"Rolf, start from the beginning," Granger urged.
They had moved into the family room. Rolf sat on the couch, a fresh cup of tea in his shaking hands.
"I don't know how it happened. One minute everything was fine. We were running the standard diagnostics on the Leech and next thing I know all hell's broken loose. It's fast. It's so fast. I barely got out."
"I thought it was contained," said Harry. "The tiles."
Rolf took a gulp of tea. "It smashed right through the cage. Braff was saying it wasn't weakening like he expected it to. I think the tiles couldn't stand up against it for so long. It's too strong."
A chill pooled in Tom's gut.
"So it could be anywhere?" said Weasley, ashen. "And the only thing with any chance of holding it back doesn't work long enough to do any good?"
Rolf nodded. He swallowed more tea.
"We have to open a portal," said Harry.
Tom looked at him sharply.
"Say what?" said Weasley.
"You heard Braff," Granger flared. "We might get more trouble than we already have!"
"And it's not like we even know how to open one," said Weasley.
"It's a variation of Alohomora," said Harry.
Silence fell so severely that the drips from the leaking faucet in the kitchen could be heard.
"How do you know that?" said Granger, startled.
Tom was wondering the same.
Harry and Rolf's eyes met.
"Stay here." Harry left the room, mounting the stairs two at a time. A few seconds later, he returned, a stack of notebooks in his hands. He put them on the coffee table.
Granger picked the top one up. She flipped open the cover.
"These are from the Unspeakable Vaults." Her eyes latched onto Harry, suddenly furious. "You stole—"
"Actually, it was me," said Rolf, raising his hand.
This did not soothe Granger.
"You bullied Rolf into stealing—"
"I didn't bully him," said Harry, indignant. "I asked. And it's a good thing because otherwise we wouldn't know anything about portals."
"We can't open a portal! It's too dangerous!"
"What other option do we have?" Harry demanded. "We can't use magic against it. We can't hide from it. And now we can't even contain it. Opening a portal is our only choice."
Granger chewed on her lip, conflicted. In her hesitation, Harry continued.
"According to their research, the strongest portal they've found is at Stonehenge. We lure the Leech there and we get rid of it."
"But what would stop it from coming right back out again?" asked Weasley.
"Leeches can't open portals," Harry explained. "They can find them, but they require an outward energy source — someone else to unlock them. That's essentially what I did when I fell into Nothingness. My presence caused a wrinkle that the Leech was able to wriggle through. That's why they're usually small when they enter different worlds. There's nothing to feed on in the Void and so they weaken."
"How were you able to fall into Nothingness?" Rolf asked. "From everything I've read about the Elladora Works, that shouldn't have been possible."
"Apparently the fabric that separates dimensions from each other lingers on the skin. The Carcerem creates its own dimension to house its prisoners, so just from being inside it made me more sensitive to their pull."
"You really were in the Carcerem?" said Rolf, staggered. "Who was with—"
"Later," said Weasley shortly.
"But doesn't that mean you're at risk for being dragged into the portal?" said Granger.
"Maybe," Harry admitted, shifting his eyes just slightly to Tom. "But the Leech practically spends its entire existence swimming around dimensional openings. The portal will be like a vacuum to it. The only issue is that it takes a great deal of energy to open a portal and keep it open." Harry looked at Tom directly now.
"You want me to do it."
"You're the strongest. And you can also sense magic. These portals are invisible to us, but you might be able to pinpoint it. Plus," Harry added with a humorous smile, "I'm bait."
Tom did not find that remotely funny.
"This is crazy," said Granger.
"If you've got a better idea, say it quick," said Harry, "because we really don't have a lot of time."
Rolf put down his teacup. "I'm with Harry."
Weasley and Granger shared a look that spoke of years of insanity.
"We're in," he sighed.
Harry turned to Tom.
To think, just a few hours ago he'd been wrapped bodily around Harry, warm and content, feeling that everything was finally right.
"A variation of Alohomora?" he asked.
Harry picked up one of the journals. He flipped to the correct entry.
"Think you can do it?"
Tom scanned the passage. "It'll be easy."
.
.
