felt like writing something angsty and decided on tomarry. this includes an nsfw scene at the end.
enjoy!
When Harry transfers to his new boarding school, he finds it to be surprisingly... welcoming.
When he finally gets there with the Dursley's in tow, he can hardly breathe.
It was everything he'd always wanted in a school.
It was charming and gorgeous, and, despite, the structures looming over his form, it all feels like a proper home.
Aunt Petunia, for once, hadn't bothered to criticize it, and Uncle Vernon only muttered how Dudley would fit right in if he attended.
Fortunately for Harry, Dudley was already enrolled in another school, and it was because of Dudley that Harry was supposed to be going somewhere else, anyway.
Harry wasn't exactly the most social person when it came to school and meeting new people. He wasn't too standout-ish anyhow.
He's short in stature and thin, with developed muscles from playing football; along with his untamable black hair that refuses to stay styled no matter how much product he puts into it, he wears gold, circular glasses that are somehow unbroken despite the many accidents he had in sports.
He was on the quiet side, but tended to make snarky remarks under his breath.
His first friend is a boy who sat next to him in maths and just so happened to have overheard one of his many famous quips.
It's a rather quiet day, and their teacher, a blonde and prideful man, had been discussing the importance of what they'd learned after some students were caught messing around.
Harry had only been there for about a week, but it took no time at all for him to see that their teacher tended to go off track from their lessons.
And so, a one-liner slips from his mouth before he can stop himself, and he had muttered something along the lines of "it would've been important if you didn't talk about yourself every five minutes".
There was a stifled laugh to his right.
He sat up, hand falling from his cheek.
A tall boy with freckles and red hair looked back at him, his blue eyes shining with humor as he grinned at him from behind his hand.
"Couldn't agree with you more, mate." He whispered, pretending to have been looking out the window when the teacher gazes around the classroom before going back to the board.
Harry smiled, and the boy smiled back.
The boy's name was Ron Weasley, and he quickly rose in Harry's rankings of friends (though he didn't have anyone other than him for a solid three days).
Initially, he ate his lunch alone and didn't really bother to put himself out there. He received the occasional glances from girls and boys alike, but never did he initiate an interaction.
But, through Ron, he was introduced to Hermione at lunch, an extremely intelligent girl who had the habit of keeping Ron in check with his schoolwork. She had a large mane of hair made up of dark curls, and her skin was a rich sepia. She reminded him of autumn, and he immediately felt at ease when in her presence.
He saw the way her golden brown eyes lit up whenever she looked at Ron, no matter how annoyed or angry she got with the tall ginger. He didn't miss the way Ron's eyes were always held in a permanent happy squint when he gazed at her, and he figured that he should probably find more friends soon.
Very soon.
Harry gives it a couple of months before they're snogging somewhere inconspicuous within the grounds of the boarding school.
It's rather busy in chemistry, and the teacher for this class is far more strict and demanding than his last one.
He was a severe man with straight, black hair that just barely reached his shoulders, and he's a bit uptight.
Even sitting near the front he had managed to hear snickering over the size of the man's nose.
He frowned at this but didn't bother to interfere.
The teacher's name, as he introduced to the class, was Snape, and he had decided that their lesson would be done in pairs.
He ended up being paired off with a boy who could pass off as a final year. He seemed to be as young as Harry, who was a year away from being in his final year, but he carried off a sort of... maturity that the others didn't.
Harry was unsure what it is about tall boys within this school, but his partner was another one of them.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and well-mannered, with had dark wavy hair that fell neatly into a styled part. His eyes were a deep chestnut brown color, and his face was rather angular, with his cheekbones being one of his most prominent features.
He was classically handsome, someone the girls would moon over in the films.
Harry found that it was rather unfair he was paired off with someone so... elegant looking.
He felt far too shabby to even be next to him.
He disregarded the fact that his own uniform was slightly more wrinkled and disheveled in comparison, and he ran a hand through his hair to smooth it as best as he could.
He supposed it was too late for any good first impressions.
"Hello, I'm Harry." He greeted timidly, his demeanor getting the best of him.
The boy looked him over, his dark eyes drinking in every detail of Harry before he nodded, taking his seat.
"Hello." He said, and Harry was struck by just how perfect the boy must have been, because there's absolutely no way that Tom sounded just like the young, posh boys he would see on the telly when Aunt Petunia would watch her shows.
There's a pause, and, for a moment, Harry thinks he's failed the test the other was putting him through in his head. His gaze had long since left him after he was sized up.
He cleared his throat and sat up properly to avoid making it any worse.
Then he turned to Harry, brown eyes connecting with his own and leaving him with the feeling that he was under a spotlight in a dark room.
"Tom. Tom Riddle."
He felt relief as they began to work.
When Tom is quick to catch his mistakes, he thinks that Hermione must be crushed to have such tough competition.
No matter, he was sure Hermione worked hard enough as it was and was probably at the top already.
He figures he won't mention this to her.
It's when he's eating with Hermione and Ron a couple days from then that they let him in on the details of the school.
