The Most Dangerous Teddy Bear

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Tom Riddle or Voldemort or Harry Potter. If I did, well... a little something like this would happen.

This story was inspired by my Voldemort stuffed toy!

A/N: Thanks for the subscriptions and the reviews! So there are a lot of people subscribing to this and well... I have to confess, I'm preeetty intimidated haha. I hope I don't let anyone down. And thanks SnowDusk, what I mean by "BB!Harry" is basically "Baby!Harry". As for Joanna23, it will take about... 6 to 8 chapters until Tommy turns back.

I know in the summery I said that there might be angst later on, but I changed the summery. There is angst in this chapter, I warn you. Basically, all the angst will be coming from Harry and all the hilarity will be from Tom. Ironic, isn't it?

I rated it M for swearing and all that jazz. At the moment, there's not that much contact between Harry and Tom, well, sexually that is but they will eventually. Yes male on male contact in later chapters so if you just stumbled upon this and are a homophobe or don't like this pairing, I'd appreciate if you just moved on peacefully. I think that's all so... GERONIMO!

"Normal speech"

'Thoughts'

"Parsletongue"

Last time...

About an hour later, he woke up feeling very groggy and stiff for some odd reason. His eyes were wide open and he couldn't move. 'What?' He couldn't even blink. What was happing to him? A door slammed shut and it veered his attention from himself. The next thing he knew, Tom Riddle was staring into the innocent and defeat emerald eyes of a little boy.

Harry's POV

July 31, 1985

Whack!

A fat, stubby fist came to contact with Harry's cheekbone. It wasn't a particularly hard punch. No, a five year old Dudley wasn't strong enough to leave any sort of mark. The scrawny, malnourished Harry was just weak enough to crumple down onto the ground from a hit like that and hope that Dudley wouldn't punch him again. Closing his eyes, he heard the fatter boy's laugh being directed down towards him. Harry didn't cry. He refused to cry. He wasn't going to show Dudley that he had hurt him despite the fact that he was already on the ground nor did he want to contribute to the enlargement of Dudley's ego. The only reason why his eyes were closed was because if Dudley decided to punch him square in between his eyes, nothing from his glasses would get in his eyes.

"Freak," the only Dursley spawn kicked Harry while he was still lying on the ground. That one hurt and it was going to leave a bruise on his arm. Fortunately, none of Dudley's friends were over. Having Dudley pummel him was bad enough and Harry really didn't want Dudley's crew to think that they should be doing a group effort. It wasn't anything new for the plump Dursley son to be using Harry as his personal punching bag but that day was special.

It was Harry's birthday.

That was the day when Dudley would give Harry special treatment. No, he wasn't any nicer than he was already. If anything, he was crueller and liked to give Harry his annual "birthday beat up", a tradition that began two years before. If it weren't for Dudley's "gift", Harry would have forgotten all together what day it was.

Dudley continued to kick Harry until his arms, legs, and chest were covered with new bruises. It wasn't until he heard his mother call him in for bedtime, forgetting completely about the smaller boy. Waiting until Dudley walked into the house, Harry grunted and remained on the ground. Harry glared at the spot where Dudley stood with daggers as if the plump boy was still standing there.

It was so late in the day that the sun hardly showed anymore and the moon was already visible. Judging by his surroundings, it was probably around nine thirty at night. Any sensible guardian would have stormed out of their house looking for the child that they were meant to look after. Clearly the Dursley weren't what you would call "sensible".

He was glad, too, that neither Vernon nor Petunia bothered to come out to find him. Harry would much rather lay there on the dirty ground after being beaten up than have either of the adults pretending to care about him. At five years old, Harry knew that he wasn't wanted in their household but frankly, he stopped caring. Of course he wished that his parents hadn't died in that car crash. He wished that he hadn't gotten that stupid scar on his forehead.

But that was all in the past.

Obviously the present wasn't doing that well for him. Hell, it was his birthday and the only "present" that he had gotten was a colourful little button from Petunia's sewing set. Harry reached into his pocket to pull out the little thing. Holding it up to the sky, Harry examined the button as if it were a diamond. Knowing that it wasn't anything special, he squeezed it in his tiny little hand and shoved it back in his pocket.

