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It means a lot and helped me get through the week with out tearing my hair out. :)

Warnings : It's un-betaed, Pre-slash and unexplained time travel.

Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.

Chapter 3.

Harry wiped his face with the back of a flour covered hand and looked at the timer that he had set on the dingy counter next to his work space. He had about four more minutes left to get his work done, with a sigh he went back to kneading the dough for the rolls that would be on the dinner table that night.

Two weeks ago the five-year old had stubbornly struck up a deal with Martha, the cook of Wool's orphanage who rarely allowed anyone to step foot in her kitchen. After four days of Harry waiting for her at the entrance to her lair, green eyes glaring at her defiantly, she decided to hear the boy out.

When he told her he wanted to make a deal the woman had thought that he would want biscuits or sweets in trade for taking out the garbage - more children had tried to get her to agree to that - but the boy had surprised her when he purposed that he would help her with anything she requested for two weeks in exchange for helping him bake a small cake.

After a moment or two of thought the woman agreed, after all what harm could it do? Martha was a sensible woman unlike Mrs. Cole who seemed to think that children ruined everything they touched, whether they meant to or not, and she couldn't see the harm in it.

The boy had a good head on his shoulders and only wanted to bake a cake. Besides she could certainly use another pair of hands around the kitchen and the orphanage refused to pay for her to hire help. And so Harry had spent every afternoon for the last two weeks learning how to make the various dishes the orphanage could afford to place on the table for the children, which granted wasn't much but Martha would sometimes bring things from her sisters garden in the country to add something extra to their diets. Though Martha seemed like a harsh woman she really was quite pleasant once you got to know her.

Harry finished with the dough just as the timer went off jarring him from his thoughts. Martha walked to the oven and check on the small golden cake that was sitting on the rack inside.

"Looks like its done Harry." She said with a small nod of approval as she grabbed her oven mitts.

Grinning Harry jumped off his stool and rushed over to her side as she pulled out the cake. He watched with wide eyes as she carefully removed the cake from its pan placed it on the cooling rack she had set out that morning. Turning to look at him she brushed a lock of her salt and pepper hair that had fallen from her bun into her face as she worked.

"Turn off the oven while I get the things you'll need for frosting." Martha said as she walked across the kitchen, the heels of her shoes clicking loudly against the white tile floor.

Harry did as she said and turned off the oven before he slid his stool over to where the cake was resting and inspected it closely.

The cakes surface was golden brown with small patches of yellow showing through its slightly bumpy surface, just as Martha said it would, rather ugly but it would be hidden by the frosting and would taste wonderful.

Martha made her way back, arms full with a container of powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and dish of butter that had been sitting near the stove so it would soften, all tucked neatly into a bowl with a mixing spoon so it could be comfortably carried in Maratha's plump arms.

Harry looked over at her with a wide grin and barely kept from squirming in excitement as Tom said it made him look like he had to pee, though it was in a much more Tom-like way.

"Now, what you're going to do is mix the powdered sugar and butter together until it's creamy and add a few drops of vanilla, you won't need to much since the cake is so small." She explained as she poured about a cup of powdered sugar into the mixing bowl not bothering to dirty a measuring cup because she could measure it just as well with just her eyes and scooped a third of the butter into the bowl with two drops of vanilla then handed Harry the spoon.

Five minutes later after she had moved the cake to a plate Martha handed him a butter knife and told him to scrape off the spoon and put it into the sink to soak before helping him frost the now cool cake.

"It's missing something." Harry murmured as he looked at the cake, resting his chin on one small fist.

"I've got just the thing." The plump woman said as she snapped her fingers and moved to the fridge to grab a dish that she had brought with her that morning to spell out Tom's name in blue berries that she had picked from the bush she had in her garden. With a smile she set a clean butter knife and two forks on two plates and helped Harry bring it all up to the room he shared with Tom and set it on their end table.

Just before she left she pulled a packet of candles and a book of matches out of the pocket in her apron and tossed them to the black haired boy in front of her.

