New Person, Same Old Mistakes

by sunshinedivine

Summary:

Harry goes back in time to raise Tom and suffers from the fact that it is impossible to change a person. All while his version of Voldemort courts him in his head. Seventy years, Tom conquering Europe, daddy issues, and resurrection later has Harry wondering how it even got to this point.

---

'Voldie finally looked up at him, threading his fingers through Harry’s curls, then his blue eyes swirled with confusion at the horror twisting on Harry’s face.
He turned around quickly, but not nearly quick enough.
“Avada Kedavra.” Tom said calmly, the spell struck in sync with a roll of thunder, hitting Voldie square in his chest.
Blue eyes widened in surprise before he was blasted like a rag doll halfway across the room and exploded through Harry’s aquarium. Harry sat still, staring blankly as blood and glass coated his dining room, his favorite Bubble Eye goldfish Luna flopped suffocating, next to Voldie’s limp body.
“Thomas.” Harry sighed into his hands, rubbing them up and down over his face. '

Chapter 1: Fireflies

  This ball was dragging on far too long and Harry was growing bored, sure at first the nerves of being in the same room as Tom after twenty-odd years apart had rattled him. His polyjuiced body of choice was a close friend in America, Todd Roberts. He was one of Voldemort’s foreign spies, he was no Benedict Arnold for Harry, he simply owed him a favor. Unfortunately, Harry took boons very seriously and delighted in squeezing them dry. 

Todd was lucky that this was all Harry desired, it didn’t hurt that Todd was great in bed either. 

Harry sipped on a glass of red wine thoughtfully, he’d always despised reds, but the flavors exploded on Todd’s tongue to his surprise. He pondered if he should try wearing a body that loved cooked carrots, maybe he’d gain a new appreciation for them. 

He shivered, he’d rather die again than eat another soggy, mushy abomination-

“Mr. Roberts, you're our consultant from America, correct?” 

Harry blinked slowly, chugging the rest of his glass like a shot of firewhiskey before spinning around, carrots still plaguing his mind. 

Of all the bastards to talk to him, Malfoy had chosen to talk to him, the awkward loner in the corner slamming wine back like a desperate fifth-year? 

“Yeah, dude, that’s me, just call me Todd!” Harry answered in Todd’s deep voice. 

He had to look down to see Malfoy, that was weird, he remembered Abraxus being almost Tom’s height by his Seventh-year.

Then he actually looked, oh… Not Abraxas or his brat of a son, Lucius. Another spawn, Malfoy’s only bore sons, it wasn’t natural, but they did it anyway. He always pondered if they were clones. 

So caught up in looking, he only stopped in seeing a rosy blush explode on the kid’s pale face. 

He’d been much too obvious. 

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to stare kid, ya just look familiar? Your Dad in the inner circle?” Todd asked with his famously warm smile, his large doe brown eyes crinkling fondly. 

Malfoy frowned at that, must be a hang-up of his, ah Daddy issues… Boy, did Tom have those in spades.

The blond kid stuck out his hand, trying to seem sexy, maybe? Wasn’t the brat, like, twelve?

Maybe he was in his rebellious phase. 

Todd shook it firmly but didn’t allow Malfoy’s thumb to rub over his thumb, he knew that trick from a mile away. 

Only when their hands fell away, and Malfoy had summoned two more glasses of red, did he answer Harry’s question. 

“Yes I am Malfoy heir, Draco, my Father is Lucius, Our Lord’s right hand.” Malfoy said bitterly before he dramatically copied Harry in chugging the entirety of his glass.

Draco didn’t share Todd’s taste for reds either and hid it poorly, his nose scrunching for half a second before he willed his face still.

Harry stared, mouth gaping a bit before he laughed aloud. He smiled brightly, then chugged his before clinking their equally empty glasses together in a mock toast. 

“You know, I know someone who knew your Grandfather.” Todd mused while stealing a large piece of Gouda off a passing Muggle-Borns serving platter. 

To his irritation, Todd’s mouth had no appreciation for fine cheeses, and he struggled not to gag. 

Draco’s bleach-white brows raise indignantly. “Truly? My Grandfather passed away before I was born. I talk to his portrait as often as I can. He was a brilliant man, one of the Dark Lord’s first followers. 

“I would-I mean, my friend would love to talk to him, he knew him and Tom when they attended Hogwarts.” Harry Todd said with an awkward, forced smile. 

“How old is this guy, and who’s Tom?” Draco asked curiously, taking a dangerous step into Todd’s space. 

“Uh-just another member of the circle, nobody important, Tom was a total loser haha-anyways yeah that guy he’s old like almost hundred. Oh look, the speech is about to begin!” Todd pointed up at the front, ignoring Draco’s suspicious glare before the blond brat turned toward the stage as well. 

The lights dimmed and the room hushed. Harry rolled his eyes, Tom was such a slut for drama, it was embarrassing at this point. Did Horcrux creation dull embarrassment? It must along with other critical emotions, like shame. 

It only got worse, Nagini, his sweet little pet, had grown so large it took a second to recognize her as the same snake. She entered first, hissing something to the cloaked figure following her in the shadows, Harry didn’t know if others could see them as well as he could. Her massive size made people tense, but Merlin did they freeze when they heard Tom talk back to her. 

So, performative. What would Salazar Slytherin think, hmm? His last remaining relative, excluding Harry, of course, using his gift to like a party trick? He rolled his eyes, shifting his already defensively crossed arms tighter into his chest. Wow, did Todd have a beautifully broad chest. If Harry got out of here with his ring, he’d have to, uh, explore this body just a bit more. 

“ I smell a familiar scent here, Master, it makes me feel like a hatchling. Warm and safe.” Nagini hissed loud enough for Harry to overhear. 

He couldn’t breathe, did Polyjuice not change his scent? He hadn’t even thought of that. Huh. His heart overflowed a bit, not ten sizes larger but maybe one? He was no Grinch. But the fact that his little baby snake remembered him caring for her, nursing her back to health, and tucking her in his pocket made his heart swell. 

“Aww!” He whispered, Todd’s large hands clenched against his chest like a schoolgirl.

A few people hushed him, and he shrank, well whatever, Tom wouldn’t be able to pinpoint him in such a large crowd. He had nothing to worry about. Nagini didn’t know what he looked like, just a vague smell meant nothing. 

“ Do they smell like ash and honey? Like corpses and treacle tart?” Tom responded back, his parseltongue rushed, ignoring the confusion of the other Death Eaters who were expecting the lights back on already. 

Harry stilled, he took a nervous step backward then decided to use Malfoy’s brat as a shield, 

Hopefully, he wouldn’t scream. 

Draco gasped, but weirdly allowed him to hide behind his small stature. Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad after all. 

“ I can’t smell it as clearly Master it's trying to mask their scent- but I smell death and blood like sweet, a flavor which warms my tongue. I basked in it as a hatchling, and was fed juicy rats.”  Nagini hissed quickly, maybe she also felt the awkward tension in the room. 

Tom flicked the fires lit again, nodding only once, the room exploded with claps and cheers. 

Todd stood up straight, on cue standing neutrally next to Draco, like he hadn’t just been crunched into an awkward ball behind him, hiding from The Dark Lord’s familiar. 

“Welcome faithful, enjoy the fruits of our labor, without you, we could not create the country we have now, it flourishes under my leadership, under our laws. Yesterday, we passed the Muggle-Born Child Act. We will be caring for Muggleborns from birth from now on, they will be fostered in magical families, untainted by Muggle filth and raised by their own kind, as it always should’ve been. It is only thanks to you that this law passed, magical blood is precious no matter the source. It does not belong to Muggles, and thanks to you, it is a law. Balance returned. Celebrate, I declare today a national holiday!” 

Harry couldn’t breathe, Tom’s voice was like a siren, he’d forgotten how beautifully manipulative his speeches were, but damn was the kid right on the money. In this future, or now was it his past, he’d had to live with his vile Aunt and Uncle, who hated, beat, and starved him for things for reasons beyond his control. 

Of course, he’d told Tom all of this when he’d adopted the boy if only to create an equal understanding, they’d grown up in similar environments, of all the things that separated them, that was something they shared. 

Abuse. 

That is nothing small. No, it is something that stalks you for the entirety of your life, Harry, pushing ninety yet not looking a day over twenty-five due to the Hallows, knew that all too well. It shapes you before you even have a personality, a consciousness of your own, it wasn't fair. 

Harry thought maybe it was one of many reasons Tom thirsted after power. If he couldn’t control his emotions, he could control others instead. That was one of the many personality flaws he’d failed as a parent to manage. Harry’s failure complex burdened all the blame, not Death who had stranded him here, it was his fault, he’d failed as a Father. 

His Tom… this Tom, still became a Dark Lord, still tortured people, sure his morals were a tiny bit better than Harry’s past life, but not enough to feel prideful. Yet… Yet he still loved Tom more than anything, would James Potter have loved him as much if Harry had become a Dark Lord?

By murdering anyone who blocked his path to power, who used fear and manipulation to change Wizarding society? 

Harry did, Harry loved Tom no matter what. He took comfort in thinking James would’ve loved him regardless. 

He’d long ago separated this Tom, his son, from his Voldemort, the one whose soul piece he still carried around like a sick souvenir. Death asked him if he wanted it, and he snatched it out of Death’s spindly hands without a second thought. 

It belonged to him. 

Clapping dulled out the noise of Harry’s thoughts, and he focused on the unfamiliar texture of his borrowed hands as they unevenly slapped together. 

“Uh, Todd, was it? You said you wanted to talk to my Grandfather’s portrait, right?” Draco Malfoy asked politely, but Harry noted lust fluttering around the depths of his eyes. 

He stared, how could he recognize, oh shit Draco… his version of Draco Malfoy would have existed in 1998, surely. This was his double, no wonder Harry felt so at ease in his presence. 

Harry nodded Todd’s face curtly. “Sure, Harry would love that.” 

Draco tilted his head curiously, but grabbed onto his sleeve anyway, dragging him through the crowded ballroom and towards the Malfoy private rooms. He cranked his head back as they walked, and Harry forced himself to give the blond brat his full attention. He didn’t dare look at Tom. 

The crowd blurred past him, a few faces recognized Todd’s, and he yelled back greetings as they whisked by. He sighed loudly when the hallway door slammed shut behind them. 

“Thanks, Malfoy, crowds have never been my thing.” Todd laughed, admiring the star charmed ceiling before glancing back down at the Malfoy heir. 

Hard, gray eyes glared up at him, hands suddenly shoved at his chest, pressing him with surprising strength against marble walls. Paintings of Malfoy family members gasped in shock as Draco plastered his large frame against stone. 

“Um-”

“Shut up, I know you’re an imposter. I’ve fucked Todd before, I bet he hadn’t told you that, stupid!” Draco taunted, his wand digging painfully into Harry’s neck. 

Harry’s jaw fell open, no, in fact, he had NOT been expecting that. 

“Uh, Draco, was it? Aren’t you twelve? Do your parents know!?” Harry yelped, face twisted in disgust at his lover's taste in apparent children.

“I’M NINETEEN!” Draco yelled, pushing Harry in embarrassment, another blush exploded on his cheeks. 

Harry sighed, he’d hit a sore spot. He picked himself up off the ground, huh, no dust, Malfoy house-elves sure broke their little backs. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to insult ya, I-well Todd, and I’ve been shagging regularly, so I just assumed he was into older guys, ugh I’ll have to dump him after this, that sucks… Maybe Rebecca will take me in, she's been eying me for a while, shit I’m rambling. Just take me to Brax will ya.” Harry sighed, gnawing at his knuckles out of habit. 

When he glanced down, Draco was looking at him like a unicorn had tumbled out of his floo. 

“Y-You’ve fucked Todd?” Draco blurted, staring at Harry like he was a loose Dementor. 

Harry sighed dramatically, smacking his forehead with an exasperated giggle. 

“He’s kinda a slut Draco, seriously that’s what you're worried about?! Just take me to your Grandfather.” Harry hissed, biting at his cheek angrily. 

“I was right! You're him. That’s why-I just knew you understood Parseltongue, why else would you have hidden behind me!” Draco bragged, his chest puffed up, grey-blue eyes shining greedily. 

“Take. Me. To. Abraxus. Draco.” Harry hissed, his patience was running thin.

He did not have the mental energy to duel Tom today. 

Draco shrunk on himself. “Yes, Sir… Uh, So your Lord Gaunt, the Dark Lord's Father? You know the reward for capturing you is a chunk of Slytherin’s Vault!” 

“No, I didn’t know that, you don’t need more money, you're a bloody Malfoy!” Harry said flatly, he was running out of time with Todd’s body. 

“B-But if the Dark Lord is in his seventies, wouldn’t that make you a hundred?” Draco asked rather innocently, as he guided Harry down the long hallway, leading to his Father’s study.

Harry sighed, dragging his hands across his face, Draco taking the hint sped up his pace. 

“Ninety-two actually. Is this about Todd? Didn’t you guys only mess around once? Does Tom look seventy, Draco?” Harry taunted, rolling his eyes. 

Draco coughed, looking back at Harry with wide accusing eyes. “Who’s Tom?” 

“Ugh, he’s a boy, who is in denial about his Daddy issues. Draco, remember when you become a parent that honesty is not always the best policy. I should’ve never told him about- AH! If I remember, it was this room here, right?” Harry pointed to an offshoot down the end of a dead-end hallway. 

The blond nodded and Harry shoved past him, just as his hand kissed the handle he froze, thinking back to what the kid said about that reward. 

“You’d better come in with me, I can’t have you running off to tattle. Kids your age are unpredictable.” Harry tutted, grabbing the back of Draco’s neck and guiding them together into Lord Malfoy’s study. 

Draco yelped but didn’t fight him, flinching as Harry slammed the door behind them. If the room had wards against intruders, they weren’t bothered by his presence. 

Harry could feel the polyjuice wearing off, not ideal, but he had another bottle in his moskin pouch. He’d drink it on the way out.  Brax always had a weak spot for Harry’s face, and he needed every advantage he could get.  

The bubbling began, he sighed, ignoring the tickling of his skin as he dug in his pouch for his extra set of clothes. He’d actually remembered to bring a sweater and trousers. When he popped out of his bag, Todd’s face melted away and his current robes were draping off his smaller frame. 

“Merlin, you're our Lord’s Father!?” Draco deadpanned. 

He numbly watched the most powerful man in Europe’s Dad strip in front of him and change into Muggle clothing. 

Harry’s favorite knit turtleneck sweater tickled his face as he tugged it hard over his head. Why do mansions always feel like morgues? This is why he preferred his cottage by the sea, it was always cozy, it didn’t make his bones ache and it was so much easier to clean. 

He yanked up his Levi’s and buttoned them with a little smile, his body was so much better, height was overrated. Harry was startled a bit when he found himself at eye level with Draco, who stood across from him, gaping like a dying fish. 

“Oh, right you’re still here, come on let’s talk to Brax I don’t have a lot of time.” He shoved his wand into his waistband, then pushed Draco in front of him. 

Draco’s neck got whiplash as he kept snapping back to gawk at Harry as he stumbled through the study’s massive, winding bookshelves and toward his Father’s immaculate desk. 

“Abraxas, is that you, dear?” Harry crooned, standing flush with Draco as they stared up at the massively large magical portrait. 

The Wizard in the portrait, who was looking over a book rather seriously, frowned at being interrupted before the book clattered to his feet in seeing who was talking to him. 

“Lord Gaunt, you’ve not aged since I’ve seen you last, what was that 68’? Your beauty is ethereal as ever. What did I do to deserve your attention?” Abraxus said breathlessly, leaning on the edge of his frame. 

“You were always such a flatterer Brax, it’s too bad I had that rule against sleeping with Tom’s friends, if anyone could’ve made me break it, it would’ve been you.” Harry bit his lip, shamelessly letting his eyes flick up and down Abraxus’s body. 

He had been painted rather anatomically correct. 

“Merlin, can someone obliviate me?” Draco moaned into his hands. 

Harry and Abraxus laughed. 

“Brax, where is my ring? Was Tom wearing it the last time he sought your counsel?” Harry asked, cheeks still rosy from laughter. 

Abraxus tutted at his chin, obviously trying to recall if Tom had been wearing a ring. 

“Apologies Lord Gaunt, I can't recall if he was or not, he did have Nagini with him, but I don’t remember your family ring. He hasn’t visited me privately in a decade. If he does speak with me, my son Lucius is always with him.” 

Harry hissed in annoyance, rubbing at the mole on the back of his neck. “I can’t feel it here Brax, I need information, will you spy for me?” 

Draco’s jaw dropped, his Grandfather was one of the Dark Lord’s first followers, he would never betray him.

“Why not, I’ve been bored lately, Draco’s the only one who talks to me anymore. Though you’d owe me a boon, Harry, may I call you that?” Abraxus hummed, leaning back and letting his silvery hair fall back over his broad shoulders. 

“Is that your boon Brax, hmm, or are you desiring a change of scenery? Should I take you with me to America?” Harry hummed, eyes wandering to the straining, solid gold buttons of Abraxus’s robes.

“NO, no, this is not happening.” Draco shrieked, jumping between his Grandfather and the drooling Harry. 

“I agree with Draco. Father, sadly, your lusting after Abraxus was never subtle. I always told you to stay away from acting, it’s not your forte.” 

Harry waved his hand flippantly. “Shut it, Tom, not everyone is perfect at everything. Haven’t I told you to watch that ego of yours and-” 

He froze mid-sentence. He didn’t dare move his head, he flicked his eyes in Draco’s direction, the kid was already shivering, his eyes begging desperately for help. 

Harry spun around, his ratty red converse squeaking obnoxiously. His neck cracked as he was forced to lean back just to get a good look at him. Tom still hadn’t released his magic, no wonder he hadn’t felt his arrival. The study door slammed open and heavy footfalls tumbled in their direction. 

“Draco what in Merlin’s-Oh my Lord, you’ve found him, who is that an intruder?” Lucius raised his wand, pointing it directly at Harry. 

“If you don’t wish to be skinned alive in front of your son, I’d drop your wand, Lucius.”  Voldemort said tentatively, his own wand held tightly between his knuckles. 

Lord Malfoy’s wand fell to the ground with a clatter. 

It was silent for a bit, Harry inspecting Lord Voldemort as they stood not even a foot away from each other. 

“I’ve forgotten how tall you were, Tom. You still look fresh out of Hogwarts.” Harry chuckled, an awkward smile plastered on his face. 

“I’m seventy-two, Father.” Voldemort growled, his eyes never looking away from Harry. 

Harry rolled his viridian eyes, huffing loudly. “Like time means anything to us, Pumpkin.”

Voldemort sighed so deeply that his nose whistled, and his shoulders slumped. 

“Do not call me Pumpkin, or any other insufferable nickname. You swore you’d stop after graduation. Why are you here now? I've been looking for you for years, do you know how much I need you here, you belong at my side.” Voldemort ground out, his long fingers twitching as he forced himself to stay stationary. 

Harry tutted aloud. “I want to explore Tom, I don’t want you stifling my creativity while you play with your little miserable subjects. America is fun, you know, I’ve made friends!”

“I’ll give it to you.” Voldemort said, his voice quivering on emotional. 

“What?” Harry asked, genuinely confused.

“North America, and South America, when the world is mine I'll give it to you. I’ll even spare your friends if they’re still alive, I will not give the same mercy to your lovers.” 

Harry raised his hand, and to the shock of everyone in the room, Tom stopped ranting. 

“No, Tom, no. This-this is why I can’t live with you! You're impossible!!” Harry hissed, pouting at Tom with fond disappointment. 

“I do not want power, I don’t want responsibility, I want to live quietly! Why is that so difficult for you to understand!?” Harry shouted, he glared for a few long seconds before relenting with a sigh. 

He leaned into Tom’s space, reaching up on his tippy-toes, Tom leaned in closing the gap. His eyes fluttered shut as Harry tenderly brushed the hair out of his face.

He rubbed his thumb over Tom's sharp cheekbones with a hum that used to lull Tom to sleep when he was fussy.

“There is something I want from you, and I may be willing to compromise. It is not a conversation to have in the company of outsiders.”  Harry finished strongly, his hands off Tom and clamping firmly on his hips.

“Fine, dinner is set to begin in ten minutes, I'll entertain your whims if you sit beside me at the head of the table.” Voldemort said stiffly, unconsciously brushing over the skin Harry had touched the back of his knuckles. 

Harry hissed something in Parseltongue that made the Dark Lord laugh. Lucius and Draco collectively looked like they may shit their pants at any moment.

Voldemort swept out first, but when Harry did not immediately follow, he stopped dead in the study's doorway. 

“Come now, Harry, I wish to introduce you in a timely fashion. Do your best not to embarrass me.” Tom growled, his dress shoes tap, tap, tapping on the hardwood floor beneath them. 

The magic in the room dropped, along with the temperature. Glass bookcases frosted over, and a nippy breeze fluttered through, whipping up loose pages. 

Draco screamed and was promptly shut up by his Father's hand smacking over his mouth. 

It wasn't the cold that made Draco scream, it was Harry's green eyes glazing gold.

“Thomas Riddle Gaunt, what have I told you about calling me by my first name? You pushing seventy does not mean you may disrespect me.” Harry's voice remained dangerously flat, only wavering when saying Voldemort's full name. 

Tom laughed, hysterically loud. 

“I haven't thought of you as my Father for fifty years, the only one hung up on meaningless titles is you, old man.” 

---

The walk back to the ballroom was awkward. Harry used the Malfoy’s like a shield, refusing to answer any of Voldemort's questions. 

“Where have you been in America?”

“Is there a Step-parent I should be planning a funeral for?” 

“Any new hobbies you're torturing yourself with, from your sweaters state, I can't say your knitting has improved. Do you live by the coast?”

“Did you know I put stasis on our house? You can visit it anytime you wish. Does that please you?” 

“Quit pouting, will you, I'll introduce you properly. Don't slouch, it's unbecoming.” 

Draco could not believe it, never in a million years had he heard the Dark Lord say so many words. Neither could he have fathomed their genius ruling Lord could act so… pathetic.

Here he was, listening to the ruling Lord of magical Europe beg his Dad to pay attention to him. It reminded Draco of when he'd first gotten his wand, and swooshed it back and forth over and over to get his Dad to glance up from his paperwork, just to get his approval. 

He'd do anything for his Dad to smile at him. That’d never changed, he'd received the Dark Mark for his Father, given up his freedom for him, and still never received validation.

Even so, he'd only met their Lord's Father today, yet he couldn't imagine Harry not doting on a child, no he seemed the type to congratulate a child on waking up alive every morning. 

He wrinkled his nose in mild pain as Harry's nails dug into the soft part of his elbow deeper and deeper with each asinine question.

He was too afraid to voice his discomfort. Of course, the Dark Lord would have an equally powerful, immortal Father. A necromancer, it made Harry's ageless appearance click. Draco was thankful Harry must’ve found his blatant disrespect amusing. Maybe if Harry stayed the court would have to pick sides, he wanted to be chosen first. 

Draco dared another look at Harry, studying him, his dark messy curls and long charcoal-colored lashes that barely brushed his dark brows, which were bunched together in irritation. He looked so familiar, where on earth had he seen him before? He didn’t look like an inbred Gaunt, no, he looked like a Potter…

He choked on his own spit, his Father who was just a step or two behind smacked him on the back, shooting him a warning glare to shut up. But he glanced again, more fervently than before, why did the Dark Lord’s Dad look like his classmate, Gryffindor’s seeker, Harry Potter? 

They could be twins, only a stark scar on this Harry’s head differentiating the two, he deducted between shallow breaths.

They even shared the same name. 

Did Potter know?

---

To say Harry was pissed would be understating the anger churning like food poisoning in his belly. How dare he? He’d raised Tom with love, as much as a single parent could! He’d given him everything, drained half the Peverell and measly Gaunt vaults for their home and Tom’s schooling fees. Not that money mattered in parenting, love was free, and he loved little Tommy with all of his heart. 

Sure, the first time they’d parted on bad terms… Harry hadn’t allowed him to kill the Riddles after he accidentally let it slip that he wasn’t Tom’s biological father. Harry had trusted his teenage son to a fault, he was still a baby Voldemort after all, it was a healthy distrust. 

He’d apparated to Riddle manor after not hearing from Tom for three days. It was summer vacation and when he’d owled Malfoy manor they, after a small amount of coercion, admitted Tom had never arrived.  

The manor was burning to the ground in front of him, the flames so hot they tinged blue. Feindfyre then, he hoped Tom had used his spare wand. Wait, not the correct thought, Tom had just murdered his entire birth family. 

'They deserved it.’ Whispered that annoying nasally voice in his head. 

“Shut it Voldie, even if you're right, it doesn't make this right !” He whispered to himself, gagging on a large piece of ash he’d sucked into his windpipe. 

“TOM? He yelled, summoning a wind wandlessly to clear a path as he trudged through waves of heat. 

His bright orange Hawaiian shirt clung to his body as sweat coated his back. The top two buttons were missing anyway, and he fought the urge to just tear it off. It was from his favorite vacation spot, the first place he’d ever brought Tom to, it was a Holiday to celebrate him becoming a perfect. 

Tom stood in the withering garden on the mansion's left side, his back to Harry, the reflecting flames dancing off his skin like a kaleidoscope against the dusky summer night sky. Harry glanced up at that sky, it was as if the beauty of the universe was mocking him personally. Hell, he couldn’t even dredge up enough emotion to be angry.

This was all his fault. He couldn’t even wallow in self-pity properly. Not with Voldemort whispering praises in the back of his head.

‘Look how much our boy has grown, here I’d worried we raised him too light. You know I didn’t kill them like this, I left the house standing in case I’d need of it in the future. At least with us, he feels safe enough to return. I’m proud of him, ask him for the memory I wish to see their faces… I wonder, step closer Darling, let me feel him.’

Harry sighed loudly, Tom didn’t look back. They both knew the other was here. Guess he had to speak first. He walked up and stood beside his son, his arm hairs felt like they might melt off. 

“I wish you’d listened to me, does this feel good? What in Merlin’s name did they say to anger you this much, no don’t tell me, or I might raise Riddle up again and kill him myself. I-I just Pumpkin, if you were so set on this, why didn’t you ask me for help?” Harry relented, exasperated and ashamed in being such a pushover. 

“You lied to me.” Tom glanced down at him, the red of the roaring flames mirrored too powerfully in his baby blue eyes.

“I didn’t lie Pumpkin, you thought I was your Father and I didn’t correct you. I raised you since you were three months old, how is that so different from being your Father.” Harry shrugged, chomping down any guilt before it could eat away at him. 

That’s what firewhiskey was for. 

'My, My Darling look what our boy has accomplished, with not one Horcrux but two made in a single day, I can hear them sing to me. Look into his eyes, he can feel us now too. Unconsciously, part of him must know, or maybe he’s always known.' 

Tears sprang in Harry’s eyes, he didn’t wipe them, he didn’t need to, the heat of the fires evaporated them as they fell. The pair stood like that for a few minutes more, the fire groaned and debris exploded like fireworks as crimson embers floated up like swarms of fireflies. 

“Let’s go home, Pumpkin.” 

“Lord Gaunt?” Draco whispered. 

Harry jolted forward, the memory had overtaken him and, to his embarrassment, a tear slid down his face. He sniffled, ignoring Tom’s heavy gaze, and dropped Draco’s arm with a tiny apology. 

“Please Draco, call me Harry, we’ve got a common taste in lovers, that makes us best mates in my book.”  “He winked a red, tear-filled eye and chuckled so hollowly that it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Draco gaped, his pale face gray as he looked past Harry and up at the Dark Lord looming over his shoulder. 

Harry rolled his eyes, rubbing at his swelling face with his ratty sleeves. He was not dressed for a dinner party. 

“Leave off it T-My Lord. I’m just teasing the boy. Or was your promise of the seat beside yours a lie ?” 

Slender fingers dug into his shoulders, spinning him around. Tom lifted his hand, ghosting his lips over Harry’s fingertips, gently grazing his sharp canine over his Father’s empty ring finger. 

“You’ve never called me my title, ever. It melts deliciously off your tongue, Harry.” Tom’s eyes never left Harry’s, overflowing with hunger.

Harry ripped his hand away, scowling, then he rubbed his hand on his jeans until it stung. If people weren’t staring before, they were now. Murmurs and whispers filled the hall, everyone was waiting to eat. They could not start the courses without Lord Voldemort’s approval. 

“Knock it off, or I’m leaving again and not coming back for another hundred years!” Harry hissed, shaking with restraint, he wanted to hex Tom so, so badly. 

His cozy cottage seemed oh so far away, he could be drinking booze and arguing with Voldie about Muggle rights while curled up by the fireplace. But no, he decided he missed his ring and maybe slightly missed Tom too, and now he was here getting sexually harassed by his own son! 