They talk about the boarding school itself with its well-known reputation for being almost "magical" for the education it provided students. The headmaster was an old man who takes a strong liking to students at the school, and the thought gives some form of comfort to Harry.
Ron ended up beelining to the discussion of "popular" kids, making Harry just a tad bit interested.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics but didn't say anything else.
"Draco Malfoy is one of the top few I can think of off my head. He's blonde, huge prat. Annoying, rich, snob. You get the picture. Then there's Cedric Diggory. He's pretty high in the popularity chain. All the girls are in love with him, because he's so nice and hot." Ron said, emphasizing upon his qualities as he pointed him out from across the lunchroom.
"Cho Chang is his girlfriend. They're popular for just being a pretty couple, of all things. If I'd known that makes you popular, I would've done it a long time ago!"
Harry cracked a smile and tried not to laugh as Hermione stared him down.
Ron noticed this and hastily continued, trying to cover-up his mistake of saying anything stupid in front of Hermione.
"There's also Lavender Brown. She's pretty smart and cute, alright, but-"
Hermione bristled at this and interrupted, the tips of her ears a bright red against her dark curls, though had easily beat her out, his entire face bright with embarrassment.
"ANYWAYS," she said loudly, glaring daggers at Ron, who mumbled about the fact he hadn't even gotten to the good part, "you didn't even mention him."
Harry perked at this, his lunch long forgotten as he looked curiously at Hermione.
Her honey colored eyes glimmered with knowledge he didn't possess, and her secretive smile was enough to tell him that she enjoyed telling people about things they didn't know.
"Well," Hermione started, tucking hair behind her ear in excitement. "I suppose I should tell you considering you might bump into him."
"Have you heard of Tom Riddle?" She asked simply.
Harry decides he won't elaborate quite yet as he slowly nodded his head.
"I thought so. He's number one in our class right now, smartest of the bunch." She said, though her face betrayed her annoyance at this.
"He's smart, charming... if you will. Girls are always all over him, foaming at the mouth. He doesn't care though- never seemed to. He's probably the most popular boy in our year... but he doesn't really talk to anyone outside his circle. That mostly includes the rich kids here, unfortunately. He's pretty nice for the most part." She finished, beaming at him.
"Really?" He asked, taken aback.
Tom hadn't seemed the type to be snobby... just seemed like kept to himself.
Well, Harry thought, I don't even know him well enough to jump to that conclusion.
"More like a right prat!" Ron said, whispering the phrase as he jumped back into the conversation. He looked put off by something Hermione had stated before, and he continued despite her raised brows.
"He's not that hot. The girls here are just into nerdy blokes." He scoffed and took a bite of his chicken.
"He's pretty closed off. Never even talked to him myself, really. Bloke has superiority issues."
"I talked to him in one of my classes," Harry added unhelpfully, and the two heads of his new friends snapped to his attention.
"What?"
"I talked to him in my class..." he said again, though much more cautiously. The look Hermione was giving him made him think she would pounce on him at any moment.
"We were partners in chemistry... is that bad? He seemed pretty nice and he helped me."
"Helped you?" Ron squeaked out, face pulled in shock.
"Partners?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.
The two sputtered over this new revelation.
"There's no way! He always asks to be alone even if we have partners. He always gets his way."
"Oh." Harry said dumbly, his face heating up.
Maybe he shouldn't have told them anything from the start.
"That's great?" Ron asked more than he said after chewing a mouthful of food, "I mean, no one has really accomplished that. Leave it up to you to be the one to break the code here."
"Oh, honestly." Hermione sighed and put her lunch aside before taking a drink of water. He watched the way her hand gripped the bottle a bit harder than necessary.
"Well, I'm glad you have another friend, Harry."
There's a tinge of jealousy that seeped through, and Harry wondered if she'd tried to reach out to Tom before.
He probably shut her down, then.
"Yeah," he said, though he was far too aware that he was fidgeting with his hands in his lap, "I am too."
The year is not as painstakingly horrible as he had thought it would be. His classes and homework assignments take up a majority of his time after school, but he finds that it honestly isn't too bad.
Things were looking up, though.
Throughout the year, he continued to meet far more people and got closer to the ones he already knew.
Of some of the people he'd befriended, he had managed to meet Cho and Cedric.
It was just unfortunate that he found himself flustered after being invited to sit with them at lunch one day.
It had been an uncomfortably long lunch, and the two of them had been very... touchy.
Cedric slung a friendly arm around his shoulders and talked to him about football, though his warm breath tickled Harry's forehead.
Cho gently held his arm between her hands, gushing about how her and Cedric always play and how he should join them sometime.
He had to quickly excuse himself when he found both Cho and Cedric looking intently at him for an answer. Their hopeful eyes tried to meet his gaze, but he settled with looking at his lunch tray.
Being between two people that were attractive and charming was terribly nerve wracking, and he did his best to stammer out that he did, in fact, play. He quickly agreed with them, saying that he would play with them sometime if they managed to scrap up a team.