It was a clear, stunning day, most likely one of the last before winter set in its claws. The grass was spongy under Tom's shoes, the sun pleasant on his back. It was the sort of day Tom would expect tourists to be out and about, but Stonehenge was quiet.
"Okay, spread out," said Harry. "Make sure no one's here. We don't need Muggles caught in the crossfire. Tom?"
"Give me a moment."
Tom stepped inside the ring of stones. They towered, their shadows chilling him as he slowly walked its circle. Magic resided here, a pulsation that was out of step with itself. Near a center stone, he came upon it. It was difficult to see straight on, but he found it — a wink in the corner of his eye.
He called back over his shoulder, "I have it."
Harry and the others darted toward him.
"Where?" Harry asked.
Tom pointed. The longer he stood before it, the clearer it became. He felt its promise of endlessness, brimming with unchecked energy. A sharpness coated his tongue, like the sulfuric fumes of a volcano.
"We don't want it open long," said Harry. "Only open it when the Leech shows up."
The pulsations now had color, an electric purple and blistered red. Without warning, Tom felt a tendril of energy hook behind a rib and tug.
"Tom?" Harry's voice seemed very far away. "Tom."
Tom's eyes jerked away and the hook's thread broke. Harry frowned at him.
"You okay?"
"The energy of this portal is extremely powerful."
"Can you keep it open?" Harry asked quietly so the others would not hear.
Self-doubt was not a feeling Tom was familiar with, but unease curled in his gut as he glanced at the gossamer threads of energy.
"Yes."
Closing it, however.
"We'll force it through as fast as we can," Harry assured him.
Tom expected Harry to return to the outer stones, but with a single step he placed a kiss, soft as a feather, on Tom's mouth.
"Good luck," Harry whispered.
Tom's lips tingled as if Harry's kiss had bruised rather than caressed. Swallowing, he gave a jerky nod and put his focus back on the portal. Behind him, the others moved away, giving him space to work.
He heard Weasley say, "So, you're back together?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
"'Bout time," said Weasley and Harry snorted on a laugh.
Grinning, Tom planted his feet and drew his wand.
xXx
Harry was confident the Leech would come. He just didn't know when. They spaced themselves evenly around the outer ring of stones, wands at the ready. Harry shifted from foot to foot, his eyes scanning the grassy knoll. He'd never been to Stonehenge. It was beautiful and would be an excellent spot for a picnic. He'd have to bring Teddy before the days turned too cold.
Back and forth, Harry's eyes traveled the horizon. He'd make cheddar biscuits. Teddy loved them. Maybe Tom would even come.
A shimmer, like a heat wave, caught Harry's eye. Where there had only been grass and one lone, wayward wisp of a cloud now stood the Leech, towering at thirty feet. The sunlight reflected off its bleached skin, making Harry squint against the glare.
"It's here!" he roared. "Tom—"
The Leech moved. Rolf was right. It was fast. Far faster than it had been just days ago. Harry whipped up his wand just in time. A blink later and the Leech collided with his shield and Harry's feet slid backward from the force of the impact.
"Protego!"
Hermione's spell joined his, then Ron's and Rolf's. The Leech roared in frustration, its fingertips digging into the shield, nails piercing it like a cat's claws in silk.
"Tom!" Harry bellowed over his shoulder. "The portal! Open the—"
With the crack of a lightning bolt, a blast of energy unlike anything Harry had felt before plowed over him, flattening the grass. Tom had done it.
xXx
"We have to get it closer to the portal!" Tom heard Harry shout to the others. "On my word, we drop the shield."
The portal was an entity of itself. Unbridled, vicious energy scorched the grass. The opening split upward like a rip in the air. Fifty feet. Sixty. Tom kept his wand hand steady, his feet firmly planted, but the tendrils of energy coiled around him, sinking in their hooks. If Harry and the others were right behind him, Tom couldn't tell. Only the roaring wind filled his ears. It was an abyss. An endless, bottomless void. The blackness deepened and widened as Tom stared at it. It promised an eternity of nothingness. An eternity of darkness with only his worst memories to keep him company.
