Harry was floating once again. He felt as if he was on a bed of clouds, gliding along, high above everyone. This time the sensation was pleasant, to his great relief.
As calming as it was, something felt off. He could feel something in the back of his mind, just sitting there and taking up space. It was akin to when there was a small rock in your shoe. The longer he kept his eyes closed and floated, the larger the feeling became, growing behind his forehead.
It was all very 'The Princess and the Pea' like.
Groaning loudly, Harry gave up on basking in the strange euphoria. He opened his eyes, blinking away the veil. The world surrounding him was filled with grey, Harry would have called it smoke had it not moved around in the strange magical way it did. He held his arms out and tried to manipulate the vapor by swiping his hands through it. To his disappointment, the smoke didn't react to his physical form. It simply went through him and carried on its way.
Harry sat up off the floor, continuing to watch it swirl and dance about. He could see a pattern if he focused hard enough. The grey smog twirled and drifted, dipping low only to head counterclockwise. Harry decided to follow it.
He couldn't see the floor, but he could feel it on his bare feet after standing. It wasn't cold, even with his socks missing.
He began to walk, following a specific cloud as it ventured left and dipped. He continued, his eyes glued to the cloud. He was looking down at his toes and a shiny glimmer caught his eye, it had been somewhere to the right of him. Turning from his spot, the Gryffindor padded across the floor toward the spot he had seen. As he closed in on it, the smoke thinned, and Harry was met with an impossibly tall barrier. A golden wall.
It was shiny enough that it practically glowed now that Harry could see it properly. There were ridges and bumps along its surface, taking on the shape of upside-down teeth layered. Or perhaps a pinecone. He ran his fingers over them, feeling every small bump. Higher up on the wall the surface smoothed out, only to once again break into a sequence of long peaked lines. Harry tried to back up so he could see the pattern, but the further he got from the wall, the thicker the smoke was. It obstructed his view.
The teen scowled while he looked around once again. Glancing from his right to his left, he could see that the wall was practically mirrored both ways. He decided to head to the left while keeping his hand on the golden wall. He padded quietly further and further, the scene not changing no matter how far he seemed to walk. Someone could have told him he was simply walking in place and he might have believed them had he not walked into an object.
Harry yelped as he fell forward and over the back of a lounge chair. His feet came right out from under him, and he tumbled. He landed halfway onto the seat, and for a brief moment he thought he was alright.
That was until he realized he was still going and rolled right off the edge of it.
He hit the ground and landed firmly on his tailbone. It hadn't hurt, but the impact caused him to breathe out an audible 'oof'.
The teen grimaced and went to rub his backside on instinct. While maneuvering his arm he glanced to the floor and realized that it was no longer just a void. Instead, the ground was now covered in a posh, cream-colored tile. Intrigued, Harry now took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in the middle of a seating area, the area including a tall-backed sofa, a table for tea, and of course the chaise he had just toppled over.
In the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw movement within the still surrounding fog. A movement that felt much different from the smoke's airy nature. Had this not been a dream, Harry most likely would have subjected himself to whiplash with how fast he had turned his head.
In the smoke was a dark shadow, the outline clearly that of a person. He watched it curiously and had a feeling that it too was observing him.
Before he could call out to the figure, it began to move. A spike of fear shot through Harry, but it was squashed when he reminded himself that it was just a dream. And dreams can't hurt you, not physically at least. So he sat on the floor bravely.
Out of the smoke, came a familiar face. One that made Harry's eyes widen.
Tom Riddle, in all his tall glory, stalked from the mist. He looked so similar to the Tom he'd met in the Chamber of Secrets, but he was undoubtedly older. None of the youthful glow was left, and in its wake was an air of such confidence, that Harry felt threatened. The man stopped walking towards him once he was out of the smoke. He held his hands behind his back and slightly tilted his head.
"You are aware that the purpose of chairs is meant for sitting, correct?" Came a familiar tone. Harry's mouth fell open. Tom's voice had lost its pubescent edge altogether, and he sounded like an aristocratic prince. The entirety of Tom Riddle screamed power.
All Harry could do was think that this was probably why it had been so easy for the man to gather followers. He was breathtaking.
Too bad he was a megalomaniac with a shite attitude and an even worse personality.
Harry closed his mouth, a tad embarrassed at his reaction. To counter the weird feeling, Harry tried to go casual. He sat up straight and leaned on the seat on the chaise with his elbow as if this were all normal.
"Really? I completely and honestly thought they were meant for eating." He replied, allowing the sarcasm to drip from his words. This shouldn't be any different from conversing with Voldemort.
Riddle's lip twitched and Harry couldn't tell if the man wanted to smile or bite his head off. To his surprise, the stony face morphed into the cutest fucking smile he had ever seen. Dimples included.
Oh Merlin, the dimples.
"I must apologize," Tom started, then walked forward, with what seemed to be the intent on helping Harry up or perhaps shaking his hand at the least. "I should introduce myself-" Before he could do so, Harry raised his hand and waved it around flippantly.
