autumn on Harry's skin, savoring all the sweetness and all the spice from his boyfriend. Whether it came from treacle tarts or from a cologne he had purchased, it didn't matter to the Slytherin as he basked it all in — merely a breath from euphoria before sleep came to greet him.

And it did so with a murmur and with a nuzzle beneath his jaw, with a breath near his neck and with the tenderness of a nose, when Harry rolled from his shoulder, from his back onto the other. Colliding gently into a wall made of fabric and flesh, or better known as 'Tom Riddle' and only 'Timothy' when he was pissed. And the latter couldn't help but laugh beneath his breath, whispering his 'goodnight' before drifting along with him.