Sighing, he realized how strange he must look to someone who was passing by. After all, his petit and boney body was sprawled on the ground in a very uncomfortable position. Frankly, Harry couldn't have cared less. Though his left arm and right leg were bent in awkward ways, he was far too sore to fix himself up. In the middle of feeling sorry for himself, Harry spotted the first star in the sky. He wasn't much of a reader but he remembered walking by the telly while it was on the some informative show on astronomy. If he remembered correctly, it seemed to be the star called Sirius. It was bright enough to be so.

Blinking up at it, a little nursery rhyme that he overheard Petunia teaching Dudley. Not really thinking much of it, the malnourished Harry chanted out silently,

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight;

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight."

Dark brown eyebrows strung together out of his confusion. Was he supposed to make a wish then? He stared up at the bright star as he thought of a suitable wish to make. Back to what he was thinking earlier, it would be stupid to wish for his parents to just suddenly rise from the dead and whisk him away from the big, bad, and ugly Dursleys. It was all in the past. So he had to make a wish about the future. Honestly, all he wanted was someone to care about him, remember his birthday, and think of him as an equal, not someone to beat up.

Harry wanted a friend.

"Did you hear that, star?" a high but tired voice broke the silence, "I... wish for a friend." He recited the poem once more for good measure.

"HARRY POTTER!" Harry flinched at the loud outburst coming from inside the house. Giving the star one last hopeful look, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He was well aware of how furious Vernon must have been that his little gopher wasn't running about doing chores or slaving after Dudley. If it weren't for the fact that his entire body all but screamed at every movement he made, Harry would have hurried back into the house. Instead, Harry took his time careful as he got up onto his knees and eventually onto his shaky, small, and scuffed feet. He hadn't worn shoes knowing that Dudley would have just tied the shoe laces together and chuck them onto the nearest electrical post. So that left Harry with filthy toes.

"WHERE IS THAT BLASTED BOY?" Vernon gave another call. Attempting to pick up his pace, Harry decided to crawl his way back in as his legs were protesting far too much. He felt ridiculous. The huge thing and the baggy material that was practically hanging off his frame that he claimed to be his t-shirt and pants were dragging him down. The shirt almost engulfed his head so he was forced to hold his head up and so that he wouldn't run into anything.

Right at the front step, Harry used the door knob to help manoeuvre himself up just when the fat whale called Vernon swung the door open. The momentum threw the tiny little boy into the man rebounding him onto his back.

That time, he couldn't suppress any sounds of agony. Vernon clearly wasn't in the mood for feeling sympathetic for the orphaned boy. Growling, he grabbed Harry from the collar of his shirt and practically dragged him over to his cupboard under the stairs. Maybe Vernon was feeling some sort of guilt. On any other day, he would have forced Harry to do the dishes. For now, Harry was thankful.

"That should teach you to get into the house on time," with that, Vernon threw Harry into the cupboard and slammed the door. Thankfully, he didn't slam into the wall otherwise that would have ended up with another bruise if not a broken rib.

"Omph!" Harry's arm hit something that wasn't the wall of the cupboard. No, it wasn't hard or painful. The thing he had hit was soft, fuzzy, and ...cute? Sitting up painfully fast, Harry looked at the object with confusion and tugged on a sting to turn on the light bulb that badly lit up the tiny space of the cupboard.

Why was there a teddy bear in here?

Had the Dursleys given it to him for his birthday? No that was impossible. If Harry would have gotten anything that look remotely like a toy, it would have been a torn up and useless hand-me-down from Dudley. This teddy bear looked new, clean, and untouched.

Harry's emerald eyes examined the toy carefully as if it was some sort of bomb. Its entire body was black except for a white muzzle and ...were those red eyes?

'Who would make a teddy with red eyes?' Harry thought to himself and stretched out a hand to pick up the teddy. Still keeping it an arm's length away, he frowned as he still wondered where the teddy had come from.