"Yeah, Yeah. I know who you are Tom." He revealed. Tom's face twitched, and Harry could have laughed. Deciding he had enough of the floor, Harry used his leverage on the chair to help pull himself up. Once standing he wiped his jeans off as if they had collected dirt, a habit. He looked back up only to find that Tom Riddle's face had changed to one of suspicion.
"You know my name," The taller man tilted his head and uncrossed his arms in a way that made Harry feel extremely uncomfortable. "Yet I have no idea as to who you are. We have never met, I'm sure of it." Despite his discomfort, Harry could only snort loudly, a reaction that displeased Tom visibly.
"We have." He offered before scratching his head awkwardly, Tom was eying him and he was finding it increasingly creepy. "My name is Harry and I- well actually I practically live with you now." This sparked some interest in the other. Harry waved his hand again, trying to dismiss the reaction. "It's all super complicated, and I'd rather not have to explain it all in a dream." Tom's demeanor changed again at his words. His body language went from rigid to predatory. His expression morphed, this time his smile was less charming, and more bordering on creepily gleeful.
"Is that what this is?" The man asked softly, the terrifying smile persisting. "A dream?" He continued, his head tilting. Harry could have sworn the man's brown eyes flashed red. It made Harry hesitate, which in turn only made the creepy smile grow.
"...Yes..." The moment the word left his mouth, Harry knew the answer was wrong.
"Oh, Harry." The sound of his name on Tom Riddle's lips sent a shiver down his spine. "This isn't a dream. Not entirely, no." Tom offered, his deep brown eyes looking into Harry's. He was searching for something. The man's gaze then traveled up to his forehead, where his scar lay hidden beneath his overgrown fringe. Curtained by his hair, and beneath his skin, something behind his forehead twinged.
"Merlin's pants." He gasped out, the realization hitting him harder than a bludger. "You're a bloody Horcrux!" He didn't even need the other to confirm it, it just made sense.
How could he have not seen it?
"The fact that you even have knowledge of that word," Tom stepped closer, Harry mirrored him by stepping back. "And seeing as we have a connection," Harry sputtered, a blush rising over his neck at the choice of words.
"It would seem that you Harry, are also a Horcrux." The young Dark Lord gave Harry a very obvious once-over, which only succeeded in forcing Harry's blush to his face. "That makes you special." The man hissed out.
The parseltongue did nothing to calm the teen, and Harry swallowed hard. He needed to hightail it out of there. He needed something to help him out of this situation, and fast. Harry only knew one way. It was his superpower, his golden egg, the only thing he could do to maybe piss this Tom off enough that he'd want him to leave. He needed his sass.
"Yeah, whatever floats your boat, Riddle." He replied offhandedly, giving the man a look of mild disgust.
"Call me Tom." The man replied, a glint in his eye. Possessive. Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
"I'd rather punch myself repeatedly in the face, thanks." He stated, crossing his arms defensively. Tom narrowed his eyes, giving Harry what seemed to be a look of puzzlement. He advanced forward again, and Harry mirrored him, only to realize that the backs of his knees were at the edge of the seat now.
"I've never had another Horcrux visit me before..." The Dark Lord murmured to himself.
"Maybe they just don't like you-" He was being completely ignored now. The gaze on Tom's face changed again, this time he looked at Harry like a child might do to a shiny toy in the box. Once again Harry was on the end of Tom's roaming eyes.
"You must be different somehow."
"They probably throw parties every Friday, and don't invite you." The teen taunted uselessly, tightening his crossed arms. Tom's eyes found Harry's again.
"How many other Horcruxes are there, Harry?" The Horcrux questioned rubbing his chin in thought. "There was a plan, but..." Harry tried to look disinterested, bringing his hand up to inspect his nails. He wanted nothing better than to know what the plan was. He loved knowing. Unfortunately for him, every part of Voldemort was paranoid. A knowing smile made its way onto Tom's face.
"Just how much do you know, Harry?" Was asked sweetly, and Harry put on his snake face. If he wanted to get any information, he was going to have to bluff his way through this.
"More than you." He goaded. It was technically true, and Tom understood this. Harry knew a great deal more than he.
"Because you aren't trapped, are you?" Tom questioned, making Harry freeze. Because even though he was a prisoner, as a Horcrux he wasn't forced into a diary or a cup. "Ah. I think I see what makes you special, Harry." The Horcrux whispered as he moved again, stalking toward Harry in the same way he had in the Atrium. The teen tried to back away, but his body refused to respond. His sudden fear kept him frozen in place as Tom advanced.
Amusement glinted in Tom Riddle's eyes, along with a look he couldn't exactly pin down. It might have been victory or greed, and if Harry wasn't lying to himself, he would have called it hunger.
The Horcrux in front of him came close enough that Harry could see the specks of red clearly now. Tom reached out and instead of grabbing Harry, like he thought he would do, he pushed him instead. The backs of Harry's knees hit the chaise and he was forced back into the chair. This allowed Tom to trap him into place by placing his two arms on either side of him. The taller man leaned forward, clearly not one to care about other people's personal space.
He was breathing Harry's air.
