Thank you all so much for your comments! I'm so happy you guys seem to be enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! There's still no real plot in sight, but knowing me one is bound to turn up at some point. Still, I think you'll all enjoy this chapter regardless. Please note the change in rating.

Merdesmiroirs made a fantastic piece of fanart for last chapter which you can find a link to in my profile. Please go shower it and them with affection.

After taking several minutes to get his breathing back under control, Harry cautiously made his way over to Tom's desk, sinking down into the chair with care. Tom had just kissed him. Not on the lips, but still. And the way he looked at Harry, what he had said before leaving…

Harry sucked in another deep breath. He couldn't be wrong about this. He absolutely could not be wrong. It would destroy him if this was all just wishful thinking on his part.

Harry pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the one person he trusted most to try and make sense of what was going on in his head.

Every ring only served to ratchet the tension in his shoulders higher. When a familiar voice greeted him after the fourth ring, he let out a huge sigh of relief, slumping down in the chair.

"Hermione," he said.

"Harry! Is something wrong?" She sounded a little frazzled and obviously concerned, but clearly ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. His voice, no doubt, had tipped her off to his mood.

"No," he said, straightening up quickly as he began assuaging her fears. "Well, I mean, kind of? But not like you're thinking."

After the messes they'd managed to get themselves into in high school, she was no doubt imagining something terrible. It didn't help that he mostly only called when in dire straights. As a general rule, he preferred to keep in touch via email. He hadn't had a real cell phone until recently, and taking calls on the home phone had been strongly discouraged.

"Ron's here. Do you want me to put you on speaker?" Hermione asked him.

Hermione had been adamant that she wasn't going to let a relationship, even one as important as her relationship with Ron dictate her education or her future. Ron had shrugged in response and admitted he didn't really care where he went to school so long as he went, and had merely applied everywhere Hermione had as well as a few less prestigious schools near the ones Hermione was likely to get into. He actually managed to get into a few, and the one Hermione had eventually settled on had been one of them. The two had ended up in the same dorm, though different floors. Still, it made it easy to be in touch.

"Yeah, alright. I was planing on talking to him too, but it was really your advice I was after and I don't have a whole lot of time, so…" Harry shrugged before realizing it couldn't be seen through the phone, but still felt he'd gotten his point across.

There was a small beep as Hermione pressed a button, and then Harry could hear Ron's voice coming through the speaker as well.

"Harry!" Ron said.

"Ron," Harry answered back with a smile. "You two get moved in all right?" His brow furrowed as something occurred to him. "I'm not interrupting or anything, I am?"

"Nah," Ron said, "We got moved in just fine."

"Even if we hadn't, you're more important than making sure books get on the right shelves in the right order."

Harry was touched. Coming from Hermione, that was certainly saying something. Ron's low whistle showed that he clearly agreed.

"So what's up?" Ron asked, "Everything all right? All your stuff make it okay?"

"Yeah, no, that's not it. All of my stuff made it just fine, and I'm actually moved in already."

"Really?" Hermione said, clearly surprised. "I would have thought you'd only arrived an hour or so ago. I know you didn't have much," and her disapproval was clear to hear, to his amused exasperation, "but all by yourself it still would have taken awhile."

"It was closer to an hour and a half," Harry replied, glancing at the clock on Tom's desk, "but I wasn't doing it by myself."

This would serve as a nice segue into what he actually needed to talk about. Which was good, because Harry wasn't sure how else he would have been able to bring it up. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"I, uh…I ended up running into an old friend. He and a bunch of his" minions "friends helped me get moved in. I really didn't have to do anything." Another deep breath. "That's actually kind of why I'm calling."

"An old friend?" Hermione said carefully, and Harry could practically hear the way her brain was whirring as it put the pieces together.

He'd told them both about Tom. About just about everything involved in their friendship. Including their last meeting. While Harry hadn't said anything, he was sure his attitude when his first kiss had come up had been more than enough to clue them into his feelings. Hermione, at any rate.

"You mean the guy you were in love with when you were like five?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't bother trying to fight his laugh, valiantly pretending there wasn't an almost hysterical edge to it. He knew he'd been obvious, but hadn't realized he'd been quite this obvious. The sound of a smack, followed by Ron's protests and Hermione's scolding wasn't enough to distract him, though it was enough to make him laugh harder.

