Sweet Revenge

The Slug Club 1945 Reunion Except Not Really Because Tom Forgets

Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior graduated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland as Head Boy, having been appointed one of the two Prefects of Slytherin House in 1942 and a member of the esteemed Slug Club, led by Potions Professor Horace Slughorn. 

All of this was on Tom's graduation certificate. 

Yet, he could not help but feel incompetent. He--who had had almost every person worth anything or less more than ready to throw themselves at him--felt helpless in the face of Harry's bright green eyes whose depths he longed to seek. 

So, being the completely unempathetic existence that he was, Tom decided it would be prudent to start their no-doubt long-living relationship by seducing Harry to his bed. 

...Unfortunately, he was having some minor complications. 

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File of T.M Riddle's failed seduction attempts

Case #1: Romantic poetry

Tom had been feeling very confident. He knew that back in his day (he hated to admit that phrase made him sound old), on Valentine's day, lots of owls bearing love letters would come flapping noisily in and that soon the air would be filled with the altogether horrid shrieks of the excited recipients. He also knew that a greater number of small, wailing children were born in November...if you get the connection.  So, he felt very confident that hiding short love poems in Harry's treacle tart would do the trick. 

Several moments later, Tom watched in horror as a little slip of paper enclosed in semi-translucent treacle disappeared between Harry's fuschia lips, never to be seen again. 

Case #2: Welsh love-spoons

Avery had once given Walburga an ornate wooden spoon he claimed had been brought all the way from Wales. Walburga had not been impressed. However, when Ignatius Prewett gave the very same thing (albeit with more carved hearts) and told Lucretia Black that he had made it himself....well, they were married right out of Hogwarts. So, Tom believed in ignoring Avery Senior's failed proposal and hanging one such spoon upon the bedside table. 

That night, in utter exhaustion from a day of Quidditch With Draco, Harry stumbled into the bedroom to an awaiting Tom (unfortunately dressed) and fell into bed (not in the way Tom wanted him to). Tom watched in a rather resigned manner as the boy beside him slept peacefully, face sideways on the pillow and body otherwise unmoving upon the covers. 

Well. If Harry wanted to be freezing in the morning, then that was entirely up to him for not having noticed Tom's spoon, Tom thought dismally. He ended up tucking Harry in anyways. 

Cas-No! We will not go further than that for Tom's Embarrassing Recollections because Tom has kindly requested us to save him from Harry's endless teasing should he ever happen to stumble upon this file. 

We are grateful for your consideration and thank you. Especially Tom. Right, Tom?

...

It is with greatly solemnity that I reveal to you readers that Tom has retired to his chambers, no doubt out of his own refusal to answer my question (he is terribly proud, you know). I have attempted to implore him to come out of his room, but he is resolute. I think, however, that he is back to planning world domination in the form of Harry Potter. Please excuse me, I meant---er, what did I mean? Anyhow, such trivial matters are not of importance. We shall proceed without Tom. 

...

Tom gives his sincerest apologies and has asked me to convey these to you for his very rude behavior. He (grudgingly) gives you the right to (subtly) tease him about his own ineptitude, a clause which I have certainly not instated, as Tom has verified for you. 

Thank you very much, Tom. And yes, you may go back to your room. 

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Tom sat in the darkness of his bedchambers, contemplating life and philosophical ideas (not really). 

He sat, attempting the meditation technique that Avery once taught Orion in the middle of the Common Room except-wait. Why was he listening to something Avery had said? It was abhorrent! Surely, he was losing brain cells after being around such people as those who surrounded him now!

He failed to take into account that he had been around these people for a relatively long time. 

Oh, thinking of Avery, he had not seen his great friends in some months. What a wonderful way to gather thoughts on the Operation Potter. No. That was a cringey name. He should come up with a better one, preferably with the help of Barty, who was as crass as he was better with naming things.

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          "Let's name it...Operation Tart!"

          "..."

          "Aw, come on, Tom! I'm so much better at names than you are! It's called tart because Harry likes treacle tart, no?"

         "..."

         "Alright, alright. How about...Operation Seal?"

         "Why?"

          "You know! Because Harry is like a seal! He wriggles around a lot!"

          "That is a blemish upon his perfect self."

          "You sap, Tom. Fine, how about...Operation Get Potter to Open His Legs."

Why had he asked Bellatrix's help, again?

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While Tom was suffering through Bellatrix's terrible naming skills, Harry was at Ottery St. Catchpole helping Luna write a letter to Susan Bones, sending condolences for her aunt Amelia Bones's death. 

The deaths of Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance had made the front pages of every newspaper several days ago, including The Quibbler, a magazine that Luna's father Xenophilius ran. Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour made haughty announcements in the Daily Prophet, which neither of them had read. 

Harry really did feel sorry, as Bones was among the very few Hogwarts students who paid any attention to Luna, let alone thought about being nice to her. 

          "You know, Harry, I've come upon a little bit of information you might like. Alex was transported to the Burrow sometime around midnight yesterday. Tom might like that."

          "Oh, okay. I'll be sure to tell him."

They lapsed into silence.

           "Wait, Tom? Did I-did I tell you about him?"

Luna just looked at him with a slightly more berating look on her face than normal. 

           "No."

Harry sighed. Luna, he knew, had probably known it all along. 

           "Our OWL results will come out soon. Be sure to kiss Tom on the cheek. He'll like it."

          "D'you think? ...Wait, what?"

Luna offered no explanation except an enigmatic smile. 

           "Just do it. You'll know what I mean."

Later, when Harry left, Luna hummed and sat back, moving aside a pile of pillows to expose an old satin-covered book. 

As she picked it up to continue reading, the golden lettering was visible. Soulmates: A history of connectivity.