Voldie purred, his irritation only revealed by a slight inflection. ‘Just go sit down before you cause a scene. I’ll visit you tonight, we need to talk about his behavior, this is why I told you to refrain from visiting until you acquire me a new body and-’

‘ Will you just shut up for five minutes, there’s too much going on for me to pay any attention to you!!’  Harry thought angrily at Voldie. He imagined his own head exploding, no gore spared. 

Getting the message loud and clear, Voldie chuckled and merged back into the peripheral of his mind, becoming nothing but a soothing hum.

Tom used to his Father and his quirks just smirked, unfazed, grabbing his hand, yanking him along to the head of the table, then snapping at a house-elf to fetch Harry a chair. He ignored Tom’s little stuck-up speech and smiled like he was in a hostage situation when Tom introduced him as a close ‘friend’, lovely. 

Harry rolled his eyes as the inner circle, all seated closest to Tom, glared daggers in his direction. Draco, his new friend, was seated next to his mother, much too far down, to Harry’s dismay. He wanted to ask him about the dynamics around here without Tom just telling him to kill whoever he felt disrespected him.

He was no fun like that. 

‘Has it been five minutes?’ 

'Jesus, sure why not, Tom’s talking to some diplomat and all the Death Eaters look like they wanna feast on my entrails for desert!’ 

‘They would not dare disrespect you if they knew your title, I know why Tom is doing this…. I fear he will introduce you as his lover. It’s what I would do. How dare Bellatrix look at you like that, cut out her eyes, Darling.’ 

Harry stabbed his steak so hard his porcelain plate cracked. Wide eyes shot his way, only for Tom to sneer them back into submission. He sighed, wiggled his fingers, willing the plate to fix itself. He dug back into the green beans hungrily and grumbled at the vile cooked carrots, while Voldie nagged at him for being such a child. 

“Excuse me? You're Harry, right? Our Lord didn’t mention your last name, so forgive me for not calling you by your correct title, the name's Bartemius Crouch Junior, but you can call me Barty.” 

Harry clutched at his sweater dramatically, gagging on a loose kernel of corn. How-how had he forgotten his crush! Oh, Merlin, he felt faint. 

Voldie was bemoaning at being interrupted, then started whining so loudly that Harry couldn’t hear himself think. 

‘SHUT UP SO I CAN GET IN BARTY’S BED TONIGHT, YOU EVIL SONOFABITCH!’ 

Ahh, silence. 

He smiled, his eyes filled with honest to Hecate joy. He stretched his hand out into the space between them, a blush crept up his neck as he struggled to contain a giggle.

They shook hands a bit longer than socially acceptable… Harry felt like he’d already won. 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Barty, was it? Don’t worry about my title, I’m nobody important, what do you do for-uh our Lord?” Harry tried not to gag while saying Tom’s title. 

Barty gave him a small closed-off smile, his eyes flicked to Tom one too many times. Harry sighed, this version of Barty was just as loyal as his own was. He would never sleep with him without Tom’s express permission. 

‘Give up Dear, I told you to stop sleeping around just wait till I am whole, I will fuck you so hard you’ll-’ 

“I am a third-generation circle member, nowadays, I’m assisting Headmaster Snape with Hogwarts, who knew schools were so much work!” He laughed, nervously sipping his white wine. 

Harry smiled, struggling not to roll his eyes, the last thing he wanted to talk about was Snape. He had to wonder though, with a current version of himself running around, did the potion’s master bully Harry Potter just as intently? 

Voldie was still vigorously describing the way he’d fuck Harry while in unsupported flight, and like usual, Harry struggled to ignore him without visibly reacting. He leaned over, purposely invading Barty’s space, digging his chin into his palm. He bit his bottom lip and bluntly checked out the Death Eater. 

Barty flushed, snapping his gloved fingers for a refill of wine. 

“What do you do?” Barty asked an entire glass of wine later, another refilled glass trembling between his hand. 

Harry smirked, Barty couldn’t decide what he’d rather gaze at his eyes or his lips. He’d take pride in the fact he’d at least physically caught the attention of his teenage crush. 

“Oh, I’m international, I work with the American’s, I’ve even got a house over there. It’s beautiful, I’d love it if you’d come to visit…” 

Their conversation went like that for a while, till Harry caught a shocking sight out the corner of his eye. Hermione was rushing to one of the lower-tier tables near the doors where the old reformed blood traitors’ families sat. 

Weasleys were invited? 

‘Of course Baby, they’re pureblood after all, Tom gave them a chance, and they’d be stupid not to take it. Never mind them, go to sleep, so I can show you-’

Harry absorbed the information, then went back to ignoring him. Voldie’s sexual fantasies were getting out of control the longer it took his body to form, the body which currently floated in a bat of fluid in Harry’s basement. 

“Harry.” Growled Tom, his thumb digging into the soft flesh in between Harry’s shoulder blades. 

“My Lord?” Harry sang-song crudely.

“Come with me, I’d like to show you the grounds.” 

“Of course, My Lord.” 

They stood up, Tom refused to walk ahead and kept jerkily stopping till Harry walked by, evenly at his side. 

Echoes of praise followed them as they walked out. 

The night air chilled his skin, goosebumps raised on his arms, and he smiled as he leaned back to gaze at the full moon basking above them. 

Harry ogled the Malfoy garden greedily, how he wished for a garden like this. He’d peeked at the Potter’s garden years ago and admired its beauty with envy. He’d not survived enough of his past life to have even moved into his own ancestral home. 

Now, that was eternally beyond his reach. 

“Harry, at our age, I believe I deserve your honesty…” Tom asked, his voice wavering. 

He plopped on an opaque bench, stretching his limbs out before tilting his head to look at Tom spuriously. 

“Okay, what do you wish to ask me, I’ll give you an answer truthfully.” Harry yawned, he was getting sleepy, but he feared it wasn’t out of his own volition. 

“Who do you talk to in your head?” 

Harry coughed, violently. “W-What?” 

“Do not lie to me, and I know your mentally well, who do you talk to? I know you love him, and not me.” 

Harry didn’t think, he apparated, right through Malfoy’s wards, shattering them. 

His body slammed so hard into his cottage’s gate, that he felt his soul separate from his body. Voldie screamed but Harry couldn’t even manage a moan of pain. He breathed, shakily ordering his arms to pull him out of his sidewalk. Concrete crumbled over his shoulder, his favorite sweater tearing apart at the seams.  

Harry's door slammed open by itself, his magic on overdrive as his emotions swirled around him like a hurricane. He couldn’t think, Voldie directed his movements, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He kept replaying what Tom had said over and over again, that he was in love with the voice in his head?

No, no he wasn’t, that was impossible. 

When he opened his swollen, bruised eyes, his hands were plastered to the tube, encasing Tom Riddle, aka his Voldemort’s body he’d been growing for two years time. 

‘Release me, Harry, it’s time he respected his father, and you’ve felt me I’ve waited seventy-three years to talk to you outside your consciousness, please Darling don’t make me wait a second more. You don’t have to do this alone. I promise.’ 

“Okay.” Harry whispered, his breath bubbling up into his throat. 

He’d waited so long for this, for what he thought Tom could give him. Voldie, truly cared and even if it wasn’t entirely honest, it was what Harry had to believe.

Being immortal was a killer on your mental health. 

Harry’s body was no longer his own. He blacked out. 

He woke up to someone dragging their tongue over his mouth, begging for entrance. His eyes fluttered, first response, kick. 

“FUCK!” Yelled his assaulter and, to Harry’s smug satisfaction, he heard them crash across the room. 

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?” Harry shrieked, trying to get upright quickly, instead, he felt weak and dry heaved over his knees. 

He stayed stuck, glaring at his untied shoelaces while rocking back and forth uneasily.  

“IT’S ME VOLDIE, IMBECILE!” 

Harry sucked in a deep, cool breath of basement air. He recognized that voice, it sounded like Tom, but just slightly different, like a deeper version of that pervert in his head. 

He looked up, his eyes already filling with tears, as the crumbled, hastily dressed form of Tom Riddle rose up in front of him. 

“Voldie?” Harry asked, hastily wiping the spit from his bottom lip. 

There wasn’t an answer, instead, he had the life kissed out of him. 

Chapter 2: Child Support

Notes:

Chapter two! Is it bad I laughed at my own jokes? Probably >_> Song in the chapter is Put Your Head On My Shoulder by Paul Anka :)

April 1934, A Monday

 Breakfast was hot on the cast iron skillet, splashing up oil, Harry hissed as it stung his unprotected arms. Bacon, Tom had begged for it the night before, the boy was sitting on the floor underneath him. One hand wrapped up tightly in the fabric of Harry’s plaid pajama bottoms, the other hand flicking through a muggle picture book, Swallows, and Amazons. 

For some reason Harry naively thought there’d be little to no children's literature in this time period, the options were limited, but they existed nevertheless. This book, which Tom had worn the spine out due to incessant rereading, was about sailing. It had boating terms that Harry couldn’t begin to understand, even after he’d read it aloud a hundred times. 

He couldn’t wait for The Sword In The Stone to be published, that’d been one of his favorite reads while he’d hid at his own public library from Dudley and his gang. He’d yearned to be like Arthur, to be swooped away by Merlin and told he was chosen as England’s savior. 

It turned out he and Arthur had many similar qualities that quickly lost their novelty. 

He hoped Tom would enjoy the book for different reasons. 

“Daddy, can we go sailing?” Tom mumbled, flicking a page without glancing at the beautifully illustrated ocean, he looked bored. 

“How about when you're older, Daddy doesn’t know the first thing about boats, we’d drown. Do you want to be a sailor?” Harry hummed, flipping the bacon as the fat curled in on itself. 

He had to get the English muffins out of the stove before they burned, he wiggled his leg trying to get Tom to release his ever-tightening grip. Tom whined, only letting go after Harry sighed dramatically. 

“You love muffins, Pumpkin. Do you want me to burn them?” 

Tom grumbled and released his pants with a cute little huff. “I don’t want to be a sailor, only Muggles are sailors.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Not this again. He leaned over the counter, snatching his homemade potholder off its hook, and opened the oven quickly, they were just a tad singed, totally edible. 

“Go set the table, and drink the last of that milk, it's about to spoil.” 

He smiled when he heard plates rattling together, out of the corner of his eye he saw Tom levitating them out of the high cupboard above the sink. He was a bit shaky, his blue eyes hard with concentration, and his little cheeks puffed out. 

‘Impressive, I didn’t start moving objects till I was ten. What is he nine now?’ 

Harry chuckled, Tom, thinking he was laughing at him, sulked, relaxing his magic too soon, the porcelain smacked the table so hard that Harry’s favorite teacup cracked. 

‘Thanks a lot, he thought I was making fun of him!’

‘So you were insulting me instead?’ 

‘NO, I’m just always impressed at how you always find a way to compliment yourself wiliest ‘praising’ Tom!’ 

‘Oh, that’s rich coming from you, you compliment me all day long, I’d know I’m cursed to hear everything that falls out your mouth. You should feel lucky I tolerate your incessant whining, Lord Voldemort could make your life miserable if he so chooses you ungrateful halfwit. I was-’

‘Are you fucking-, are you seriously telling me, Harry Potter, the boy who you tried to kill as a baby, that you, Lord Dickwad, can make MY life miserable?! I spared you, and this is the thanks I get? You are not my Tom, my Tom is an angel, while you are a sack of soul that I should’ve left to rot in that train station!’

“Daddy, the tables set, and the bacon is burning.” 

Harry ignored Voldie who was now sputtering apologies laced with venom. He spun around, desperate to salvage the bacon, it was getting crispy and smoke billowed out in all directions. He flicked his hand, every window opened with a tremendous slam. Harry couldn’t get used to this, wandless magic was never an option for him before, now he just had imagined what he wanted intently, and it just happened.

“It’s cold!” Tom shrieked, rocking back and forth impatiently in his chair. It creaked and groaned, Harry would have to repair it later. 

Harry snapped his fingers, Tom’s favorite coat rattled off its hook, flinging itself from down the hall with a whoosh of cool air, smacking Tom in the face with a thunk. Tom hissed but listened obediently, scooting in his seat and sticking his arms in, buttoning it up all the way. He didn’t put the hood on, a shame really, he looked so cute with it up. 

They ate in silence, a sea breeze whistled through the house, a gull cried out in time with the swooshing of an outgoing tide. Harry was so intent on smearing his raspberry jam over the burnt bits of his muffin that he didn’t hear what Tom asked. 

“What was that Pumpkin?” 

“Where’s Mipsy? Charlus’s family doesn’t cook, they use elves, Daddy everyone uses Elves, they laughed at me when I told them you make the food twice a week. It’s beneath us.” 

Harry took a deep breath, in and out. He’d become friends with his Great Grandparents at a dinner party years ago when Tom was a baby, he’d hoped they’d be a good influence on him. 

Unfortunately, in this time period, even the Potters were bigoted assholes. 

“Are you just copying what they said, or is this a new way to tell Daddy you don’t like his cooking?” 

“I love Daddy and his cooking.” Tom pouted, stuffing the last of his bacon in his mouth like a squirrel. 

Harry smiled fondly, he sipped his tea, then gagged on a loose chunk of porcelain that must’ve flaked free when Tom had cracked it. He spat it out, it flew into Tom’s half-full glass of milk with a resounding plop.

“Yuck, Daddy, get it out!” Tom yelled, his stubby fingers pushing the offending glass toward Harry. 

Harry sighed, but when he stuck his fingers directly into the milk, Tom shouted more, wailing about Harry’s germs. 

Once that affair settled and Tom was sending him scalding glares while he warmed his teapot, Harry responded to his original question.

“I give Mipsy two days off a week, she’s old, and she works hard Pumpkin. You know what I say about respect, right?” Harry smiled at Tom warmly.

His body shivered, oh he was getting cold, with a wave, the windows shut, latch and all with a metallic clang. 

“It goes both ways.” Tom said robotically, he wasn’t focused on Harry’s words, his large eyes wide as he stared at his Father's hand. His tiny hands fisted in the tablecloth, wrinkling it.

“Why don’t you use a wand?” 

‘If you respected him, you’d tell him the truth, Potter.’ 

“I have a wand Pumpkin, uh-you don’t need it for household things, everybody uses wandless while cooking and cleaning.” 

Tom’s brows furrowed, he didn’t buy it, but he didn’t ask anything else. 

“Don’t wake up, Dad.” 

“What?” Harry dropped his butter knife, it slid off the tablecloth and onto the brick floor with a hollow clatter. 

“Choose me, not him, you love me. Or was that a lie too?” Tom’s eyes burned red, the table caught ablaze, Harry screamed. 

Someone was slapping his face, hard. His eyes flew open, and he flung up, foreheads collided with a bone-cracking wallop. 

Harry moaned in pain, he felt blood trickling down his head, weaving through his eyebrows and coating his lashes, he rapidly blinked trying to see. He wiped frantically at his face, his now white sweater sleeves sopped up the blood enough for him to see. He was lying in front of his hearth, the fire was blazing, crackling and a record was playing an album he’d bought in the ’50s.

Tom or what-who was that? Not Tom, but similar was cursing in front of him crumbling about Harry’s habits, when the Wizard finally glanced back at him his heart began thumping widely and his memories returned with a violent jolt.

“Voldie, Merlin what happened, the last thing I remember is y-you uh-” 

Voldie groaned, running his hand through his wild untamed hair, his head wasn’t bleeding. Why was Harry?

“Are you going to kick me again, darling? Maim me? Salazar is this really what a concussion feels like, my head's splitting!” Voldie whined, but he wasn’t honestly paying attention to his head. It was to distract that he was inching closer and closer to Harry as if he was a wild animal he didn’t wish to startle.

Harry lifted his foot off his rug and smirked cheekily when Voldie flinched. 

“What are you scared of me now? Whatever shall I do, the almighty Voldemort himself, scared of whittle ol’ me? Cute.” Harry laughed. 

He licked his lips, it tasted like iron and dark magic and tingled on his tongue like pop rocks. So focused on the flavor, he gasped aloud when hands dug under his armpits, yanking him up and plopping him into his lazy boy. He smacked at Voldie’s hands, but the taller man did not release him, instead, he pressed him down till the chair clicked back and Harry was laying flat, his head sinking into the ratty, well-worn plush. 

A wet rag, a used dish towel, gross, flew into Voldies waiting palm. Harry’s jaw dropped, not even complaining when that said dishwater dripped down his face and to his gaping mouth. Voldie was smirking viciously while he carefully washed away the flaking blood off his face, his eyes excitable and as blue as the ocean storm raging outside.

“It worked, it really worked, how I-we hadn’t did-can I do that? I mean, I guess I can just look at you!” Harry was smiling so hard that his face ached. 

“We darling, we did it, you're brilliant, but I think I deserve, hmm, most of the credit. Your magic is incredible, the Hallows are powerful, beyond imagination. You will need to be trained. Once your consciousness left, it was like Death themselves was consummating our separation and union. I floated, my soul above your body, my soul whole, and it gave me a choice. To leave or stay.” 

Harry blushed, unable to stop himself from looking at Voldie’s quivering lips. Merlin, he looked so young, solid, human.

“You stayed. For me or your selfish desire to cheat death?” Harry taunted.

Voldie dropped the rag, it plopped to the ground with a soggy splat. Harry thought at the empty spot in his head instead of speaking aloud. He laughed, his face must have said it all because so did Voldie, it was hysterical. 

“Dare I try to kiss you again?” Voldie whispered, his breathing was becoming ragged. 

His shirt was barely holding on, only saved by the Muggle polyester allowing it to stretch; it was one of Harry’s old faded, pink pajama sets.

“Please.” Harry whispered, so breathlessly, he wasn’t sure Voldie could even hear him.

Their lips brushed, and it was like electric currents shooting through their veins. Harry sighed, opening up involuntarily moaning as Voldies tongue invaded, tracing over his teeth slowly lapping up, devouring every little sigh that escaped Harry’s mouth.

The chair, which had been holding its own, decided it wouldn’t put up with such indignities any longer, not with all of Voldies 6’4 weight leaning across it and Harry’s trembles of anticipation wiggling its bolts. It snapped backward, bolts flying as it collapsed.  

Harry yelped, but Voldie grabbed him, in one fluid motion throwing him onto the rug by the fire. 

“Holy shit!” Harry breathed, after he fell into the plush rug, eyes wide, but he wasn’t looking at Voldie. 

“Enough talking. More whining.” Voldie said roughly before climbing on top of Harry.

He froze, green eyes massive, even as Voldie forcefully tilted his neck and bit his way up, sucking and whispering in a mixture of parseltongue and English about all the ways he wanted to fuck Harry unconscious again. His front door was open, he felt it now, when Voldie had borrowed his soul magic it must have created some sort of blast that destroyed his wards. 

Soaking wet, Tom’s perfectly coiffed hair was plastered to his face. Lightning flashed behind him, exposing his equally drenched robes and burning red eyes. His mouth was open, gaping at the scene before him, both hands knuckle white, pressing into each side of the door frame, so hard that Harry was scared if he let go, the cottage would collapse. 

“Stop, seriously!” Harry tried to wiggle free, whispering frantically. 

Voldie ignored him, laughed even, shoving Harry flat on his back, his fingers purposely pinching his nipples on the way down. All the air knocked out of him, it in slow motion when it happened. Voldie finally looked up at him, threading his fingers through Harry’s curls, then his blue eyes swirled with confusion at the horror twisting on Harry’s face.

He turned around quickly, but not nearly quick enough.

“Avada Kedavra.” Tom said calmly, the spell struck in sync with a roll of thunder, hitting Voldie square in his chest. 

Blue eyes widened in surprise before he was blasted like a rag doll halfway across the room and exploded through Harry’s aquarium. Harry sat still, staring blankly as blood and glass coated his dining room, his favorite Bubble Eye goldfish Luna flopped suffocating, next to Voldie’s limp body. 

“Thomas.” Harry sighed into his hands, rubbing them up and down over his face. 

He felt so, so tired. He stood up, his legs wobbly and when Tom tried to help him, he slapped him away. 

“Don’t. Sit down on the couch, oh, before you do put another log on the fire.” Harry bemoaned, waving his hand commanding a bottle of vodka to fly from the kitchen, it landed on the coffee table with a light thunk, and started pouring itself into two crystal glasses. 

“What have I told you about thinking before acting? Aww, Luna, you sweet thing, let Daddy help you.” Harry’s voice faded as he passed Tom and into the tatters of his dining room. 

Tom didn’t move, he floated in a daze, staring between his Father incredulously and at his own corpse. Which was wearing his Father’s striped pink pajama set, the very set he’d bought him as a gift in fourth year. He’s saved up money he was getting from doing other Slytherins homework, a lucrative side business. Tom hated the way his Dad refused to throw things away, he wanted him to toss his ratty blue pajamas in the bin and wear the ones he’d bought him. 

To his satisfaction, his Father had done just that… but he’d never bought another set after either, and that was fifty-eight years ago. 

Harry decided he had the worst luck ever. Maybe, this was for the best. Voldie was wonderful, but now that they'd been mentally separated, he wondered if seventy years of having a guy in your head could make you a bit biased? 

Maybe he’d been too quick to give his physical body away.

He waved his hand over his aquarium first, it repaired itself beautifully and fish that were still alive were plopped in easily enough, any other day he would’ve just brought back the fish that died. But he was afraid he didn’t have enough juice for Voldie. Luna flopped sadly at him, and he struggled a bit deciding, okay Voldie it is, she might have a chance. 

His wool socks were sopping wet and his feet crunched painfully over those colorful, fish tank rocks and shards of glass as he scooped up his fish, she wiggled just a bit, her bug eyes watering up at him, hopefully. 

She sank in, and he smiled at her, after about thirty seconds she started swimming. 

Thank God.

Oh, yeah! He fell to his knees, grabbing hold of Voldies arms he tugged, damn he was heavy. 

“Tom, can you come help Dad-”

“NO.” Tom shouted from the living room.

Harry heard the vodka cap twist and the seal snap. He rolled his eyes. 

Putting his back into it, he dragged Voldies corpse, a trail of glass and blood crunching behind him till he plopped him on the rug, he stared at the rug a bit, maybe it was time to replace it. He glanced up at Tom, he was still glaring and filling an 8-ounce glass full of vodka to its brim. 

Tom regularly fed live people to his snake, and this, this was emotionally traumatizing to him! Harry couldn’t understand what his son was thinking sometimes. He leaned down, brushing away some glass off Voldies face, he let the magic swell inside him, he prayed to Death, asking for their guidance. 

Then he kissed still warm, blood-covered lips. Harry allowed his magic to flow between them until he felt that familiar tug, ah there he was, to his embarrassment he moaned a bit, Voldies soul always made him warm, so full, so right.

Voldie breathed, lungs expanding as he huffed his own soul. Harry didn’t want to let go until he was breathing regularly, but he could feel Tom’s eyeballs beaming lasers into the back of his head, so he sat back and let his magic levitate him to the couch. Floating felt like heaven, he gently dropped next to Tom, he loved his old couch. He stretched out on it like a cat, leaning his head back and letting his blood-dried curls flounce away. He slowly turned to the right, Tom wasn’t even looking at him, he was intently watching as Voldies corpse twitched and jerked back to life. 

Harry didn’t bother, he’d brought back so many corpses that it’d lost its appeal ages ago, but it’d been a longtime rule that Tom wasn’t allowed to watch, too graphic. He reached across the table, he was so glad that it hadn’t broken either. Harry swiped his glass, swirling it around, he stared into the fireplace grumbling, Tom hadn’t put another log in. 

He flicked a shaky finger, a piece of oak floated out and into the hearth, ashes flew out, lighting up Voldie’s skin, which to his relief was beginning to return a pinkish hue. 

“Pumpkin, look at me, it’s not what you think… Actually, what do you think this is?” Harry stalled, it was starting to sink in how bad this looked. 

Tom twisted on the couch, a rouge piece of glass crunching loudly under his dress-shoes, the record was still playing, but it sounded scratcher than before, more static. He looked Harry up and down, inspecting him, his red eyes dilated, focusing on Harry’s forehead. 

“Where's your scar?” 

He leaned in and caressed his thumb over the spot it used to be, Harry’s eyes kept flicking nervously to Voldie. He’d imagined their meeting for years, he had a whole plan, well it was Voldies plan, but he liked it so… it was his. Harry was going to introduce Voldie as Tom’s true biological Father and make up a reasonable excuse for why they lived together. 

Tom’s face tensed following Harry’s gaze back to his doppelgänger jerking on the rug, his eyes lit up with realization. 

“It was me, the voice in your head was me? How is this possible?” Tom breathed, he was starting to feel the magic of the bastard on the floor as it returned to its body. 

It was him, but the power was overbearing, intoxicating. Is this what standing in a room with himself felt like? 

Harry downed his glass, slamming it on the table without wiping his mouth, alcohol burned under his nose with every breath. He reached out and yanked Tom into his lap, the Dark Lord grunted in confusion but allowed it. 

He tucked Tom’s head under his chin and tutted about it being wet, he raised his hand, but his son grabbed him.

“No magic, you’ll exhaust yourself.” 

Harry sighed, dropping his hand down onto Tom’s shoulder, if he purposely dug his chin a little hard into his head, Tom didn’t comment. 

“Pumpkin it’s hard to explain, this all happened to me years before you were born, I’m-ugh I’m sorry you had to see us like that, and if it makes you feel any better that-” 

He pointed to Voldie who’d now stopped jerking, magic swirling above him like a toxic cloud. 

“—Is not you, from this universe anyway, am I making sense sweetie?” Harry hummed, twisting a curl in Tom’s now frizzed, drying hair. 

“I’ve had my suspicions about your, lack of aging and Necromancy, yes, but this is beyond anything I could logically imagine. What is the nature of your relationship? Why allow it if that is technically me?” Tom mocked, his wand tense in his hand as he watched the Wizard’s breathing deepen. 

Harry stilled he honest to Merlin didn’t know how to answer that question, wow he hoped Voldie would wake up soon. 

“Pumpkin, I grew up in well I don’t know, Voldie thinks it was a different universe, but I think it might have been a different timeline. I was his-” 

“Husband.” Drawled a voice, it echoed around from the bricks of the hearth, startling them both. 

“Husband?” Harry and Tom parroted back. 

The record reverberated around the small house in the silence that statement created. 

‘People say that love's a game, A game you just can't win, If there's a way, I'll find it someday
And then this fool will rush in’

Harry swallowed, his stomach was fluttering at the idea, not, not that he loved Voldie, but the thought of a marriage, a partner a companion to support him, and love him unconditionally. A ring slid on his finger, a magical vow binding their souls together. 
Wait, he pouted, not realizing that Tom was no longer draped in his lap. Wasn’t that just him and his Voldemort, soul bound for an eternity? Was this what marriage was, well that eroded his fantasy into a million pieces. 

‘Put your head on my shoulder, Whisper in my ear, baby, Words I want to hear, Tell me, tell me that you love me too (tell me that you love me too)’

That’s when he heard the first crack, of what he swore was bone. His eye’s fluttered up, his hand digging into the familiar spring of the worn cushion beneath him. 

Tom’s fist collided with Voldies face, their heights were the same, not leaving much resistance or space between them. Voldies head cracked against Harry’s knickknack shelf, a black n’ white framed picture of Tom smiling with Harry crouched beside him in front of the Hogwarts Express shattered on the floor. 

‘Put your head on my shoulder.’

“What are you-hey not the-” Harry whispered, he couldn’t do anything but watch, this couldn’t be happening. 

Voldie straightened himself, blue eyes excited even as blood gushed from his now crooked nose. Harry bit his lip, how could anybody look so hot covered in blood?

“Is that any way to greet your Father, Tom?” 

‘Whisper in my ear, baby’

“Father? Sure, I’ll have that engraved on your tomb.” Tom laughed, his jaw-locked and wand jabbing into Voldie’s chest.

Voldie laughed obnoxiously, their voices were so similar, but for inflections, only Harry could possibly hear. 

“I’m proud of your accomplishments, Son. But you still are lacking in so many areas, what were you thinking, leaving Dumbledore alive?” Voldie asked, leaning back nonchalantly, but Harry’d saw him nick Tom’s dueling trophy off the shelf and tuck it behind his back. 

‘Words I want to hear, baby’

Tom scoffed, thrown off. “What does that old bastard have to do with anything? He’s hiding out in one of the blood traitors’ safe houses, he’s weak, old, insignificant.”

Harry chuckled, which diverted Tom’s attention for a fraction of a second. That’s when Voldie cracked his left wrist with the trophy hard enough that Harry could hear the bone shatter. 

Tom’s wand whooshed into Voldie’s waiting hand as Tom screamed. 

“It’s adorable how naive you are, I often wondered if you only rule as do because of dumb luck, or maybe it’s the fact this world's Harry Potter fails to test you, keep you in check? Or-” Voldie twirled Tom’s wand between his knuckles, gazing at Tom like he was a worm he’d crushed under his heel on a busy street. “—Papa indulged you too much. Spoiled brat.” 

“ME?” Harry shrieked, darting up he put himself in front of Tom who was cursing as he picked himself up. 