"Yeah, Ron," Harry managed to get out, "that one. Tom. Turns out he's my RA."

"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful," Hermione said.

Harry made a small noise of frustration before burying his free hand in his hair.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. "Were things awkward? That's to be expected, Harry. It's been, what, eight years? I'm sure you two can work past it."

"Ten," Harry corrected offhand. "And no, that's just it. Things weren't awkward. They were exactly the same. Nothing's changed."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly, voice full of understanding.

"It's not fair," Harry couldn't help whining. "He's still Tom, which means he's won't stop touching me and he keeps hugging me and he was an attractive kid by any standards and now he's just stupidly handsome and his fucking smile is doing terrible things to me."

He let his head fall forward onto the desk in front of him, and then just for good measure he banged it a few more times, hoping maybe something useful would shake loose.

"Shit, Harry," Ron said. "You're screwed."

Harry wasn't going to stop though. He was on a roll now.

"And he keeps looking at me like he wants to…" Harry couldn't even let himself say the words, "and then he kissed me but not where I wanted him to and I'm trying really hard not to get my hopes up here."

"He kissed you?" Ron asked.

"Not kissed-kissed," Harry clarified. "Like, we were hugging, and he kissed the top of my head?"

"Oh," Ron said, and Harry was gratified that his friend sounded somewhat disappointed on his behalf.

"Then he just kind of…stared at me," Harry said, chest tight and breaking out in goosebumps just remembering the way those grey eyes had devoured him, "and he leaned down and I thought he was going to kiss me on the lips but instead he kissed my forehead? And he keeps saying things."

Harry brought a hand up to rub at the spot once again.

"I don't know what to think," Harry said, hating how pathetic and confused he sounded, but there was nothing else for it. "Help me?"

"Why don't you tell us about what happened? Slowly."

Harry did.

When he was finished, Hermione made a considering noise.

"Well, this is a little difficult because I don't really know Tom."

"It's not difficult at all," Ron said.

"Ronald!" Hermione said sharply.

"What?" he said, and Harry couldn't help but smile at their antics.

He was struck by a sudden sadness. They weren't here. He was on the phone with them, it was true, but they were halfway across the country. He wouldn't be seeing them again in person for months. He missed them already. Still, there would be plenty of time for that later, he thought, viciously shoving the feeling down. There were more important things to focus on now.

"I mean," Ron continued, "he's been practically hanging off Harry all day. They cuddled on Tom's bed. There were forehead kisses. I am not seeing much room for interpretation."

"He and I have always been really tactile though?" Harry said, voicing one of the doubts that had been running through his head.

Toeing off his shoes, Harry leaned back before putting his sock-clad feet up on the desk, being careful not to put them on any of the neatly organized papers on Tom's desk.

"Is he tactile with anyone else?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I love you Harry, and I know you love us, but you've never really been completely comfortable with physical displays of affection from me and Ron. You sort of…freeze up, and you'll reciprocate eventually and relax a little but it's clear you're still uncomfortable. And you never initiate them."

Harry sat up as much as his position would allow.

"I didn't realized you'd noticed," Harry said

"It's why hugs are usually reserved for life-and-death situations or celebrations after living through them," Ron said.

"But you're completely comfortable with Tom touching you, right?" Hermione said, returning back to her point.

"Yeah," Harry replied, still a little taken aback by his friends revelations about their knowledge of him as a person. "I actually really like it? I mean…it makes me feel safe. It always has."

"Does Tom touch anyone else like that?"

Harry couldn't help the dry chuckles at the thought.

"No," Harry responded. "I thought his friends where going to have a heart attack when they saw him with his arm around me. But it's always been like that. I was his exception and he was mine, you know? That's not new."

"Is anything else you told us new?" Hermione asked.

"The…the kissing the hair thing isn't new, but it didn't happen very often. The forehead kiss…he's never done that before."

"I've kissed Ginny on the top of the head," Ron said, "but I don't think I'd ever give anyone but Hermione a forehead kiss. I mean, really, Harry."

"Have you two talked about what happened before you moved away?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron.

Harry sighed.

"No. There hasn't been time. Tom kind of alluded to it earlier, but…" Harry shrugged.