"Don't burn yourself or set anything but the candles on fire." Martha would be the only woman who was five foot tall that sent chills down Harry's spine by the tone of her voice alone for the rest of his life.

Swallowing his fear Harry nodded.

"Yes ma'am."

Martha returned the nod then disappeared out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Harry tucked the book of matches into his back pocket and opened the packet of candles. They were simple enough, while with greenish blue stripes and just a bit longer than his pinky. Carefully he poked in eight candles around the cake, trying to make sure that they didn't mess up Tom's name or crowd too close together. After he finished he pulled back to survey his work, satisfied he glanced at the clock sitting just inches away from the cake.

It was almost four o'clock, Tom would be back from church soon*. Every Monday* from two to four would take a group of orphans to the church to spent time with the nuns and priests there, in hopes that they might know someone who would adopt one of them but most of it was just a formality now and the children spent their time helping with simple chores around the church. Things like sweeping, dusting, and organizing hymn books and bibles were among the chores, but Tom caught the eye of one Sister Mary Edwards and had been charged with helping her organize and care for the church archives.

It was one of the few things that Tom didn't complain about when he came back from church.

Harry smiled and went towards the dresser on what was his side of the room at one time. In the past few months they had stopped considering the room as being cut in half by an invisible line, divided into dimensions of 'mine' and 'yours' and started regarding it as 'ours', as a whole. He pulled out the middle drawer of the dresser and uncovered a small black box with a red ribbon around it that had been hidden underneath a stack of neatly folder trousers.

Inside rested the handmade gift that Harry had made for his friend.

A dragonfly made up of paper clips, beads, buttons and a few scraps of wire he had been able to find to bind them all the last few months he had gathered supplies that he might be able to make a birthday gift for Tom, though the task was rather hard in the orphanage.

There weren't many things that Harry thought Tom would take a liking to in the first place let alone when they were put together.

But he could remember last summer when he had seen Tom sitting under a tree with a dragonfly resting on his finger, a small relaxed smile, that even Harry didn't get to see all that often, on his lips as he stared at the delicate insect on his finger, its blue-green body and iridescent wings sparkling in the sunlight that streamed down through the leaves.

It had amazed him to see Tom so relaxed and at ease, and for a moment that he didn't even realize what he was feeling he was jealous of that dragonfly.

Sighing Harry closed the drawer and went back to the end table, setting the box next to the cake and sat down on the bed he now shared with Tom.

Tom hid a shiver as he walked with the group of children he was regularly forced to go to church with in an effort to pawn them off to adults who just might want the responsibility of a child but can't have one of their own for some reason or another.

Or perhaps that was just the reason they gave the children as Tom suspected that was attempting to get donations from the church.

The greedy woman already had enough to take care of them but spent it on the scotch he knew was hidden away in a drawer of her office desk. She was just covering her own tail; she didn't care anything about them as long as she could use them as a cover for her habit, her drinking problem.

Maybe sometime in the future he would twist her arm with that knowledge but not now, he thought as the drab gray building of Wool's orphanage came into his view.

He wanted to spend the rest of his time with Harry today, after all it was his birthday, and though that fact didn't mean much to him, he knew it meant something to Harry so he went along with it.

Once they were inside the children stripped off their itchy wool coats and hung them op on the wooden pegs in the staff hall, water dripping off them as snow melted from the slight rise in temperature. Tom's slate gray eyes followed until she disappeared into her office, no doubt in his mind that she was going to get drunk out of hers.

Unless she came after him or Harry in a drunken rage it wasn't his problem, let whoever was stupid enough to go near her when she was in such a state bear the consequences of their stupidity in his opinion.

With nothing more than a glare towards the other children who dared to come to close to him, Tom made his way to the second floor and to the room he shared with Harry.

Harry sat up a bit straighter and smiled as he heard Tom's footsteps from down the hall.

"Happy Birthday Tom." He said as the older boy opened the door.

"Thank you Harry." Tom replied as he gave a small smile and closed the door behind him.