“It hurts.” Tom whined, flushing himself into Harry’s back. 

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing he was being manipulated. Tom was so cute like that. 

‘Put your head on my shoulder’

Without thinking, a habit whenever his Pumpkin scrapped his knee playing in the garden he waved his hand, Tom’s wrist healed with an unpleasant pop. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, copying what had been done to him before and digging his chin into Harry’s knotty curls. 

He leaned in, never taking his red eyes off Voldie as he brushed his chapped lips over Harry’s ear. “I don’t think he’s spoiled me enough.” 

Harry sighed, that is not the cute he was going for, but he knew Tom was just trying to piss Voldie off, which would never work he’d never fall for such obvious bait. 

Oh. 

Voldie’s smirk fell off his face, his handsome features contorted with unbridled rage. Harry could feel Tom’s teeth grazing his skin as he smiled widely. Before either one of the idiots could do any more damage to his furniture, Tom hissed, yanking up his sleeve to scowl at his mark. 

He was being summoned. 

Harry could’ve cried, he was so tired maybe if Tom went back to work he could sleep a bit, his eyes trailed over to the kitchen, his cat clock meowed twice, so it was 2 AM. He accioed under his breath, but Voldie’s power was almost completely intertwined with his body, he did not release Tom’s wand. 

“Your Darling wants to go to sleep, let Tom go back, we can finish whatever the fuck this is tomorrow!” Harry’s yell morphed into a yawn, and he shivered when Tom started nuzzling into his neck and breathing in. 

“You smell so dark, exquisite … Do you seriously think I’ll let you sleep here with him? Alone? Come home with me, I deserve an explanation if he is my Father as he claims. I’ll allow him to come along, I just have to see what they want first.” 

“Oh alright.” Harry relented, patting his head. 

Voldie was giving him a withering look of disappointment. He ignored it. Glaring instead till he sighed, chucking Tom’s wand at him with his full strength, which Tom caught easily. But Harry could feel tension building in his shoulders, he understood, Voldies power could make anyone uneasy. 

“Let’s go.” Harry muttered, yanking himself out of Tom’s arms. 

He reached out, yipping in surprise at how fast Voldie grabbed him and pulled him into his chest. Harry looked up, seeing his crooked nose and coagulated blood, and frowned. 

“Fix that Voldie, there might be strangers I can’t have you looking straight out of a bar fight.” 

Tom hissed. “He’s wearing my clothes, the ones I bought you, look the sleeves torn! He looks ridiculous enough.” 

Voldie laughed then flicked his wrist tightly, Harry’s wand which was buried deep in the tresses of his trunk in his bedroom broke straight through the oak and whizzed into his hand. He conjured up robes with another flick of the wand, his nose cracked back into place and the blood vanished.

They looked identical, it made Harry’s stomach pretzel. 

Tom apparted all three of them, but not before Harry’d nagged him into creating new and improved wards around his house. Tom and Voldie argued for fifteen minutes about which one of them should make it before Harry forced them to play rock paper scissors. 

Harry didn’t even think about how he looked till they apparted in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. He was dirty, his white sleeves caked in blood, along with his hair and hickies blooming up his neck. He wasn’t even wearing shoes, he was in his crusty wool socks with decorative fish rocks stuck between the threads. 

When he popped in between two Lord Voldemort’s and heard people scream, he suddenly felt very self-conscious. 

That expanded tenfold when he saw which family had caused Tom’s emergency summons. 

The Potters. 

Voldie who noticed first laughed, the room full of Death Eaters and night Ministry workers were silent, watching with utter disbelief, they probably had imagined a lot of terrible things Lord Voldemort could accomplish but split into two? 

There was nothing so utterly terrifying. 

Harry’s eyes were like saucers, he numbly walked a step forward, Voldie was laughing too hard to notice and Tom was annoyed, flicking an exasperated finger for Bellatrix to come over and explain what’d happened in his absence. 

He looked at his younger self, sandwiched between his parents, Ron Weasely was there but no Hermione. They looked straight out of Harry’s own yearbook… Well, except they’d been crucioed and were shaking violently.

Potter hadn’t noticed him yet, he was whispering to Ron about something, but his parents sure had. They were staring at Harry with gaping maws like he was a hallucination. He smiled awkwardly but kept stepping toward them, he wanted to ask them a few questions, curiosity was getting the best of him. 

Ron saw him out of the corner of his eye and shrieked, or maybe he’d seen the two Voldemorts.

That’s when Potter saw him. Their eyes locked, Harry recognized every single emotion as it flickered across his face. He smiled again, genuinely enough that Potter knew it was real, it was his own face too after all. 

“Bloody hell.” Ron whispered. 

Potter gulped, and Harry wanted to scoop into his mind and know exactly what he was thinking. 

Ugh, those glasses did not look good on his face. 

He stood in front of them, tutting at how tight the ropes were. A rock dislodged out of his sock and rolled out, he kicked it away with a groan. How embarrassing. 

“Good evening, or is it morning… uh, let me guess you were hiding Dumbledore?” Harry asked, he was too uncomfortable to look at his Parents, so he looked at Potter instead. 

They didn’t say a word. He sighed. “Look I’m not going to hurt you guys, I’m just curious where that old coot is hiding these days and well, My son is-” 

“Your son!?” Potter yelled, loud enough it caught both Tom and Voldies’ attention. 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Look kid, I’m trying to help you out, so please don’t be stupid.” 

Voldie strode up first, bugger. He carded his fingers through Harry’s hair and grimaced when his finger got stuck in a blob of dried blood. He rolled his eyes and drew Harry’s wand out, hitting him with a Scourgify. Harry sighed, wow, he’d been gross. Voldie tried again and hummed happily when his fingers could slide all the way through and pet his forehead. 

Harry sighed into his touch. Oh, he’d forgotten what he was doing. Merlin, he was so tired. 

He glanced back down to four horrified faces who weren’t even wiggling in their binds anymore. Harry batted away Voldies hand and scooted away with a nervous chuckle. 

“Uh, like I was saying I’m not going to hurt you, I’m sure Tom-Uh The Dark Lord will be very forgiving if you just give up Dumbledore's location!” He said, his cheerful voice sounding fake even to his ears. 

They weren’t going to say a thing if Voldie was standing right there. Dammit. Harry pinched Voldies arm, the wizard wasn’t even looking at him, he was glaring down at the Potters with an intensity of all three unforgivables. 

“If you're gonna behave like this, go stand with Tom, I want to talk to them.” Harry growled.

Voldie finally turned his way, he was smiling. He pinched Harry’s cheek playfully, it stung. 

“Fine, we're not staying long, I’ll give you ten minutes you need to rest.” Voldie kissed his forehead before turning sharply, a little hop in his step at the opportunity to harass Tom again. 

“What’s your name?” James Potter asked, after an awkward, silent thirty seconds. 

Harry suddenly felt nervous, Merlin he hadn’t felt this scared in years! He clenched his chest, was he having a heart attack? 

“My name is Harry Gaunt.” That was all he could spit out before combusting, wow, he was talking to his Dad! 

“Harry! You can play with the prisoners later, you need a bath and-” Tom swooped in before Harry could say anything else, his voice dying on his tongue at the sight of Harry Potter. 

He looked back and forth between the two with wide eyes. Voldie leaned in on Harry’s left side, eagerly watching Tom’s expression, waiting sadistically for the realization to strike. But Harry didn’t want to do this right now, he wanted to talk to them tomorrow after he slept a full twelve hours. 

“I don’t feel well.” He said, grabbing both their large hands in his.

They both looked at him, blue and red eyes swelling with concern. He looked down then back up, gracing them his saddest smile, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

It helped that his contacts were dry.

“I think I used too much magic today, can I sleep with one of you?" 

He heard Potter gag on his own spit, and Ron hoarsely whispering for him to shut up. 

Voldie and Tom immediately started bickering, yanking Harry jerkily between them as they exited the Ministry. 

He looked back at the Potter's and gave them a sad smile, mouthing. “I'll get you out of here, I promise.” 

That night in bed with Tom nuzzled beside him, listening to Voldie snoring lightly in the opposing guest bedroom, he wondered how exactly he was going to do that.

 

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3 and thank you for all of your kind reviews on my last chapter :) Hope you like this one too. I don't know why but I laughed so hard thinking about Harry asking for help with Voldies body lol

Chapter 3: Crossroads

 Harry hadn't drunk tea this delicious in years, not since Mipsy had passed away. He’d switched to coffee while living in America, he loved a dark roast in the morning with spiced creamer. It started to dawn on him that he was getting old, he must be if he couldn’t remember how he preferred his tea, well that's what kids were for, to remind you of the things you love. He finished off the cup with a fond smile, like this he could pretend his son wasn’t an evil dictator, and they were just sharing breakfast together as a family. 

His stomach growled, he’d not yet taken an English muffin off its stack, they were charmed warm, steam wafted off them like smoke. His favorite raspberry jam, the same muggle brand he used to buy for Tom beside them, he loved it because it had chunks of fruit inside it, and he enjoyed the seeds' sensation over his tongue. 

It was so delicious, he could almost delude himself into imagining that Wormtail wasn’t being tortured a few feet away from him. 

Yum. 

“What’re you doing? He’s useful, don’t kill him yet!” Tom’s indigent yells ricocheted off the walls. 

Wormtail’s choking and wailing was an ugly sound, couldn’t they Silencio him? Was this really absolutely necessary at ten in the morning?

He glared, Voldie who was using a spell Harry knew, but he couldn’t recall what exactly it did, something with internal organ perforation. Feeling eyes on him, Voldie glanced up, blood spatter dusting his face like crude blush. 

“Darling, you’ve got some-” Voldie pointed to Harry’s upper lip. “Right there, no the other side, must I go over there and wipe it myself how incompetent are you?” 

Harry scowled, wiping his upper lip, sure enough, a smudge of red stuck to his thumb. He licked it off, sticking out his tongue at Voldie. 

Voldie laughed. “Good boy.” 

Harry flushed, swaying a bit in his chair. Tom, who’d been standing next to Voldie, not doing anything to stop him from torturing his servant, furrowed his brows, glaring at them both. 

“Tom, there are somethings-no a lot of things you don’t know- your Father and I want to help you, right Darling?” Voldie said, now crucioing Wormtail.

Thankfully, the ratman passed out from the pain, collapsing into a heap on the floor. Harry sighed, the dining hall’s french doors were wide open, the satin curtains billowing in an icy winter breeze. He could hear a morning bird’s shrill song, at least it was a beautiful morning. 

“No I don’t actually, I thought we agreed that this is Tom’s business, he’s a grown man.” Harry said firmly, pouring another cup of Earl Grey. 

He gazed up through his lashes and steam to see they both were looking at him in disbelief, albeit for different reasons, but it still hurt. Their faces and stances were so similar but Harry could see the way Tom favored his left side and Voldie his right. He knew they were both ambidextrous, but Voldie had his left hand-beaten out of use in the Orphanage.

Voldies hair wasn’t perfect like Tom’s always was, it was wild like Harry’s, his blue eyes clear and not having a Horcrux, took something off him, a weight he’d watched his Tom carry since that night at the Riddles. 

Tom opened his mouth but was interrupted by the pop of a house-elf. 

“Lord Master sir, Headmaster Snape is here to see you, yes he is!” She said, her ears flipping back and eyes huge when she realized she wasn’t talking to one master but two. 

Tom’s hands clenched, anger rising at being interrupted. “Mipsytwo have him wait in my office.” 

“Mipsy two?” Harry echoed, scrutinizing Tom with befuddled amusement. “You couldn't, I don’t know, come up with a better name than that?” 

Tom laughed. “ I have a hundred Mipsys', Mipsytwo is simply my favorite, don’t you recognize it? I had her made a dress, it looks just like the one you sewed for our Mipsy, tattered ends, and all.” 

Harry’s heart melted. “Aww, that is so sweet, Pumpkin. I miss her too, she was such a wonderful little elf.” 

“Don’t call me Pumpkin… In front of others. Unlike you, I have work to do, running an empire and all. You're both forbidden from leaving. I want a proper explanation and I will know everything.” He pointedly looked at Voldie who was poking Wormtail's unconscious body with his shoe. 

“Keep that bastard in line, Dad, or I’ll kill him again.” Tom sneered. 

Voldie rolled his eyes and sauntered up, purposely shoving Tom with his shoulder like they weren’t in the largest dining room Harry's ever seen. He put his arms around Harry, kissing the crown of his head. 

“We will keep ourselves entertained, your Father and I have a lot of catching up to do.” Voldie murmured, his eyes trailing the curve of Harry’s neck, he licked his lips. 

“No.” Tom hissed in parseltongue, he was a little slack-jawed, his back molars gnawing into the tender flesh of his cheek. 

“Knock it off, the both of you. Voldie stop teasing him. Go, Tom, we’ll talk it over at dinner then, Dad will explain it… You know I had plans for today, right? I do have a life outside-” He waved his hands erratically, smacking Voldie in the face, the bastard didn’t even flinch. “—You both.” 

He finished his rant lamely, the tension in the room would’ve suffocated him if not for the breeze wafting in. 

Merlin, he wanted a smoke. 

Voldie and Tom shared an unreadable look, then they laughed. 

“MIPSYTWO!” Harry shouted, yanking at his hair, then slamming his face into the table. 

 

Voldie and Harry sat beside each other on Tom’s terrace, it was like any other morning for Harry, except for Voldie annoying him in the privacy of his head here he was in the flesh… still nagging him. He breathed out smoke, he was halfway through his cigarette, it’d been about fifteen years since he quit but when Mipsy brought him the pack he’d started salivating. 

“Look at these reforms, dear, did you encourage this garbage? House elf rights? I didn’t think he’d seriously listen to you when he was a child. What were your techniques? I could only pay so much attention to your cooing and mothering… hmm, you do have your persuasive qualities, but I didn’t think they’d actually change our mind.” Voldie grumbled while reading The Prophet. 

When Harry had first heard Voldemort speak inside his head, he’d freaked. They argued, screamed at each other, and Harry would always threaten to kick him out, as in return his soul to Death. But he never followed through on that threat, because Voldemort was the only solid in his new life, in essence, he was the only proof that Harry lived another life at all. 

Harry would’ve gone insane without Voldie grounding him. 

Unfortunately, sanity has a steep price. 

He breathed in on his cig, humming as it crackled fire into his lungs. When he breathed out, he looked at Voldie, who’d laid the paper in his lap and was eyeing Harry carefully. 

“Seeing you like this is beyond anything I’d fantasized.” Voldie said softly, his wavy hair fluttering in a small breeze. 

“Huh?” Harry asked, scrunching his nose, he felt like he was about to sneeze. 

Voldie chuckled, he leaned across the small patio table, his hand covering Harry’s free one and when he squeezed, Harry’s heart fluttered. 

“I could see from your eyes, Harry, but I could never see you. What you imagined yourself as a brief glimpse in the mirror but not you. It’d been so long that’d I’d forgotten the curve of your face, the shine of your eyes. When I was Voldemort, I never looked at you, I never knew you. I was insane… insane for not noticing you as I should’ve. Your beautiful Harry Potter.” 

Harry’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“Wow.” He breathed. 

Voldie laughed, then so did Harry. His chest brimmed full, sloshing at the edges. It was unreal sitting across from someone who knew him inside and out. Every flaw, every crack in the foundation of both their souls had already been excavated, examined, and after years of fighting restored and refilled with their shared devotion.

Harry blew out a cloud of smoke and Voldie leaned across the table further, their lips feathered together, and he breathed in deeply, smoke pouring out of his nose, tendrils escaping the corners of his mouth. The cigarette fell to the ground as Harry desperately yanked Voldie forward by his collar.

They kissed roughly, teeth clashing each other fighting for dominance, a battle. His heart thudded rapidly and the butterflies in his stomach reached full metamorphosis, exploding from his throat and into Voldies’ waiting arms. His soul magic hummed as they touched, pillaged, and devoured one another. 

He got that familiar tingle telling him his eyes had glazed gold. He laughed into Voldies mouth and received a moan in return. Long fingers, icy from the December air, slid under his collar, tugging impatiently as his clothes. Tom’s desperate urging crossed like a warning flash in front of his eyes.

Harry yanked himself back, a string of saliva connecting them as Voldie cursed aloud at the separation. 

“No!” Harry pointed an accusing finger, shaky from adrenaline. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

Voldie didn’t have to ask to know what Harry was thinking, who he was thinking about instead. He grimaced unhappily, not moving away, instead he leaned again giving Harry a soft, tender kiss, huffed, and plopped back in his own chair. 
They sat like that, both sporting tents in their trousers, still horny and aching, before Harry spoke again. A cloud passed over the sun above, casting a long shadow over the courtyard.

“Uh, it’s not a forever no, just until we go back home. Oh, don’t give me that look, this is Tom’s house, and we will respect his wishes. We’ve waited this long, what's a few more days?” Harry asked the last question more to himself than Voldie. 

“You always do this, choose him over me. It’s predictable, your predictable darling.” Voldie whined dramatically, he lurched down picking up Harry’s cigarette which was still lit and took a drag. 

Harry gasped sarcastically. “Me, predictable? Never. You're predictable honey, look at Tom, he’s your clone!” 

“Hah!” Voldie mocked. “What about this world’s Harry Potter, harboring Dumbledore? I bet the Order is scurrying around under Tom’s nose, and he’s too far up his own ass to see them before they strike. They might kill him, find his Horcruxes as you did mine.” 

The breath flew out his own lungs, he didn’t think about this world's Potter. It wasn’t his problem, not after Tom’s life slipped out of his fingers like a single grain of sand lost in 352 quintillion gallons of ocean. He’d raised his son, accepted him despite his faults, and moved on, he had to. 

“They can’t, I’ll bring him back.” He growled, glaring at a leafless shrub with hard eyes, he didn’t want to look at Voldie, it would give too much away. 

“Do you hear yourself? Your hypocrisy is astounding, absolutely incredible. Who would you choose, The Potters of this universe or Tom?” Voldie sounded dangerously curious, he was on the edge of his seat. 

“I don’t know them.” Harry spat. “I have you, I have Tom, and I have my own life here… But if you are so curious, theoretically I wouldn’t allow it to get that far, to have to choose I mean.” 

“Liar.” Voldie laughed, he crushed the cig’s butt under his heel, standing up. 

“Go, talk to the Potters you're not very sly, that’s one of your virtues, but know this Harry I will always choose you, and-” He loomed over Harry, tilting his chin up and licking his shell of his ear where Tom had the night before. “—you can never escape me.” 

Harry stayed slumped in his seat a long time after Voldie had left. 

---

 

 Harry Potter sat in his strangely well-furnished cell with his parents and his best mate Ronald. They’d yet to be interrogated by Death Eaters and were huddled together nervously eating porridge that’d been dropped off by a house-elf named Mipsythirty-four. 

There was too much to take in from last night, he hadn’t been able to sleep, thankfully no one else had either. He decided to fill the silence by asking a question for the thousandth time. 

“So, Mom, I don’t have a secret twin brother that ran away to be with Voldemort’s own secret twin brother, right?” 

“No dear, I think I’d be able to remember giving birth to another baby, it’s not exactly an easy process you know.” She said with an exasperated sigh. 

“He even has the same first name as you mate, Harry Gaunt, he said.” Ron piped in. 

“THAT’S IT!” His Dad shrieked, he’d been completely silent since they’d been thrown in their cell. 

“What?” Harry asked, his Mom was looking at his Dad like he’d lost his mind. 

“Harry Gaunt! My Great Uncle Charlus told us he used to play with You-Know-Who when he was a kid, you know that his last name was Gaunt, well Aunt Dorea used to talk about his Dad too, his name was Harry, I think that’s him!” James smiled, proud of himself for remembering. 

It was silent before cries of disbelief rang out. 

“No way Dad!” 

“Sorry, Harry’s Dad, that is impossible, he didn’t look a hundred!” Ron laughed. 

Lily shook her head, eyes furrowed in thought. “James, you can be serious, that would make him ninety at the least.” 

“Ninety-two.” 

“Correct, Harry, I didn’t know you were so good at maths.” Hummed his Mom appreciatively. 

“Um-I didn’t say that.” Harry’s eyes were huge as he looked through the bars and at the owner of a voice so similar to his own even his Mother had thought it him. 

“I said it, don’t worry I’m not good a maths either.” Laughed his doppelgänger. 

Everyone stood up and walked closer, it felt more like Gaunt was the one on display, and they were looking in on a caged beast. Gaunt's magic hugged him tightly, but the nearer you got you could taste it in the air, he was extremely powerful, so much so that it set off your flight or fight. 

Harry wanted to fly away. 

Gaunt looked identical to himself but for tiny things, his hair was curly, and just a little longer than Harry’s. He had a tattoo on his collar bone that peaked out between purple welts(Harry hoped weren’t hickies), on his neck. When he smiled, his eyes wrinkled, and he had a tiny mole on the side of his mouth, where Harry had none. He didn’t have glasses, either.

He was wearing muggle clothes, a shirt, and blue jeans. Harry, who’d kept walking after his family had stopped, stood directly before him, his nose wrinkling with the sharp smell of smoke. 

“Uh Hello.” Gaunt said, sticking his hands in his pockets with an awkward smile. 

“Hello.” Harry whispered. 

They just stared at each other for what felt like an hour, but it was probably a minute. 

“So, I wasn’t kidding around last night, I know it was a bit crazy, but I was being honest about getting you guys out of here… I just have a few conditions.” Gaunt said it kindly enough, but Harry could hear the lace of a threat in his Gaunt’s tone. 

“What do you want?” Harry snapped, grasping the metal bars between them, he was a little taller than Gaunt and boy was it weird looking down at yourself. 

Gaunt’s forest-green eyes widened, then he nodded at Harry with a smirk of approval. “Very good, sorry I didn’t catch your name, kid?” 

“My name’s Harry too, Harry Potter. Why do we look alike?” Harry blurted. 

Gaunt laughed. “Well my Mother was a Potter, my Father’s family took me in after she died in childbirth. My Father was a Gaunt unfortunately, it was all very hush, hush back then, of course, I wasn’t a wanted child. But I was born before you, so aren't you the one who looks like me, Potter?” 

Harry gaped he didn’t know how to respond to that, Gaunt wasn’t exactly wrong. 

“Gaunt, you said you had a son last night, who? Does he go to school with us?” Ron asked, more confident now that Harry’d broken the tension. 

James laughed. “Didn’t you hear him Ron the man said he’s ninety, I’m sure his son is all grown up by now!” 

“Ah yeah he is-” Gaunt rubbed the back of his neck anxiously “-Don’t be shocked when I say this, but Tom is my son.” 

It was so silent Harry could hear a leaking drip, drip, drip onto the cold concrete in the cell across from them. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but who is Tom?” His Mom asked. 

Gaunt looked surprised, then he laughed loudly, it echoed around the cells and if Harry was being honest he sounded hysterical, mad even. 

“Oh-” Gaunt wiped a tear from his eye. “—Pumpkin and his adorable hangups.” 

He continued when nobody said anything.

“Excuse me, sorry, my son is Voldemort. His name is Thomas Riddle Gaunt, of course, he just doesn’t like that name per se, long story.” He waved his hand like he hadn’t just said the most insane thing they’d ever heard. 

“So you are our enemy.” Hissed Lily, grabbing Harry, yanking him away from Gaunt and into her arms. 

Gaunt rolled his eyes, Harry knew that look on his face, it was the same face he made in History Of Magic. 

He was getting bored, they were boring him with their reactions. 

Harry gulped, he knew if they wanted out of here they needed help from someone powerful, who was more powerful than Lord Voldemort’s Dad? 

Whispering he begged his Mom to let him go, he spit her red hair out of his face and wiggled free like his life depended on it… Actually, it probably did. She just didn’t know it because she didn’t look that face in the mirror every morning. But he did, he could talk to Gaunt. He could get them out of here safely. 

“Lord Gaunt, please we’ll do anything, help us out of here!” Harry begged, lunging through the bars, bravely grabbing Gaunt’s arm, it was the only part of him he could reach. 

Gaunt looked surprised, good, that was better than bored. “Okay Harry, I’ll help you but only because you asked so nicely. Ah, it’s getting late I’ll talk to Tom about releasing you at dinner, but you need to tell us everything about Dumbledore, believe me, that old bastard can handle his own he will escape, he always does. Don’t sacrifice your souls for him.” 

“Thank you, Lord Gaunt, thank you!” Harry smiled, even if the smile didn’t reach his eyes it was the thought that counted, right?

From the genuine smile returned to him by Gaunt before he walked out the dungeons, slamming the doors with a massive crash behind him, Harry could only hope so. 

 

---

 

 Harry Gaunt walked out of the dungeons feeling conflicted. He hated to admit it, but Voldie was right. He was being very hypocritical, and he needed to think about it. Likewise, he’d hoped talking to what could have been his family would make him see more clearly. 

Instead, they just pissed him off. ‘So you're our enemy!’ 

Fucking put yourself in my shoes, lady! What would you do?! That’s my son, just like that version of himself is yours! 

His shoulder slammed into an unsuspecting person, he yelped an apology on the tip of his tongue. When he glanced up to say sorry, he froze. Severus Snape was staring at him, his eyes owlish and his wand raised, it was quickly jabbing into Harry’s rib. 

“Potter, you dare escape from The Dark Lord? Your impudence will be the death of you, I’ll drag you back to your cell, you know what will happen if our Lord finds out, yes?” 

Harry opened his mouth, but only sputtering came out. 

Snape rolled his eyes obnoxiously, but then he looked and looked again, his eyes flicking over Harry’s features carefully. He frowned, obviously confused. 

Taking his chance, Harry raised his hand, bending his index finger down and pointing toward the opposite wall. Snape rose a foot in the air then slammed into a painting of a Basilisk, the painting hissed obscenities before slithering out of its shattered frame. Snape’s wand flew out of his hands, and it spun on the floor before smacking the side of Harry’s shoe. 

A beautifully wide smile tore across Harry’s face. How fun this was, maybe he shouldn’t have hidden from Tom for so long. 

“Funny, you're the Headmaster of Hogwarts, correct?” Harry asked walking forward, he cocked his head up at Snape who was now bleeding out of his mouth. Oops, he’d used a bit too much power. 

“Y-Your not Potter, are you?” Snape choked out, finally inhaling enough air to speak.

“No!” Harry said cheerfully. 

He bent down and picked up Snape’s wand, it’d been so long since he’d even held a wand, it felt strange pulsing in his palm. 

Snape smartly knew better than to speak anymore, how boring. 

“So, Headmaster, was it? You wouldn’t have told our Lord about Potter’s escape? What else would you be willing to hide, I wonder.” Harry sang, he had to bite his tongue to keep a shit-eating grin off his face. 

“I live to serve our Lord.” Snape hissed, glaring down at Harry hatefully. 

“Ah, you see Severus, was it? The thing is, your Lord lives to serve me.” Harry enjoyed watching confusion fuddle Snape’s features. 

“Our Lord serves no one but himself, brat.” Snape laughed mockingly. 

“Father, is that you? Why’re you using so much magic, you’ve not recovered from last night.” Shouted Tom’s voice from down the hall, his long-striding footsteps echoing in their direction. 

Harry cooed audibly, Tom sounded so worried about him. Merlin, how cute. He gazed back up at Snape, satisfied with the horror twisting on his pale face. He flicked his finger again, and Snape crashed off the wall into the center of the hall with a heavy thump. 

“Are you alright, answer me!” Tom yelled again, his pace quickening into a sprint.

“Get up. Now.” Harry hissed. 

Snape listened obediently, Harry sighed he’d have to heal the bastard first. He snapped his fingers and the blood disappeared from the corner of Snape’s mouth, then he handed back the Headmasters wand with a sadistic smirk. 

Harry leaned in, whispering. “Watch your back, Severus.” 

He stepped away only to lean dramatically against the wall. He said just loud enough for Snape to hear. “Ask if I’m alright, but do not touch me.” 

Snape cleared his throat, stepping back, he asked. “Are you alright?” 

Lord Voldemort arrived, only hearing Snape ask if Harry was alright, and when he saw his Dad leaning on the wall breathing heavily he still overreacted. 

“What happened, tell me now, Severus?” 

When Snape didn’t open his mouth quickly enough, Tom crucioed him. Harry didn’t worry though, if Tom actually knew what’d happened he’d probably kill him. He’d experienced both, and he’d choose crucio over Death’s realm any damn day. 

“It’s okay Tom, please don’t hurt him, he was just trying to help me. I felt a bit faint and I got lost, but when I tried to apparate I collapsed. Could you release him, please, for Daddy?” Harry begged, now into Tom’s chest instead of the wall. 

Tom released Snape, patting the top of Harry’s head soothingly. Harry decided to scare Snape further, he didn’t want that slimy wanker betraying his son, no not in this universe. 

“Let me go for a second, sweetheart.” He commanded sternly. 

The Dark Lord listened obediently, releasing Harry with a worried scowl. Harry breathed in dramatically like he was exhausted. 