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "that if he were just going to brush it off or treat it as something childish, he probably would have mentioned it sooner. Just to clear the air. Waiting this long suggests that he wants to have a serious conversation about it."

"Or that he doesn't want to make things awkward." Even as he said the words, Harry realized how stupid they were. "Okay, yeah no. He wouldn't do that. Tom doesn't care about—" saying other peoples feelings wouldn't be taken well, but Harry had to scramble for a moment to come up with an alternative. "Tom doesn't care about things being uncomfortable. So okay, yeah, that was stupid."

"Just take off your shirt and sprawl on his bed. You'll have your answer really fast."

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed.

"What? I mean, either he doesn't care, or tells Harry to get dressed, or he finally takes Harry's V-card."

"Ron!" Harry yelped, mortified.

The sound of Hermione smacking him was even more satisfying than usual.

"It's true," Ron said, "I mean, it's probably the fastest way to find out, is all I'm saying."

"Or Harry could be an adult and have an actual conversation," Hermione said, her irritation obvious.

As awful as Ron's idea was, Harry had to admit he found it more attractive than Hermione's suggestion. He knew better than to admit it aloud, though. It would only get him in trouble.

"I don't really want to have an actual adult conversation about it," Harry replied instead. "There are enough of those in my future without adding another. Ten years of ground to cover and all."

Just thinking about how some of those conversations were bound to go was enough to make him wince. The Sirius conversation all on its own was going to be challenging. Not to mention there were several other years of shenanigans to cover, none of which were going to go over very well. Not to mention the hospitalizations.

"Fuck," Harry said soft, the reality of the situation finally hitting home. "He's going to kill me."

"Never, dearest," a familiar voice practically purred in his ear, "though from the look on your face it seems as if I may need to kill someone."

Harry let out a startled yelp, flinching violently in surprise. The movement slammed one of his elbows into the barely cushioned backrest of the chair at the perfect angle to send agony jolting down his arm. Harry swore, placing his phone down on the desk in favor of massaging his injured elbow, trying to stop the sparks of pain still shooting to his fingertips.

Tom moved from behind to perch on the desk across from Harry, reaching out and pulling Harry's feet into his lap, one hand running over a small scrape Harry had given himself in his fright. The other was holding Harry's cellphone. Harry's eyes widened before jerking back to where he had stupidly left his phone undefended, only to find himself staring at an empty patch of desk. This was not good. Not good at all.

When Harry made to leap to his feet to reclaim his stolen property, he discovered exactly why Tom had taken possession of Harry's feet, other than to soothe his hurts. Positioned as he was, he couldn't stand up. And Tom was too far for Harry to do anything but reach for the phone. It was completely ineffectual, a fact only highlighted by the smirk on Tom's face.

"Give me back my phone, you bastard," Harry hissed at him as he tried and failed to tug his feet out of Tom's lap.

"My parents were married, actually," Tom responded offhand as he easily thwarted Harry's efforts.

"Really?" Harry asked, blindsided by the new information.

It was a huge surprise. Given what they knew about his mother and Tom's placement in the system in the first place, they'd both assumed that Tom was illegitimate.

"Vegas marriage," Tom specified, "but it still counts as far as the courts are concerned."

Harry's brow furrowed. There was a story hiding here. He could feel it. He'd be sure to demand it when they finally had the chance to talk about what had transpired while they'd been apart.

His eyes were drawn to his phone once more, and he knew that there was no way Tom was going to relinquish it before he was satisfied. Which left Harry with damage control.

"Don't tell him anything!" Harry shouted in the phone's direction. "Especially not about junior year."

Tom's eyebrow rose and he placed the phone to his ear.

"This is Tom Riddle," he introduced himself in a business-like tone. "To whom am I speaking?"

A pause, as he waited for a response, and Harry threw his arm over his eyes. This was a disaster on so many levels.

"A pleasure to speak with you," Tom said. "How do you both know Harry?"

Figuring that ignoring what was happening was only going to make things worse, Harry sat up as much as his potion would allow and decided to spend his time trying to overhear exactly what it was that Hermione and Ron were telling Tom.

"Ah," Tom said in response to whatever it was that Hermione and Ron had said in order to communicate that they had been friends in high school. "Oh, he has?" he said in response to whatever had just been said. Harry could tell by the quirk of his brow that it hadn't been anything good for his dignity. "Only good things, I hope."