Horcruxes, ripping and tearing his soul. He could feel the scars as acutely as a freshly healed wound. His father. The Potters. Lonely, pathetic Hepzibah. Everywhere he walked, his footsteps left a trail of death and blood. As he stared into the Void, his feet slipping forward on the slick grass, the hooks digging deeper, he saw them all. He was back in that impenetrable darkness that haunted his dreams, his victims all around him. The howling in his ears was their screams. Their pleads. Their terror. He was lost in it. A baby was crying.
He saw himself lifting a wand into that child's frightened face, green eyes identical to the woman who lay dead at his feet. He saw himself like a bystander and felt revulsion.
He had forgiven Harry so long ago, but had he forgiven himself?
"Tom!"
Harry.
Harry was balm on a sting. He was sun on a frozen lake. He was happiness. He was love. Like rising from a well, Tom rose up out of that endless darkness. He blinked sweat from his eyes and was back — struggling against the whipping wind as the portal widened even more, veins of volcanic black bleeding outward and upward. He risked a glance over his shoulder. They were right behind him, the Leech battering their shield, apparently too determined to reach them to fear or even notice the portal.
"NOW!" Harry bellowed.
At once, the shield fell. Perhaps they could not hold it up any longer, even if they'd wanted to. They crouched down, flattening themselves to the ground. The portal's tentacles shot out, wrapping as tight as Devil's Snare around the Leech. The creature released a bone-shattering cry of terror that Tom was sure Muggles miles away would hear. The ropes pulled it toward its chasm of a mouth. The Leech fought, grabbing a stone, its nails leaving foot long gouges, but the tug of the portal was constant. Unwavering. The Leech lost its hold and tumbled straight through the gateway, spinning head over heels into its depths.
"Close it!" Harry shouted.
They clung to the stones, the wind as strong as a hurricane. Tom's wand was unbearably hot, vibrating so badly he feared it would burst into flame. Every movement sent needles of pain shooting through his body, but he rolled his wrist, performing the counter-charm, urging the gate to seal.
The hooks were so deep in his flesh that each breath was a torture. Tom gritted his teeth, his hair falling into his eyes. He felt his feet slide closer—
A second beam of light joined his. Battered against the vicious wind, Harry stood beside him. And then there was a third. A fourth. A fifth. Their spells combined did what one could not. The portal began to shrink, slowly knitting back together. Tom felt the cords attached to him snapping off, one by one, the tendrils of energy dissolving without their anchor.
But he was bleeding.
"YES!" Weasley and Rolf roared as the portal vanished from sight. "YES!"
"We did it!" Granger gasped, breathless. "We actually did it."
"Tom? Tom, are you okay?"
No. I'm bleeding.
The invisible wounds were too many to count, but they were not new injuries, he realized. They were ones from long ago. Wounds of his making. Wounds he'd inflicted upon himself, again and again. The hooks had simply pointed them out. He had not known how riddled he was.
"Tom!"
Harry grabbed him before he hit the ground. Someone was shouting, but it was just noise to Tom. He could only smell fresh pine.
He could only smell Harry.
.
.
His body was heavy. For a long time, he thought of nothing, merely following the gentle sensation of his lungs filling with air and slowly releasing. The rustle of paper drew his attention. It was harder than it should have been to open his eyes.
White met him. He lay on his back in a small bed. It was quiet, save for that rustling of paper. A scratching of a quill tip. His eyes shifted to the right. Beside a window, bathed golden in the sunlight, Harry sat on a chair, reading a magazine. He took in the sight, thinking that if this was death, how silly of him to have always feared it.
He spotted the magazine's cover.
"We need to discuss your reading choices," he said, his voice surprisingly hoarse.
Harry's head jerked up. The relief that spread across his face made Tom's heart swell.
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry lightly. "Sometimes the Quibbler makes an interesting point." He closed the magazine and set it aside. "And you'd be hard pressed to find a better crossword."
He stood and sat on the edge of the bed.
"You okay?" Harry asked softly.
Tom hesitated. "I'm not sure," he said honestly.
"We nearly lost you," Harry told him. "You've been unconscious for over two weeks."
Tom was startled. "Sorry." And he was saying sorry for everything. I'm sorry I took your family from you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I will never hurt you again. It was impossible to know whether Harry understood, whether he guessed just how deeply Tom wished he could go back and change everything, fix everything, right everything, but perhaps Harry did. The small smile that crept over his lips made Tom think it could be so.