He smiled like a fallen angel. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for our Lord to hurt you, thank you so much for your help, may you serve our Lord faithfully… Pumpkin can you pick me back up, my legs feel like jelly… It’s okay if you can’t just call V-” 

“You think I'm incapable of carrying you, or do you want him over me?” Tom snarled, not actually allowing Harry to answer, picking him and slinging him over his shoulder instead. 

Tom stepped away from Snape, barely glancing at him but for a sneer. Harry looked down at Snape, his curls clouding around his face but not hiding his vicious smirk.

He mouthed. “Betrayal does that, betrays the betrayer.”

Snape’s terrified face burned into the peripheral of Harry’s mind beautifully. He tried not to press his smiling face into Tom’s shoulder blades as he was carried down the hall, he wanted to keep up the act till after dinner, then he could tell Voldie all about it, and they’d smoke and laugh uncontrollably over a bottle of wine. 

Being slung on Tom’s back sucked him into a memory of when Tom was an awkward teenager before he’d found out Harry wasn’t his Father by blood. 

---

1941 July

Harry sat only two seats down from Septimus Malfoy as Lord Gaunt, he’d been accepted as a Lord long before and played the role expertly well. It was well known Septimus was a puppet of the current Minister of Magic, making him all the more worthy of a friend for Harry. Harry, a single heir with an unknown amount of money and a brilliant son of his own was a popular Wizard. His immense magical power only added to the illusion he’d painfully crafted. Tom sat down a few seats next to his best mate Abraxus Malfoy. 

It’d only taken ‘accidentally’ speaking, Parseltongue just like Tom had in Hogwarts, for them to be kneeling at his robes. 

It was too easy, boringly so. 

“Then the Mudblood begged, “And my rights?” A Lord across the table laughed, Harry couldn’t remember his name other than the fact he was a Nott. 

He rolled his eyes, focusing instead on his steak. It was almost raw, just like he enjoyed, bloody enough to moo back at him. He dug in, lapping at the blood lingering on his bottom lip with a hum. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up carefully, hoping to use the admirer to his advantage. 

To his horror, it was Abraxus and Tom gazing at him with large, lustful teenage eyes. He swallowed the steak so quickly he choked. Isidore Selwyn who was seated beside him smacked his back, leaning in and whispering in Harry’s ear. 

“If you need any more help swallowing tonight, lemme know, Gaunt.” He whispered, purposely brushing Harry’s ear with his lips.

‘Don’t you dare, Harry.’ 

Harry smirked, Selwyn was a powerful family, he didn’t want to pass up this chance. Also, it’d been six months since he’d gotten laid, and Selwyn wasn’t unattractive in the slightest. He leaned back, kicking Selwyn’s foot to catch his attention again, he looked up at him with hooded eyes. 

“Help. I need help tonight, Isidore, please?” He whispered Selwyn’s name huskily, fluttering his lashes as he caressed the Wizards' thigh with his foot. 

The lecherous grin he returned brought a smile to his face. He was soo getting laid. 

“Come to my manor tonight, Gaunt, I’ll floo you when I’m prepared to give you the hardest help of your life.” Selwyn said into his glass of red. 

Harry fought to keep a confused frown off his face. Hardest help of his life, huh? He’d rather the longest help, maybe the most uh rhythmic help, and what in Merlin’s name did he need to prepare for? He was not getting tied up again, he’d found out that he couldn’t handle small spaces and ropes in a single night years ago.

‘She was rather sadistic with you, hearing you cry did something for me, I’ll admit when you started sobbing I got the urge to hurt you more just to listen to your beautiful moans of agony. Salazar, I wished she’d forced a mirror into your trembling hands, so I could’ve seen your tears. If I were her, I would've drunk, lapped from your face like they were ambrosia itself.’ 

Harry gulped but refused to respond, just like with Tom if he reacted too strongly it would encourage that behavior. Speaking of behavior lately, his Pumpkin was going through a phase of sorts that Harry pretended wasn't happening, more to keep the fragile tendrils of his own sanity from breaking off and floating into the Mariana Trench of his consciousness. 

Oh shit, the Muggles hadn’t even found that yet! 

He was so deep in his own thoughts he failed to notice Tom sending glares in Selwyn’s direction, only stopping to whisper occasionally into Abraxus’s ear.  Later that night still clad in his dinner robes he sat impatiently by his fireplace with a glass of wine waiting, waiting, waiting but Selwyn never called. 

Harry, who was having an intense argument with Voldie again about if this was a different timeline, or if he’d created his own universe by changing the narrative enough that it split in two, dropped his wine glass when the back kitchen door swung so hard it knocked one of his antique Quidditch brooms off its rack. 

Tom, who was no longer in his dress robes from the party, stormed in, and when he saw Harry still sitting in their living room a smile bloomed on his youthful face. 

‘Oh Merlin, he did something naughty Harry, very naughty… I bet he killed Selwyn, check him for blood.’ 

‘Very funny Voldie, unlike you my sweetie is not a murderer. I raised him in a very anti-murdery environment, he’s never even killed a fly! You're only capable of thinking negatively. 

“Hi Pumpkin, what's the rush? Did you and Abraxus have fun playing Snap?” Harry asked brightly while waving his hand to repair his shattered wine glass. 

Tom stepped forward, nicking the glass out of the air before it could meet the palm of Harry's waiting hand. The wine which Harry had charmed to fill after emptying bubbled up from the bottom of the glass like a white spring. 

He then chugged it like he was dying of thirst. 

“Oi, what the hell, Tom? That's mine!” Harry squawked.

“Sorry, Dad, I needed something to take the edge off!” Tom laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry raised his brows. “You're fifteen years old, you don't even have edges yet!”

“It was an intense game of Snap, Dad. Go to bed, it's late.” Tom said it more like a command than a suggestion.

“Me? Who's the adult here, young man? Off to bed with you.” Harry waved his hand toward the hall leading to Tom's bedroom.

“Goodnight Dad, I love you.” Tom leaned in, kissing Harry's forehead. 

'Quick look now.' Voldie commanded.

Harry flicked his eyes, searching and blanching when he spotted a single fleck of red, standing out starkly behind Tom's ear. His eyes widened.

 Oh, shit. 

“Love you too, Pumpkin.” Harry whispered.

Voldie boasted the rest of the evening, his maniacal laughter coaxing Harry to sleep like a twisted lullaby.

---

Present Day

Tom carefully placed Harry on an uncomfortable couch in his quarters. Harry grumbled wondering why expensive furniture was so damn hard, his cheap couch, springs, and all gave better support.

He smiled up at Tom warmly. “Thank you, Tom, you're such a sweetheart. I’ll feel better in no time.”

“Why did you leave my quarters, Dad, I have yet to tell everyone about you. What if someone tried to hurt you?” Tom asked, his voice quivering. 

He reached out, brushing his long fingers over Harry’s forehead, his expression twisting in anger for a fraction of a second before he thumbed harshly over the space where Harry’s scar used to be. Harry smacked his hand away before he could do anything more. 

“Don’t get yourself worked up, Pumpkin, I can take care of myself.” Harry said with exaggerated irritation. 

Tom sighed, pushing Harry further back into the couch before sitting down himself. Harry choked, the pressure of Tom’s back weighing heavy as his son leaned into his space. 

“Dad, we need to talk.” Tom said, not actually looking at Harry. 

Harry scoffed, he asked sarcastically. “I agree but what about?’

“Him. What we’re going to do about him.” Tom growled, digging his elbow sharply into Harry’s side. 

“Who, Dumbledore? Well, you’ll probably have to kill him?” Harry wheezed, trying not to react to the pain. 

Were his elbows always this sharp!?

The candles in the room wavered, and the glassware began rattling against its underlying silver platters. 

“No him, the other me you brought in this world just to torment me!” Tom shouted, he again jabbed his elbow into Harry’s rib cage. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Pumpkin, he is not you. You're you, my Son, and he is-” 

“He’s what? Better than me? What can I do to prove it to you, my sincerity? My devotion? I can’t think of anything else after all these years, I’ve had dreams where I’d rip my still-beating heart from my chest and give it to you, and you’d still deny me!!” Tom, who’d started his rant yelling, was now on the verge of begging, no tears, Lord Voldemort did not cry, but it was the closest Harry had to seeing him in years.

Harry dug his hand, which had been pretzeled painfully into the side of the couch cushion, out with a frantic tug and started rubbing circles into Tom’s back. 

“Tom, listen to me, I am your Father, I love you just-just not in that way, come on sweetheart how many times have we had this talk and how many times have I ran away?” Harry asked softly. 

“Twenty-seven.” Tom sniffled. 

Oh, Merlin, save him.

“Now this right here makes it twenty-eight. Pumpkin, it’s hard on me too, to see you like this, if I could change my feelings I would… But that’s not how it works.” Harry cooed, rubbing harder into his back, the poor kid was tense. 

“Yes, it is!” Tom yelled, his voice echoing, a shelf crashed off a nearby wall. “That's exactly how my feelings work, I decide what I’m going to feel, then I do! I only feel uncontrollable emotion about one thing, one person, and that’s you, Harry!” 

“Oh.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say, he’d never allowed their conversation get this far, as soon as Tom said “I love you in a &%@^$ way (Harry’d suppressed the exact words) he apparated to the farthest continent his magic allowed, sometimes he ended up in Antarctica. 

“Tom I want to help you, I don’t want you hurting, but I can’t-”

Harry felt him before he entered. Lovely, just lovely. Fucking asshole, of course, he’d been listening in the entire time. 

“As beautiful as this Father-Son heart-to-heart is, I believe it’s time for dinner?” Voldies voice, so similar to Tom’s but not, rang out as he strode into the room. 

“Fuck off.” Growled Tom, his wand pointed at Voldie. 

“Tom, I’m hungry, let's just get this over with, please?” Harry begged, he didn’t even have to fake it, he was starving and horrified. 

He just hoped they didn’t kill each other…again. He didn’t have enough magic to bring another soul back for at least a month. 

“For you Harry, and for an explanation. This conversation is not over.” He turned and grabbed Harry, lifting him up off the couch and carrying him again into the dining hall. 

A snickering Volide followed close behind. Harry wondered at what point in this life he’d turned down the wrong path. He was plopped down next to Tom’s seat at the head of the table, Merlin this was going to be the most awkward dinner of his entire life(s). 

Notes:

Thank you for reading :) I feel so inspired this weekend lol I hope you like it please let me know :) Harry G quotes Erica Jong at Snape

Chapter 4: Leonardo DiCaprio

 The dining table exploded, the middle of it had a gorgeous ornamental glass inlay that Harry had been admiring not five minutes earlier. Glass rained down like twinkling stars, in a quick movement that’d surprised even himself he’d nicked his champagne glass off the table before the Bombarda struck. He’d instinctively put up a shield around himself, but so had Tom, and Voldie. 

So there he sat in his chair, glass tinkling around his three shields, sipping on his champagne which had somehow managed to still get a chunk of wood inside. He swallowed it anyway, the wood and all his drink in a single gritty gulp. 

This dinner, where they were supposed to talk it out, turned into a duel because, of course, it did. 

They were so quick and the spells they flung at each other so stupidly advanced that Harry’s eyes glazed over. He looked to his left, watching Voldie being chucked through one of Tom’s decorative suits of armor. 

Harry was tired, it was only 5 PM, but Salazar forbids they converse like adults. He glanced up again, only to see his son shatter through the ceiling and fly down laughing like a lunatic. Harry squinted, he’d been sitting in his little bubbles for at least ten minutes, zoning out a bit, and now it seemed as if they were having fun? 

Merlin did Tom have a TV in this forsaken manor of his. “Mipsytwo?” 

She popped within his shields and started screaming. “No-no, it’s okay, we're safe in here! I’m just bored. Can you bring me something, like a muggle magazine and maybe an entire bottle of Hennessy?”

Her ears went back. “Master Harry doesn't want to escape? Two Master Dark Lords is very dangerous, Mipsytwo wants to hide!”

“Any other day than literally today I would agree with you 100% dear, but I promised my son we’d talk it out, and I think he’d be a lot, and I mean a lot, angrier if I ran away again.” Harry bemoaned, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. 

“Mipsytwo was told to obey everything Master Harry says, so Mipsytwo will do it.” She nodded, trying to seem confident, but she was shaking like a leaf. 

“Oh, get me a bag of barbecue chips too, I like ruffles!” He yelled as she popped away. 

God, Harry hoped she’d heard that last bit. 

Twenty long insufferable minutes later he was still inside his shields, sitting crisscross applesauce, flicking through People Magazine, the cover read ‘TOP 25 MOST INTRIGUING PEOPLE OF THE YEAR’. He’d immediately flipped to the interview with Leonardo DiCaprio, he was kinda a huge fan. 

“Tch, why does Oprah get a full page and Leo gets half? Sure, she’s Oprah but- bloody look at em’!” He huffed while shoving an entire handful of chips into his mouth. 

His fingers coated orange flicked to the next page, “Wow, Cameron Diaz, what did she do to get on this list?” 

The shields protected him so well that he couldn’t feel the air from the outside. He bent his waist over to grab his bottle of Hennessy, but his fingers were too covered in salt and seasoning to get a good grip on the glass. 

He groaned, glancing up in annoyance. Huh…. The ceiling was missing. 

“When the fuck did that happen?” He whispered, squinting up. It was already dark, and he couldn’t see or hear anything, but oh yeah, there they were, two little specks and another explosion. 

He groaned into his hands, then whined when chip dust smeared all over his face. Harry grabbed the bottle, it was easier now, ironically. Mipsytwo had not brought him anything but the booze, chips, and magazine, and well, drinking hard liquor by itself is painful. So, he’d created a method, take a swig, swallow it quickly, then jam his mouth full of chips to mask the burn. 

This time, when he took his swig, there were no chips. He swallowed, tears streaming down his face, while desperately shaking any crumb he could out of the bag. He gave up and laid down on his back. It was warm inside his bubble, the stars were starting to peak out and a ring of clouds cradled the moon like a Mother’s embrace.

“Looks like it might snow tonight.” He mused. 

Harry decided he would close his eyes just for a bit, a little nap. He allowed that familiar pull of unconsciousness to latch on and yank. 

“Merlin, you're kidding? Our ring cursed him? Tch not being able to kill him in the flesh, how disappointing. So, back to the prior topic, do you suggest I kill Regulus, then? He is one of my elite, it’s a shame.” 

Harry’s eyelids fluttered a bit and he groaned. 

“No, I wouldn’t worry about it son, you didn’t create as many as I did, and he still admires you. I hate to admit, but I was, as Harry says, ‘Fucking Insane’ Black was smart. Smarter than I was then.”

“No one is smarter than we are.” 

“Foolish boy. That attitude will get you killed.” 

No, way he was still dreaming, there was no way his Tom and his Voldie were having a civilized conversation. He hummed nuzzling into something soft, sighing happily, this was way better than the floor. 

Wait, hadn’t he fallen asleep on the floor? 

Two sets of hands, one smooth and the other callused pet each side of his head. Harry’s eyes flew open, he started shooting upright, only to be doubly slammed back. He shrieked, it was too bright to adjust, and his contacts were sticky, his vision blurry. Two tall silhouettes loomed over him as he blinked rapidly up. 

“Dad, what have I told you about drinking so much?” 

“Darling, an entire bottle of Cognac? Do you know how long you’ve been asleep? If not for your immortality, I fear your heart would’ve stopped.” 

When his vision finally returned, he looked past two expectant, worried faces and toward the now intact ceiling instead.

“Is it snowing?” He questioned numbly. His spit, disgustingly, clung to the roof of his mouth like glue. 

“What on earth are you-” Tom started, but Voldie cut him off. 

“Yes dear, it’s snowing, and it will still be snowing after you take those infernal Muggle contraptions out of your eyes and rest some more. Though I’d prefer it if you took a bath first, when we found you, you were covered in cheese dust.” Voldie mocked while wiping his thumb over Harry’s lips. 

“Mmm, I love chips and Leo, I wanna marry him.” He mumbled, imagining himself on the bow of the Titanic as his eyes shuttered closed.  

“He’s still drunk.” Voldie chuckled, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Who’s Leo?” Tom growled. 

Harry groaned in annoyance when the couch started to rumble. 

“Stop it, Tom, no.” He whispered, waggling his finger in the direction he presumed Tom was. 

Voldie laughed so hard, that the couch began to rock sideways along with up and down. Harry started to feel very queasy, maybe being on a ship was a bad, no dreadful idea. 

“He’s a Muggle movie star that Harry likes, calm down, you're behaving irrationally.” Voldie said in between deep amused breaths. 

“I don’t care who he is, I want him dead!” Tom hissed, but the couch stopped rattling. 

The sudden stopping of movement for some reason made Harry feel worse, it was like his stomach had just acclimated and when it ended his insides sloshed back, up and oh shit out! He burst upright, breaking free from grabby hands, and sprinted for the bathroom. This is exactly why he hated mansions it took so frigging long to get anywhere, this was an emergency!!

Harry skidded on his socks down the hall and kicked open the door, the toilet was next to a curtainless window, a stray beam of sunlight illuminating the flush like a golden beacon. His saliva tasting sweeter and sweeter, flooding his mouth, he made the final dash for his life. 

He scraped his knees on the tile, he could feel his skin peel on the rough grout between the marble, he didn’t fucking care. Thankfully all the chips had digested, so he just upchucked the booze, it trickled out his nose, tears and snot flowing, all swirling together down the drain as his shaky fingers jammed the handle. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” He whispered, burping and shivering with another wave of nausea. 

“E-Excuse me, are you alright?” Echoed a voice Harry knew the owner of but couldn’t remember their name, with how sick he felt he could scarcely recall his own.

He twisted around on his knees, crudely wiping puke and snot off with the back of his hand. 

Harry’s eyes widened, huh, turns out it had been his own voice, because Harry Potter stood awkwardly at the edge of the bathroom's doorway, his glasses sliding down his nose and mouth open in shock. 

“Hullo, uh, this is kind of a bad time, kid? Wait-” Harry grabbed the toilet lid and hauled himself up on shaking limbs, “-Why are you in Tom’s private quarters?” 

“They told me, one of the house-elves, I think it was Mipsy-six? She popped me to the end of the hall, she said Voldemort wanted to speak with me, alone.” Potter’s voice was quivering, obviously terrified at being summoned without his family. 

Harry sighed, sobriety clobbering him, along with a pulsing headache. He raised his hand and Potter froze instinctively. Harry frowned, was Potter scared of him? 

“Give me thirty seconds, okay, I need to wash up.” Harry, trying to sound serious, ruined it by hiccuping violently. 

“R-Right, okay.” Potter stuttered. 

“Thank Merlin!” Harry breathed, gathering his strength and walking toward the tap. He sighed blissfully as he splashed cold water onto his face. He moaned looking into the mirror, his reflection had its fingers bridged between their nose, judging Harry heavily.

“Don’t even, or I’ll smash you into smithereens.” Harry snapped at the exact moment his reflection opened its nagging mouth. 

Mirror Harry’s mouth shut with a teethy clack. Harry smiled vindictively in return, flipping the mirror off before turning back to Potter. Puzzlement and the smallest of smiles ghosted across Potter’s face as he looked at him, which confused Harry because he knew he was a hot mess right now. 

Harry took a deep, grounding breath and stomped out of the bathroom, one of them must have changed his clothes because he was wearing light cream-colored pajamas now. He shivered again, running his hands up and down over goose bump-laden arms. 

He spun his head around sharply, too quickly because he felt a shooting pain strike his temple. 

“Potter hurry up, I’ll take you-hey I know that expression it’ll be fine. I’ll protect you, and I won’t leave the room the entire time you're here.” Harry tried to smile confidently, but he’d seen the bags under his eyes in the mirror. 

“No offense, Lord Gaunt, but you look like a stray leaf could take you out!” Potter blurted, then in realizing what he said, covered his mouth with a gasp. 

Harry laughed, “Hey! It’d have to be a branch at least, I’ll have you know, this is not my first time being hungover!” 

Potter snickered, his eyes bright. “Well you are ninety sir, I expected as much.” 

He slammed the kids back. “Damn straight. If you raised Tom, you’d also be an -uh, I call it part-time alcoholic.”

They smiled at one another for a second, then Harry felt it, panic twisting in his gut, but this time it wasn’t vomit.

‘Get down, Potter, GET DOWN!” He yelled, but Potter didn’t move fast enough, so he grabbed him and slammed him to the floor in a single fluid motion. 

Harry flew on top of Potter as the wall from the outside exploded. His shield appeared a second too late, failing to protect him from all the flying debris. A brick flung into the side of his head, fighting to keep conscious, his shield fell away and dust and ash coated his lungs. Coughing, he tried to stand up but stumbled over, someone he couldn’t see grabbed his shoulders and yanked him into their face. 

“What the fuck?” Harry exclaimed, still too disoriented to do anything but speak. 

“That’s Harry Potter alright we’ve rescued everyone, okay that’s everybody portkey now!!!” Shouted the man, and Harry’s half-lidded eyes dilated in surprise before the portkey activated, and he was flying. 

---

 Harry Potter woke up in a sea of ash and crumbling brick, at first he was simply thankful to be alive after that blast. His breathing labored, and his ankle throbbed as he propped himself up on a fallen shard of metal. He gaped, it was massive and from the angle of the piece it should’ve killed them both, his heart swelled with appreciation that if he'd been with anyone but Gaunt he’d be dead. 

He squinted, he’d lost his glasses and couldn’t see any shapes that resembled a person. 

“Hello? Lord Gaunt, are you there?” He yelled, wheezing on a cloud of dust, it burned with every shallow intake of air, all he could do was cover his mouth with his tattered collar. 

When no answer came, he swayed on his feet, he had no idea where he was, or who’d attacked them and his wand had been seized when the snatchers had caught them. Anxiety swirled inside him, his heart raced. When his tried and true tactic of taking deep breaths to calm himself only tormented him further, the panic tripled. 

“DAD! ANSWER ME, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Screamed a deep, ragged voice from far off, but Harry had trouble estimating distance in the dust and wreckage. 

“I CAN’T FEEL HIM, TOM, I DON’T THINK HE’S HERE.” Echoed that same voice. 

Harry hazily wondered why the Wizard was talking to himself. 

“No-no, he has to be here!” Cried the first voice, now directly behind him. 

A hand reached out of the dust like a phantom, grabbing Harry’s shoulder with such intense strength that Harry yelped, desperate to wriggle free. 

“Dad! I-I thought you died again, I love you, I love you, I love you and you’re not fucking allowed to die.” The towering, tall Wizard stuck their face into the crevasse of his shoulder and began sobbing. 

“Uh, I’m n-” Harry stuttered, too shocked to move. 

A blast of wind produced by a wand cleared the air, and Harry gasped in a fresh gulp, it tasted refreshing like a cool glass of water.  

“Tom, you idiot, that’s not our Harry.” Said… Harry squinted, Merlin, was that Lord Voldemort?

“What?” The man straightened, his back cracking loudly as he did, his blood-red eyes brimmed with tears. 

The Wizard who’d be weeping into his shoulder was also Lord Voldemort. Harry’s knees went weak, and he felt tears pricking his own eyes. He’d survived the blast only to get murdered by not one, but two evil overlords. 

“Calm yourself, child, you're Harry Potter, are you not?” The-Harry couldn’t tell them apart, the one that hadn’t just been crying, shoved the one who’d called him Dad out of the way to stand in front of him. 

Harry had to lean back, grimacing on his bad ankle, to even meet his eyes. 

“----me see?” 

“What?” Harry hummed he hadn’t heard anything that was spoken to him, it was so difficult to concentrate right now. 

“Answer him!” Screamed puffy-faced Voldemort, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted into an inhuman snarl.

“Shut up, Tom, he’s concussed. We’ll get no information behaving that way.” Nice, yeah, he’d call him nice. Nice-Voldemort smiled, crouching down enough that they were face to face. 

Harry was confused, so he said so. “You have blue eyes, Nice-Voldemort? I thought Voldemort had red eyes, they're pretty famous, girls raved about them in school, said they’re like rubies.”

He yawned and Nice-Voldemort rolled his eyes, then he lunged forward, gripped Harry by his shoulders, and shook. Harry’s brain rattled around in his skull and he went limp on instinct.

“Look into my eyes Potter, give me your memories, then I’ll heal you, and you may sleep, I promise it, I know you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice bled into Harry’s brain, oozing into all nooks and cracks, numbing his senses.

“Okay-okay, just stop shaking me, please!!” Harry pleaded. 

“This will hurt, but only for a second.” Nice Voldemort crooned, engulfing the sides of his head in between his large hands.

He regretted saying yes immediately. Memories flooded from his brain like a bursting dam.

Talking to Gaunt in the bathroom, being thrown to the ground and protected, faintly hearing Gaunt say “What the fuck-” Before Potter himself passed out.

“If you had an ounce less of information, I would’ve killed you.” Nice Voldemort murmured, his authentic emotions laid bare, his eyes reflecting hints of concern and infinite rage.“Sleep well, Potter.” 

---

 Harry Gaunt was flabbergasted, bleeding from a gaping head wound, covered in dust, and hungover as hell. Wizards and Witches were hugging him and praising his name. Potter’s parents were smothering him, and with how disheveled he was, they hadn’t yet noticed the blaring fact he was not their son. He dragged his hands down his face and laughed, but no one paid him any attention. 

The Order was too caught up in the adrenaline of raiding Lord Voldemort’s mansion and successfully rescuing their captured members, to notice the young Potter heir’s manic chuckling. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

That was all he kept thinking like a fucked mantra, numbly smiling and nodding when people asked him how he was doing. They patted his back congratulating him for escaping You-Know-Who, insulting his son over and over while he had to smile, smile, smile. 

“Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Yelled a girl’s voice, simply by her tone he knew she was in love with Harry, not him, of course, the other Harry. 

Red hair blurred toward him, and he scarcely managed to get an actual look at her before she collided into him at a full-speed run. Her hands clung to his neck, they were cold and shaky as she pressed herself against his dirt-coated body. 

“Ginny?” He muffled into long wispy red strands as she practically strangled him. 

She yanked back, a lovely smile and blush gracing her features, then she kissed him. He went completely stiff, but she didn’t seem to care, and he thanked Merlin; it was just a brief peck on the lips. She was fifty years too young for him, and his ex-girlfriend from his past life. So, icky on the age and angsty in the fact she had no idea he dated a version of her from another universe. 

Neither was her fault, of course, but he was still offended on Harry Potter’s behalf that his own girlfriend couldn’t tell them apart. 

He beamed at her, she blushed, “Ginny, where's the bathroom?” 

The blood drained from her face, “What?” 

Harry laughed, then gently pushed her back, and she numbly allowed it. “Bathroom Gin? I’m kinda a mess right now?” 

“Right over there? Did you hurt your head, Babe?” She asked, worry lacing her voice. 

“Uh-Maybe? I gotta pee, okay, bye!” He backed up, his words slurring together. 

Harry’s mind was buzzing, and he actually did have to pee. When he spun around, abandoning a bewildered Ginevra he slammed into someone else. His forehead bumped into a very familiar vest. 

“Harry!” Sirius Black cheered, yanking Harry into a bear hug. 

His stomach growled but not from hunger, the hangover and the oozing wound on the top of his skull were mutating into a higher being, a supermassive-concussion-hangover-infection bonanza! He’d died from stupider things in the past. 

“Padfoot!” Harry tried to sound cheery, but it sputtered out and landed flat. 

Sirius frowned, “Are you okay, you look sick?”

“Toilet!” Harry sputtered out, sidestepping Black like a football player. 

He decided to make a run for it before- Fuck. 

“Harry!! What happened, what did You-Know-Who want from you? You didn’t tell him about Dumbledore, right?” 

“Bath. Room. Ron. Do you fucking understand, I need to piss if anyone else wants to chat I don’t care who it is, I’ll kill them!” Harry growled, low enough for Ron to hear, as he stocked forward, jabbing his index finger into the tender flesh of Ron’s shoulder. 

“Sure, Harry.” Ron whispered, his eyes like saucers as he tried to retreat, but it was like Harry’s magic was sealing him in place.

Harry smiled, honestly this time. “Excellent.” 

The bathroom door slammed shut, and Harry sighed wearily as he slid down the door and onto the cool tile floor.  He had to get up and heal himself, but he didn’t have the energy. Not when he’d felt Dumbledore’s arrival while threatening Ron, the Wizard’s power was like a dormant volcano, but Harry could always scent hints of sulfur with every step. 

“He’s gonna kill me, he knows me!” Harry hissed, flinging himself on the musty-smelling bathroom rug underneath the sink, he sniffed it smelled a bit minty, like toothpaste and mold. 

He pressed his thumb flat on his brow, trying to iron out the deep, angry wrinkle in his forehead. Albus had met Harry Gaunt back in, what, 1943? But the old coot had asked him a million questions about his magical signature. Then he’d followed Harry relentlessly, so much that Tom had spent the entire evening after returning home listing all the albeit, creative ways he was going to kill his Professor. Normally, Tom kept his Dumbledore rants strictly inside the pages of his diary. 