Harry felt his anxiety about the situation take on new heights. Tom might be playing nice now, but he'd always been possessive. No doubt he would see any friends of Harry's as a threat to their relationship, especially with their reunion so recent. Oh, he'd play nice for now. But only in an effort to get as much information as possible about Harry out of his high school friends. Information they had in spades, which was part of what had Harry so worried.

It wasn't that Harry was trying to keep things from Tom. Not really. It was just that he wanted to be the one to tell Tom about certain things. There were some things Tom wasn't going to take well at all, and Harry wanted to be sure the information was presented right. Avoid the buttons Ron and Hermione would press without knowing. Try and downplay certain events.

Also, he needed to keep them from even alluding to what they'd just been talking about by any means possible.

"…how happy he's been to reconnect with you," Hermione's tinny voice suddenly came through the speaker of Harry's phone, audible to him. "I don't think I've ever heard him so happy."

Harry had enough time to blush before two warm hands wrapped around his foot. He jerked his eyes away from where the phone now sat on Tom's desk to the man himself. He had just enough time to give his friend a questioning look before Tom's hands began to move.

Pleasure shot through Harry and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him. He knew he should be suspicious, should be concerned about what was happening, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. It just felt so wonderful.

"Harry?" Ron's strangled voice said, just barely cutting through the pleasure-induced haze Tom's foot massage had sent him into.

Harry mustered up just enough clarity to glare at Tom. The asshole responded by pressing his thumb into a spot that made Harry's spine melt.

"You were looking a little tense," Tom said, expression and voice completely innocent. "I thought this might help."

"Bastard," Harry managed to get out in a breathless voice.

"Inaccurate," Tom said, "and uncalled for. Really, Harry. I'm doing something nice for you. After traversing all of campus with luggage, your feet must hurt."

Ron let out a strangled noise, and Harry let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. That explained it, then. Tom was staking his claim. Warning the other two off by displaying exactly how close they were.

"Now, Ron and Hermione. I'm delighted to have the chance to talk with both of you. I'm very curious about what Harry got up to after he moved away, and I'm sure you want to know what mischief he was involved in when he was younger. Perhaps we could trade stories?"

Harry mustered up the energy to sit up at that.

"Don't," he all but shouted in the direction of the phone.

Tom shot him a sharp look.

"I…I should be the one to tell you, is all. I want to be the one to tell you."

Tom's eyes softened, a dark edge Harry hadn't been aware of fading from his expression.

"I'll ask and you can veto certain stories, then," Tom said at last. "I can get their side of the story once I have yours. Acceptable?"

Harry nodded. It was better than he had expected to get.

Tom's answering smirk was both terrifying and attractive. It really wasn't fair.

"You two are his friends, obviously," Tom said. "How did you meet? Is there anyone else in your friend circle?"

"Hermione, you're not allowed to answer," Harry said immediately.

Tom's eyebrow shot up, clearly not have expected a veto quite so soon. Harry couldn't help grimacing slightly. He really wasn't looking forward to explaining high school. At all.

"Well, me and Harry are easy enough. We met on the bus freshman year. I shared my breakfast, and the rest is history. I didn't really get along with Hermione at first. She was a bit of a know-it-all then, and since I struggle with school, it really rubbed me the wrong way," Ron answered with honesty that probably would have surprised anyone who didn't know him well. "I was an asshole, and she got upset about something I said and got in some trouble because of it."

"Harry and Ron were the ones who realized I was in trouble and then helped me get out of it," Hermione said, the slowness of her response making it clear she was choosing her words with care. "And well, there are some things you can't go through without being friends afterwards."

Given the dark look Tom was leveling at the phone, his friend had some idea of what kind of things those might be. To distract him, Harry wiggled his foot a bit to get his attention before pressing it forward, a demanding look on his face. Tom rolled his eyes, but returned to his massaging with a furrowed brow and a clenched jaw.

"It isn't as bad as that thing with the river, if you're worried," Harry told him.

Both to let Tom know that has life hadn't really been at risk, and to remind his friend that for all he'd been through with Ron and Hermione, he'd gone through worse with Tom.

