Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Love and Seperations

The younger boy gulped but didn't back down. "I-I won't let you," he repeated, the confidence in his voice faltering, making him sound weaker, less sure of how he'd accomplish his end goal. He was just as powerless as he was in his dream. "I'll find some way of stopping you, stopping this. I know I will, somehow..."

Tom's smirk widened, not missing the catch in Harry's voice and understanding what it meant. He leaned forward so that his mouth was centimeters away from the smaller boy's ear. He was so close that, when he spoke, his breath easily warmed the side of the other's face.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Tom whispered patronizingly, enjoying every nervous fidget Harry made at the closeness of their position. He leaned out just enough that he'd be able to see whatever emotion flickered across the younger one's face, enunciating every word slowly and clearly.

"You. Can't. Stop. Me. Because I'm doing this for you, Harry."

Closing the distance between the two, Tom's frozen lips had barely touched Harry's own, shocked pair.

I'm doing this for you, Harry.
I'm doing this for you, Harry.
I'm doing this for you, Harry.

Tom's confession rang in his head like church bells at a funeral. Harry broke off the kiss and recoiled back.

"Why have you come? What did you possibly think you'd accomplish by following me down here?" Tom turned slowly to face Harry, the younger boy's hard breaths coming out in puffs, visible as white mist in the icy temperature surrounding them.

"You can't keep this up. You made the choice to stop petrifying the muggle-borns. You can make the choice to not kill, Tom. It's wrong; you know it's wrong," Harry argued, trying desperately to get the other boy to see sense.

Tom gazed longingly back at the enormous statue of Slytherin Harry knew housed the basilisk.

"No," Tom murmured. "What's wrong is allowing is allowing her to live after she almost took you from me. Had she succeeded I'd be left with — with... I'd be left with nothing."

Harry's viridian eyes welled up. "Please, Tom. It doesn't matter. I'm perfectly fine. I'm here. She hasn't hurt anyone; just leave her alone. Ignore her, pretend she doesn't exist. But you can't kill–"

"Can't I?" Cruel eyes snapped to Harry's face. "We both know what I'm capable of," the other boy reasoned, stalking forward like a predator moving in for the kill, "This darkness, it's in my nature. I cast the Cruciatus Curse on Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson with accidental magic. I was eight. You don't think I can kill her?"

He stopped just a hairs-breath away, well-within Harry's personal space. Stretching out a hand, Tom cupped the delicate face gently, as if it was the most fragile thing in the world–a stark contrast to his frigid words. "But I could never harm you dearest, Harry," aristocratic features softened as he ran the pad of thumb over Harry's lower lip.

"You said you were doing this for me, what did you mean by that?" Harry inquired breathlessly. His heart was beating a thousand beats per minute and the blood rushed in his ears in anticipation of Tom's response. He was as defenseless as he was in his dream months ago. Like a gazelle galloping for its life to escape from a lion and the lion always catches its prey, almost always. But Tom wasn't a lion, he was a snake. And snakes lie hidden in the brush only dart out and strike for the kill. Harry needed to act fast.

Chocolate orbs softened as Tom spoke quietly, "So I will always be there to protect you."

Tom leaned down, closing the distance between the two. Harry melted when the older boy deepened the kiss. He opened his mouth, inviting Tom to explore his mouth. He grasped at the taller boys silky waves. Tom suddenly broke the kiss and hissed in Parseltongue, "Come and feed on the girl."