If he used his magic now, Dumbledore would surely recognize him, immediately discovering he wasn’t their Harry Potter. Harry did not want to duel Dumbledore. He might've fared okay last week before he’d been possessed, resurrected Voldie twice, and been slammed in the head with a flying brick. Not even mentioning the tax on his mental health at having to babysit two Dark Lords. 

Why don’t I just walk out the door? What will they do, stop me? Attack me unprovoked? 

Unlikely, if they still thought he was Harry Potter. 

Rising voices and faded laughter of Order members distracted him from his thoughts, he groaned and struggled up on shivering legs, he pressed his hands into the countertop and looked himself over. Harry flicked on the tap and washed muck off his face, then shook his head like a dog, dislodging dirt and brick dust all over the porcelain sink. 

His knees had bled through his thin pajama pants, so he stripped them off and tore off his shirt, chucking them into a heap on the floor. Scabs were already itchy and forming, so he didn’t need to worry about them, he tried to see the back of his head in the mirror but only managed to find the gash with probing fingers. He washed the blood off in the sink, snatching a fancy hand towel off a hook, then pressed it hard into it to slow the bleeding. 

Keeping the towel pressed to his head, he stripped off his underwear and turned on the shower to lukewarm, but jumped in before the water even heated. Harry winced, but the grime flaking off his skin felt so marvelous he could forgive the frigidness eating away at his old bones. He removed the towel for a quick rinse, biting back a scream of pain as it shuttered over the cut. 

He felt three times better when he stepped out, he grabbed a fluffy towel out of the cabinet and wrapped it around his waist with a pleased sigh. Harry felt proud of himself, he was going to escape and go back-where… Where was he going to go actually? 

Harry gaped, oh Morgana’s perky tits, he’d completely forgotten about Potter! He’d just left him there with Voldie and Tom, what if they killed him for information? Or worse, Tom and Voldie used his absence to take over the planet!

Now that he thought about it, they’d probably do those things if he’d disappeared or not. He knew Voldie could behave like an adult, or at least he’d persuaded himself into believing that. But the first time he’d disappeared on Tom, his Pumpkin had massacred an entire village and burned down a muggle mall. 

Banging on the bathroom door jolted him awake. Ron’s voice reverberated through the thin wooden door.  “Harry, are you done? Dumbledore says he wants to wait for everyone to be present to share news about You-Know-Who!” 

“Yeah Mate, could you do me a favor and get me some clothes?” Harry faked a smile, hoping it would make him sound friendlier than he felt because right now he felt downright murderous. 

“Alright! Glad you're feeling better.” Ron’s voice faded as he ran down the hall and upstairs into what must be his and Harry’s shared bedroom. 

He kept drying himself off till the door knocked and Ron began opening the door, hearing the hinges squeaking he lunged across, slamming it before it could open all the way, surprising the redhead whose forehead walloped the door with a hollow smack.

“Wha-” Ron started.

“I’m shy.” Harry growled, not sounding shy at all. Keeping his palm pressed firmly on the door, he couldn’t let Ron see him shirtless as his tattoo would give him away. 

“Um-okay, are you feeling well Harry? Did you get hurt badly in the explosion? Maybe my Mum should take a look at you?” Ron questioned while sliding robes, socks, and thank Merlin shoes through the crack in the door. 

“Alright, after the meeting okay?” Harry cheered, slamming the door in Ron’s face. 

Harry grumbled while getting into Potter’s robes, his nose wrinkling at the smell of teenage boy, he sneezed twice and cringed when he had to put on a pair of Potter’s underwear, now this definitely felt like a crime. He consoled himself by chanting, ‘We are the same person over and over till he was completely dressed. 

He opened the door to see Ron leaning back against the hall’s opposite wall, his eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“You look different, did you actually try to do your hair?” He asked, peering at Harry suspiciously. 

Harry laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head, he’d tried yanking his curls out to look like Potters and simultaneously hide his wound but even he’d admit he’d done a terrible job.

“Yeah I want to look good for Ginny, she’s been complaining about it, you know how girls are!” He internally cringed just saying it, outwardly giving Ron an awkward smirk. 

“Oh I know, Hermione nags me all the time about not showering enough, I smell fine… uh-be honest, smell me I can handle it.” Ron started out joking but was slowly stepping closer. 

“Uh yeah you smell fine mate, no don’t come over here!. Let’s go, come on.” Harry muttered while Ron laughed as he playfully shoved him away. 

He did not smell fine and he needed to use muggle deodorant. Holy hell, why weren’t they using muggle hygiene products, it had always been a pet peeve of his, along with all the candles and other aesthetic old-school crap, evolve or die.

The meeting was starting when they walked in. Harry was nodding along to Ron’s whining about how scary it was sleeping in the dungeons. He enjoyed jabbing him a little too hard in his ribcage to get him to shut up when Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

“I see that everyone is now present, how are you fairing Harry?” Dumbledore asked with his classic twinkle. 

Harry had to grit his teeth and pinch himself in the thigh to stop from rolling his eyes. 

“I’m feeling great, thank you.” He said, managing a halfhearted smile. 

He had no fear of looking Dumbledore directly in the eyes, since he’d come here no one, not even Tom had been able to read his mind successfully. 

“Absolutely wonderful, today our Order accomplished a daring rescue mission and succeeded.” 

He paused for cheers, people clapped and whistled waving their wands in the air like at a concert. Harry coughed into his hand to hide a laugh. 

“I fear our mission only confirmed my fears, Voldemort as James and Lily have reported has doubled.” Dumbledore said, taking off his spectacles dramatically and wiping them clean on his robes before sliding them back on. 

It was silent save for the frantic ticking of the three wizard clocks on the wall. 

“What?” One of the twins, standing farther up in the crowd, asked loudly. 

“Ahem, as I said there are now two Voldemort’s, and as Harry here I’m sure was shocked to find out, Tom’s Father has resurfaced from hiding and joined his side, for years I have remained hopeful he would stay a neutral force for the sake not only our world but the Muggles safety.” 

Everyone shifted to look at Harry then back at Dumbledore, their confusion only growing along with the nervous magic building in the cram-packed room. 

Ron who was humming with excitement about knowing something everyone else did not, couldn’t handle it any longer and yelled. “ You-Know-Who’s Dad looks just like Harry!” 

“Yes, as Ronald says, he bears a striking resemblance to our dear Harry. I've had the pleasure of meeting Mister Gaunt at Tom’s graduation. He is a necromancer, how he raised Voldemort is unclear but it must have influenced the Dark Lord greatly. Voldemort has a, how do I put this delicately… an unhealthy attachment. If we can corner Gaunt, threaten him or it pains me to say this, even kill him it will tilt the war in our favor.” Dumbledore finished, sighing like hated the thought of sacrificing anyone. 

Harry’s mouth dropped open, he hadn’t blinked since Dumbledore started speaking. How, in another time, another fucking universe possibly did he still get the pleasure of being sacrificed to stop Voldemort? He wasn’t even involved! Dumbledore had no fucking proof Harry was on anyone’s side! He just didn’t approve that Harry was a necromancer and that his Elderwand constantly acted up since they’d met. 

What bothered him most wasn’t even the gentle urging for his murder, no how dare the bastard judge his parenting skills, if Tom did end up killing Dumbledore he might bring him back just to fucking slit his throat himself. 

Before anyone could comment the front door flung open and Fletcher burst in, panting rapidly and holding his wand like a lifeline. 

“The Dark Lord has an announcement turn on the bloody wireless!!” He breathed while clutching his chest like he hadn’t just apparted here. 

Harry slapped his forehead and groaned, then he started rubbing his aching temples and counting back from ten. It was the only way he could keep his magic reined in and not blast apart the building then collapse and wish he would stay dead. People rushed and switched on two radios so Tom's, no to his surprise, it was Voldies voice crackling over the two static-filled speakers in a hypnotizing kind of echo. 

"This is an announcement from your Lord, return Harry Gaunt to me by 3 PM sharp this afternoon, or I will kill Harry Potter. I am a merciful Lord I will trade him alive-" There was an explosion that interrupted his speech and people screaming and crying in the background then Voldie sighing into the mic then there was a shuffling and hissing. Tom spoke, “-I will be merciful to those who return my Father to me, but know this if he is not in my Ministry by exactly fucking 3, alive and unharmed I'll have you begging for death and by then my mercy will have long run it’s course.” 

The stunner hit Harry’s back before he could make a dash for the door. When he was rennervated and tried to move before opening his eyes his muscles strained and he struggled for a bit before looking at a crowd of order members who were giving him a broad birth in his chair. They’d tied him up in ropes that were much too tight, burrowing into his flesh and underneath his ribcage with every painful breath he took. 

“Sorry, Sir we searched him couldn’t find the bastard’s wand.” Growled Moody. 

Harry Potters’s parents were weeping and glaring while Ron was hiding between a flabbergasted Ginny and a curious-looking Hermione. 

Dumbledore was standing closest to him, his blue eyes hard and unforgiving as they inspected him. 

He rolled his eyes and sighed, couldn’t he just have a normal day. “Hey you fools I hate to tell you this but I don’t have a wand. Don’t need it. Also, you guys fucked this up not me, your son-” He pointedly glared at the Potters. “-Would’ve died if not for me, I saved his life, that explosion of yours would’ve ended up with you finding him impaled under a pile of rubble when I got up after shielding him you guys just grabbed the wrong bloody one!” 

“If our baby is dead because of anyone it’s you!” Lily screamed, pointing her wand at him before James could grab her and yank her back into his arms. 

Oh my god. Did he, did he not just explain what happened? Did anyone listen to ‘bad guys’ no they didn’t they just assumed! 

“Look lady, kindly go fuck yourself. Albus soo nice seeing you again, it’s been a while? He spat sarcastically wiggling so hard in his binds the chair rocked back in forth, he was having a violent inner debate if he should duel Dumbledore to distract him then make an escape. 

The old man drew his wand, Harry flinched. But the old coot just put up a muffliato around them with a sly smile. 

"I admit, I didn't think capturing you would be this easy Lord Gaunt. Ever since I felt your power I knew, my Hallow knew, you see it wants you, vibrates even now in my hands to be close to you, and I would like to know why, or should I call you your proper title, Master of Death?"

Dumbledore stepped closer, the floorboards creaking and screaming with every step, his eyes clouded with greed. 

Harry's eyes widened, "Shit." 

Notes:

I ate an entire jar of pickles while writing this. I also had to look up what People magazine covers looked like in December 1998 ( I was like one so I had no idea what was going on lol) which was fun haha UH lemme know if you like this I actually wrote two versions of this and I'd like to know your opinion on this one THANK YOU FOR READING <3

Chapter 5: Did You Remember To Feed The Basilisk?

 Christmas Break 1939

 The first time Tom realized his Father wasn’t entirely human was also the same night he cast his first killing curse. Light sleet flurried from grey clouds, collecting on his messily knit cap as he held his Dad’s hand going from shop to shop picking up Christmas gifts. He kept purposely breathing heavily to watch his exhaling breath crystalize and float around them. 

“I’m bored, can we go home?” Tom asked, squeezing his mitten around his Dad’s hand and swinging it back and forth impatiently. 

His Dad grinned and he questioned why he’d bundled up Tom so heavily and not himself. Harry only had on a sweater and a scarf which he hadn’t even tightened properly, so that he had to constantly adjust it, in turn dropping his hand every few minutes. 

“We're almost done Pumpkin, we’ve only got one last stop, it's in Knockturn, you know the rules, no more than a foot away from me at all times, right?” Harry stopped, peering down at him with expectant eyes. 

Tom sneered. “Dad I'm nearly thirteen, I can handle myself.” 

“Of course.” Harry sarcastically mused.

Cross, Tom slid his hand out of his Dad’s but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to risk starting another fight, not with Christmas and his birthday around the corner. His Dad never held presents hostage, no what he did was worse, he’d be understanding and kind. 

Tom wanted him to yell back, to scream at him and tell him he hated him, but he never did. 

He’d begun fantasizing about lording over his Father who’d sob under him, blushing with embarrassment or so furious he couldn’t even look in Tom’s direction. It stirred something in his gut but he couldn’t grasp why. These new feelings swirled through his fingers like smoke but kept him high all the same. 

They rounded the corner into Knockturn alley, startling when his Dad hauled him away from a Hag who he'd not noticed lurking and hunting in a long shadow. Hunched and grotesque she cackled at them until he felt his Dad loom over him. She glanced up past Tom, screeching and scrambling back while muttering for forgiveness. 

The grip on his shoulder lessened and he stumbled as his Dad started walking again, not even glancing back but increasing his pace. 

“Did you do something to her?” Tom asked, curiosity ignited. 

For how loving his Father was he tended to frighten creatures. They’d shriek and screech, frantic to escape from him. Tom had tried investigating what could cause it in the library but always turned up empty-handed and frustrated. 

“Nope.” Harry chuckled. 

Tom rolled his eyes, but he kept nervously checking every shadow between the dim street lights until they arrived at Borgin and Burkes. 

“Don’t touch anything. You can look around for a few minutes, I need to find a gift for Arcturus Black he’s such a snob he won’t accept anything if it’s not cursed first.” Harry whined whilst reaching out to poke a shiny object on a display. 

He slapped his Dad’s hand, eyes squinting an exasperated look on his face. “Dad, what did you just tell me? Don’t touch anything, follow your own rules or they’re moot and I’ll mutiny.” 

Harry responded by pinching his cheek. Tom slapped his hand again with a growl, then he stepped back and crossed his arms, glaring at his Dad. 

“Mutiny, really Pumpkin, you want me to walk the plank next too?” Harry said cheekily. 

Tom spun and stormed down a random aisle before saying anything he'd regret. The shelves were stocked to the brim with dark artifacts that made Tom salivate, he wanted everything he saw, human skin books, poisonous candles, music boxes, and staring glass eyes sloshing in their jars to watch him pass. The magic wasn’t unfamiliar to him, it reminded him of his Father in a strange way, dark and oozing with a buzz that prickled his skin. 

He heard his Dad chuckling at the counter, he was probably harassing the storekeeper with one of his asinine jokes. He curiously ran his forefinger over the spine of a book that captured his eye, his breath stopping when it hissed, “ A speaker? Open me.” 

Exhilaration rushed through his veins, it was a book in parseltongue, an item his Father would surely buy for them. He nicked the volume off the shelf, smirking happily at his find. Tom started walking down the aisle toward his Dad’s voice, the shop’s bell clanged and he stiffened. 

Whoever entered didn’t feel right, their magic, of what felt like three Wizards settling the shop with a toxic vapor. 

“How may I assist you gentleman today?” The storekeeper questioned, but the apprehensive undertone in his voice was difficult to miss. 

“We’re looking for a ring.” A deep voice asked, his German accent thick. 

“We have many fine rings available, here let me-” 

“Not from you, him.” Stated another male voice, also heavily accented. 

“Me?” His Dad questioned, but to Tom’s puzzlement, he didn’t sound surprised. 

Tom lightened his gait, his wand fisted in his hand and book in the other as he crept up to the shelf closest to the counter. He slid an already loose stack of dusty books aside to better his view of the Wizard’s crowding his Father. 

“You had to make this difficult for yourself Gaunt, our Lord is rebuilding Europe for the greater good, you dare reject his invitation? I wonder how you can afford such arrogance when you and your half-blood spawn live in such a hovel.” Laughed the third Wizard, but he had a posh British accent. 

“Your Lord Grindelwald? Yeah, I tossed his letter into my fireplace, he wants something that belongs to me, he will not have it. It’s our family heirloom.” Harry snarled, while deliberately tapping his ringed pinky finger against the counter, it echoed loudly. 

Tom lifted his brow, pride swelling in his chest that his Father had denied the budding Dark Lord. This was all new vital information he greedily absorbed, his Father had been invited into Grindelwald's army and had the nerve to refuse him, why? The Gaunt ring? Was that worth more than their lives? He bit his lip, his fingers nervously scrapping the bookshelf they were propped up on, dust coating and digging into his fingerprints with every agitated curl.  

“Marvelous then you’ve already decided!” Shrieked one of the German Wizards.

“CONFRINGO!” 

He didn’t think he ran, how his Dad sensed him before he jumped into the duel he couldn’t comprehend. A shield he’d never learned wrapped around him encasing him inside a bubble, his feet lifted off the floor and he fell hard on his face. He roared with anger as his fingers slid against the slick surface of the charm. By the time he righted himself his breath was stolen from his lungs, the front counter had exploded and his Dad was in the middle easily deflecting curses firing from all directions. 

Tom screamed and battered his fists against the shield, helplessly watching a cutting curse slash across his Dad’s left arm. An entrail expelling curse caught one of the German wizards, his Dad’s boot slammed into the attacker’s chest the instant his spell hit its mark, organs flying out from him as he punted backward, hurling into Tom’s shield. He could not rip his eyes away as blood and guts smeared down his bubble and he smirked gleefully as he watched the life drain from the man’s eyes. 

“Woah.” He breathed. 

By the time his sights flicked back to the action his Dad, who he’d never seen fight moved like a beast, he didn’t bother with dueling edicate, punching and even biting his opponents when they strayed too close. His Dad, who held reservations about killing stray insects that entered their home had no hesitation cleaving a wizard’s wand arm straight off, and grinning as it plopped to the floor. 

The man whose arm slid off like a sack of meat, mouth slack and frothing with a revolting mixture of blood and vomit kneeled before Harry, but his tear-stained eyes kept flicking behind his Dad. Tom screamed “BEHIND YOU DAD, BEHIND YOU!” until his throat was raw and horse, but his wails went unheard. 

Greenlight flashed directly into his Father’s back, shattering his shields like glass, when his body slumped and dropped to the ground Tom’s protective bubble exploded as well, so all Tom could hear was the sickening thump of his Father’s corpse smacking the hallow floorboards. He saw red, his lungs refusing him. He choked on air, unable to breathe, all he could do was keep stumbling forward. He had his wand raised, the killing curse on the tip of his tongue,  pointed at the Wizard who’d just ripped his only family from him. 

Grindlewald’s men were breathing heavily, but starting to laugh, Tom reveled in the fact they’d forgotten him. His casting abruptly halted when he observed his Father’s corpse twitch, fingers curling, and splintering into rotted wood. He lowered his wand with wide eyes, helpless to do anything but gawk dumbly as his Dad’s bones cracked and he lurched upright.

The remaining two Wizards froze just as still, watching in astonishment as their enemy raised himself from the dead. When his Dad opened his eyes they were no longer his lovely forest green, a green that reminded Tom of fresh spring leaves and earthy moss that coated the old-growth trees alongside their home. They were red, rubescent, and searing with a rage he’d never seen, it looked foreign on his Father’s face, unnatural as if it belonged to someone else entirely. 

“Ten minutes.” His Dad croaked, smiling with blood-coated teeth.

“W-What?” Stammered the Wizard on the ground, he’d only just stopped the blood flow of his arm and slipped and slid in his blood as he frantically scooted backward. 

“That’s how long I have to play with you. He belongs to me, he is mine to torture-” His Dad cast a wordless Crucio, a duel cast, slamming into both of the Wizards, who howled and thrashed, the power in the room was palpable, monstrous. “-Mine to kill.” 

“Tom.” His Dad stated plainly, no affection, or love layering his voice as it always did. 

“Father.” That was all Tom could muster in reply, he was afraid. 

Every instinct in his body was screeching for him to flee, the entity possessing his Father was activating every nerve he had, to retreat from the man who raised him, cherished him, and above all else, he loved too. 

“You want revenge, don’t you? Here son take that wand.” Harry pointed down at the wand near his foot, the one still gripped tightly in the detached arms hand. 

Tom nodded numbly, darting and weaving around the Wizards still shrieking under the cruciatus, and wriggling the wand free of the dead limbs' stubborn grasp. 

His Dad’s lips curled, a hint of a grin. “Stand beside me, when I release them, you may do what you please to the one missing his arm, the one who killed Harry is mine, touch him and you’ll quickly regret it, boy.” 

“Understood.” Tom bit back, anger crawling its way past the shock and into the forefront of his consciousness. 

Dad It laughed, mockingly. “You do not hide your emotions, I like that. I was forced to, you see, to climb up I had to fall first, but you... I often find myself envious, hating you, but observing you now, I believe I may learn to forgive you."

Tom’s face scrunched, he was so confused. Without warning the unforgivable lifted and the two wizards collapsed into heaps on the floor. For the long two minutes, they'd been under if they were lesser Wizards they'd be comatose by now. 

"I presume you know how to kill, or at least have imagined it when I was your age I’d-

Tom cut him off with a sneer. "I’ve theorized, I’ve read the books under Dad’s bed, he hides them poorly, he’s adorable, believing I don’t snoop through his room.” 

“Harry knows, the irony is he also thinks it adorable. Enough chatter, kill him now before he recovers.” Red eyes rolled, but Tom couldn’t look away as he observed a blooming green ring begin edging the outer circle of Harry’s irises. 

Their deaths were not quick and when Tom at twelve cast his first killing curse it ignited something inside him, he did not have to burrow deep to enjoy murder. It had always been lingering, coating his skin like a fine dusting of gunpowder, and all it needed was a spark. 

Tom felt free, invisible bars dissolving away, he glanced up at the thing possessing his Father eager to be praised, but their ten minutes was up. His Dad’s chalky white face, green eyes wide with concern, gazed down at him, and his prison door slammed shut. 

Slippery, bloody coated fingertips grasped at his face, gripping desperately into the chub of his cheeks. "Oh no, no Pumpkin what happened are you-oh Merlin what did they do, are you okay?? They didn't hurt you did they?"

His Father turned to glower like the Wizards were still alive, but audibly choked at the sight of their lacerated corpses. Instead of yelling, or screaming at Tom for answers his Dad only sighed cursing softly to himself. He peered back at Tom, with a single glance all the emotions he’d been muting burst to life, and a single tear slid down hitting his Dad’s grit-filled thumbnail.

Harry whispered sadly. “My Pumpkin is so brave, It’s my fault don’t blame yourself. Dad will take care of it. It’s okay to be afraid.” 

Silently he scooped Tom up in his arms, cradling him close to his chest and off the ground like a small child again. It was so warm, his Dad’s shoulder, the tears only came then. Harry smelled like death and treacle tart. He smelled like home. Tom sobbed, saliva and snot rubbing into his Dad’s crusty frayed sweater. It’s true he was afraid, he was afraid of the entity hiding dormant inside his Dad, and he was terrified to ask him if he’d really, truly died. 

---

Present Day, The Order

Harry’s old mentor and this Albus Dumbledore seemed identical, and as much as he’d been president of the Dumbledore fan club, he didn’t know the man well enough to notice anything outright. It wasn’t like Tom and Voldie. Obviously, something had changed, presumably with Grindelwald, oh he’d heard about their famous duel. He’d read about it in 45’ on the front page of The Prophet and begrudgingly listened to Tom bitch about it over a cuppa for two miserable hours. 

“So uh-”

They’d been staring at each other for an awkward second while he tried not to gaze over Dumbledore’s shoulder at Potter’s weeping parents. When he did the slight bloom of guilt grew in his gut. He wasn’t being fair, he acknowledged that, but he was angry too, and being falsely accused tended to flare up the worst parts of himself. 

For years Harry put himself last. He was numb to even his most basic wants and desires, defeating Voldemort in his world did not ‘magically’ cure his self-loathing.  The cruel reality of it was that losing Voldemort’s soul piece destroyed what little self remained. Harry felt like an imposter, a crude caricature of the hero the wizarding world deserved. He decided to be selfish after his unexpected death and when he was asked, ‘What do you desire Harry Potter?’ He pointed at Voldemort’s soul without a second thought and his soul pulsed with desire like nothing he’d ever known, it was intoxicating then as kissing Voldie was now. 

“-You and Grindelwald huh? Is he good in bed? Saw him at a Malfoy banquet back in the day, he seemed like the type not to care if you came or not haha-uh unless you’re into that? I’m not-I like-” 

Dumbledore’s wand was jabbing a purpling welt into the side of Harry’s neck before he could finish his babbly, nervous ranting. “Mister Gaunt, how do you know the nature of our relationship? Did you speak to my brother?” 

Harry swallowed, “Uh-who? The man who owns Hogshead, I used to go there for drinks, never talked about you though, I mean why would I?”

"I've obliviated everyone who knew. He's the only one left. Tell me, Mister Gaunt, what else do you 'know' about me?" Albus questioned darkly, but Harry inwardly gloated, he’d struck a nerve. 

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people, Albus, don’t think yourself special. If you're correct and I’m the Master of Death then you know killing me is pointless and you should return me to my son for Potter’s sake, I don’t want him hurt because of me.” Harry spat, his voice tittering on sarcastic until he mentioned the Potters. 

“Alright.” Dumbledore smiled, slowly lowering his wand. 

“Wha-Really?” Harry blanched. 

“Curious, that you care so deeply for the Potters, is it due to your strong resemblance? Or something deeper perhaps. I will give you over to Tom when you vow that we will meet again, do you like biscuits, Mister Gaunt? I recall Tom saying you enjoy Earl Gray.  I have many questions that the Order cannot be present for, and you will answer over tea with my partner and I.” Albus smiled again, he was vibrating with excitement. 

Harry bit his tongue to resist screaming thoughtless obscenities, instead he growled out a guttural. “Fine.” 

If he didn’t like the vow he’d just kill himself, but he doubted he’d have to do anything so extreme. It couldn’t be an unbreakable, there’d have to be a third party, it would have to be just a basic verbal vow with a little magic mixed in. 

“Vow it, promise you will meet me in Nurmengard on the first Friday of January, and that you will not speak a word of this to another living soul. Swear it now.” 

“ I Harry James Gaunt vow to meet-” His brow furrowing trying to recall all of Dumbledore’s ridiculously long title. “-Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in Nurmengard on the first Friday of January 1999 and I will not tell another living soul about this vow.” Harry sighed in exasperation as he felt magic accept, humming between them both thinly connecting them. 

Dumbledore nodded approvingly.“Perfect I’m glad we found a temporary solution, I am not an evil man Mister Gaunt, you of all people should understand nothing is black and white. I trust you will advise your Son not to kill any of my people, we did not harm you after all it was a simple misunderstanding.” 

Albus didn’t allow him to answer he twinkled, then allowed the Muffliato to disintegrate with a wave of his wand. The voices in the room resounded ten times louder, whispers filled the gaps and the wailing of Lily Potter was the final crescendo to the orchestra of madness that was the Order headquarters. Harry wanted to go home, he had an automatic feeder for his fish, but what if it stopped, what if they shut off his power or the storm from the day before had outed a powerline? 

Fish were the only animals that tolerated him with the Hallows, he terrified everything else. Snakes were an exception but now with Voldie gone, could he even depend on them? Maybe sweet Nagini would hate him now that Voldie’s soul was out parading around. 

“Dumbledore, what are we going to do?! We have to save my baby-give Gaunt back to You-Know-who please my Harry’s trapped with a monster!” Lily begged, anger, fear, and desperation twisting her beautiful face. 

“Insult him again I dare you!” Harry whispered hotly under his breath.

“Quiet everyone, please!” Dumbledore commanded, when he spoke they listened and silence fell heavy. 

It was deadly quiet. Harry’s heartbeat thudded in his chest and he could hear the blood gushing through his veins, wrists straining and burning against his binds. 

“Mister Gaunt has agreed to our terms, he will trade himself peacefully for Harry Potter, it was an honest mistake and I expect you all to treat him with the respect he deserves, he is remorseful for the mixup and will speak to Voldemort on our behalf.” Dumbledore said, glancing back at Harry with an honest smile. 

Harry frowned, but stopped wiggling in his chair. “Untie me, Albus.” 

Dumbledore answered with another twist of the Elderwand, the ropes tumbled loose, dust rising as they thumped to the floor. Harry sighed in relief, rubbing at the itchy new skin free from being rubbed off in his vain attempts of escape. He glanced up from his whining and yelped, discovering himself face to face with Hermione Granger. 

“Hello, your Lord Gaunt.” She said flatly, brown eyes alight with curiosity and admiration. 

“Uh-” He sputtered. “Yes, who’re you?” 

“Granger, Hermione, a Muggleborn. Your son, he was the brightest Wizard to graduate from Hogwarts in the last century, would you agree?” She asked, inching closer and closer. 

Harry raised his brows, trying unsuccessfully to scoot his chair backward in a pitiful struggle to keep space between them. 

“Yes, my Pumpkin is brilliant, though I think you’d beg to differ, Miss Granger was it?” He whispered, her eagerness was alarming. 

“You may call me Hermione Mr. Gaunt-oh sorry I know I’m supposed to call you Lord-” 

“No-No Hermione it’s alright I’m no stickler for titles!” Harry rushed, the ingrained instinct to not piss her off, still alive and thriving even after all these years.

She smiled earnestly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear “I’m a huge fan!” 