"Why not just the three of us?" Cho had said, though she had taken on a more suggestive tone.
Cedric laughed and peered at him with twinkling eyes, a sly smile crossing his face.
Harry felt himself blushing underneath their gazes, and he'd just opened his mouth to speak when a figure approached them.
Tom stopped by the table, pardoning himself for intruding before asking Harry if he was "ready to go to the library yet".
He had been lucky that Tom had seen the exchange.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about it. I'll see you later Cedric, Cho!" He said, catching onto the other boy's drift.
Quickly, he gathered his bag an tray before walking away with Tom, feeling far too relieved.
"Thank you, Tom." He murmured gratefully.
Tom looked down at him and gave him a curt nod.
He ignored the way his heart pounded hard against his rib cage at the simple glance. It must've been the after effects of being in such close quarters of good-looking people, he decided.
"Of course, Harry. They seemed a bit... overbearing."
Harry wondered how long Tom had been watching the exchange.
As they continued their way through the lunchroom, Harry realized it was been the first time Tom had called him by his name.
The next person ended up being far less favorable than the couple.
Harry had just come out of the loo and was lazily running his hands through his hair, trying to get rid of the water on his hands when he happened to bump into a chest.
They both stumbled, and, in his shock, his hands came up to grab onto the other's shoulders.
"I'm so sorry-" he started, his eyes looking straight into blue eyes framed by blonde lashes.
He hated the fact that he kept having to look up to meet everyone's gazes.
Startled, he dropped his hands immediately, unsure if grabbing someone so suddenly was an appropriate response to nearly knocking them over.
"Watch where you're going, idiot." The blonde scoffed, and Harry found himself narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
Yet again, another bloke who was taller than Harry. This one was definitely not as nice as the others, though.
"It's Harry, and I said I was sorry." He responded dryly, stepping to the side when the other refused to move out of the way.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, and you'd better be, or my father will hear about this." He said sharply, though Harry could see his cheeks blossoming with color as he glared at Harry.
"Are you done yet, Malfoy? I have somewhere to go."
He was heavily suppressing the urge to use the many, many colorful words that invaded his mind.
"Get out of my way." The blonde ground out, pushing past him despite the fact he had already moved out of the way.
Harry let out a huff of annoyance, glad that he was finally able to get away.
"What a prat." He muttered when he was out of earshot.
So that was the Draco Malfoy that Ron had mentioned.
Despite the rocky experience, Harry simply tucked it away for further keeping, making sure to avoid the blonde in his classes.
He tended to stick close to Hermione and Ron for most of the week, but, slowly, he and Tom became better friends. Hanging out with Tom during chemistry became their usual arrangement, and it was significant enough that he eventually started to spend more time with the tall and mysterious boy.
By his next and final year, they are far closer than Harry ever imagined they would be.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked uncertainly.
They were sitting on a bench in the courtyard and he busied himself with looking at the cloudy sky, avoiding Tom's eyes.
"I'm certain. I don't mind your presence." Tom admitted, and Harry's head turned so quickly that he became horribly dizzy.
The words make his mouth feel like cotton because Tom Riddle doesn't talk about feelings- not ever, and especially not since he's gotten to know him.
"Alright, then. It's settled." He said after a while, and he grinned at Tom, his eyes squinting at him in his happiness.
Tom smiled back at him, genuinely smiled.
It's dazzling and it's enough to want to make Harry sprint across the courtyard and back.
He ended up moving into Tom's dorm room, which had, conveniently, not been shared with anyone for Tom's entire stay at the boarding school (to his knowledge, at least).
Staying with the Dursley's had been time consuming, and he knew they didn't care enough about him to refuse him staying away from their home. The cost is moved from their hands into his own, and he finally gets to personally have control of his parents fortune.
Sharing the dorm is easy since Harry's used to not being acknowledged in the presence of others, and it seems Tom is fine by this after having lived alone for so long.
They only really focus on talking when it becomes too late and there's no work left to finish.
Harry is usually the one to talk as Tom often doesn't care to open up, but he finds that he doesn't really mind it.
"I know I never asked you... but do you and Hermione have a rivalry?" He asked one night, turning in his bed to face towards Tom's.
"I don't care for her, if that's what you mean." Tom responded, and he's laying on his back, but his face is turned towards Harry. He can't make out any of Tom's features without his glasses, just the pale blob of his face.
"Something happened between you two." He accused, squinting at the white blob in his vision.
Tom made a noise of disgust and Harry let out a small laugh, doing his best to stifle the sound with his blanket.
"Absolutely not like that. She wanted to work together on assignments before and offered to help me with what I didn't know. I didn't and don't need help, of all things. I know what she wants- and she just wants to get ahead. Unfortunately for her, I want to remain at the top." He stated. His head is pointed at the ceiling, and Harry takes it that he must've closed his eyes to end the conversation.
"You are very smart, Tom. Far too intelligent." He said, quickly turning in his bed to avoid the oncoming state of judgment.
