AN: Another flashback chapter! I don't remember if singing ferns exist in HP canon, but if they do, then this is my version of them! Thank you for all the wonderful comments, they keep me going :)
Teaching History (is Old News)
26 - School Days: Constant
Tom throws his bag on the ground and kicks it, wishing it was Dumbledore's face.
Stupid Dumbledore, doubting Tom's abilities. As if Tom was trying to cure Potter in the first place (of course not) and then to insinuate that if Tom was trying to cure Potter that it would fail?! Fine then. Tom will become the best guide that Potter can ask for. He'll never leave his side for a second. He'll have Potter a functioning member of society before Dumbledore can blink!
The other Slytherin First Years, already so frightened of him, don't dare sleep in their quarters when they hear Tom's maniacal laughter.
:
Getting Potter alone in between classes becomes difficult, almost impossible, and Tom knows it's Dumbledore's fault somehow.
The Gryffindor Prefect in Seventh Year, Charlie Weasley, starts letting Potter sit in on Quidditch practice and sits with him during mealtimes. Longbottom begins dragging Potter to Herbology club on Wednesdays where they bond with Diggory from Hufflepuff. Potter even acquires a familiar, an owl, gifted to him at Yule from a mysterious benefactor. At some point, even Draco Malfoy even stops making snide comments towards Potter after Potter defends the younger Malfoy from his older brother Abraxas's jeers.
Potter still insists that Draco Malfoy hates him but the desire in Draco Malfoy's eyes tells a very different story that Tom will never let unfold. His mirror image, broken as he may be, deserves better than to be part of Malfoy's… fantasies. Tom makes sure to stop encounters between them as soon as possible.
Tom still sits and works with Potter in all classes, as Dippet requested, but they don't have time to converse. Tom's always redirecting Potter's attention to their assignments, making him focus by grabbing his hand and repeating the professor's instructions again. Potter always looks dazed when he stares at Tom in those moments, but at least he's quiet. Better than his nonsensical ramblings and odd predictions about marshmallows or snakes.
In between classes, Longbottom and Charlie Weasley whisk Potter away before Tom can really speak to Potter and Tom swears that next time this happens, he will hex their arms off.
While the Slytherins respect and fear Tom, he doesn't have enough influence yet to command them to do his bidding and isolate Potter for him. He also sees red at the thought of any Slytherins taking advantage of his hypothetical orders to break Potter further and that is unacceptable. Tom will handle all matters to do with Potter personally.
He's so irritated by his lack of progress in 'curing' Potter that he nearly snaps his spade in half during Herbology (one of the dullest subjects, shame they can't be studying poisons instead.)
"Whoa there, are you trying to bury a body?" Potter gapes, watching Tom dig deeper than necessary for potting their singing fern. His ever present familiar, Hedwig, is missing for once, likely lazing off instead of doing her job of protecting Potter.
"Why are you always accusing me of murder? I haven't murdered anyone," yet, Tom doesn't add. "It's offensive!"
"Sorry," Potter's face goes pale. "I… forgot which Tom I was talking to…"
Again.
"How many Toms can you possibly know?" he snaps, and how are these Toms more memorable than himself? Perhaps Tom should change his name after all, once he finds his father. A name that no one will ever dare forget…
"Too many to count," Potter mutters, staring down at his dirt-covered gloves. Those eyes drift into daydreamed worlds that Tom can't follow…
"Stop that!" Tom snaps, grabbing those dirt-covered gloves, those hands, for himself.
Startled, Potter finally lifts his gaze to Tom's. "Er… stop what, exactly?"
"Looking away," from me, "from everything, from the present—to go off where your head tells you to go. Focus on the now." On me.
Once more, Potter looks speechless, fishing for words so awkwardly as if he believes he hasn't permission to exist. Tom grips Potter's hand tighter. Someday, he'll find out more about those Dursleys and make them pay.
"It's hard…" Potter finally admits, looking down at their hands. "Since the accident… I…"
Tom doesn't want to hear anymore about the accident, about the pain that no doubt plagues Potter's mind. He knows.
"Here," Tom moves Potter's hand to his chest, breathes in and out. "Do you feel that?"
Potter goes completely still, as if his brain has completely shut off. "Your… chest?"
"No, you idiot," Tom hisses, "my heartbeat!"
"Oh. Right. That." Why is Potter's face pink? Is he having another medical emergency? Tom makes a note to watch Potter for anymore trouble that might disrupt his day.
"It's real," Tom points out, in case Potter suffers from more temporary stupidity.
"Um… yes it is? All heartbeats are real, Tom, otherwise you'd be a vampire or something worse, which would make an entirely different backstory for you—"
"I mean when it gets too much, the pain, or thinking, you can feel my heartbeat and just focus on that. Focus on my heartbeat, Potter, and you'll return to the present, to reality."