He paused in rubbing his rope burned arms to stare up at her with a perplexed frown. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh yes!” She clapped then to his horror she snagged a spare chair, sliding it in front of him. He peaked out and around her to catch Ron’s shocked face and Ginny white-knuckled, gawking at him over her brother’s shoulder. Hermione continued, unbothered by their steadily growing audience. “You’re mentioned by name in at least three books on Necromancy and You-Know-Who has two statues in Hogwarts engraved as gifts to you, they’re not exactly public knowledge I snuck in-” 

He held up a shaky hand to stop her, and to his astonishment, she listened. “Hermione, I still have no clue what you’re going on about, statues?” 

“Yes, but I’d rather you tell me about your friendship with Adalbert Waffling! You’re listed as a source in Magical Theory and I’ve always found your quotes on soul magic riveting!” She gushed while leering in her chair like he was the second coming of Merlin. 

He laughed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. “ Oh, Bert! A hoot he was, didn’t believe I could raise the dead, he thought it was all theory, thought I was a fraud! Let me tell you about the first time I raised his prized Pygmy Puff, Herbert, what a cutie-” 

An hour later and Harry almost forgot why he was in Grimmauld in the first place, he was surrounded by teenagers, along with Sirius, Tonks, and Remus, and even James who'd wandered over after pretending not to listen to a rather dastardly prank Harry had pulled on Septimus Malfoy. 

“You're bloody kidding! You didn’t tell You-Know-Who about the Chamber?” Ron asked, he was seated crisscross applesauce next to the twins, and Ginny. He rocked forward to gaze at Harry with huge eyes. 

“No. I knew he’d find it on his own, Slytherin's heir and all that rubbish. He’s a smart boy, found it by fifth year and I-well I lied and said I didn’t know its location, embarrassing to tell him how to find it anyway it’s in the girl’s bath-makes me think Salazar Slytherin was a pervert..” He chuckled, sipping on a glass of water Ginny had shyly delivered him a few minutes ago. 

“They said Slytherin left a monster, one that would prey upon Muggleborn students, is that true?” Hermione questioned. She had a notebook that was three pages deep in highly organized bullet-pointed notes. 

Harry decided to tease them, he released a bit of his magic, people said it made them feel chilled as if they were on the cusp of something but they couldn’t describe what, and why would they, dying is not something often experienced twice. It worked. The kids shivered, gasping as their breath began to cloud. Tonks ripped her wand out of her pocket, aiming it at him with a shaky hand. Remus jerkily shoved it back down into her lap and gifted Harry an apologetic smile.

“There is Miss Granger, a ghastly beast that loves to feast on the flesh of Muggleborns, and deer, she fancies rats as well but just as snacks, for being an ancient magical creature she sure is picky…” His tone started out ominous but puttered out when he realized something troubling. 

He stroked his jaw and scrunched his nose thoughtfully, when was the last time he fed her? 

Was Tom still doing his chores?

Unlikely, he ran an empire now and neglected his precious Basilisk, he’d have to have a chat with Tom about the responsibilities of pet ownership... at least Nagini was self-sufficient. 

“She?” Fred and George echoed.

“Rats?” Ron squeaked, he’d recently lost Scabbers and was still upset at his disappearance.

“Well, are you going to tell us or not!?” Hermione’s eyes were fervent and her quill was bleeding deeply into her parchment. 

“Sorry- yeah it’s a Basilisk!” He blurted, still too distracted by the fact the basilisk might be starving to think much about presentation. 

They yelled and gasped in horror, he smiled at them fondly, thankful he didn't have to explain what a Basilisk was. He had no clue who their Care Magical Creatures professor was but he'd have to give them a pat on the back the next time he visited Hogwart's. 

“On school grounds?! Hogwarts should be closed until it’s removed, how incredibly dangerous!” Hermione sniffled. 

“Thank Merlin, I thought he was going to say spiders.” Ron breathed, clutching his robes with a relieved sigh. 

Harry smiled mischievously. “Actually Ron in the Forbid-” 

Dumbledore tapped his shoulder, Harry shuttered, yelping and twisting frantically in his seat to see who’d touched him. 

Chuckling Dumbledore announced. “My apologies for startling you. Lord Gaunt, it’s time for us to depart for the Ministry.” 

“Has it been an hour already? I still have so many questions left to ask!” Hermione begged, her brown eyes watering as she clutched her notebook between her hands. 

Harry stood, straightening his robes, everyone else rose up as well and he smiled bitterly at Hermione, nodding at the others curtly. He looked at her pointedly and asked. “You got a telephone, kid?” 

“My parents do?” She said, eyes wide like he’d asked something bizarre and by the looks of the other Wizards, excluding Tonks, he must have.

“Hand it over, your journal.” He commanded, opening his hand and wiggling his fingers impatiently. 

She thrust her book and her quill into his waiting hand, and he scribbled down his phone number slowly so she would be able to interpret his chicken scratch later. Harry had been using muggle pens for the last few years, so he struggled not to press down too hard and snap the quill in half.

He grinned.“It’ll probably take me a few weeks but I’ll escape from Tom eventually and oh-write me yours too, just in case I’m stuck at his place longer. I’ll give you a ring! We can make a day of it, but I’ve got to warn you I’m not all that interesting.” 

For some reason they all laughed at him, he pouted, it wasn’t a joke he was just a single Father with a son who happened to be their dark overlord, it wasn’t all that exciting. 

“Thank you, Lord Gaunt, thank you. I hope to publish a new edition of magical theory one day and your information will be oh so helpful!” She nodded up and down, beaming at him.

“No problem-” He turned to look up at Dumbledore. It was an eerie feeling, his magic brushing so close to his own, their signatures clashed, too light and dark beside each other, like fire and ice. “-Who will be joining us?” 

“We will.” Lily Potter said. She’d been hovering a few feet away, Mrs. Weasely was rubbing her back while sending him scathing glares.

“Of course, I’ll protect your son at all costs, Mrs. Potter, I’m sorry for what I said earlier it was inexcusable, especially at my age.” He muttered, rubbing his now clammy hand over the back of his neck, fluffing up his nape and wincing when he tapped his head wound with a stray index finger. 

“I will gratefully accept your apology after our boy is back with us safely, I wonder Gaunt, why not admit it outright, that’d we’d taken you, not Harry?” She sounded confident but her voice wavered ever so slightly. 

Harry froze. “Well, I thought you all might try to kill me, and Albus here only confirmed that, also I was pissed off and I’m still hungover... last night was rough for me, actually these last three days have been the fucking worst.” 

Dumbledore clapped, interrupting the awkward silence following Harry’s weird confession. “Alright! The Potters, of course, any other volunteers?” 

Hermione raised her hand and when Ron saw he stuck his hand up too, Dumbledore smiled but shook his head, they sulked, dropping them to their sides. 

“I’ll go!” Sirius Black said cheekily. “Sounds fun.” 

“Perfect, let's head for the floo, shall we? Mister Gaunt, I suggest you go first.” Dumbledore said, turning toward Harry expectantly. 

Harry sighed, he was going to be their shield, lovely. Wasn’t he always the shield? When he’d lived with Tom for a time right as he’d begun his cult with his little friends they’d always corner him ‘Lord Gaunt please our Lord will crucio me if I ask but if it’s you he’ll consider it, please I just got engaged, I’m too young to die!’ 

Ugh, did that get old fast.

He caught his reflection in an oblong mirror as they walked toward the floo, dark bags shadowed under his eyes and a cut he’d missed in the bathroom earlier stood out starkly against his pale, tired skin. Harry traced it from behind his ear to almost the end of his chin, brushing along it with his thumb long after he’d passed his reflection, the rivets of the scab tickled and he swallowed an inappropriate giggle. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. 

A warm hand slapped him hard in the center of his back, he hissed looking up at Sirius Black. Black who smirked at him slyly, he leaned in and whispered. “Padfoot eh? I wonder how you, Gaunt, of all people, know my nickname?” 

Harry paled.”Uh, I can explain?” 

Sirius shook his head, glancing Harry up and down then winking. “I’ll get your number off Granger, you're pretty cool for an old man.” 

“What?” Harry whispered, his heart suspended mid-beat and all he could do was gawk blankly.

Dumbledore lit the floo and Sirius cackled wildly as he launched Harry in backward, yelling ‘MINISTRY OF MAGIC!” 

Greenlight filled his vision, as he shot like a bludger into the ministry, his robes snagging and tearing on the cold tile floor. He groaned, that was one way to use the floo, he rubbed soot into his eyes with the palms of his hands and rolled over with a moan. 

He groaned again, maybe he should just apparate home, no-no he had to make sure this truce went well and Potter was delivered safely to his parents. He loved his Pumpkin and he appreciated his symbiotic relationship with Voldie, they couldn’t live without each other, but they both tended to smother him when he was in ‘danger’. Which he found ridiculous since he was unable to die, how much peril could an immortal man truly be in? 

Weirdly enough, it was quiet, it’s like they didn’t recognize he’d arrived, Harry cracked open his crusty, charcoal-coated eyelids. It was bright and the hall was empty by the time he’d sat up, retied his shoelace and the remaining Order members joined him, still, no one had come to greet them. He waved his hand, ‘tempus’ he thought. 

‘2:15 PM’

“Huh, still good on time, then?” He mumbled. 

As soon as he cast he heard shouting and footsteps thundering down a long hallway offshoot of the main hall, he sighed and wheeled around. 

“That sounds like Tom.” He said with a grin. 

The Potters paled and James seized his wife’s hand tightly. Harry scowled. “I promised I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you, or your son and I keep my promises.” 

They didn’t speak but their curt nods were enough for him. He felt the magic before it struck, Dumbledore who was now standing beside him flicked his gaze to Harry’s and they locked eyes. Harry shook his head slightly, a silent ‘Let me take care of it’ wordlessly agreed. 

His shield, a literal one erupted around them and he dug his heels in grimacing in the full momentum of the blast. Two more explosions blasted and he heard muffled shouts before he cautiously released his shields. Not even a second passed, and when he opened his eyes it was because two strong arms had engulfed him, squeezing him so tightly his ribs ached. Kisses frantically pressed into his forehead and he didn’t react until lips brushed over his wound. He startled, wriggling and randomly biting while yelling furiously into the chest he was crushed into. 

“LEMREGO” Harry grumbled, then bit hard into a pectoral muscle.

He knew it was Tom, just by the smell, he smelled like pine trees and licorice. Another hand yanked at his shoulder and he was ripped out of Tom’s grasp, only to be enveloped in another pair of arms, they were gentler, a little less intense in their need to consume him, or so that’s how he interrupted it.

Harry’s chin was lifted by a trembling finger and he stared up blankly, then beamed. “I’m back!” 

Voldie kissed him, fervently and way, way too intensely for public viewing. He tried to raise his hand to blast him back but his arms were held tightly to his sides. Thankfully, his Pumpkin kicked Voldie in the side. Harry stumbled back, wiping his mouth while steadying his rapid breathing, and pondering if the pair were keen to resort to physical violence because their magical power was so equal. 

“Bastard!” Tom growled, but he wasn’t genuinely observing Voldie instead he fiercely traced Harry’s every move, his eyes flicking up and down looking at his head with rightful suspicion. 

Voldie chuckled, he ignored Tom who was still cursing at him, and balanced upon his knees as he stood up, a wild smirk twisting his handsome features. 

“That’s enough,” Harry growled, crossing his arms and tapping his foot like an anxious mother of three. 

They glared at him, him! What had he done wrong?! He hadn’t arrested the Potters, he hadn’t ruined their dinner and forced himself to sit in shields for three hours, bored enough to drink an entire bottle of booze! Not to mention the ‘date’ with Dumbledore and his secret lover in the Austrian Alps now in his schedule. No this was all their fault! 

So Harry said as much, aiming an angry finger at them. “This is not my fault it’s yours, where’s Potter?”

He cranked his neck up to look, their eyes reflected movement behind him and as Harry twisted around they doubly yanked him back, both gripping into his arms tight enough to bruise. He could ignore them because the scene before him had him choke up. Harry sniffled but couldn’t wipe his nose so snot ran down into his mouth, he tried spitting it away so the moment wasn’t completely ruined. 

Potter’s parents held him tight, whispering affection and praise for Potter’s bravery. Lily kissed his hair as she smoothed it over his forehead while investigating the kid for injuries. Finding none she tore him from James and squeezed him hard enough the brat protested, if that were him he wouldn’t complain. 

The irony, of his musing, was lost on him even as Voldie dug a handkerchief out of his robes, wiping away his tears and snot, roughly. He mumbled a stiff thanks, not giving them his attention quite yet, he was too busy imagining himself in Potter’s place. When Harry felt done wallowing in a fantasy of what could never come to pass, he jerked his face up at his Son then at Voldie gifting them a bitter smile. 

“You’ll let them go, you promised. You know your broadcast blew my cover?” Harry snorted. 

Voldie raised a brow, dropping Harry’s arm if not purposely to allow Tom to take an opportunity. Tom seized Harry’s head between his hands, picking through his curls until he found what he was looking for. 

“Did they do this?”

“You? Had a cover? They truly were fooled by your performance?” 

Both questions were asked simultaneously, their voices blending together magnifying Harry’s migraine. 

“The explosion did, I doubt it on purpose Pumpkin, it just looks bad you know how head injuries are!” He stretched up and Tom let him stroke a tender thumb over his cheekbone, Harry cooed, well he supposed he missed his Pumpkin. 

He smacked his heels to the floor then snapped his head to Voldie with a playful glare. “I’ll have you know they bought my acting completely, well except for Dumbledore… I reckon he knew it was me.” 

Harry shrugged, ignoring Voldies indigent snort of disbelief. He scanned around the hall, locking onto Dumbledore who was speaking with Sirius by the floo entrance. The old man sensing eyes on him smiled at Harry then winked. Harry scowled, already dreading the idea of drinking tea and nibbling biscuits with Albus and his ‘partner’ it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to speculate who that partner was.   

Lips grazed over his ear, stray strands of hair tickling his neck as a finger ghosted over the scabbed cut on his chin. Voldie questioned frigidly.“Is there a particular reason Dumbledore just winked at you, darling?” 

“Yes, we’re having an affair.” Harry grunted sarcastically. 

Voldies fingers clasped his lower back, purposely massaging into his muscles. They gazed at each other with blank expressions. 

“That pleases me, you acknowledging our relationship. I thought I’d have to wait years for you to confess.” Voldie teased his fingers now meandering up Harry’s spine. 

Harry shivered, ignoring Voldie’s touches to ogle him incredulously. “No. I didn’t-I fucking-NO I didn’t admit to a damn thing! We’re not in a relationship.” 

“Oh love, you're fortunate I find your simplicity charming, you see to have an affair, one must be in a relationship, wouldn’t you agree?” Voldie purred, smirking while obsessively tracing Harry’s new scar with his finger, his tongue wetting his lips impatiently, craving a taste. 

 “Dad, come now.” Tom demanded, glowering at Voldie while pointing next to his side. He was standing a few meters away, he’d been ordering Lucius to make a radio announcement that Harry Gaunt had been returned home safely. 

"Alright, sweetheart!" Harry yelled, it was automatic, programmed in his psyche to please Tom, it incensed him as much as it made his gut flutter with serotonin.

He didn't have to look at Voldie to know he was rolling his eyes. He would be too if they'd switched positions. If only life was that simple. Harry marched up to Tom, ignoring Lucius Malfoys groveling and grinning at his son who stood not but a few feet beside him. 

"Draco, how're you?" Harry asked. 

"I'm well Lord Gaunt. Thanks to you today has been the most enlightening." Draco replied, struggling to focus on Harry instead of the two hovering Dark Lord's by his sides. 

Harry laughed. "Oh has it, lemme guess you had to babysit Potter?" 

Draco pouted and Harry fought the urge not to squeeze his cheeks, what a cutie.

"Yes, M'lord I was the only one he knew, not that we were friends at Hogwarts, but he recognized me, I'm just-no we’re all so grateful you've been returned home safely Lord Gaunt." Draco bowed low, his hair grazing the floor as he finished. 

Harry sighed dramatically, he didn't want to be bowed to, yuck. 

“Please don-” 

“LORD GAUNT!” Screeched his own voice, but younger and less jaded, oh so it was Potter. 

Harry smiled apologetically at Draco, swinging around only to blanch at being face to face with Potter. 

“Sir! Thank you so much for sparing the order! Dad told me about your stories, blimey I’d love to hear them myself someday, your life sounds so interesting!” Potter gushed. 

Harry’s jaw fell, opened, and closed a few times then he squinted. “ Y-you’re not angry with me?” 

Potter glanced nervously side to side and beckoned a nervous finger, singling for Harry to lean into his space. Harry did curiously.

“I’m frightened for you Lord Gaunt, I-I know I’m overstepping my bounds but I think you should run away, that’s what I’d do if I was in your position.” Potter whispered, his voice teetering on alarmed. 

“Runaway? You don’t think I’ve tried that!” Harry hissed, grasping Potter’s shoulders and shaking him frantically. 

“Sorry I forgot you’re old-I-I want to help you Lord Gaunt they’ve deceived you and-and their bloody insane! If you want to be free, I’m certain Dumbledore is strong enough to help you escape and defeat-” 

Harry pressed his finger into Potter’s lips, shutting him up and making him flush in unison.“No. I chose both of them, Potter. If they deceive me it’s my own doing, I chose this, chose them, I know in your youth, and your parent’s youth it’s difficult for you to understand, but sometimes the simple path is not always the correct path." 

Potter’s eyes glazed over and Harry could only imagine what the kid was remembering. 

---

Two Hours Earlier 

Harry Potter sat stiffly beside the only other person he knew in the room, to his horror that person was Draco Malfoy. Draco stared at Harry in disbelief, jaw open and tongue wiggling like he wanted to say something but his vocal cords had been cursed closed. He smiled nervously, coughing awkwardly until the Malfoy heir scooted his chair over to make room. 

“Uh, hi.” Harry said, glancing over at Draco with a shaky laugh. 

“Potter, what in Salazar’s name are you doing here, this is an inner circle meeting! How did you even get in!?” Draco hissed, but curiosity lit up his gray eyes. 

Harry tapped his finger against the table, then tilted his head in the direction of the two Lord Voldemort's whispering together. 

“They told me I had to attend since this whole thing is my fault.” 

“Well is it?” Draco whispered. 

“Yes and no, I didn’t know they were going to rescue me! It wasn’t exactly bloody planned you know? They took Gaunt and well everyone knows that now. They said they’re not actually going to kill me so that’s a relief. The blue-eyed Voldemort said if they did Gaunt wouldn’t forgive them and that he’d just bring me back out of guilt or something... I don’t know, they weren’t really talking to me, I was pretending to be asleep for a while and that’s all I heard, I swear!” 

“They knew you were awake you halfwit, I was more so hoping you could tell me why there are two Dark Lords now, it’s all everyone’s been gossiping about since your family got arrested.”

“I’m sorry Malfoy I was more concerned with being imprisoned and finding out I could be twins with Voldemort’s Dad! Who is surprisingly nice, that was unexpected you know, him being nice?” 

Draco sighed, rubbing circles into his temples. “Potter I often wondered in school how you got yourself into such nonsensical situations …and I’m still wondering that! Only you Potter, only you.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Hey, that time with Buckbeak was all your fault, and the tournament was your fault too because one of you Slytherins tossed my name in!” 

“Well it wasn’t me who did, and I’m not allowed to say who-Nott it was Nott.” Draco admitted with sadistic glee. 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry shrieked, pumping his hands up in the air. 

Someone cleared their throat and the boys froze, turning robotically in their chairs toward the front of the room. 

“If you two are quite done, Potter I’m impressed you’re in such high spirits with your death merely a few hours away?” Lord Voldemort inquired with a snarl of a smile.

They both shrank in their seats, the room silent but for the scales of the Dark Lord’s snake inching across the floor toward her master. Even she was surprised to see two Voldemort’s from the size of her protruding abdomen, Harry guessed she’d been out hunting and missed introductions. She raised her massive head, forked tongue flicking while tasting the air, seemingly satisfied with her findings she lowered herself slithering behind her Masters and into a tight ball. 

“My Father has been kidnapped by the order, we are unable to track his location, and as Potter has so kindly shown us they’re likely somewhere under the Fidelius. It’s unheard of but possible their likeness tricked the charm into allowing him inside, though my counterpart has other ideas. Everyone should prepare themselves for battle by three, I want every order member arrested or killed if my Dad is not returned unharmed. If one of you imbeciles accidentally hurt a single hair on his head, touch him, dare look at him longer than fifteen seconds I will rip your eyeballs fr-” 

“-Tom.” The other Voldemort growled. 

“What?” 

“Enough, you all understand don’t you, his Father’s safety is of the utmost importance. Potter, you know what to do when the order arrives and the rest of you will be there for reinforcement in case Dumbledore decides to attack. If he does, Tom and I will be dueling him.” 

Harry deflated why wouldn’t the order return Gaunt? It was a simple mix-up, he knew his family must be terrified for him, but why wouldn’t they just trade the Harry’s in this makeshift truce? With all of Dumbledore’s magical power, even he would struggle against the Dark Lord, not to mention two of them. He started nibbling at his thumbnail nervously, finding a loose piece of skin and pulling then wincing when he bit too far, blood welted up and he sucked to keep it from trickling down his hand. 

Draco elbowed him in the ribs and he grimaced. “What?” 

The blond pointed a shaky forefinger across the room, and Harry followed it only to notice two Dark Lords scowling at him. 

“Potter I’ll say it only once more and if you ignore us again I’ll stun you, come.” 

“Yes Sir!” Harry shot up, his chair screeching against the tile below. 

He followed the Dark Lords into a massive office, books covered every wall and the ceiling was like Hogwarts charmed to display the night sky, he knew he was in the ministry and due to the size alone, he assumed it was Voldemort’s.  A chair across from the desk scooted out on its own and he scrambled to sit down before it pushed itself back in, he wheezed when the mahogany cut into his gut and tried in vain to scoot back it a bit just to breathe. 

For how much they’d required Harry present they were bickering too fervently to notice his presence, or maybe he was too insignificant, like a gnat buzzing around their peripherals for them to actually bother with, perhaps set a trap for later but not bother killing one by one. 

“Harry is powerful at full strength, he proves a challenge even for me. This is why he can’t take you seriously. Tom, you’re both guilty of babying the other to insanity, neither of you believes the other can be self-sufficient, you should thank Harry when he returns that he left you alone for long enough to conquer Europe or you wouldn’t have left the bleedin’ house! Do you know how many times I told him to leave you, I lied for your sake, told him you’d be alright that you wouldn’t overreact to him leaving the country, but you leveled a muggle shopping center! Your immaturity is vexing!”

“I fuc-I knew he wouldn’t leave me out of his own violation, I knew since he died that night that you were in his head conspiring against me!”

“I had to, with every passing year your laughable attempts at seduction were unbearable, and Harry only noticed your most blatant tries, I noticed them all. You wouldn’t have reached your full potential without me separating you.” 

“Oh like you did? Dad killed you, he won in your universe, didn’t he? You were dragged out of purgatory because of pity and that’s all you are now a pity fuck for him.” 

The table began to rumble and the magic thickened in the room, Harry’s teeth chattered and he clenched his fingers onto his thighs attempting to soothe himself, this conversation was flying over his head, but it was also riveting beyond belief. 

“We both are pitiful to Harry, he only adopted you from Wool’s out of pity, our success birthed from his pity, his love for you and attachment for my soul was singular, cleaved from the same mold, but we are not the same. He knows that, and he’s known that since the first moment he cradled you in his arms.” 

Voldemort sighed in defeat and collapsed into his red-leathered chair, running his fingers through his hair. "I just-I know that at least a part of me does, but since I was a teenager I've wanted him beside me... I fantasize about cutting his arms and legs off just to keep him from escaping, how do I stop these feelings?."

Blue-eyed Voldemort laughed, his heels rocking back and forth with the full force of his amusement. "Stop them? No, I share those feelings, I've endured them longer than you've lived. You control them, suppress them until his guard is down, why do you think I'm here now and not inside his head?"

Harry's eyes were the size of saucers. He felt extremely sorry for Gaunt, these two people were unhinged. The danger of Gaunt’s presence in the Order only swelled with every shallow breath he took, a different universe? Was Gaunt actually him from another time? He’d killed the other Voldemort and what kept him as a souvenir? 

Questions aside he prayed to Mother Magic that the Order would do the right thing and return Gaunt back to his son, and the other Voldemort peacefully. 

---

Present Day 

“Potter?” Harry jabbed Potter’s shoulder, shoving him back making him stumble unintentionally. 

“Sorry Lord Gaunt, I think I get it, but if you ever need to escape to the Order, I will help you, I promise” Potter smiled bitterly opening his arms. 

Harry inched into his space and when they hugged it felt tingly like two souls intertwining, not identical but en masse as they gnarled together. 

“I raised Tom…but Voldie and I more in tandem than you could ever fathom, anything they know I do by proxy, it’s okay to feel frightened for me Potter, but I’ve long ceased being scared for myself. Do not waste your sentiments on me.” Harry whispered, carding his fingers through Potter’s messy waves.

Potter swallowed a moan, the electricity from Harry’s fingers vibrating through his skin like no sensation he’d felt in his life, it was addictive as it was arousing. 

Harry froze, eyes wide in surprise when Potter slapped his hand away, hard. He gaped, jerkily moving his arm back to his side. 

“SORRY! I-I uh I’m hard-I mean it’s hard to explain thank you Lord Gaunt I need to go to my parents now, excuse me and thank you so much!!!” Potter rushed, his words jumbling over each other before he sprinted away and toward his waiting parents.

“Okay?” Harry whispered under his breath. 

Teenagers were enigmas. 

“Dad?” Tom walked over to him then scooped him up into his arms. 

Harry suddenly felt very tired, he cast a lazy tempus. 3:00 PM 

“Let’s get you to bed darling we can talk about this tomorrow?” Voldie hummed, brushing away a stray curl that’d made a home in Harry’s eye. 

“Mmm, tomorrow then.” Harry hummed drifting off to the gentle rocking of Tom’s bopping shoulder as he escorted him out of the ministry and to the apparition point alongside Voldie. 

Notes:

Thank you for reading! I hope you guys in North America had a great Thanksgiving :) My Grandma spiked my coffee without me knowing and hovered over me while I took a sip, I choked because holy hell did she put a lot of it in and she smiled and asked me 'If I knew the secret ingredient' I DON'T KNOW GRANDMA LEMME AND MY LIVER MAKE AN EDUCATED GUESS hahaha UHH anyways hope you guys like this one I struggled and rewrote it a few times

I love your reviews you guys encourage me! Thank you xoxo

Chapter 6: Shark Week

 Harry fell back with a splash, sinking into the massive bath within Tom’s private quarters. The manor had been repaired the following day after Harry returned and it appeared twice as extravagant as before. He opened his eyes, blinking away the burning soap bubbles to watch the blur of the warm waters reflect light, dancing back and forth from the waves he’d created. If he drowned purposely, would they notice?

What was another ten minutes or so floating in the bath? He wanted to chat with Death without unnecessary drama and dying in combat was so messy. He’d vowed years ago to never traumatize his Pumpkin ever again. 

He pressed his hands to the sides, forcing himself down, slowly releasing bubbles out of his mouth, and snickering when a few tickled his nose on the way up. Once Harry had released his lungs completely he opened his mouth to take his first gulp of water. The bath door burst open just as his lungs began burning. He shot skyward, covered in soap sputtering up water and gasping for air as the light of the bathroom blinded his bloodshot eyes. 

Voldie entered the bathroom like he owned it, striding in and slamming the door shut with his heel. He leaned back on the sink’s marble counter running both his hands over his face then through his hair and sighed deeply. “Darling, your son is obtuse, stubborn and a terrible bore! Did he tell you about attending the Leadership Summit? His insolence is astounding he dares call me, me bigoted?! We need to have a talk with him about Muggles, you will persuade Tom to exterminate them before they start another world war- are you well dear, you look a bit peaky?” 

Harry blinked rapidly, tears streaming down his face, scowling; he nicked a bar of soap off the side of the tub and chucked it at Voldie as forcefully as his trembling arm allowed. Unfortunately, his aim was off and the bar hit Voldie in the thigh, slithering down his trousers like a wet slug, then smacking the floor only to spin back with the little momentum remaining. 

Voldie, dumfounded, glanced at the soap bar now smooshed against his shiny dress shoe and back at Harry three times, he cocked his head but when Harry refused to explain himself he sighed in defeat. 

“Why?” Voldie’s voice cracked as he asked. He bent over trying to grasp the bar with his hand but was unsuccessful until he dug his nails deep into the slick pink surface. 

Harry’s dark eyebrows furrowed as he sank back into the tub, leaning his head against a pillow in a porcelain nook at the end of the bath. This was supposed to be his ‘sane’ hours as he liked to call them. Voldie knew this and used to at least pretend to respect them when he lived in Harry’s mind. 

