It did not take long for Tom's 'minions', as Harry liked to call them, to notice the changes in the dynamics of their relationship. All the conflict between the two were straightened out over Yule and all free time the two had were spent together. Harry- or rather Orpheus- would snuggle into his bed, refusing to return to his dorms, complaining that it was too far and that he was too tired. Tom, despite all his chastise, never once insisted or had Orpheus return to his own dorms. Even though Tom was against such blatant rule breaking, he couldn't help but luxuriate in having the warm body pressed against his chest.

Tom hated wasting his time, but some how, he could spend eons watching Orpheus, an indulgence Tom allowed himself to have every morning.

Tom was an early riser, unlike Orpheus who enjoyed sleeping in until sunlight blared through the curtains, forcing him to get up. Every morning, he would wake and spend a few minutes, entranced in the soft breathing of Orpheus, the slow rise and fall of the boy's chest, and the peaceful look on his face. After his small indulgence, Tom would leave for a morning jog to keep fit; after all, wizard or not, keeping fit was something that he would never neglect.

Whenever he left the bed however, Orpheus would let out a soft grumble, seemingly having noticed Tom's absence, despite not having woken up.

It was a sight that never failed to rouse a warm, tingling sensation in Tom's chest.

It wasn't long however, before the Yule break came to an end.

As the buzz of life returned to the castle, Orpheus too, had returned to his own bed.

It was only during the privacy of the Yule break that allowed Tom to let his guard down. Now that the students had returned, Tom could not afford to let his perfect mask slip, and that would mean sleeping alone in bed. After all, allowing Orpheus to sleep in his bed during the school term would not only make Tom seem weak, it would also get him into trouble with the professors and prefects.

Hence, the two fell back to the routine of their first year; spending time together in the library, then returning to the dorms at night.

Tom's little group of friends soon realized how scarce his presence in the common room had become and would time to time, much to Orpheus's annoyance, seek his company out in the library where he would be found with Orpheus.

The Slytherins were neutral towards Orpheus. Despite his incestuous blood, his blood was also purely that of the Blacks. Some of them would try to make small talk with the boy but it quickly stopped once Tom glared at whoever spoke to Orpheus. Everyone simply assumed that he did not appreciate the noise, especially since that was what Tom would some times say whenever Orpheus brought the subject up.

Tom however, knew that deep down, hidden behind the annoyance was the burning emotion of jealousy.

Orpheus too, seemed to know- but never once did the boy complain. Some times after those petty incidents, he would be even more affectionate, as if trying to reassure Tom.

It didn't matter though; Orpheus was his and his only.

It was in their third year when their lips first touched.

The two spent their summer in the castle of Hogwarts, a place that was slowly becoming their home.

Orpheus had spoken to his grandfather, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Phineas Nigellus Black in regards to it.

By no means was Phineas Black a loving, codling grandfather- he wasn't even that great a father- but ultimately, he gave in, allowing Orpheus and Tom to stay. Tom was not surprised when Orpheus came crashing into him, jumping in joy that the headmaster had given them permission to stay in Hogwarts over the summer. The Blacks, however estranged, would always help family- so long they weren't blood traitors or half-bloods- and as the Heir of Slytherin, Tom was more than welcomed to reside in the castle his ancestor used to live in. Without doubt, the headmaster knew he resided in the orphanage, which was perhaps, another reason why he allowed such an arrangement.

There was a hidden chamber within the Slytherin common rooms which led to a rather spacious room that Slytherin had constructed for his future descendants, were they to study in Hogwarts. It was their Summer residence of sorts The bed was much larger, much more comfortable than the one in the dorms, which was why even after the school term begun and Orpheus had returned to the Hufflepuff dormitories, Tom remained there.

None of the Slytherins said anything about his sudden change of rooms; after all he was the descendant of Slytherin, and he had every right to use the room.

Despite the stark contrast in the atmosphere at Hogwarts during summer and during the school term, bits of their summer spent together couldn't help but bleed through to the school term. They no longer had to meet in the library to spend time alone together; instead, they spent most of their time together in Tom's room. From time to time, when the common rooms were less crowded, the two would sit by the fireplace- something Orpheus seemed to enjoy. Tom would lounge in the plush armchair while Orpheus would just sit on the plush carpeted floor, leaning against the armchair as he stared at the dancing sparks of flames.

The Slytherins never questioned Orpheus's presence in their common rooms. The boy never stayed pass curfew, never caused any trouble, and was always in the company of Tom Riddle; the main reason as to why they kept silent.

Everyone seemed to ignore Orpheus's presence, not wanting to get into trouble with neither he teachers, nor the heir of Slytherin. The few who did not however, never failed to get on Tom's nerves.