Harry stood up and pulled the book of matches out of his pocket and quickly set to lighting the candles then blew out the match before it could burn his fingertips.

"Make a wish!" He said with a grin now that Tom was close enough to see what he had done.

Tom leaned down, closed his eyes and blew the candles out.

"What did you wish for?"

Tom opened his eyes and looked at Harry with a fond smirk.

"I can't tell you or it won't come true."

Harry rolled his eyes and started pulling the candles from the cake, setting them on the dish around it. After he finished he proceeded to cut the cake into four pieces and put them on plates for himself and Tom.

Tom sat down next to Harry on the bed as he took a bite of his birthday cake, it was wonderful with creamy frosting and moist cake, the sweetness of the blue berries he decided was a wonderful touch as one burst in his mouth. Once he had swallowed he glanced at Harry who was watching for his reaction and hadn't taken a bite of his own yet.

"It's wonderful Harry, where did you get it?"

Harry beamed and finally took a bite of his cake before answering.

"I made it with Martha." He said around his food, unintentionally giving Tom an eye full of his half chewed cake.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Harry, it's disgusting." Tom said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Who's Martha?"

"Sorry Tom, and Martha's the cook, she helped me make it!" Harry replied after he swallowed.

The elder boy gave a small nod and continued to eat his cake in silence. Once they finished Harry set both of their plates on the end table and picked up Tom's birthday present then handed it to him.

"Happy Birthday." He murmured and crawled back on the bed next to his friend.

Tom blinked and glanced at Harry then back to the little back box that sat innocently in his hand, the ribbon around it a shade of red that reminded him of blood. Carefully he untied the bow, briefly he wondered if it was Harry's work, if it was he had certainly improved since Tom had taught him how to tie his shoes, it was only slightly crooked.

When he was done he set the ribbon aside and lifted the lid. Sitting inside on a little nest of folded cloth that looked like it was a scrap from one of the table cloths that one of the care takers had ruined, was a dragonfly.

It wasn't the prettiest thing he had ever seen with its dirty paper clip wings and mismatched button and bead eyes but he could tell that Harry had spent hours of hard work to make it. It was hidden in the way the wire held everything together at just the right angle to keep its body from falling apart but not altering its looks horribly.

"Why a dragonfly?" He asked without taking his eyes off it.

"You seemed to like that one that landed on your finger last summer; I thought if I made you one you might like it too..." Harry trailed off nervously, biting his lip, green orbs filled with worry.

It was true, Tom thought as he considered Harry's words. Tom liked that dragonfly more than he liked most people; he had treated it to a rest on his pale finger and a smile. It didn't fear him or annoy him with childish things but instead was content to simply sit on his finger and bask in the sunlight.

Vaguely Tom wondered if Harry knew the symbolic meaning of the gift he had presented him with. The dragonfly was considered a symbol of power, poise, maturity, depth and many more things that escaped Tom's mind at the moment as he stared at the gift that rested in his hand.

"I love it." He finally said and cradled it in his palm for a moment before setting it on the window still. Tom looked back over at the younger boy and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you Harry."

The two boys enjoyed their second pieces of cake and paged through the latest book Tom had borrowed from the library until it was two dark to see unless they had a lamp on and had to bring their plates down so Harry could wash them and Tom could meet Harry's new friend, Martha.

The dragonfly would sit on the windowsill for three years, until the boy to whom it was given went off to a boarding school in the Scotland highlands where it would sit on the night stand next to his bed as a reminder of the one who was waiting for him to return in the summer.

Harry wouldn't know it but Tom would still like a dragonfly more than most people, only this one would be made of paper clips, beads, buttons and wire scraps.

1. Yes, I sent Tom to church.

2. I actually looked it up and December 31 1934 was a monday.

So I hope you liked this chapter of Only you, I had to edit it twice as it was lost the first time.

I'm still trying to figure out how it happened...

Please let me know if you can spot any grammar errors and I'll do my best to fix them.

And

Please review

-Birdy