Voldie chuckled, approaching the side of the tub.“Not this again, please spare me, darling. What is there to sulk about? You're here safe with us, you were on speaking terms with me over breakfast, what possibly changed in an hour's time?” 

He slid a stool over and awkwardly sat, his legs far long for him to sit comfortably. With his free hand, he tentatively reached out to touch Harry’s wet hair. Harry scowled up at the ceiling instead, his lips trembling to keep a smile off his face as his pruney fingers slapped away Voldie’s wandering hand. To his surprise, Voldie retreated without a fuss. He pursed his lips, which was suspicious as he knew with excruciating detail how both Voldemort’s adored complaining. He stupidly shut his eyes anyway, sighing with contentment. Charmed water always hovered around the perfect temperature. 

“Arm.” Voldie demanded. 

Harry’s arm shot out obediently before his brain could process the command. Dry cold hands burned into his skin and his eyes flew open but he still refused to look him in the face. Harry stared at the smooth blue painted ceiling, nose wrinkling when he noticed it looked like popcorn. The soap bar was dunked in the water beside him with a splash and he shivered when a stray pinky tickled up his side. Soap lathered, foaming as it slid over his skin. Voldie’s free thumb massaged his muscles beginning from the tips of his fingers then up to his shoulders. 

He murmured happily, his eyelids fluttering closed as he did. After a minute the touches stopped but he was too relaxed to care... that is, until he heard fabric rustling and crumpling to the floor, creating a gust of cold air that caused him to shiver and his hair to stand on end. Harry cranked his head to the side, eyes widening with every button Voldie popped off. Sexier still, he ignored Harry as he did, his dark bangs fluttered into his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration and when he finally glanced up and their gazes met, Voldie smiled. 

“Do I have your attention dear?" Voldie chuckled, shrugging his button-down off his shoulders, it fell soundlessly on top of his jacket which was already behind him. 

Harry’s eyes flicked down to Voldie’s toned chest then back up to his face. He kept having to remember to swallow all the saliva that was building up in his mouth. 

He breathed a strangled. “No.”

“What have I told you about lying to me?” Voldie asked his hands hovering over his zipper, but he didn’t open it. He just gazed at Harry, patiently waiting for an answer. 

“N-Not to.” Harry choked, a flush of red slowly creeping up his neck and kissing the tips of his ears. 

“See darling, that wasn’t so difficult-I know you can be so good for me. Remember all those nights, those dreams we shared? You know I can be good for you too.” Voldie murmured. 

“You, my Voldemort, good? Never.” Harry chuckled, aspiring to sound more confident than he truly was. He tore his eyes off the Greek god undressing to his right and stared blankly at the tiled mosaic in front of him instead. 

It was impossible for Harry to hide from him. Voldie’s beautiful bare body thrust directly in before him into the opposite side of the tub. Harry’s eyes burned, unable to blink properly until he was covered in the bubbles, foam sliding off his stomach and painting his shoulders as the water sloshed, accommodating both of their volumes. 

Harry lazily blinked, observing Voldie’s smirk as his aristocratic features twisted predatorily and he licked his canine teeth hungrily. 

“I want you, as I’ve never desired you before, this physical body is a prison, and Tom our warden, we should kill him.” Voldie said nonchalantly like you’d ask a partner to take out the garbage. 

Harry’s mouth slumped open, he gagged on his spit, coughing twice before being able to answer. “No! Absolutely not, or-or I’ll ask Death to take you back! No-fuck no Voldie he is mine, my son, my boy. I’d fucking kill you before I’d allow you to touch him. Are you incapable of self-control?” 

Voldie rolled his eyes then slapped the bathwater hard, water spurted up stabbing Harry’s eyes, he squinted, irritated by soap trickling down his face. His bangs which he’d pushed back grew heavy with water, flopping into the center of his forehead. 

“He placed a tracking spell on you, otherwise I would’ve fucked you already.” Voldie groaned, whacking his head back on the waterproof pillow on his side. “Repugnant, popcorn ceilings?” 

Some of Harry’s anger diffused, he grinned. “That’s what I was just thinking!” 

“Oh, truly? I presumed you’d be upset at me for a bit longer.” Voldie mused tilting his face toward Harry curiously. 

“What?” Harry stretched out and poked what he hoped was Voldies leg with his toe. 

Voldie beamed, sitting upright again. “Me. Fucking. You. That’s what you were thinking about?” 

“Merlin, no. You had me until you suggested murdering Pumpkin. Unlike you, murder tends to kill my libido!” He scoffed, then frowned. “Wait, a tracking spell?”

“Yes it’s modified, quite ingeniously and I’d compliment him further if he hadn’t spelled it against my touch-” Voldie snarled“-and not his own while you slept beside him. It infuriates me that you sleep with him. You're foolish to trust him so complicity.” 

“Uh-hold on how much touching are we talking about?” Harry questioned, immediately regretting it when Voldie grinned at him ferally. 

“Let’s find out.” 

“W-Wait what if he comes in!” 

“Perfect, he will give up or maybe he’ll decide to watch-it would thrill me all the more, claiming you before him will teach him his place.” 

Harry gaped. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Serious? I’m ravenous, and you're plump, ripe enough to eat. Let me pick you.” Voldie leaned in like an invisible chain was yanking at his abdomen that Harry was reeling in. 

He bit his lip, maybe just this once, they wouldn’t have sex just some heavy petting? Harry’s stomach growled loudly and Voldie laughed as he surged forward. Right, when he was close enough, fingers gripped into the flesh of Harry’s naked thighs, their wet noses brushing, did the bathroom door handle jiggle. 

It was instinctual, without thought a bubble-head charm, a wave of a finger, and Voldie was thrust deep into the depths of the tub, fingers that had once been tender now dug painfully into Harry’s flesh but he was too terrified to move. 

“Dad, you’re still in the bath?” The door handle which had been jiggling lightly began rattling hard and he could hear the wood start to split from the strength of it. 

Harry cursed under his breath. He never locked doors and Tom knew that. 

“Yes sweetheart, I’ll be out in-” 

“Why is it locked?” The question sounded innocent enough but to Harry, it was a death sentence. 

“Um-I was worried I might be interrupted?” He choked the nails that’d been breaking the skin of his thighs and began creeping up, farther and farther. 

“These rooms are warded, is he with you?” Tom’s muffled voice growled through the door.

“Pumpkin! Just wait-” Harry begged breathlessly as he kicked Voldie off of him, his magic straining to hold him beneath the water. 

“Ten.”

Harry froze, unable to imagine anything but the horror and the humiliation of the situation he’d be in if Tom discovered them now. 

“Nine.” 

A hand broke the surface like a shark’s dorsal fin to Harry’s left, he whacked it down, his heart was racing and he kept having to remind himself to breathe. 

“Hold on!” 

“Eight.” 

“I-” 

“Seven.” 

“Thomas you’re making a big deal-” 

“Four.” 

Harry paused, and yelped. “You're cheating!” 

“One.” 

The water stilled, bubbles blanketing the surface, but a discerning eye could easily catch unnatural movement. Harry prayed Tom would give him a comfortable, appropriate enough amount of space, that he’d not notice the obvious. 

Wait. Harry’s eyes saucered. 

VOLDIE’S CLOTHES!

CRACK. The lovely cherry wood door frame split. Why he hadn’t used a simple unlocking charm Harry couldn’t understand. Tom was an idiot like that sometimes. It collapsed and Harry sighed in relief as it severed, splintered, and mangled directly on top of Voldies discarded clothes, shielding them from view. 

When he looked at his son, his face on the surface appeared calm, but his eyes gave him away, they were clouded red, an approaching sandstorm on the horizon ablaze by a sinking carmine desert sun. Tom inspected the room, eyes flickering across as they searched for anything amiss. When he finally looked at Harry, who’d sunk down into the water to his neck and was smiling awkwardly at him.

“You were being honest?” Tom sighed, leaning in the exact spot Voldie had on the counter, dragging his fingers across his face with a cynical laugh. 

“Aw Pumpkin, are you okay, you seem stressed?” Harry murmured, fighting the urge to comfort Tom and staying deep in the water. 

“It’s him. When you were kidnapped we formed a truce, as he said who knows you better than yourself? But-but he and I disagree on so many things! What makes you love him? Everything you stand for, and everything you taught me, he contradicts! Can I kill him, please?” Tom pleaded. 

“I am not in love with him!!! Argh, why does everyone think that? It's not-I don’t love him, and I don’t need to explain myself… wait you want to kill him, but you already did that sweetheart?” 

Nails pinched hard under his armpits, stabbing crescent holes into his softened skin. He bit his tongue and swallowed a hiss of pain.

Tom smiled vindictively, “Oh no, I want him permanently disposed of. Do you still like smores? I was thinking incineration.”

Harry rolled his eyes. These two were hopeless. “Pumpkin, he’d just go back into my consciousness and I’d eventually give in and create him another body in a decade. He'd nag me to death if I didn’t.”

Tom pouted, his fingernails wrapping the counter impatiently then he looked, really looked at Harry and flushed scarlet. Harry paled, sinking further into the water, fighting to keep a confident smile on his face. 

“Sorry I-didn’t think Dad, I thought he might be with you and I became furious. You look-” 

“Pumpkin.” Harry cut him off firmly, he didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

“Yes.” Tom whispered, gaze fixing hungrily on Harry’s bare neck as stray droplets of water dripped down off his adam’s apple and into the crevice of his collarbones. 

Harry spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over each other.“Let’s have lunch together, you and me? I’ll get dressed and meet you in a half-hour?”

“Alright.” Tom replied, clearing his throat as he begrudgingly left the room. 

“Tom. Fix the damn door.” Harry shouted. 

Satisfied when the said door was fixed and closed with a click. He sighed dramatically, dunking completely into the water and opening his eyes despite the sting of soap. Voldie was smirking, his hair drifting around him in a halo. Harry released the charm with a wiggle of his pinky and opened his mouth in surprise when Voldie lunged at him. They kissed under the water's trembling surface, he couldn’t escape the fingers grasping desperately, losing another lung full of air when he was pushed hard to the bottom of the tub, porcelain jabbing into his bony shoulder blades painfully. 

Voldie touched him everywhere, mapping his body with his pruney fingers. Harry shuttered with pleasure, he felt drunk. But he was almost out of air and started wiggling desperately to get free. His burning lungs and rising anxiety had him frantic so he bit Voldies shoulder when his lips were freed from another searing kiss. It was hard enough to break skin and hearing a groan of pain paired with a cloud of red had him grinning triumphantly before they both broke the surface. 

They gasped for air, Harry sputtered up water, glaring at Voldie who dared to laugh, water trickling out of his mouth as he pushed his hair back over his head, blue eyes glistening with amusement. He looked wildly handsome, how dare he! 

Harry hissed with irritation, standing up abruptly and jumping out of the tub. His legs were shaking so much that he felt like a newborn fawn. He snatched a towel off the glass-tiered shelf, and from the violent sloshing behind him, he knew Voldie was getting out too. Harry blindly tossed another towel over his head hoping it would fall in the water.

It didn't. 

"Thank you, Harry." Laughed Voldie. 

"I hate you." Harry muttered as he dried himself off. He rubbed so hard his skin felt raw. 

"Again with the lying... Perhaps this is another way of telling me you'd like to be punished?"

"Are you trying to piss me off?! Ugh do not answer that. That was bloody mortifying. What if he saw you?" 

Harry moaned. He'd wrapped the towel around his waist and slammed his face into the counter. His cheeks were so warm from the bath and extreme embarrassment but the marble was cool. A towel draped over his head, light bleeding through the cotton fabric and it was serene for a second before Voldie started rubbing, fingers kneading back and forth drying his hair.

A wet back flush to his own, pinning him flat against the counter. It felt like heaven, but when the towel was pulled away the bathroom lights blazed tenfold. He blinked rapidly while his dilated eyes struggled to adjust. Harry waited for half a second but Voldie did not allow him up. His fingers knuckled white trying to find enough force to shove him off, but he wasn’t strong enough.

“I’ll be a gentleman this time darling, but don’t test me I can’t last much longer.” 

Harry glanced up. The mirror was frosted over with condensation so all he could see was their blurred forms reflected mutedly back at them. He blushed and yelped when hands encircled his waist, spinning him around directly into Voldie’s waist. 

“You, a gentleman?” he muttered, his lips shivering against damp, dripping skin. He fought back a shudder as his teeth grazed underneath Voldies pectoral muscle. 

He refused to look up. He would certainly give in for as much as he complained, patience was not a virtue for him either and they both knew it. 

Voldie bent over pressing his face into Harry’s drying hair, breathing deeply. Harry could feel him smiling and his heart fluttered. He failed miserably, his irritation flaking away with each kiss he received until he heard knees cracking and Voldie sank to his height, cupping his face between his hands. 

The kiss consumed him. It was languid, painfully slow and oh how did he love it. This was the happiest he’d felt in a long time, probably since his last serious relationship. Not that this was in a relationship.

When he arrived five minutes late to lunch with Tom, he told him he’d got caught up reading Quidditch Weekly on the toilet. It was hard to enjoy his sandwich, as crisp as the iceberg lettuce was crunching under his back molars because he kept thinking about him, the man who he’d loved all those years ago...Who turned out to be a complete asshole who cheated on him then had the audacity to ask him to betray Tom. His love life was a mess. 

---

 1948 May

Harry rolled further into his quilt. It was musty and needed a wash but it smelled like home. He nestled in, humming contently. He and Voldie had talked about something in his dream but the memories of their conversation were muffled, gradually withering back into the crevices of his subconscious. 

‘Harry.’ 

“Not now, I’m sleepin’.” Harry gargled. 

‘Wake up.’ 

“No.” 

‘Someone is at the door. Put on your robe and go answer it before I’m forced to listen to another infernal knock!’ 

“What?” Harry struggled upright, drool crusty and new smeared on both sides of his face as he groaned, swinging his legs over his rickety bed and tucking his icy cold feet into the fluff of his slippers. 

He didn’t want to wear his robe, but he needed his glasses. Contacts were too much of a hassle. Harry patted blindly across his dresser until he felt the cold sting of familiar metal, sliding them onto his face with a yawn. His ears opened up and sure enough, there was an urgent rapping on the front door. 

Harry grunted as he fumbled for the handle, yanking it open while blinking sleep out of his eyes. 

“Harry!” Yelled a very, very familiar voice. 

“Will?” Harry stuttered, his jaw-dropping and flailing. He rubbed his eyes but William Bones was in fact still standing in his doorway. 

“Oi Harry, lemme in it’s a bloody emergency!” Bones cried, his dark auburn hair swept around him wildly. He must’ve flown here. 

‘For Salazar’s sake, do not allow him into our home Harry. I forbid it.’

“Alright?” Harry breathed, stepping aside and letting Bones inside in a daze. 

“I’ll start some tea, same place as usual Har?” William asked, whisking past Harry and into the kitchen. 

“Yeah…” Harry returned, closing the door slowly. He clicked the deadbolt and snapped his fingers numbly, magic obeyed, shuttering all the curtains with a swoosh. 

Tom was supposed to return home after his long trip abroad today and he couldn’t think of anything worse than those two meeting, again.

‘If he touches you I will possess your body, don’t think I can’t Harry, my anger will fuel my magic and overtake your soul and I will slay him, crucio him like should’ve done a decade ago. I will relish using your face, the shock, Merlin-the betrayal will satisfy me for a century. Let me handle this. What could he possibly require from you after all this time, after he cheated on you with that-’ 

‘SHUT UP. I'M OVER IT! WE ARE FRIENDS WE’VE STAYED FRIENDS I KNOW YOU THINK IT’S IMPOSSIBLE BUT I’VE FORGIVEN HIM LET IT FUCKING GO!’ 

He shut out Voldie’s insentient yelling that’d morphed into screams before he severed their connection to a dull buzzing hum. Dissociation at its most extreme. Harry floated in a trance to the kitchen where William fussed. He still knew where everything was, why wouldn't he? 

Harry hadn’t changed his kitchen habits. A hot kettle steamed with his favorite tea while biscuits floated out of the cupboard. Harry reached out for his chair but William beat him to it, scrambling over and yanking it out for him. 

Sitting down and being pushed in Harry stiffened when fingers purposely brushed against the nape of his neck. He shivered, swallowing at the lump forming in his throat but it would not go away. 

‘He did not just do that.’ Voldie hissed as Harry’s mental shields disintegrated. 

‘He’s...He’s being friendly is all.’ Harry thought back but he was losing his confidence with each tick of his cat clock hanging above the sink, its magical eyes that usually rolled around bearing down on them. He imagined even it was judging him. 

Harry sipped his tea only after Will sat across from him, and for all the effort he’d put in the redhead didn’t reach for his own cup. He was staring at Harry with a worry-stricken expression.

“I’ve missed you dearly Harry-I’ve got the kids now and you know how it is, they keep you dreadfully busy! I hate this, Merlin. I didn’t want the first time seeing you in person after all these years for it to be about this… I know you Harry, or at least I think I used to know you, I loved you.” Will’s voice trembled and he stretched his hand across the table, and like the fool he was, Harry met it in kind, allowing Will’s hand to cover his own. 

‘I hope Tom returns early. I killed the Bones almost all of them, oh the satisfaction of doing it this time would be ten times the thrill. I’ve fantasized about wiping their line completely off the face of the Earth, no I shall go further. . .ask Death to grant me access to every universe they exist in and I will kill every version of their bloodline to infinity. How dare he say that after all the pain he caused you, why do you spare him? I cannot understand, kill him, kill him now!’ 

Harry struggled not to roll his eyes. No matter how many times he tried to explain to BOTH Voldie and Tom that it is not acceptable to kill anyone who angers, upsets, or Merlin forbids inconveniences you would be numbering in the thousands. It did not click and he feared it never would. 

“I loved you too, you know that… Um, I hate to be rude but what is this all about? You couldn’t just owl me like you usually do?” Harry murmured, melting under the painful but oh so lovely grooves of Will’s fingertips as they rubbed small circles into the top of his hand. 

He blanched when Will yanked his hand up like he couldn’t help himself, turning his hand over and kissing Harry’s open palm. 

‘Maybe you were on to something, this is strange, Merlin he’s aged well...’

Voldies smoldering rage tickled his inner ear so much that Harry wanted to jab his finger in and scratch his brain to relieve the discomfort. 

“It’s about your son. There have been whispers of a rising Dark Lord, and I fear it might be-” 
 
Harry cut him off, wiggling his hand free and sliding it over his knee, grasping it over his bones and sliding his skin back and forth nervously in a weak attempt to calm himself.  

“-Tom, you fear it may be my Tom?” Harry tried to sound surprised but failed miserably. 

Will pinched his brow, thumping his teacup on the table with a rattle. His hands trembled as he laughed bitterly. 

“Of course you know, do you-Merlin do you condone his behavior? They say he’s used unforgivables, all of em’!” 

“You have no proof!” 

“No, no we do not and I dammit Har I thought you’d be on our side, the side of light! You have to stop him, stop this insanity before it escalates beyond our control!” Will roared, slamming his fists into the table. 

“No.” Harry whispered. 

“No?” Will huffed skeptically. 

“I-he’s my son, you have children now Will what would you do? What do you expect from me?” 

“I expect better of you. I know you’re a good person Harry, I couldn’t have loved you as much as I did otherwise.” 

Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach, surging and eroding away in the acid of heartbreak he’d thought well over and finished. 

“Answer my question, William. What would you do in my place?” He bit his lip while bobbing his leg impatiently. He honestly wanted an opinion from a normal Wizard. It was not something he’d ever had an honest conversation about… Voldie did not count. 

Will’s eyes bugged, he melted into his chair, closing his eyes tightly. Harry yearned to reach out and outline his crow’s feet with his fingers, kiss all his troubles away like he used to all those years ago when Will was young, stupid, and his. 

‘Harry cease your miserable pining for the past, he has chosen, he is an enemy. Think about Tom, no-think about yourself for fucking once!’ 

‘It’s exhausting to care for myself, to be selfish. I’m tired of it. It’s easier to care for others, you know how I am, a fucking mess is what.’ 

“You… You have a point I don’t know-hell I can’t imagine myself in your position and I don’t fucking want to. I love my children more than life itself. I’d lose my magic before allowing anything, or anyone to hurt them. Why does this have to be so complicated, why do you have to be his father?" Will sighed, straightening himself in his seat before standing, his robes rumpled and unkempt, a trait that even a strict Pureblood wife couldn’t iron out of him.

Harry grimaced, squirming uncomfortably in his chair. “Don’t insult Tom. Insult me instead I’ve failed as a parent. Sins of the Father and all that rubbish.” 

Will stood beside him so Harry awkwardly maneuvered his chair so they faced each other. He looked up at him, tilting his head curiously as his ex-lover reached out for him. 

“May I?” Will asked hesitantly, his breath catching in his throat. 

“Depends on what it-oh!” 

Will picked him up and hugged him. He still smelled the same - hints of mint and burlap, and he had even plumped up a bit with age. Harry hated himself for wrapping his arms around his waist so quickly. He was so fucking weak. 

“You’re impossible, Har. You look exactly the same, if I plucked a memory out and watched it you wouldn’t have aged a day-it makes my heartache. Your hang-ups, your overprotectiveness, your selective blindness, and Hecate your willingness to forgive those who do not deserve it. Do you remember the day I begged you to take me back?” 

Tears sprang in Harry’s eyes and he couldn’t find the energy to speak so he just nodded into Will’s shoulder, rubbing his face into his dirty robes, his glasses pressing indents into his face.

Will continued. “I used to blame my youth for cheating on you. I was barely thirty and my parents were hounding me to get married and she seemed just the thing to get them off my back and she wanted out of her family... they were strict blood purists who wanted her to marry her first cousin. She wasn’t like you, you never asked for my help but she, she needed me!”

Harry laughed hollowly, choking back a sob; he didn't want to hear this, but he couldn't bring himself to escape yet. 

Am I a masochist? 

‘Yes.’ Voldie spat venomously. 

“She still needs you, I’m sorry I-” Harry mumbled he was just saying words he didn’t even know if he meant them. 

"No, Harry, don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. We can work together, you and me. I can help you this time, just admit you need my help, let me help you. Let me take care of you.” Will’s voice which had once been ripe with regret dipped lower, clipped and rough with lust. 

‘Manipulation at its crudest, telling you not to blame yourself? For what? Him betraying you? He either feels guilty for cheating on you or he wants you again. Maybe he’s wanted you for years and is using this, using Tom as a pitiful excuse to crawl into your bed. He wants you to bow down to him, to beg for help. I bet he gets off on that. He used to be so intimidated by your power, scared shitless of you. He wants you weak on your knees. He will not have you, your mine.’ 

It pained Harry, but Voldie wasn’t flying too close to the sun, he was. His lingering attachment to their relationship was eroding. Memories are scary things. They tend to show you the best or the worst, either corrupted by rose-tinted glasses or shadowed by dark intrusive thoughts. His glasses had been worn and set to high concentration. He'd been so naively happy thinking he’d really found true love with a kind, normal Wizard who cherished him. 

It was the most conventional relationship he’d ever had and he loved to look back on it fondly thinking ‘Look at me, being normal and healthy!’ he wondered when he’d stopped seeing it for what it truly was, a fucking disaster with someone who used him. 

The hand which had been resting innocently on Harry’s upper back began working its way down, flirting dangerously under his pajama top’s thin fabric. Harry’s eyes widened. He didn’t want this. The bastard was married and wanted to arrest his son for Godric’s sake! 

“Will? What are you doing? Stop.” Harry commanded sternly.

‘Harry, I’m fucking furious. Rip his larynx out of his throat. I don’t want to hear him say another word. He will not let you go so easily this time but neither will I if he touches you again without your consent.’ 

Voldie was right, he didn’t let go of Harry, not right away. But Harry dumbly gave him the benefit of the doubt, this was Will after all. He finally let go, releasing Harry to the ground but his hands lingered far too long, clinging to him like he was coated in velcro. He wasn’t much taller than Harry so when he looked down they were so close, too close. 

With a nervous cough, Harry took the initiative and stepped back first. 

Harry licked his chapped lips, gazing up at Will with a resolute glint. “Uh thank you Will but I’ll have to decline your offer. I’m going to remain neutral. Tom is his own person, he’s a grown man. I can’t control his life and I don’t want to. It's a parent's job to raise their children but it’s never our place to tell them how to live. Growing up my entire life I was manipulated, directed, shoved center stage to a play I didn’t know I was in. I refuse to do that to my son...but that doesn’t mean I’ll let him get hurt easily either.” 

Will deflated, his fingernails digging into his clenched fists which were stiff by his sides. 

“Okay. Alright, fine Harry, we don’t have anything on Tom yet-I won’t tell anyone about this conversation I promise. I don’t understand you, but Merlin I do respect you. I’ll-um-I should go.” 

‘He respects you? What a fucking joke.’ 

“Yes, you should.” Harry said while crossing his arms defensively. 

When the front door shut and he felt the wards allow his ex out he crumpled to the floor and started to cry. He lay there in the fetal position not wiping his tears. It felt good to cry to just let all his emotions free and close that door on his life forever. He could never have normal, what good was normal any way, he didn’t need anyone else, he had Tom and Voldie annoying and insane as they were they’d protect him. They wouldn’t allow him to hurt like this. 

The front door slammed open and he heard footsteps, but he didn’t have the energy to move. 

Tom’s voice rang out. “I'm home, I brought Abraxas. He wanted to see you. Normally, I wouldn't allow this after not seeing you for so long, but he wants to use the boon I owed him, and for some reason, he wants to spend it on dinner with us... Dad?” 

---

Present Day

“Dad, Dad did you listen to a word I just said?” Tom pouted, flinging a gust of wind from his wand across the table and into Harry’s face. 

Harry rolled his gum to the roof of his mouth, flattening it with his tongue. It felt so satisfying rubbing against the rivets of his gums. He slid it to the front of his teeth, opened up, and blew. He was on his second piece so the bubble expanded with little resistance. It smelled sweet as it bubbled wide enough to moisten the tip of his nose, then it popped obnoxiously loud.

“Hmm no Pumpkin I didn’t…what did you end up doing to the Bone’s family?” He asked while he tried in vain to get stubborn gum pieces off his face and back into his mouth.

“I killed them, all of them. What was I supposed to do after what he did to you? Why do you ask? Don't tell me that’s who you were thinking about, what a waste of time. Don’t bother with useless thoughts while we’re together.” Tom tried to sound serious but came across as whiny and jealous. 

Harry sighed, leaning off the fainting couch that’d been scooter to close to Tom’s large desk. He pressed his arm against his eyes hard enough to hurt. His chewing sounded obnoxiously loud like this and he could feel the tendons in his jaw working overtime as the gum lost its elasticity. 

“Thank you.” Harry mumbled earnestly. 

“What?” Tom’s reading glasses slid down his nose and his paperwork fluttered to the desk. 

Harry stilled. Huh, he'd never thanked Tom for his villainess ways before, ever. 

He repeated himself louder. "Thank you, Tom. For you know-doing that with me in mind." 

"I… you're welcome." Tom whispered hoarsely, at a loss for words.

He smiled, lifting his face off his arm. “I know I’ve been a bad parent for not saying this. Pumpkin you’ve accomplished so much while I’ve been away and although I don’t condone your methods I’m proud of you.” 

Tom’s red eyes widened. He set down his quill, swallowing and opening his mouth a few times but his tongue refused to form words. He finally choked out.“You mean it?” 

“Of course I mean it Pumpkin! I’ve always thought it, but it didn’t seem appropriate to encourage you, but I’ve long since given up. It's not my place to change anyone but myself and I can’t even do that right.” Harry who’d started off strong, trailed off his voice and thoughts soured. 

The large red chair, heavy in weight and craft scratched so obnoxiously loudly over the floor that Harry had to cover his ears. He rolled flat on his back, squeaking when Tom lunged over him, his hands flat on both sides of Harry’s chest, shadowing him from the flickering candelabras lining the study walls and pinning him to the couch. Harry's breathing slowed and his heartbeat reduced to a steady thump. 

“Thank you” Tom said softly. 

Tom’s eyes absorbed the flame’s light as they danced around the room. Harry could feel their souls sing to each other. For some reason, those tingly sensations had intensified after meeting Potter and he demanded to know why his soul felt sensitive, so vulnerable. 

“Y-you're welcome.” Harry choked. 

Was it getting warm in here? 

“I know.” Tom’s eyes flicked over Harry then back up at his face, a smile tugging mischievously at the corner of his plump lower lip. 

Harry’s brows narrowed. “Know what?” 

“That you feel this, the connection between us building, our souls crave each other. I can see it in your eyes. I’m curious how long you can fight it. I know he’s struggling but I keep thinking about Potter. Do you know what I’ve been fantasizing about since I saw the two of you together?” Tom breathlessly asked. 

Tom moved slightly, burrowing his knee in between Harry’s legs as his magic thickened the air into a syrupy haze. It was intoxicating, each breath brought a flush further up Harry’s body and he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He refused to give in. But as fucked up as it was, his curiosity and the drug-like effects of their proximity had him asking anyways. 