"Thank you. I was hoping you thought so." Tom doesn't say anything else, and he thinks it's the end of the conversation.
There's silence for a few moments, and he's starting to doze off when he speaks up again.
"And what about Draco?" Tom prompted, his voice showing mild interest.
"Oh. Him." Harry let out a sigh and settled in comfortably.
"Horrible. Good for nothing. I happened to bump into him and immediately hated him. He insulted me and threatened me with his father... whatever that means. I know he's in your friend group but I can't help it."
"I agree, he's annoying and full of himself."
Harry was so shocked that he sat up abruptly, staring in Tom's general direction.
"But- you're friends with him!"
"Acquaintances." Tom corrected, looking over at him curiously.
"I don't like him. He happens to be useful occasionally, but there's nothing more than that to him. His father has links to the school."
"Oh."
Harry was dumbstruck by Tom's words, but he reluctantly settled back into his bed.
"I always see him staring at you. I'm not surprised you hate him." Tom added.
Harry swallowed and felt a slight unease at the words.
"I wouldn't let him pull anything." Tom assured him, and it's enough for Harry to feel at least a little better.
"Thanks, Tom." He said genuinely, pulling the blanket around him for comfort.
He buried his head into his pillow, eventually drifting off to sleep.
He failed to notice the look of adoration Tom wore as he watched his sleeping form.
Their bond thickened and it only worsened the feelings Harry continued to harbor for his dorm mate.
He started making his own money to help pay for the dorm by picking up a tutoring job with Tom. He tended to take over helping people with writing while Tom focused on math (though he's so brilliant that he could help anyone with any piece of homework).
He doesn't want to spend all of his parents money purely on the boarding school, and it's enough of a start that he starts saving some of the money and putting it aside for the future.
Their sharing of a dorm is a shock to both Hermione and Ron, who both return home after a long day of school. They don't say anything, but he can hear the unspoken "he must actually like you" considering that none of Tom's inner circle had ever been given that opportunity.
But they are friends after all, right?
He'd never told Tom about his attraction to all sorts of people, and he doesn't plan to.
Who knows what Tom will think of him?
His time at school is split equally with his friends, with the afternoon going to Hermione, Ron, and a few others, and the morning being reserved for Tom.
His friendship with Tom becomes well-known at school and it becomes a heavy weight that Harry had to drag with him everywhere he went.
"Hey!"
It's a girl with dirty-blonde curls and colorful hair pieces- Lavender. Yes, he knows Lavender Brown.
"Hello." He greeted mildly.
"I was wondering if-" she started, tucking hair behind her hair and ducking her head as she attempted to start again.
"Do you think you could give this to Tom?" She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a folded note, holding out for him to grab.
"Oh." He said dumbly, and there's a rush of emotions that begins to churn in his stomach. It's like acid burning from within, and he slowly takes the note.
"I'll do my best. I don't know when I'll see him."
"Thank you, Harry!" She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling as she ran off, hair bouncing with her.
He reluctantly tucked it into his pocket.
When he got back to the dorm later, he found Tom lounging on the small sofa reading a novel.
He stood awkwardly at the entrance as he tried to recall exactly why he felt conflicted.
The memory of earlier's interaction hits him hard and the bubbling in his stomach returns.
He feels sick.
"You're back." Tom doesn't look up from his book as his long fingers flip a page.
"I'm back." He responded, taking off his messenger bag. He set it down and dug into his pocket, feeling the crumpled paper.
It burned his hand as he held it, and he let out a sigh. He'd never consider withholding something from anyone, especially not Tom.
"Lavender told me to give this to you." He held out the piece of paper.
He feels his throat closing up as Tom looked up from his novel, brown slightly raised.
"Lavender?"
"Yes." He confirmed.
"Throw it away. I don't care for silly little notes." He said simply, dark eyes connecting with his own.
"You- what?" He asked, dumbfounded.
His hand falls from its position.
"But she wanted me to-"
"Harry," Tom started, his book settling into his lap for a moment.
"I don't care for Lavender." The words sound like venom dripping from his mouth, and he distantly feels as if maybe that was disdain he was hearing.
"I don't really care for any girls. They're all the same. One little note isn't going to change that."
"Oh." He said dumbly, because his mind is far too stuck on 'don't really care for any girls' to say much else.
He tries to analyze it, tried to make sense of it all, but Tom is talking again.
"Don't worry about her. If it comes to it, I will personally tell her. If anyone ever does that again to you, say no. You aren't my servant." Tom said absentmindedly, picking up his book once more.
He felt... weird as he absorbed this statement.
Tom often had his friends do minuscule things he couldn't be bothered to do himself-
For Harry to be told he wasn't like one of them... well, maybe he really was considered Tom's best friend by Tom himself.
Sometimes the occasional girl would come up to him to try and work their way to Tom just like Lavender, but he always refused to take them back to his dorms or pass on any notes after the incident.
How could he when he felt a small fire start to burn at the thought of Tom having another best friend? Or even worse, someone else who might like Tom as much as he did?