It worked. Tom's jaw unclenched and the wrinkles in his brow were less deep. The look he shot Harry made it clear he knew exactly what Harry was doing. Harry just smiled back at him, watching in satisfaction as Tom rolled his eyes in response.

"Romantic exploits?" Tom asked, when it became clear Hermione was done speaking.

Harry choked on air. He hadn't expected Tom to be this blunt about it with anyone but Harry. And he certainly hadn't expected the glint in Tom's eyes when he asked the question, eyes fixed on Harry.

Ron let out a snort, and Harry wanted to die.

"There was one awkward kiss at a christmas party under mistletoe," Hermione said, hidden glee in her voice. "And an even more awkward date. But I think that was it."

"Not for lack of trying," Ron scoffed.

Harry's brow furrowed.

"I wasn't trying," he said, confused and somewhat offended. He hadn't been one of those guys who chased after girls. Or boys.

"We know, Harry," Hermione said in a slightly exasperated voice. "And you never noticed that anyone else was, either."

"Poor Cedric," Ron said, but it wasn't sympathy in his voice, it was glee.

"What does Cedric have to do with anything?" Harry asked, feeling as if he were missing something and not particularly liking the feeling.

Hermione sighed and Ron laughed. Harry looked at Tom, hoping to find an ally but instead finding his friend smirking at him. Upon meeting Harry's gaze the smirk faded into a more genuine smile, Tom's eyes shining. With happiness, yes, but also something like victory. And there was definitely a predatory edge to his grin.

"What is that look for?" Harry asked, apprehensive.

Tom slid one of his hands up under Harry's jeans so that it rested on his bare calf. Harry sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. The warmth of Tom's hand seeped into his skin and set his blood on fire. The look on Tom's face made his chest tight.

"I've never liked sharing, Harry," Tom said, voice sending a shiver down Harry's spine. "I am delighted that I have been your only first."

Harry's breath caught in his chest, barely paying attention as Ron and Hermione made their hasty goodbyes before the call disconnected. He was transfixed by the heat in Tom's eyes.

Tom let Harry's feet fall from his lap onto the floor as he slid off his desk, standing in the space between Harry's parted thighs. One predatory step closed the space between them, and Harry swallowed as he looked up at Tom looming over him. Tom leaned down, placing his hands on the chair just behind Harry's shoulders, caging him in. Tom's eyes were devastating this close, and the feeling of Tom's breath ghosting across Harry's face in a barely-there caress was enough to make him grateful he had the chair's support.

"If you don't want this," Tom whispered, lips just shy of touching Harry's own, "now is the time to tell me."

Harry reached out with unsteady hands, pressing one against Tom's shoulder blade and letting the fingers of the other find a home in Tom's hair.

"I've never wanted anything else," Harry told him, "I've never wanted anyone else."

With a growl, Tom claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss.

It was nothing like the kiss they'd shared as children. The brief, innocent press of lips of two people who didn't know what they were doing. It wasn't like his kiss with Cho, either. That had just been…wet.

This, though. This was like liquid fire being poured into his veins. This was every nerve ending coming alive, every hair standing on end. Ten years of anticipation come to the perfect, bone-melting conclusion.

Tom pulled back only to brush his lips lightly over Harry's own in a barely there caress before angling his head slightly. Tom parted his lips and coaxed Harry's open before running his tongue lightly across Harry's lower lip. Trembling, Harry copied him, running his tongue lightly across Tom's lips, pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable it was.

Tom deepened the kiss, his tongue lightly pressing against Harry's own before running along it more firmly. Harry heard himself whimper, but didn't care. Pulling Tom as close to him as he could manage he reciprocated, feeling as if he was going to burst from his skin.

After several endless moments, Harry pulled his mouth away to fight for breath. Tom simply tilted his head and pressed his lips to the side of Harry's neck. Harry gasped as he felt Tom's teeth scrape his skin, a bolt of desire shooting through him.

Tom pulled away, but Harry could still feel his breath against his neck.

"I want to mark you," Tom murmured, kissing his way up Harry's neck to whisper directly in his ear, sending shivers down Harry's spine. "Show them all that you're taken. Let everyone know you belong to someone. That you belong to me. Let me mark you."

Each sentence had been interspersed with kisses, and Harry found it impossible to argue. He liked the idea. That Tom valued him enough to want to mark him, to want to warn others off. Wanted to claim him.