Tom was not blind to the growing beauty of Orpheus. His cheekbones became more defined and jawline even stronger. His hair grew longer, soft black strands brushing his collar as he walked. His eyes, warm deep chocolate brown, held a sort of gentleness that contrasted his sharp, aristocratic features. His lips, his plush red lips that would curl into a smile whenever he saw Tom, that seemed so soft that Tom would sometimes caress them gently with his fingertips when Orpheus was asleep, that Tom couldn't help but wonder what would taste like.

Would it be like sweet honey, like the sweets the boy always ate? Or would it be like the grape-flavoured toothpaste Tom knew Orpheus loved?

It took a while for Tom to register and understand his growing feelings towards the other boy. He started feeling certain urges that he kept well hidden, deep inside him until he was sure the other boy was ready for them.

Somehow, Orpheus's innocence seemed untainted by adolescence. Tom couldn't help but want to corrupt the pure, young boy. He wanted to taint him, to see him debauched and bared, all for the eyes of him alone; but not until Tom knew Orpheus was ready. He had no need to rush to pursue the boy, not when Orpheus was already his.

Orpheus belonged to him. Tom wanted to monopolized all of Orpheus; his time, his attention, his everything. The other boy knew the extent of his possessive behaviour, but never once uttered a word of displeasure. He knew that Orpheus knew who he belonged to; but that was not the reason behind his annoyance.

He could see the way others stared at Orpheus. The boy might have been oblivious to the way certain upperclassmen looked like they wanted to devour him whole, or the way those disgusting girls swooned at him with heart shaped eyes, but Tom knew very well what thoughts those wolves harboured towards his sweet, dear Mongoose.

Often, the boy would be by his side, which made protecting him easier, especially now that they shared the same classes. He guarded against the upperclassmen more, especially the Slytherins. Little did he expect however, that the ones he should have been wary of were those sneaky little twerps.

Tom had been held up by Professor Slughorn who wanted to invite him to the Yule Party the pudgy professor was holding for his little 'Slug Club'. Tom planned to bring Orpheus along, especially since the professor mentioned dates being invited as well. By the time he reached the Great Hall, he saw Orpheus standing by the entrance, next to a blushing first year who kept fiddling with her pigtails. Tom was amused by the obvious discomfort Orpheus felt about the situation and couldn't help but watch the two with a raised eyebrow. Orpheus met his gaze, as if he knew Tom was there, and sent him a pleading look as he tried to squirm away.

Before Tom could interfere though, the girl grabbed Orpheus and launched herself onto the other boy who was frozen in shock.

Tom whipped out his wand and pointed it at the bloody first year, yelling a spell, causing her to freeze in mid air and fall face-flat onto the floor before her lips could sully Orpheus's. He hardly registered the chaos that broke out after that and couldn't bring himself to be bothered. He grabbed Orpheus's hand and marched off to his own rooms through the crowds of curious onlookers and slammed the door shut.

Tom was enraged. His blood was boiling and he could feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palms, deep enough to draw blood. It took every single ounce of control he had to not kill the girl on the spot and even now, he could feel his clenched fist trembling in rage.

It was only when he felt a smaller hand prying open his clenched fist did he snap out of his anger.

"Tom, calm down," Orpheus's soft voice said, laced with concern, "Don't hurt yourself."

Tom couldn't help but laugh.

He had stunned a first year, displayed an unhealthy amount of possessiveness and all his dear Orpheus could worry about was him. Not the pathetic first year Ravenclaw- if the colour of her robes were of any indication, but him. He, who had willingly, in fact, happily hurt some younger girl. He, who took pleasure in others' pain. He, who was dark and tainted.

Perhaps it was the fleeting expressions, or perhaps Orpheus simply knew him too well.

Tom didn't know and didn't care, as he felt Orpheus's hands on his face, as he heard the caress of the boy's words the he whispered, loud enough just for him to hear.

"Yours Tom; I'm all yours. Only yours."

Even after all the time, perhaps more than he would ever admit, he spent imagining how heavenly Orpheus's lips would feel against his, it couldn't compare to the utter euphoria of the actual act; the way the smaller boy's pout-y soft lips crashed against his without a trace of hesitation.

Honey.

Orpheus tasted just like honey.

A/N: Can I just express my undying love for possessive!Tom/Voldemort. Seriously I think it's like the hottest thing ever :')

As to why I'm using "Harry's" middle name rather than first, will be explained in the future. (if I ever manage to fit it in, most likely somewhere in the fifth year)

And if you think Tom's being psycho and overreacting and shizz, I suggest you stop reading it because the poor girl will eventually be mentioned again in the future and well, worse things happen to her than getting stupefi-ed.

If you can guess who she is I'll tell you a spoiler to this story ;) (just tell me what you wanna know haha)

-22/08/13