And so, their friendship remains solely focused on them alone.
Harry doesn't bother Tom with things he thinks are irrelevant, though Tom actually encourages it.
It warmed him inside, but he's careful not to annoy the one person he's starting to like too much.
And everything is great... until it isn't.
Just when Harry thought they were growing closer, Tom seemingly wants to drift.
It's everything Harry doesn't want.
He figured he must've said something in his sleep, must've done something wrong, because Tom refused to meet his eyes anymore.
They still spend time together, but their usual mornings together in the common room are now spent with Tom and his friends.
Harry doesn't want to intrude on Tom, doesn't want to push him when he clearly must be dealing with something.
It could just be inner turmoil, he reassured himself.
But he felt his heart beat begin to quicken when he watched Tom talk to Draco Malfoy, someone Harry had found to be a bit of a prat.
Someone Harry had told Tom specifically about.
Draco is glancing at him with a strange look, something he'd never regarded Harry with.
He couldn't help but become paranoid. The thought that Tom must've told him something important leaks into his mind, and he can't help but get up from his place in the room and leave in a rush, anxious to escape from the thoughts that refuse to leave him.
The thought that, maybe, Tom had betrayed his trust.
They've never fought before, but Harry found that they were awfully close to it.
He tried to insist on helping Tom even when the taller boy clearly didn't need it, but it usually ended with Tom flaring his nostrils and finishing the task even more quickly before taking off, leaving Harry confused and hurt.
His mornings with Tom had shortened significantly and, instead, he reverted back to hanging out with Ron and Hermione.
His world was changing too quickly for him to keep up with and it was horribly depressing.
The two easily took notice of his distressed state and did their best to cheer him up. They started joking with him more often and became more touchy than before.
Ron would occasionally touch him from time to time. He was taller than Harry, much taller, but he would sling his arm around his smaller frame and drag him around, purposefully taking him in the opposite direction when Tom would come into view.
Hermione would be next to him, always much closer than before. Her shoulder would constantly bump his and she would always turn her head at lunch, using her bushy hair to block out Tom's form as he passed by the table.
There was only so much the two could do to help him gain more distance from Tom, but it was the exact opposite of what Harry truly wanted.
It seems his depression doesn't go unnoticed by the others either.
Cho and Cedric are at his table two weeks after Harry and Tom have begun to separate.
Cedric had looked at him with sympathy and Cho with a smile full of pity.
"We were wondering if you'd like to play another go of football we offered!" Cedric said in a chipper tone, and it's such a stark contrast from the expression on his face that Harry startles at it.
"We won't let you win this time, but you can try." Cho winked at him, her long, shiny black hair falling from her shoulder.
Harry felt himself giving in the longer he looked at the two from his seat.
Oh, what the hell.
"If you can gather everyone for both teams, you're on. Ron and I will be going against you for sure." He retorted challengingly, his eyes bright for the first time in a while.
Cedric looked elated at this and Cho is grinning at him. Ron sputtered beside him, tugging on his arm. Hermione smiled from behind her book.
"Meet you then." Cedric said.
And the two walk away, arms linked.
Cedric turned around to wink at Harry, and it left him blushing so hard that he focused completely on his lunch tray to try to get rid of it.
Playing football was practically therapy for Harry.
He doesn't worry about Tom when he's focused on the ball between his feet, doesn't even want to bother with wondering they'll ever be friends again.
It's just him, his friends, the field, and the ball.
He weaved between Cho and another player before landing a kick on the ball.
The kick he lands is rather hard, and he just barely manages to watch it fly towards the goal before the rest of his view is obscured.
It's in that very moment that he stumbles into a body after someone knocks into him.
He barely makes out that it's Cedric who knocks into him, and they both go tumbling to the ground.
He's panting hard, head spinning as he lays on his back. Above him is Cedric, with his forearms braced on either side of Harry's head. He's breathing just as hard as Harry and is so close that he feels his breath against his nose.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Cedric panted out, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed from the exertion of running.
"It's alright." Harry gasped, laughing breathlessly.
"Did I make the goal at least?"
"You did." Cedric confirmed after looking up, and he looked back down at Harry before remembering the suggestive position they're in.
"Oh-" He sputtered and turned a bright red, climbing off of Harry carefully. He stuck out a hand and offered it to Harry, who took it gratefully.
"Thanks." Harry smiled. He could hear the running of Ron, Ginny, and the others as they shouted his name in victory.
They celebrated and picked him up with ease, and he was left laughing away all his worries as they cheered him on.
Both teams stayed out a bit longer than they usually did, spending their time laying in the field as they watched the sun set.
The breeze quickly cooled them down, and Harry felt genuine happiness for the first time in a while.
Cedric was somewhere nearby, and Harry wondered if maybe he could move on from Tom.
Tom who was avoiding him.
He frowned at the thought, but it was quickly replaced by a smile when he's drawn back into conversation, the topic of his final goal re-emerging.