"Yes" Harry managed to exhale. "Yes, do it."

Tom let out a pleased sound before applying himself once again to Harry's neck, teeth scraping and lips applying pressure in a way that Harry felt should have been uncomfortable. It wasn't though. Not at all. Harry fisted his hand in Tom's shirt and wound his fingers tighter in Tom's hair, arching his neck to give Tom easier access.

Tom pulled away at last, pressing a light kiss against the area he had just been applying himself to with single-minded focus. Harry did his best to collect himself as Tom trailed kisses up his neck and along his jaw before pressing his lips to Harry's once more. This kiss was much shorter than the first, lasting brief moments before Tom pulled back, resting his forehead against Harry's.

"My Harry," he murmured, eyes dark with pleasure and lips swollen, satisfaction practically oozing off him. "Shall we move this somewhere more comfortable?"

Harry's mouth went dry at the question. He was aroused, it was true. More so than he could ever recall being in his life. He was attracted to Tom. That much had been obvious since they'd reunited. He trusted Tom. He always had. He'd told the truth before. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted Tom. There was no one else he could imagine sharing this with.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

Tom took a half step back, stretching his back as he straightened. He held out his hand to Harry, eyes smoldering. Harry gave his own to Tom without thought and found himself pulled up directly into Tom's embrace before his lips were claimed once again. They worked their way over towards the bed slowly, pressed close together, exchanging kisses as they walked.

Harry felt the backs of his thighs hit the frame of Tom's bed. Pulling back, he sank down onto the mattress. Tom's knee came to rest next to his thigh, one of Tom's hands wrapped in his hair as he kissed him again.

Tom pulled back long enough to toe off his shoes before hovering over Harry once again, placing a hand on his shoulders and pushing him down onto the bed.

Letting out an unsteady breath, Harry pulled his feet onto the bed and wriggled slightly until he was lying comfortably, mouth dry as he stared up at the ceiling. He was doing this. He was really doing this.

He felt his weight shifting on the mattress as Tom's knees came to rest on either side of his thighs, the man staring down at him with hunger.

Tom's hands came to rest on his chest, running his hands over Harry's pectorals and across his stomach. Harry shivered, Tom's caress potent even though the fabric of his shirt. No one had ever touched him like this.

"There's no need to be so anxious, dearest," Tom told him, tracing patterns as he trailed his fingers over Harry's torso. "There will be no deflowering quite yet. I plan to savor you, and there isn't enough time for all the things I want to do to you before I take you."

The word take was emphasized with a thrust of his hips, bringing Tom's groin into contact with Harry's own. All Harry could do was gasp as heat shot through him, the feeling of Tom's hardness rubbing against his own enough to have his fingers clenched in the sheets, seeking some sort of anchor.

Tom removed his hands from Harry's shirt only to place them on the hem of his own. Harry managed to organize his thoughts enough to prop himself up on his forearms, staring avidly at the skin slowly being revealed. Tom was pale, but not unhealthily so. Toned muscles that looked like something out of a magazine had his mouth watering, but this wasn't what effecting him the most. Pale, barely there, but still noticeable if you knew where to look. Scars. Most of them familiar, some of them not. Tom had clearly done everything he could to try and remove them entirely.

Harry reached out with a trembling hand to press his fingers against a small collection of red dots against Tom's stomach. Cigarette burns. A souvenir from one of his foster parents. Those he was familiar with. He let his fingers trail up from Tom's stomach to his chest until he came to one he didn't recognize. A small, thin red line, no more than an inch that ran across Tom's left pectoral.

"What did this?" Harry asked, running his fingers along the line.

"A knife," Tom answered simply.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at that and pushed himself upright to examine the wound more closely. It didn't look like it had been particularly deep, but it still troubled him. The idea of anyone going after Tom with a knife was not one that sat well with him at all.

Tom's body told a story. Of all the years they'd been apart, of some of the adventures they'd had together. Evidence of his friend's history written across his skin. Harry wanted to learn all of it.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the scar tissue, taking note of the way Tom's breath hitched. Feeling bold, he continued, kissing his way across Tom's chest, mapping skin with his hands. He would linger anywhere that caused a notable reaction, relishing in his ability to undo even a bit of Tom's control. His nipples weren't particularly sensitive, but the accidental scrape of Harry's teeth against his collar bones had actually made Tom growl.