Tom has the satisfaction of seeing Potter's jaw drop, before Potter begins laughing again, delighted laughter that makes Tom's chest go tight and wanting.
"Are you making fun of me?" Tom hisses, though the laughter feels so different from Amy or Billy's, like the sound of Christmas bells in the morning after he's stolen the entire orphanage's toys.
"No, no, it's just… you're so different. And you're right, you are so very real, thank you. I feel like… like it's hard to keep breathing some days, like just existing is agony and it hurts but you… Surprisingly, you make it feel better."
…No one's ever said that to Tom before and meant it. No one's ever looked at Tom with so much delight either, as if they're thankful he's here. That by existing, he has value.
"Think nothing of it," Tom grumbles, turning away, but still holding Potter's hand. "I just don't want to see you acting so unbecoming of your house. I'd rather you live bravely. Isn't that what lions do?"
Potter looks like he might start free falling or perhaps he's feeling faint. Tom is just about to ask (demand) Professor Sprout to let him drag Potter to the Hospital Wing for another check-up (since Potter adores skipping them) when Potter beams and throws himself at Tom, arms everywhere.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Tom's mind races, flits in and out. Is this an attack? Is Potter mistaking him for a vampire walnut that he has to strangle?!
"I'm hugging you! You need more hugs!"
"I don't need hugs!" Tom almost pries Potter off him, wary of prying eyes. But everyone in the class seems preoccupied with wrestling their singing ferns and ticklish tulips into the soil. Seeing no stares upon them, Tom relaxes.
Potter is… warm. Tom… doesn't know what to do. And before he can act, Potter pulls away, and it's cold. But Potter steps back and pokes Tom in the chest—
"You too," Potter grins. "You need to focus on the present too."
Tom's mind, still overloaded from the… hug, suddenly shifts into overdrive. "Me? I'm not the one who hit his head! I'm always present!"
"No, you're not! You're always plotting and planning for the future. Slow down a bit, Tom, focus on the moment. Look, I'll show you what I mean," Potter interrupted before Tom can say anything. "See this Singing Fern? Were you thinking about it earlier when you did all that digging?"
"Of course I was, I was performing our task. How could I not think of it?"
"Nah, you were distracted by something. This hole is way too deep, even I know that much. And you got all that dirt on this poor fern too. They aren't even humming anymore. Their mood is bad and now the roots might not take."
The Singing Fern does indeed look wilted, not one annoying song coming from its leaves.
"If you don't pay attention to them, if you don't give them the proper care that they deserve, in the moment, how can they thrive?"
"But they aren't useful," Tom finds himself saying. "Why should that matter?"
Potter rocks back on his feet in shock. "Not useful?! But they sing! They make you feel better! And," he whispers, as if not wanting the fern to hear, "they make very soothing teas! Don't you ever stop to listen to the music?"
"No." That's ridiculous. Singing Ferns are annoying. Being in a greenhouse with dozens of them screaming their tunes at once makes Tom detest them even more.
"Here," Potter puts up a privacy ward all around them, so they can only hear each other, rather than their class's antics. "Charlie taught me that. Now I'll get our fern to sing."
"It doesn't look up to any singing…" Tom eyes the droopy leaves suspiciously.
But Potter starts humming. His voice is… soothing, a balm on a wound Tom didn't know he had, and the melody nostalgic, a sense of familiarity that Tom has never felt until now. Each lilt and shift in Potter's voice is like the wind passing through chimes, spinning autumn leaves in the air, like the lull of the sea before Amy and Billy ruined everything.
Tom doesn't even realize that he's relaxed and closed his eyes until Potter murmurs, "See?"
He opens his eyes and sees their fern swaying back and forth, glowing blue as the stars, and echoing Potter's lullaby. None of the other ferns are glowing so brightly or as happily.
Potter beams, face all aglow. "They thrive."
"Yes," Tom agrees, unable to take his eyes off Potter. "They do."
:
Something shifts between them. Potter begins seeking Tom out voluntarily, always giving him hugs or slinging an arm around Tom's shoulder. Anyone else, Tom would hex for doing so, but he needs Potter to recover, to prove Dumbledore wrong, so he tolerates it and glares at all who question their relationship.
Tom begins inviting Potter to have study sessions in the library and stargaze at night. Their meetings are constant, Potter is constant and he—
:
—sees that bruise on Potter's cheek on the train during Second Year and sees pure r e d as he demands who did this to you—
:
—swears he'll hunt down Sirius Black to take the revenge that Potter won't let himself take—
—makes Trelawney lose her hair and blackmails her to leave Potter alone for the rest of the term, while she looks at him and shudders, "There's something dark about you, not right, not right at all," and a simple obliviate and mind manipulation gets the job done faster—
:
—sees Potter standing in the storm in Fourth Year, looking so pale and alone—
:
—and then he…
And….
T h e n
He…?
EDITED CHAPTER - March 15th, 2020