By the time he jogs up the stairs to his dorm, it's rather late. He usually gets back to the dorm at six or seven, but his watch reads eight at night.
He cursed under his breath and continued jogging his way back.
He finally arrived a while later, exhausted and spent. He dropped his bag on a nearby front table before locking the door.
When he finally caught his breath, he came to the realization that Tom was standing tall at one of the windows, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Tom?" He asked quietly.
He felt his heart jump at the sight.
It unnerved him.
There's no response from the other, but Tom's shoulders tense.
"Hey?" He tried again, stepping forward.
"Don't speak. Don't do anything." Tom said abruptly, his back turned towards Harry.
His voice is so soft that he doesn't immediately react to the meaning.
The weight of the words finally settle into his chest.
Any joy he'd felt when he was with his friends disappears in an instant.
It's like his world was falling apart, and every word is like a knife that rips into his already bleeding wound.
So Tom did hate him after all- even after all that.
"Why?" He asked, voice shaking. His hands are curled into fists at his side and he can feel the oncoming tears as the prickle behind his eyes grows.
There's a burning intensity that is beginning to build within him; the adrenaline rush he had from football remained in his body and it makes him want to lash out.
Harry was beyond sadness and confusion. He was frustrated- he was angry.
He and Tom were supposed to make up and go back to being friends.
He would smile and laugh at the silliness of their fight, would gently assure Tom that he'd missed him. Then he would take him to the bookstore one day after school, he would do anything-
"ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS YOU!" Tom bellowed as he spun around, the sound reverberating through the dorm. His voice is incredibly loud and angry and Harry can see the look of pure resentment that is embedded into his usually calm features.
He looked exactly as Harry had imagined Satan looked like when he fell, features torn into betrayal and wrath.
His stomach sinks at the look directed his way.
He'd never seen Tom so angry- never seen that look directed at him.
Tom's eyes are flashing at him dangerously, and they're incredibly narrow. He was practically snarling at Harry, his lip curled and nostrils flaring.
His hand is clutching at his chest, his fingers digging into the material of his button up.
"You did this to me."
"What did I do?" He asked genuinely, both upset and distraught, his brain scrambling for an answer.
"I did NOTHING, Tom! You don't even look at me anymore, you don't even talk to me!" He shouted, his voice hoarse and rough from the celebration.
He distantly felt the burn of the tears behind his eyes, the salty bitterness taunting him.
"You're such a prick- what about me?"
His body was fighting against him and he's absolutely certain that he's on the brink of snapping.
He didn't want to punch Tom, but he couldn't promise he wouldn't if he came any closer.
"You? YOU?" Tom scoffed, and a horrible, twisted laugh made its way out of his throat. It traveled through the room, echoing within the otherwise silent dorm.
Harry glared at him as he roughly wiped at his eyes.
"Oh, Harry. EVERYTHING has been about YOU!"
When Tom snaps, it's unlike anything Harry has seen before.
His face is contorted in a surge of emotions as he finally lets loose, and Tom is breathing hard, as if he's suppressing something.
"When has it ever been about me?"
He forced his voice to go soft.
"You made me like this. You make me want to do things I shouldn't want to do... you make me behave just like them, just like an animal. You're unbearable." Tom ground out between his teeth and he tilted his head so that Harry was barely able to make out his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Fury, anger.
His brown eyes looked almost red, almost hellish.
Harrys swallowed but didn't back down.
"Maybe that's what you were all along." He retorted, and he's so angry that he can't help but feel the need to storm off.
"I saw you and Cedric." Tom seethed, moving towards Harry. It's all so predatory, like he's stalking his prey.
Like Harry is his prey.
"Cedric?" He repeated in confusion, wondering why in the hell Tom would mention him now.
"He was all over you on the field, I saw him on top of you. Did he kiss you then? Did you let him touch you?" Tom snarled, pursuing him.
Each step made Harry back up closer to the door he'd walked through only minutes ago.
"What- no!" He snapped, but he can feel his face heating up at the implication of an intimacy unknown to himself.
His back hit the door but he's far too confused and angry to even think about anything other than "what the hell is Tom talking about?".
"You let him kiss you, didn't you?" Tom whispered, and he's close, so close that there's hardly any space between their bodies. There's no space left for Harry to back into, and his hands are braced against the door. Harry felt suffocated, likes there's no air left for him as he glared up at Tom, who loomed over him.
Tom was tall, but he felt even taller when he was this close to Harry.
He flinched when Tom's fist met with the door by his head.
"Did you let him kiss you?" He demanded harshly.
"No! Why would I- I didn't kiss Cedric." He shouted at Tom, his pulse threatening to jump out of his throat.
"You're fucking lying. Everyone's all over you. I had to tell Malfoy to get the hell away from you before I did something about it." He breathed, as if trying to convince himself that Harry had, in fact, been kissing other people.
'Malfoy?' Harry thinks, and it's a painful thought to imagine the one-sided aspect of it.
A couple of minutes pass by as they stare at each other, both of them breathless and panting.