"Hope you don't mind, but Ron and I already ate all your chocolate frogs. You got Dumbledore, Burdock Muldoon, Gwenog Jones —"
For the first time, Tom noticed the stack of get well gifts piled on the table by his bedside. Some of the horror at the sight of the miniature mountain must have appeared on his face, for Harry laughed.
Tom's eyes were on a vase of cabbage sized flowers, a flamboyantly colorful card sticking out of its leaves.
"There are cards?" he said, feeling ill.
"Yeah," said Harry, grinning apologetically. "I told them you wouldn't want any fuss, but they were insistent."
Dear. God.
"I'm sorry too."
Surprised, Tom turned his focus back to Harry.
Nervous, he fiddled with the corner of Tom's blanket. "I was so scared by how I felt that I kept pushing you away. I should have said it ages ago." He took a steadying breath and looked Tom straight in the eyes. "I love you."
What was this sensation coursing through him? This feeling that had his heart pounding and his skin tingling? This overwhelming flood that made his throat constrict? He was shaking. Dear Salazar, he was actually trembling. School girls were more composed than this.
But Harry understood. He saw it all and understood. He leaned forward and kissed him, and as it deepened an alarm jangled into life above their heads. Harry pulled away, guilt-faced.
"You aren't supposed to get your heart rate up."
"If that's the case, you're going to have to leave," said Tom, dead serious.
Grinning even wider, Harry slipped off the bed and returned to his chair. He flipped the Quibbler back open, picked up his quill, and propped his feet up onto the bed, chewing on the tip of his quill as he studied his crossword.
"What did I miss?" Tom asked.
"Not much," said Harry. "The gnomes found my garden — I was surprised it took them so long. Made a mess of the carrots. Oh, and Nott's been arrested."
"He has?"
"Turns out, he was low on funds. When he showed up at Gringotts to access his vault, the goblins alerted Robards. You'd think he'd know better, but I guess not everyone's willing to rough it while on the run. Eddie was the first on the scene."
"I imagine he enjoyed that."
"Immensely," said Harry. "Won't talk about anything else."
"Pity the dementors have been pulled from Azkaban."
"No one deserves dementors," Harry disagreed.
"He does," said Tom.
Harry's smile was small. His socked toes wriggled against Tom's leg, burrowing under his knee. Turning back to his crossword, voice light, he said, "Three letters, green vegetable."
Tom studied the ceiling, relishing the warmth spreading through his chest to every inch of his being. To every wisp of his soul.
He smirked. "Pea. And they're still vile."
"Says the bloke who'll gut fish all day," said Harry, writing in the word.
"Fish are worth eating," Tom stated. "Peas … I don't even understand peas."
"They were in the chicken."
"They were not."
"Sure were," said Harry, filling in another word. "I mashed them and mixed them in with the spinach. And you ate every bite," he said with satisfaction.
"You are a menace, Harry Potter."
"Yeah," said Harry, a crooked grin on his face. It was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever seen. "I know."
the end
.
.
A/N: Of Your Making might be over, but we are not done! A sequel is in the works. I have already begun planning and drafting, but please take heed. I will not post anything until I have a very solid, explicitly plotted plan. We're talking chapter by chapter mapping. That's going to take me a good, long while. BUT I can go ahead and give you lovelies a few expectations to whet the appetite:
Harry and Tom are in an established and public relationship. O, sweet heaven, the journey has been long.
The Leech and its unsettling infatuation with Harry will be further explored and (god help me) explained.
Just how many parallel universes are there and just how different might they be?
I don't know how long it will take me to post chapter one, but if you want to be one of the first to know, please subscribe to me or follow me on tumblr (hollyandyew dot tumblr dot com). I will alert you when it's ready for takeoff.
I've said this in some comments, but I really want to reiterate how thankful I am for each and every one of you. Writing this story was an unbelievable joy. I was at a crossroads with my writing and struggling to rediscover my love for the craft. This story did it. You guys did it. May the sun never set on tomarry.
All my love,
Purplewitch156