A/N:
tagalong piece to 'In the Daylight Again'. this takes place after chapter 11, which is the final main chapter of the story.
dedicated to my sister for talking with me about tom's character development. also dedicated to moth, kate, and drowsy for the conversations we had about the tenth chapter of the story.
thanks for inspiring and encouraging me, and apologies in advance that this is written in a cursed POV (second person). i was feeling particularly melodramatic.
title taken from the song 'the salt and the sea' by the lumineers, just like the main story. i started this at 3am and finished it at 1am the next day, and it shows bc it's angsty.
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There We Will Be
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Your name is Tom Riddle. You live in an orphanage where the other children despise you and the matron thinks you're the devil's spawn. But you have magic, which makes you special.
Then you go to Hogwarts, only—you don't fit in there, either. You have no money, no parents, no lineage. But you have magic, and you're good at magic.
You know you belong in Slytherin house even though they look at you differently. But you never fit in, not anywhere, and it hurts, and you wonder why because you hate the hurting.
You hate the hurt so much that you tell yourself that they shun you because you are better. You are better than they are, because you have magic, because you are good at magic, and this is why they treat you differently.
You go back to Wool's for the summer. People talk of war and danger and all you want to do is practice magic and go back to school—but you can't. You can't.
Then Harry Potter shows up.
He tells you how important you are, how smart you are. He shows you the future—a future where Muggleborns are liked. A future where you don't have to prove yourself because everyone already knows—agrees—that Tom Riddle is the best.
You didn't dare have hope anymore, not when it's been taken away so many times, but here, maybe, you can hope. You can believe Harry Potter doesn't want you to die.
Besides, Harry doesn't matter. Harry Potter doesn't matter, is beneath you the way everyone else is supposed to be—
Until he isn't.
Harry sees you. He is the first and only person to see you. He smiles at you and makes you lunch and cracks jokes that you learn aren't meant to be at your expense.
Harry came to save you because he knows that Tom Riddle is the best at everything, but also because he knows that Tom Riddle is special. Harry came to save you because Harry, like you, knows what it's like to be different. Maybe being different isn't so bad, then. Maybe you were only ever looking in all the wrong places.
Harry is special, too, only he doesn't realize it yet. You're determined to show him.
Some days you catch yourself thinking about Harry, and other days you catch yourself wondering what it means to be happy. There are chickens out in the yard that you say you don't care about. There is a boy in your life that you once said didn't matter to you. Maybe, you think, maybe your whole life you've simply been defining happiness the wrong way.
The world outside the wards spins and spins, uncaring and cruel. But in this space, you are safe. In this house, you are cared for. With Harry, you look at the list of things you swore you would never do and strike them off one by one by one.
Harry loves you. Life has never been easier than this.
Harry loves you, until he—
See, this is where it falls apart. This is where the punchline makes a vicious reappearance. You once used to protect yourself from truths like this. You once used your shield of apathy and arrogance to hold others at bay. You used to do this, and then you made an exception. You made the exception for Harry because you hoped, you hoped—
You don't fit in. You don't belong. And no matter what you do and how hard you try, history has proven that there has never been any choice for you. Even now, your fate is in the hands of others. Even now, what choice do you have? You love Harry Potter and your heart won't allow you to take that back.
Harry tells you so many things, but what it boils down to is this:
Your name is Tom Riddle.
You have magic, but you have no money, no parents, no lineage. You are good at magic, but you become the Dark Lord that murders Harry's parents.
You love this boy, but you hate him, too.
You want to love yourself, but you hate yourself, too—and doesn't that make all the sense in the world, that part of your soul lives in Harry Potter?
If this is predestination, your soul and Harry's, then perhaps this is where you belong. Harry needs you just as much as you need him—and that's fair, that's more than fair. You feel you are owed that, being needed.
If this is your fate, then you'll accept it as you've accepted everything else life has thrown your way. Your ability to adapt is what has kept you alive. You have grown out of dreams of family, dreams of staying at Hogwarts, dreams of acceptance; so maybe you were always meant to turn against the world that ostracized you. Maybe you were destined to hate Harry Potter, in any timeline, in any universe.
It doesn't matter much, in the end. You've never had anywhere to go before. If you were meant to ruin everything that you touched anyways, then why not here? Why shouldn't your hands be the ones tying the knots, setting the loop, twisting the noose.
You are choking yourself on your own heart, but you'll be damned if that doesn't make you feel more alive. And if you live like this—if you continue to live like this—well, at least you'll have someone by your side while you do it.
At least you won't be alone. Harry has your soul buried in his scar and says that he loves you, says he'll never give up on you. At least you have that. You don't have a home to go to, but—you have someone who belongs with you.
Maybe that is enough, to have someone. You hope it will be enough because you're not certain what you'll do otherwise. But hope takes time, you've learned. Time to grow and time to come to fruition.
So you'll wait. You can be patient with this. You can wait for a future where Muggleborns are liked and no one knows Tom Riddle as Lord Voldemort. You can wait for a day when it hurts less to love and feels easier to breathe.
Someday, you will look at the sky and see nothing but endless blue sky, and white, shapeless clouds. Someday, you hope, you will look at the sky and think of no one but yourself.
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END.
A/N:
tom, probably: when the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world!
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