And Tom is leaning down even closer; he's so close that Harry can count every eyelash that frames those stormy brown eyes. There's a hand gripping his chin, holding him in place as Tom stares him down.
Then Tom is kissing him hard, his lips moving furiously against his own.
There's an immediate panic that brings Harry back to his senses.
Tom must've figured out that he liked blokes too, that he liked Tom. He couldn't let him play him like this, couldn't let him get to him-
"Wait-!" He gasped out, his hands gripping Tom's shoulders as he tried to push him away.
But this doesn't deter him in the slightest.
Tom bit his bottom lip, forcing a pained sound from his mouth.
It's enough of a opening that Tom pushes in, his tongue shoving its way into his mouth.
His resolve slowly started to disintegrate as he gave in, and he's embarrassed when a low moan escapes him. Tom's knee parts its way between his legs, and there's a gentle pressure against his groin.
"T-Tom-" He stammered out, shuddering when the other finally pulled away.
"I can't stop thinking about you." Tom muttered, his voice rough with want.
"You're a plague. I can't focus, I can't think." He continued. His head disappeared from view as he mouthed at Harry's throat.
"U-uh- what?" Dazed and lost in pleasure, Harry's head hit the door with a loud thump.
"You belong to me, Harry. No one can touch you, no one can even look at you if I don't allow it." The words leave Tom's mouth in a way that sounds angry and venomous.
He shivers at the possessive tone Tom took on.
The collar of his sports shirt was roughly pulled aside, bringing him back from his thoughts.
"I- I thought you'd figured out that I liked you-!" Harry stammered.
There's a startled moan that leaves him as Tom sinks his teeth into the junction between his throat and shoulder. He soothed over it with his tongue, running his warm muscle over the bite mark.
It was as if it was exactly what Tom needed to hear, and he watched as Tom's head dropped against his collarbone.
Harry did his best to catch his breath, his hands wandering to Tom's head as he ran his fingers through the dark waves.
"Tom?" He asked softly.
There's an enormous wave of emotions that hits Harry, and he's unsure what he's supposed to feel at all.
He feels angry that Tom even put him through all this, feels betrayed that Tom would leave Harry just because he'd developed a crush of all things... But he feels pleased to know that he hadn't done anything wrong after all, that Tom was simply trying to avoid him because he couldn't handle his emotions.
Instead of becoming angry again, he tries his best to soothe Tom as he strokes his hair.
"I want to fuck you." Tom says, and the words are so abrupt and vulgar that Harry freezes.
"What?"
"I desire your touch. I want to you below me, on your knees-"
Tom forces himself to stop as he lifts his head.
He swallowed hard.
It was the most emotion Tom had ever shown.
"You better not be messing with me." Harry's voice wavered. There's a painful squeeze in his chest.
"I've liked you for a long time, Tom. Please- please don't mess with me like that."
Tom's hands were at his waist pulling him close. It's a gentler hold- not quite tender, but the complete opposite of his previously violent reactions.
He can see the conflict that the other boy is going through as he sifts through his emotions, though Harry isn't even sure what to make of it.
Harry decided to make it easier for the both of them.
He doesn't want to talk anymore- doesn't want to hear what Tom has to say because he already knows.
He's holding Tom's face between his hands now, pulling him close. He can tell it affects Tom almost immediately, the black of his pupils growing against his brown irises.
"If you truly mean it, then have me." He whispered against his lips, eyes half-lidded as he looked at him.
Tom closed the distance between them and kissed him again, a violent clash of lips.
This time, Harry doesn't protest.
He felt the hands roaming over his body, feeling up and down his chest and stomach. He arched into Tom's touch, slowly moving his hands to rest around the other's neck.
He opened his mouth willingly when he felt a tongue swipe across his bottom lip. He didn't mind the tang of blood that seeped in as they kissed.
He furrowed his brows, feeling embarrassed at his lack of experience. Tom seemingly didn't mind, but he was quickly overtaking Harry's attempt at dominating.
Then there was a hand at his crotch, slowly rubbing him up and down.
He moaned quietly into Tom's mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as a hand slipped within the waistband of his athletic shorts, then his trousers.
"A-ah, Tom-"
A hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. A thumb ran over the slit and he shivered violently, nearly biting Tom's tongue.
"That's right, good. You're doing wonderful." Tom muttered, pulling away. He was looking at Harry like he was a sweet, his eyes wandering over his flushed face and further down...
He let out a groan.
It was surreal that his crush- no, his best friend was giving him a hand job in their shared dorm. Tom was just as desperate as he was, and he wondered if Tom had ever thought about him at night or when he was out of the dorm. He wondered if Tom ever thought about him and jerked off, if Tom had come morning his name.
The thought made him impossibly harder as Tom began to jerk him in earnest, his larger hand doing a far better job than Harry had ever done.
Maybe it was just the fact that it was Tom that made it all the better.
And soon, he was coming in his trousers.
He spasmed against the door as he came, his mouth open in a silent moan as he gripped on to Tom's shoulders.