Tom's fingers wrapped in his hair, and he pulled Harry up for a kiss that completely undid him.

"My turn," Tom said, voice rough with barely restrained lust.

His fingers rested on the hem of Harry's t-shirt, eyes seeking out Harry's own for a beat before pulling it up.

Harry froze the moment it became clear what Tom intended. He'd always done everything in his power to keep his shirt on. In bed, swimming, even in the locker room he changed in the privacy of a stall rather than risk anyone seeing what he kept hidden under the fabric.

Harry's eyes fell on the small cluster of dots. Tom already knew. Tom would understand.

Taking a deep breath, Harry's hands joined Tom's on the hem of his shirt, and the two worked it over his head. Harry closed his eyes, unwilling to watch Tom's reaction to seeing his bare skin.

There was no noise but the sound of their breathing. Instead of questions or demands or wordless noises of rage, there was the muted sensation of fingers tracing along familiar patches of skin. Running along each and every scar in turn, cataloging them all. The hand withdrew, and Harry screwed his eyes even tighter shut until the sensation of a puff of breath hovering over one of the oldest scars had his eyes popping open in surprise. Tom was bent over his chest, and his eyes met Harry's. They were burning with a confusing mixture of emotions. There was anger, yes, the kind of rage that should have scared him but never did, since he knew it was never directed at him. But there were other things too. A strange sort of pride, and something soft that shattered the hastily erected walls Harry was attempting to hide behind. Tom leaned down and pressed his lips to the scar, kissing his way along it. His lips retraced the path his fingers had taken, mapping all of Harry's imperfections.

When Tom was finished, he turned his attention instead to Harry's mouth, kissing him until he was boneless once again. The tension he'd felt after exposing himself had been banished by Tom's deliberate and determined kisses.

"My survivor," Tom whispered against Harry's mouth when he pulled away, forehead resting against Harry's own. "You've been through so much. Those animals," Tom spat the word, "did everything they could to break you. But you're here. You're with me. God, Harry, you don't know your own strength."

He stopped here to give Harry a deep kiss, and it was impossible to believe he was anything but sincere.

"That you are who you are after all you've been through," Tom reached up to brush Harry's hair out of his face, "I'm in awe of you."

"Tom," Harry breathed out, voice raw and unsteady.

"No more," Tom promised him with another soft kiss. "No more scars. I will let no harm come to you. My Harry, my strong, brave, beloved. I will punish all who dared to touch you, exact vengeance on your behalf. Cherish and treasure you, as you deserve to be cherished."

To his mortification, Harry felt his eyes begin to burn. To be at his most exposed, the most vulnerable he'd ever been and to have that vulnerability met with reverence was more than he could handle. He covered his face with one hand, taking deep, unsteady breaths as he struggled for some measure of control.

"None of that now," Tom said softly, shifting on the bed until Harry could feel him pressed up against his side. "Don't hide. Not from me."

Harry felt fingers wrapping around his wrist before firmly pulling it away. Tom was propped up on his side, grey eyes fixed intently on Harry's face. His wrist was released, and Tom's hand came up and brushed Harry's hair out of his face.

"You've seen all of me, Harry. Every dark, twisted piece. I kept waiting for you to run, but you never did. You saw it all and you stayed."

"You've seen all of me too," Harry said. "Pieces I've never shown anyone. I think you're the only one who's ever just seen me for me. Just…Harry."

"You're not just anything," Tom said, cupping Harry's face in his hand. "You are everything. You always have been. You always will be."

Tom's eyes were bright, the darker parts of him dragged to the forefront.

This was his Tom. Dark and dangerous. Fierce, in all things. Including love.

"Last chance," Tom said, voice hoarse as he looked down at Harry. "If you leave now, I can still let you go. But any further and you'll never be rid of me."

"Lair," Harry told him, smiling. "You were never going to let me go regardless."

Tom smiled, sharp and dangerous.

"No, I wasn't."

Tom leaned down and pressed a long, lingering kiss to Harry's lips.

"You're mine, Harry James Potter," Tom said when he pulled away.

Harry honestly couldn't think of anything he wanted to be more.