That's when it hit him.

"The star!" Harry exclaimed but quiet enough for only him to hear and not someone outside. Grinning from ear to ear, Harry shoved the toy into his chest and squeezed as if someone was threatening to take it away from him. He buried his face into the head of the teddy bear and could stop grinning. He didn't care if this was just some cruel trick that Dudley was playing on him. All that mattered to the little boy was that he had some form of a friend and he wasn't willing to let the teddy go.

Tom's POV

'OW!' a small hand came into contact with Tom's face and waking him up, 'Who DARES do that?' But the lack of noise coming from his mouth distracted him. 'What?' Tom tried again, 'What happened to my voice?' He continued on but not a peep came from his mouth.

He was so concentrated on the fact that he wasn't able to move, talk, blink, or even feel himself breathe. Being so caught up and overwhelmed by all this, Tom almost missed the enormous hand lifting from his face. As if he couldn't get even more confused by all this, Tom yelled inwardly seeing as he couldn't do otherwise.

He hated not knowing what was going on.

But the hand, how was it the size of Tom's head but look so immature? It looked like it belonged to a five year old yet the size of a twenty year old man? His thoughts were confirmed when a light came on. He got a better look at his surroundings. They were in a small, dark, and stuffy area. It was only big enough to fit in a tiny mattress and one person the size of a child.

The child that had assaulted Tom decided to pick him up. Was Tom with giants?

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' Tom did his best to squirm out of the child's grasp but he had no such luck, 'Put me down this instant you stupid boy!'

'That's right! You better be scared of me –' Tom froze, well, he stopped struggling. The boy that was holding him looked absolutely terrified and confused at the same time.

But his appearance.

Black hair, light skin; for just a second, Tom thought that he was staring at a five year old version of himself. But the other's hair was straight and messy while Tom's was naturally wavy and neat and his eyes were vibrant green while Tom's were brown with a hint of red. But the emeralds had something in common with Tom's browns; they showed hopelessness, doubt, and sadness. All of which Tom thought was absolutely silly. In Tom's eyes, he was the only one who had the right to hold such a look in his eyes. The other boy must have been depressed over not getting a toy. Looking around at their surroundings and the boy's skin kissed with bruises, it was clear that the boy was being abused but Tom refused to believe that this child had it any worse than he had it.

But the look in the other's eyes was like looking into a mirror and it made Tom feel very uncomfortable. It was like looking at another version of him but with a different appearance.

Like an equal.

Tom felt like his eyes went comically wide. 'Nonononononono,' if he had control over his body, he would have shaken his head rapidly, 'He is not my equal. He is just a child!' Grunting, Tom observed the other's facial expression. It was as if the boy was thinking the exact same thing.

Though, his reaction was the exact opposite of Tom's. Instead of disappointment, he beamed like none other

"The star!"

'What? What star?' the next thing Tom knew, he was face first against the boy's chest.

'What in the name of Merlin are you doing?' even though they were only his thoughts technically, Tom could have sworn that his voice still sounded like it was muffled by the other's oversized shirt. The boy only squeezed him tighter.

Tom Riddle was being hugged by a five year old boy.

Beyond his unheard curses and threats directed at Tom's captor, he came to realize that no one else had actually embraced him in such a way. But Tom shook off that thought. He had no time for self-pity.

'Stop it! Right now!' but the boy didn't listen. If anything, he held on to Tom tighter and planted kisses on the top of his head. He had never been kissed by anyone before either. Of course all the girls in his year fantasized about such things but nothing would get Tom to ever comply with their wishes.

In mid thought, Tom felt the boy move and now he was lying down with Tom still in what felt like a choke hold. The light went out but Tom could feel his head getting wet.

'Great. He's crying now,' though his thoughts were dripping with irritation, Tom couldn't help but wonder why a small little boy would be crying seconds after beaming like a child during Christmas morning.

Yes, I know that Sirius the star can only be seen in the Northern Hemisphere during the winter. I decided to twist it a bit because I thought that it would be a nice touch for Harry to wish on that particular star.