"Oh- my god."
Tom's eyes darkened at the words, and Harry had the fleeting thought that maybe Tom liked being perceived as something higher- something almighty.
Perhaps that's why his reputation at school was so important to him, and it was this thought that pushed Harry to do something in return.
Tom's hand slowed and disappeared from his trousers, and he watched as that same hand came up to Tom's lips.
He flattened his tongue, running it across the back of his hand, completely cleaning his hand of any evidence.
It was filthy and obscene, and it made Harry's spent cock spring back to life.
"Fuck." He breathed.
He wasted no time in sliding from Tom's grip down to the floor.
It was unfortunate Tom was tall, because it meant Harry's knees would be aching later.
He ignored this thought and quickly worked at Tom's trousers with his shaky hands, mumbling a small thanks when Tom unbuttoned them.
He grinned as an idea came to mind, and he gazed up at Tom as he brought his mouth to his crotch.
His teeth caught on the zipper, and he held it between his teeth as he pulled it down.
Tom's eyes watched his face carefully, and he couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement when he saw that his lips had parted.
Oh, he was definitely turned on.
He found his face heating up as he caught sight of Tom's clothed cock. He was rather... well endowed. It made sense, but it didn't make it any less surprising.
He pulled down his trousers, freeing his cock and sack.
For a moment, he hesitated.
He was fairly new to all this, but he knew the gist of it. That was enough, right?
He wrapped his hand around Tom's cock, slowly stroking him before running his tongue flat against the head. Tom let out a small noise at this and tangled his fingers in Harry's messy tufts of hair.
He smiled up at him and steeled himself for what he was about to do.
Harry licked the underside of the large cock, moving to his balls as he fondled them with his tongue. He sucked on them leisurely, his eyes falling shut as he tried to avoid the feeling of embarrassment that threatened him. When he felt he'd given them enough attention, he moved back to Tom's cock and wrapped his lips around the head. He briefly suckled on the head, teasing his slit with his tongue and gathering the precum in his mouth.
An indecent sound left Tom, and he heard the sound of his hand as he leaned against the wall for support. He was getting hard again in his trousers, but he was far too focused on Tom to do anything about it.
He worked up to a rhythm and, once he felt confident enough, began to bob his head.
Harry knew he was doing something right when Tom's breathing became much more labored, and he felt the constant pulsing of the organ in his mouth. He scraped his teeth across his cock, grinning to himself when he heard a sharp inhale.
"Fuck."
His voice was so rough that it made Harry's ears ring at the sound. It was hot to hear Tom in a disheveled state, something Harry never got from him.
And he was the only one to accomplish it.
A sick sense of satisfaction settled in his belly, and he redoubled his efforts to please Tom.
"Harry!" He hissed, the grip in his hair tightening and pulling.
He ignored Tom's insistence that he pull away. He wanted to feel Tom come- wanted to taste him.
Then Tom tugged him off his cock, his scalp aching from where Tom had pulled. And Tom was holding his own cock, jerking himself off violently as he messily came onto Harry's lips.
He let out a startled sound and opened his mouth, leaving his eyes half-closed. He could feel his lower body trembling as he came again, completely untouched.
They both fought to catch their breath.
Tom was staring at him intensely, his eyes roaming over his face, admiring every detail.
Harry felt uncomfortably sticky everywhere.
"Gorgeous." Was all Tom said as he shifted, rubbing his cock on Harry's cheek.
He opened his mouth, his lips catching onto his head.
"Let's get you cleaned up." Tom murmured, gently pushing his hair from his sticky face.
They ended up showering together, though Harry knew he was far more embarrassed being completely bare to Tom.
Tom hadn't said anything about his scars and had admired him even then.
His hands had definitely shown that, and Harry was ashamed to say that there was a definite repeat of their earlier actions in the water.
When they were both more or less dry, they lay in Tom's bed together, with Harry cuddling into the other's side.
For the first time in a long while, Harry felt like he could easily knock out and still manage to wake up feeling as great as he did then.
"I'm glad you decided to finally open up." Harry said after they spent half an hour in bed.
"I was horribly worried about you, you know. I genuinely thought we would never talk to each other again."
Tom stayed silent for a moment, though his thumb was rubbing circles on Harry's back.
"I've never felt like that before. Uncontrollable." Tom admitted quietly.
Harry's pulse quickened but he waited, seeing if Tom would say anything else, and he did.
"I meant what I said. You make me behave like everyone else. I'd never thought I would relate to those stupid romance films." He muttered bitterly, as if resenting himself.
Harry couldn't help but laugh as he buried his head into Tom's shoulder.
"You we're having a breakdown because this was the first time you felt anything like love?" He teased, though he didn't mean any of it.
He was probably besotted before Tom had even considered his feelings for Harry.
"It was a revelation." Tom argued.
"Mhm." He agreed with false sympathy, his voice muffled by Tom's neck.
"You're awfully dramatic, you know. I thought you were going to kill me."
"Perhaps next time, then."