"You see, Harry. I am the piece of soul that was left behind, placed into its cage. Contained and safe. You, on the other hand, are the vessel." The brown eyes that were much too close to his own looked back up to his forehead. "The piece of soul is inside of you. It's the only explanation as to why you can visit this place." One of Tom's hands left his side, only to reach up to move Harry's hair away. "I hadn't even thought that living vessels would have been possible." The young Dark Lord whispered, it was so quiet that had Harry not been three inches away from the man's mouth, he may have missed it. "I wonder…"
Before Harry could even question what was happening, lips had pressed themselves to his exposed forehead. He lost himself.
The pleasant feeling of floating returned tenfold, instead of a numb nothingness, however, there was a warmth that lit his bones on fire. It was as if Harry had been in an ice bath his whole life and had not even realized it until now. He couldn't believe he had lived his life without this. How had he survived almost seventeen years with that emptiness?
It was all too much, but at the same time, it was not enough.
His body moved on its own accord, even though it felt as if he was being filled with boiling cement. His arms involuntarily reached out to wrap around Tom Riddle, to grab whatever he could and pull until there wasn't any space left between the two of them. He wanted to meld into the body that was up against his. He wanted all the friction, he had to get closer. He needed to-
Tom's body pulled away from him, pushing against his chest until he was flush against the chair. The moment had ended much too soon, and the delicious fire exited his body at such a pace that he swore it had been extinguished with ice water. All he could do was whine quietly as the cold seeped into his bones, leaving him feeling completely hollowed out. He was a shell.
Part of Harry registered Tom moving away, far enough that they weren't sharing a breath any longer. It felt like torture.
"As pleasant as that was," Tom Riddle breathed out heavily. "It wasn't what I was hoping for." The man sounded as wrecked as Harry felt. He was sure he would be feeling pride for being the one to cause Tom Riddle to come undone had he not been overrun with the intense feelings of wanting-
"More." Harry rasped aloud, trying with all his might to pull Tom closer to him with hands that were now strongly gripping his sleeves. Tom didn't budge, which made Harry whine again. He got no response and just when Harry was about to give up and start pushing instead, the body against his leaned forward once again.
This time a hand snaked up to the back of his head and gripped his hair just tight enough that it wouldn't hurt. His head was pulled back roughly and he was face-to-face with a red-eyed Horcrux. Lips descended onto his.
Harry Potter thought he'd be ready this time. He thought wrong.
He had heard somewhere that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if that were true, then the mouth was the door.
The fire was back, and Harry couldn't remember ever feeling so terribly consumed. Tom was greedy, and he was taking all of him. Harry couldn't find the will to mind it.
His body was on fire, or maybe he was the fire now? It was hard to tell.
Harry began to lose himself again, and it was getting hard to distinguish what was his skin, and what wasn't. Did he even have bones anymore? He couldn't sense his limbs, there was no way his body could survive this. With all this heat Harry could no longer sense the world around him, it was all flames licking at his insides.
That was until a hand crept its way from his hair, and rounded his neck down to his chest.
It dipped low and found its way underneath his shirt, fingers splayed themselves just under his navel. A different kind of heat began to pool.
A low moan startled him because it was his. The hand was only encouraged by his outburst, and it was quickly joined by another. Both now moving his shirt out of the way, and gripping onto the top of his jeans. They seemed to be in a hurry and were too impatient to unbutton them correctly. So instead they pulled separate ways and the button on his jeans flew right off.
Harry tried to use his leg to hook around Tom's waist. He needed the friction, he needed more. As if he could read his mind, Tom's hand dipped beneath the open pants. Harry hissed as fingertips breached the waistband of his boxers.
"Yessss-"
Only to feel the rushing sensation of cold completely overtake him.
"Wake up!" Nagini hissed directly into Harry's ear. The teen bolted from his sleeping position and gulped in large breaths as his body started to shiver intensely.
"Why the fuck is it so cold!?" He screeched once he could use his voice. He reached for whatever part of the blanket he could find to pull towards himself, and realized he was completely hard. He stared down at his jeans and the missing button. Tom Riddle's dumb dimples and a charming smile flashed in his mind and he felt his whole body flush.
He almost shagged young Voldemort. Well… he'd almost let the man shag him.
Harry covered his face with his hands and dug the palms into his eye sockets.
"What the fuck. What the fuck."
"Nagini was frightened." Came a quiet hiss to his left, and Harry uncovered one of his eyes to look over at his scaled companion. He thanked his lucky stars that she had no idea.
"Why?" He hissed back, perplexed. One should think Harry would be the frightened one. Instead, he felt sort of… disappointed? No, no way. He didn't want to shag Riddle.
"You were in distress, Nagini was afraid you got hurt again." Harry felt like laughing or maybe crying. He must have been making noises in his sleep.
Harry groaned, pulling the blanket over himself, and hiding his face. He hadn't been in distress, he was enjoying himself. He had been enjoying Riddle. Who was he kidding? He did want to shag Tom Riddle. Harry groaned again and dug his palms back into his eyes.
Breakfast was going to be absolute hell.