“This-is super fucked up Tom, but fine tell me but-” Harry decided to draw the line before Tom manipulated this awkward situation anymore to his advantage. He shoved his hand up, pressing hard into Tom’s chest in a lame attempt at retaining space between them. It only made it worse. It felt electric, not like Voldie but different. Sure the connection was present but it didn’t do much more than tingle his fingertips, but his Pumpkin shivered violently and his eyes rolled back into his head. “-Oh my God this is worse than when I found you and Walburga together in that broom closet at Yule, get off me!” 

When Tom didn’t move quickly enough Harry gathered strength, lifting his legs and kicking Tom off him like a springboard. He didn’t fly far, he was too heavy for that but he did thump to the ground with a satisfactory wallop. Harry clutched his tee-shirt and exhaled heavily. Harry felt like his life was flashing before his eyes-oh Merlin he’d never allowed Tom to get that close. Voldie had always warned him when Tom was on the verge of attacking him in the past, and he’d taken it for granted. 

Harry seethed. “Tom, what did we just talk about? I’m warning you, knock it the fuck off!” 

But when Tom did not respond right away he faltered. “Pumpkin? I know I didn’t kick you that hard? Sweetheart?” 

No response. He sighed, standing up and looking at Tom, the Dark Lord, current immortal dictator laid on the floor, eyes glazed with a dopey smile on his face. Harry grinned too despite himself, he looked friggin adorable. His anger fizzled. Tom was too cute to stay mad at, he’d lecture him later. 

He kneeled next to him, poking Tom’s face with his finger. “You okay?” 

“I’m not okay Dad, I’m on cloud nine, you never-Salazar I feel like I've got a chance!” Tom gushed. He tilted his head to the side and his dark waves fluffed out, clinging to the static fabric of the carpet beneath them. 

“Uh…Chance at what?” Harry questioned his voice raising an octave. 

“Of marrying you of course-” 

"Pumpkin that was cute when you were seven." Harry said, trying not to smile

Tom grumbled reaching his hand out, wordless begging for Harry to take it. “I’m not trying to be cute.”

“Well, you're doing a shite job.” Harry tutted, but took his hand. 

He was dragged down and tucked under Tom’s chin. A light kiss feathered the top of his head. It was so lovely, just existing here in this moment with his son. It’d always been the two of them against the world here, yes Voldie was along for the ride but not in a physical, tangible way like Tom had been. 

They laid there for an hour on Tom’s Slytherin green rug chatting about Death Eaters, politics, and Harry’s life in America. The tingly connection of their souls seemed to ebb and flow, it wasn’t so intense now. He’d need to die soon, so he could talk with Death, but that’d just have to wait till tomorrow. 

The air changed, someone was entering the study. Harry propped up on his elbow to get up, but Tom yanked his collar snuggling him into his chest. 

“So this is where you’ve been hiding. May I join you?” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

Harry pinched Tom wiggling just free enough to smile at Voldie. “Hello, oh found yourself a book? Dare I ask where you’ve been?” 

Voldie laughed, sitting smoothly on the fainting couch above them and crossing his leg over his knee. A large book was already being cracked open in his lap to a dog-eared page halfway through. 

“Ah, I was just having an enlightening chat with your Ministry employees. You run a tight ship, Tom. I’m proud.” Voldie complemented nonchalantly. 

Harry snorted into Toms’ chest. Voldie had no clue he’d just said that to Tom an hour ago. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise out of sheer pettiness. Tom simmered and Harry could feel him vibrating with irritation. He shoved him off and to his surprise Tom allowed it. He rolled on his back, his eyes tracing the intricate charmed ceiling. It reminded him of Hogwarts. He'd have to ask if Tom had all of his offices were decorated with stars, it was romantic. 

“Your opinions matter little to me, old man.” Tom sneered. But he made no move to get up so neither did Harry. 

They started bickering immediately, talking about politics and other topics that bored Harry half to death so he tuned them out. He needed to make his escape plans. Tom’s Yule ball was a week away and after that his dreaded meeting with Dumbledore. He had a week and a half and he couldn’t tell anyone, wait…

Can’t tell a soul? Can’t… Well does that count if it’s your own soul? He and Potter supposedly shared one. 

Harry burst upright ignoring Voldie and Tom’s concerned nagging as he rushed to Tom’s desk. He needed to send an owl right away. He was going to Prince and the Pauper his way out of this, teach Potter how to act exactly like him so his Pumpkin and Voldie wouldn’t throw a tantrum in his absence. 

He cackled madly as he dipped the quill, dragging a fresh sacrificial parchment off the stack. 

“It’s hard being as brilliant as I am” Harry whispered. 

Tom and Voldie who were now sitting beside each other on the couch shared a glance of concern, they both knew that smile. 

“He doesn’t act like this often, but I’ll admit when he does… it frightens me.” Tom hissed as quietly as he could. 

Voldie sighed, pressing both thumbs hard into his closed eyes. “Imagine being inside his head when he does, it’s manic absolutely bloody mad. The first time it happened I thought I’d been tossed back into purgatory.” 

“I’m going to the Owlery! See you at dinner!” Harry shouted, his voice fading as he sprinted out of the office not bothering to shut the door behind him. 

Potter had promised he’d help him… with anything and Harry did love using boons. What could possibly go wrong? It was just a few hours, it couldn’t be that hard pretending to be him. 

---

 Harry Potter, who was playing chess with Ron and trying not to chuck the board at his ginger head after losing the fifth time in a row, sneezed violently. A glob of snot shooting directly onto Ron’s Queen, coating her in green slime. 

She was not pleased. 

“Gross Harry, yuck get that off my board!” Ron cried, his freckles crinkling as his face scrunched in disgust. 

"Sorry, that just came out of nowhere! I didn’t even get a warning itch.” Harry sniffled, wiping the board with his sleeve. 

“Ooh someone’s talking about you Harry, wonder who?” Hermione giggled glancing up from her journal. 

"No one's talking about me 'Mione." Harry rolled his eyes. 

Poor Harry did not realize how wrong he'd been until the Dark Lord's eagle arrived that night with a letter addressed to him. 

Notes:

Hello :) I hope you like this chapter! It's kinda a filler for the next one but I wanted to add to Harry's past a bit. THANK YOU FOR READING :)

Chapter 7: Dying To Meet You, But I Don't Wanna Be You!

Notes:

HELLO, I feel like I may have gone crazy I don't know where the dinosaurs came from but please accept them. Uh warning, I'm not an expert about space or prehistoric life. I know everything from PBS Eons on Youtube and I'm writing this for fun so please don't judge me too hard >_<

 Draco Malfoy turned sharply left down the narrow hallway leading to his office, hissing in irritation as his robes snagged on the wall. He reached out, yanking the misbehaving slip of fabric out of a jagged crevice. A folder stacked to the brim with paperwork was tucked snuggly under his armpit but a piece of parchment wiggled loose from the force of his movement, floating free on a drafty gust of wind and shooting down the hall. 

“Shit.” Draco cursed, ignoring his torn sleeve to chase the page down before it got too far. 

It was losing momentum and fluttered into a closed door, skimming against the gold-flecked handle before propelling down the smooth wood and onto the ancient, dusty brick floor. Rolling his eyes he bent to pick it up, gagging as he shook off a clingy dust bunny. He halted, murmurs vibrated through the sealed door. Draco’s curiosity compelled him, he cupped his free hand against the door, careful not to lean too hard and disturb it with his weight. 

“Do I…Quickly…Beg you?” 

They were too muffled to hear crisply at first so Draco closed his eyes concentrating on the words. This time they sounded clear, only interrupted by his shallow nervous breaths in between. 

“Darling, I cannot think of anything I’d desire less than you dying right at this moment, who knows where Death will be? You’ll be with them for who knows how long, time is not linear, ten minutes here might be a thousand there. What if you cheat on me, find a new lover in another universe, and never return!” 

The other wizard laughed aloud. “Seriously? That’s how little you think of me?”

“I do not think little of you. Am I not allowed to worry for you?” Pressed the other man, his voice strained. 

Draco flinched, he bit his tongue in surprise when what sounded like a fist punched an object inside the room. Blood pooled in his mouth, it tasted like hot iron. He licked his lips and swallowed it down quickly. Whatever it was flung across, skittering over brick, slamming into a wall with a heavy thud. 

“You are not worried for me, you’re worried for yourself. I will not abandon you here, if I were ever to leave it wouldn’t be without you. I have things I need to do, to talk about with them, and you’re the only one I trust with my body.” 

“Not even Tom?” 

There was a long pause, it was so long that Draco’s arm began to tremble but he was too scared to drop it to his side, he didn’t dare do anything but hold his breath. 

“Especially not him.” They answered slowly, rolling the syllables around their tongue carefully.

“Hmm, that pleases me. You’re not lying. I'll do it, but in return, I want to choose how we do it."

“I’d rather not, you’re not allowed to do anything with my body while I’m gone, leave my clothes on or so help me, Merlin, when I return I’ll kill-” 

“Seriously?” The deeper voice hissed angrily. 

“Wha?” They squeaked. “-Oh my-don’t tell me you’re actually offended by that. I can’t possibly know all the shit you’re into.”

“I do… Or I did think that, but I was wrong. I’m not a necrophiliac, Harry, don’t be disgusting.” 

Shuffling and giggling echoed through the door. Draco didn’t analyze it, too focused on hearing the name Harry spoken. It couldn’t be Potter, it must be Gaunt. He was so fucking dead. Voldemort the other Dark Lord could be the only possible match to the first voice, and the Dark Lord knows all. He knew Draco was eavesdropping yet allowed it. 

“Voldie, your mind is so vast I’d have to go spelunking just to understand a crumb of it. It’s easier to assume you’re into everything... I’ve been crossing off kinks as we go.” 

“Spelunking? Did you get that from Muggle magazine’s again?” 

“National Geographic you uncultured troglodyte!” 

“Oh, wow I might be into that…” 

Gaunt gasped.“What? No, no, no you’re not fucking my corpse I’ll kill myself…myself alone and I have to now after hearing you admit to that-Merlin I’m shaming you Voldie that’s foul as fuck-just no.” 

“Shut up, please. I wasn’t talking about that. When you called me a troglodyte it did something for me, call me a name again.” Voldemort commanded, his voice hoarse. 

“Are…you’re serious-.” There was another long pause. “-You’re batshit you know that, right? Absolutely insane.”

“Mmm try again, that wasn’t cold enough. I need you to mean it.” 

“Jackass!” Gaunt shouted sarcastically. 

Voldemort asked breathlessly.“Again.” 

Gaunt, sounding genuinely pissed off, screamed. “You’re a moronic, self-centered, kleptomaniac who has no regard for the lives of others, and you enjoy daytime television unironically.” 

“That was one time, one fucking time Harry.” 

Gaunt mocked, raising his voice an octave. "Dear, that shade of purple has no place with that yellow. Turn up the volume I want to hear the asking price. I’ve always hated hydrangeas, hideous flowers. I’d bury her in the backyard if she was my estate agent. Rose’s love bone meal, they’d be the manor's only redeeming quality.” 

“Am I wrong Harry? Those colors were atrocious. It was far too harsh and for such a small room, as soon as you’d switch on the light you’d be blinded! It was a public health violation, she should be arrested, to give her a show… I commend her only for the fact that she did not get hired out of talent. I’ve hypothesized blackmail but seduction of an executive is another excellent candidate.” 

Draco had no idea what half of those words meant, but he could tell they were absurd from Gaunt's exasperated sigh alone.

“This is what I meant, look how much thought you’ve given it, that was years ago. I bet you a thousand gallons the show’s canceled by now.” 

Voldemort balked, scandalized.“Of course, it is the host was awful. Don't tell me you agree with those color matches?"

"No, you know how I feel about mustard yellow... Salazar, we're getting sidetracked, let's get back to killing me, please!!” Gaunt begged. 

“Not yet.” 

“Why!? But you just said-” 

“Not with a guest present.” Voldemort hissed. 

Gaunt yelped. “A guest?” 

Voldemort announced loudly, his deep voice penetrating through the door. “Draco, the doors unlocked. Enter before my leniency wears thin.”

Draco shuttered, grabbing the handle and turning with his sweaty hand, it slid the first time so he frantically wiped it on his robe, successfully opening it on his second try. He burst through the door, barely stopping himself from stumbling flat on his face. He glanced up choking on his own spit, absorbing the scene before him numbly, struggling to keep his face blank.

Gaunt’s robes were torn and he was breathing heavily. Voldemort’s robes were pristine and his sharp fingernails were digging into the tender flesh of Gaunt’s neck. His other hand’s thumb was massaging over Gaunt’s mole on the corner of his mouth. Voldemort kept purposely flicking Gaunt’s plump bottom lip and sticking past his lips, chuckling at Gaunt’s hisses of protest whenever he penetrated and thumbed over his teeth.

It felt illegal. Draco was observing the forbidden and now partaking in it against his will and the illicit aspect had his insides churning and his loins aching. Seeing Gaunt on the ground pressed underneath Voldemort, it was like Potter but better. Gaunt had so much more, he was alluring, his power only adding to that, just glimpsing him writhing underneath the Dark Lord had his stomach flipping into his chest. 

“Draco!” Gaunt chirped in greeting, he tried to get up only to be shoved to the ground again with a groan. 

Draco gulped, standing awkwardly not knowing what to do with himself. He backed into the corner of the wall, clutching the door frame like a lifeline. 

“Lord Gaunt.” He responded flatly, not daring to peek at him again.

The Dark Lord was scrutinizing his every move, waiting for him to slip up and gawk at his lover for a second too long. 

“I’ll forgive you this once. I have a task for you.” Voldemort drawled, releasing his fingers from Gaunt’s slender neck. 

Welts formed a perfect replica of his fingerprints where they'd pressed into Gaunt’s delicate skin. But Gaunt didn’t seem to mind because a blinding fanged smile bloomed on his handsome face. 

Gaunt murmured, his green eyes aglow with fondness that Draco didn’t feel he deserved. “Don’t hurt him, Voldie. He’s curious we must’ve been making a racket. Isn’t that right Draco?”

Draco didn’t know who to answer first but he didn’t want to look at Gaunt longer than two seconds at a time, so he chose the safest option. 

“Of course My Lord, what do you ask of me?” He said, struggling to keep his voice flat. 

He clutched his folder of papers with his other hand while steadying his breathing to save himself from shivering outwardly. His father always taught him to conceal fear. The Dark Lord fed off it like a Dementor, it only fueled his rage and Draco would do anything to lessen his upcoming punishment. He knew just from Voldemort’s sharp glare alone, that there would be a price for his eavesdropping and he’d do or say whatever he could to save himself. 

“Your office, it’s down the hall, correct?” Voldemort stated it wasn’t a question. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He answered stiffly. 

“Good, very good. We will be using it. I have a list of volumes I need from the library. By the time you return we’ll be finished.” 

“Couldn’t a House-Elf-” Draco stopped himself by slapping his hand over his mouth. He choked out after a large breath.“-I'm sorry my Lord of course I will.” 

“Lead us there.” Voldemort spat. 

Draco knew his foolishness had tested his Lord’s patience, he couldn’t slip up again. This Dark Lord was more forgiving, everyone in the Ministry adored him for it, but when you crossed the line in his eyes the torture you received was personal, callous, and cruel. It had you begging, crying for the cruciatus. His Father knew that all too well, Draco had witnessed the entire thing, it was a warning for all the Death Eaters that disrespect would not be tolerated. 

He exited the room, breathing in step with the rhythm of his gate. Draco did not look back. He listened instead while he forced his heart into a steady beat. For how short his strides were compared to Voldemort’s stature the pair stayed a comfortable distance behind. Voldemort must be accommodating Gaunt’s gait so they could walk side by side. 

Gaunt tutted aloud, it echoed around the narrowing brick hall clashing with the sound of their footsteps. “Don’t you dare hurt him, he’s just a kid. Stupid, but a kid nevertheless. Why couldn’t we just stay in there?” 

Voldemort answered lazily. “Darling, there was no place for you to rest comfortably and as much as I’d love to hold you whenever you come back you tend to react violently. I don’t want to be on the receiving end. Also, I need to ward the room, Tom cannot know we’ve done this, I can’t play with him today. I have a meeting with Severus at two o’clock.” 

Gaunt balked. “Play… play with him? Is that what you called your actions last week? Mad, you’re mad.” 

Draco had heard about all that, the explosions were not quiet. It’d created a shockwave that wiped out half of Muggle London’s power grid. 

“The boy’s grown lazy, complacent, he needs to stretch his legs. You never challenged him enough growing up now I have to, he’s far too old to behave like this. You know when you’re not present he acts like me.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

The Dark Lord laughed.“It means he reverts back to a selfish brat in your presence. It's embarrassing. Don’t fret, I'm correcting it.” 

“A-Are you saying I’m the problem?” Gaunt squeaked. He didn’t sound surprised, just guilty. 

“No, it’s our problem dear. You’ve done enough alone, I'll take care of it.” Voldemort's voice became soothing, hemming on apologetic. 

Draco expected more resistance but Gaunt just sighed gloomily. “Okay, you might be right...” 

“I’m always right.” Voldemort purred. 

Gaunt didn’t bother stifling his laughter, it was warm and kind like a bubbling spring. “No, no you’re not.”

Voldemort’s sharp intake of air startled both Draco and Gaunt. Draco almost glanced back but caught his wandering head in time, jerkily he corrected himself whilst praying the Dark Lord hadn’t noticed his blunder. 

The Dark Lord uttered breathlessly, aroused. “What gives you the right to tempt me before noon, darling?” 

“How-” Gaunt sputtered. “-I did nothing, there was no tempting!” 

Draco gulped, biting his lip, his face burning as he pushed open his quaint office’s already jarred door with a closed fist. It was neat and tidy his office, as he preferred it, if not a little plain. A large desk illuminated by candlelight and a snow-dusted window filtered in weak winter sunlight through sheer, lacy drapes. His couch was tucked away in the farthest corner, they were still bickering when they entered, he listened to his furniture groan as Gaunt sighed contently sitting down with a dramatic thump. 

“I must say, I expected your office to be more, I don’t know, fashionable? It’s kinda boring.” Gaunt said while Draco carefully set his stack of paperwork on his desk. He turned around slowly, bowing his head again to them both before answering Gaunt’s question. 

He huffed, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “I’m not allowed. My father forbids me from distractions, decorations count in that regard.” 

Draco paled, he'd not meant to say that aloud, but he had to defend himself… The office was atrocious and he was too prideful to claim it. 

Gaunt tilted his head, his luminous green eyes wide as he bit his bottom lip, failing to hide a smile. “No, that won’t do kids like you need enrichment how’re you supposed to enjoy your job like this? You especially, you’re elegant and I know you want this-” Gaunt flung his hands out slapping the Dark Lord in the chest, getting a hiss in return. “- To reflect that, or at least the Malfoy I knew would’ve.” 

Voldemort rolled his eyes. He was standing behind the couch, his fingers tufting through Gaunt’s silky black curls, fluffing them. Gaunt had dimples Draco hadn’t noticed before that dug into his ample cheeks as smiled brightly.

“It’s bold of you to assume I enjoy my job.” Draco answered, prying his eyes off Gaunt and back to Voldemort. 

The Dark Lord sneered.“He may be as bold as he wishes…Tell me Draco what is your official title?” 

Draco rubbed his elbow through his robe, breathing through his nose and counting back from ten before answering so he wouldn’t faint. 

“I am my Father’s assistant.” 

“Surely, he must have a dozen of those.” 

“Ten actually.” 

Gaunt interrupted. “Poor kid. I bet you wanna be out there in the world, exploring and having fun. It’s a waste of your youth being cooped up in here. Voldie you should do something!” 

“Me? If he wants out he’ll have to take initiative himself.” Voldemort said, growing tired of the subject, he stepped away from Gaunt striding in front of Draco, his imposing height looming as he dug into his pocket, thrusting a wrinkled piece of parchment out. Voldemort continued. “ Draco take this and leave us. Return in fifteen minutes exactly with every book on that list.” 

“Yes My Lord.” Draco murmured, snatching the paper quickly from Voldemort’s forefingers. 

He hesitated for a second too long. The Dark Lord growled. Draco burst for the door, he didn’t breathe until he was down the hall and safely in the metal confines of the elevator. 

---

66 Million Years Ago, Late Cretaceous

Harry Gaunt plummeted headfirst into a massive, damp fern. He groaned blindly, grasping out, he’d hit his head on something and the pain was blinding, his body listened to him delayed but obedient. The stone he held was slippery, coated in an unknown slime. Crickets or something like them chirped out and the strangled calls of creatures unknown echoed around him as he struggled to breathe the humid, sticky oxygenated air. There was so much of it, he felt high, trembling and gasping for a hold to right himself. 

It was hot, too hot for the layers he wore and he whined, hating it. The clothes on his body grafted to his skin, sticking and smothering him. 

“Harry take my hand.” Commanded a familiar voice. 

Harry peeled his eyes open. He hadn’t realized they were closed. Death in all their urethral glory, skeletal in form clicking and raspy, reached for him, wiggling their bony fingers together in his direction.

Harry smiled despite himself. He reached back, as soon as they touched flesh bloomed trailing up Death’s body, he felt his own life force draining it was painful but nothing knew. Almost pleasant, the sensation. It’d never affected him negatively, it was a temporary loss for monumental gain. Death was beautiful fleshed out, he didn’t want them naked before him, and he’d long before agreed to this trade. 

Death was tall, Harry watched fascinated, curious to what face they’d wear this time. 

Gold hair, long thick curls sprouted from their bald head, sharp cheekbones and onyx star-filled eyes bore down on him. The stars twinkled like the Milkyway, once Harry had witnessed a shooting star pass from one eye to the other. Tanned skin veiled over pink muscles, ample breasts filled Death’s cloak, the indents of an hourglass figure blossomed, teasing through the thin fabric of their black robes. 

This time, Death fleshed out into the form of a gorgeous human woman. On his last visit, they’d been an alien so Harry was relieved, to say the least. 

Harry swallowed nervously, opening his mouth to comment but froze when a roar reverberated through the forest, small brightly colored feathered dinosaurs shrieked rushing into the safety of the dense thickets, and sunbathing turtles startled, vaulting into the slow-moving river beside them.

A stampede was happening not far off and the Earth was trembling, massive conifer seed pods fell around them plopping into the rushing stream, swirling around the rocks and algae clinging to its sturdy, sandy bank.

A seed pod walloped him in the head, he hissed, pouting while rubbing his now sweaty matted curls. Harry questioned weakly. “Death, where the fuck are we?” 

Death smiled, mouth full of sharp white teeth, lips as red as blood. “Cretaceous period, late. I have a rather large errand in about an hour, I’d love to share your company, join me?” 

“Cretaceous… Can I see a T-Rex? Please, please I’m begging you, I’ll do anything ever since primary school I’ve dreamed of this day!” Harry didn’t have to fake his sincerity, he really, really wanted to see a T-Rex. 

“No.” Death hummed, their voice feminine and soft like a wisp of cotton candy melting on your tongue. 

Harry pouted like a scolded child. He tried ripping his hand out of Death’s grasp but Death glowered, indenting their now long nails painfully into this clammy skin. 

“No?” He whispered sadly. 

Death whispered, their voice renouncing its soft qualities for a sharp masculine tone."I can do you better than that Harry. Don't let go of my hand. I'm going to apparate us now-"

He dug his heels into the gritty, pebbly dirt it crunched underneath his converse. Harry shouted. "WAIT! Can we walk, please? I know you see this kind of stuff all the time but I want to look at um-everything!”

“When-” Death paused, clearly enjoying themselves.”-You’re finished playing house in your universe we will be together for all eternity, why not stay Master? You’d be able to explore to your heart’s content and I’d be able to feed off you endlessly, it’s as you humans say a ‘Win-Win’.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Um-no thank you. I’m okay for now, really. I’m not ready yet… I’ve thought about it after the first time you offered. I just need more time, ya know?” 

Death rolled their eyes, the universe inside them orbiting. “ No, Harry I don’t know, nor do I understand, but you’ll join me, everything does in the end.” 

He laughed.“Why do you have to be so ominous and mysterious all the time D, doesn’t it get exhausting?” 

“Exhaustion is a sensation I only perceive when you are willing to share it with me, when you leave I feel nothing.” Death answered flatly. 

He felt guilt churn in his gut but repressed it after Death titled their head at him curiously, obviously trying to understand this new emotion being transferred between them.

Harry nodded and that was an answer enough. He held his tongue to the roof of his mouth, grinding his teeth, fearful of what he might agree to if he opened his mouth too soon.  

They walked, small reptiles and birds chittered, singing and wailing songs that made his heart ache, it felt sacred, ancestral as if something deep in his consciousness connected them. A string of time, genes, and instinct maybe. He shook his head and truly opened his eyes, it was hot and the sun was bright flickering through the dense canopy of trees above. 

Together, they traversed through the forest avoiding low-hanging vines while following the well-worn paths that dinosaurs had carved; they were narrow and unsuitable for human feet, but Death caught him each time he tripped. Following the river until it opened up, exposing green rolling hills, flattened by herbivores, grass was short nipped to the bud.

The river itself widened, a large watering hole with beaten down muddy banks was filled shoulder to shoulder with duck-billed dinosaurs and a few medium-sized ones he didn’t recognize but for a vague relocation from his Muggle childhood school books.

His most surprising and fascinating discovery was that most of them had feathers, some more than others, but they were brightly colored, not the dull, hairless beasts he'd learned in school.

 “D, why don’t they notice us? In the last universe, I spoke with those people, they saw me.” Harry whispered, leaning his shoulder into Death, too in awe to analyze his actions. 

Harry didn’t glance up but he could hear the smirk in Death’s lithe airy voice. “You’re touching me, we are one, if you want to get technical we are death.” 

“Woah!” Harry squeaked, pushing Death back and tearing his hand from theirs. 

It was easy to do, he was sweating buckets and he learned a new fact, Death did not perspire. Harry, embarrassed, vigorously wiped his hand on his jeans, distracted until the guttural alarm shriek of an animal tore through the thick air. Every animal had stopped, staring at him with wary eyes, they’d never seen anything like him before so they didn’t immediately flee.

Why would they? Harry was so small. He didn’t have any outwardly predatory features that set them off, a few blinked at him then waded back into the water. He sighed in relief. He turned back to Death, hands on his hips and mouth opening, ready to lecture them again on why they should have told him that the first time they met. 

Death shook their head, curls bouncing wetting their red lips and pointing a long finger back to the river. Harry obediently closed his mouth with a snap, pivoting back around tugging at his sticky collar, the air swirled underneath grazing his stomach, he sighed gratefully for even a smidge of relief from the heat. He raised his hand, about to snap his fingers to cover himself with a cooling charm. Motion in the river distracted him. 

It happened so quickly that if Harry had closed his eyes again he might have missed the water quivering, a rock that was not a rock shuttered. He bit his tongue holding back a scream.

It was enormous, spines jutting out of its mossy green and transparent finned back. It snatched a screeching duck-billed dinosaur between its jaws shaking it like a crocodile, blood flying until the screaming stopped and its prey limped dead. 

Every other dinosaur had long fled by the time Harry blinked again. Harry shouted. “Holy fuck is that a Spinosaurus?” 

The Spinosaurus lurched its head in Harry’s direction, breath steaming out of its nostrils. Harry screamed, reaching out and hugging Death around the waist. The beast blinked its clear eyelids, confused but too hungry to think much about where that loud peculiar upright animal had gone. 

Death laughed. “Come, Harry. Are you satisfied? I need to attend to my chores and I sense you have questions for me?” 

“Uh-yeah I do.” Harry breathed, numb to the spoken word as he watched the Spinosaurus swallow its prey whole, chunk by chunk down its gullet. 

Touching Death he could feel the dead dinosaur's soul swirl above it briefly, Death breathed in absorbing it, Harry did as well vicariously. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, an electric spark tingled up his spine and he blushed crimson.

Harry untangled himself from Death with an awkward breath, it was exhilarating and addictive, he wanted to feel it again. It was like when he summoned back a soul, but more. Beyond anything, human words could articulate. 

Death looked down at Harry, a long spindly finger brushed back a wandering curl away from his forehead, it sprang back too humid to obey and Death chuckled. “Shall we? I’ll take us, don’t use magic. I know you want to cool yourself but we are going somewhere very cold. Do not let go of me.” 

“Okay.” Harry whispered. 

It was but a blip and they were gone. Floating in space above the Earth. Harry’s lungs expanded and to his shock, he could breathe. It was beautiful and as he looked around in weightless wonder he was disappointed to see no stars. 

“They’re there, look away from the sun.” Death spoke. 

Harry listened, it was cold, freezing beyond anything he’d ever felt, his sweat froze to his skin, his arm hair crystalizing but he didn’t die, not while holding Death’s hand. He twisted his neck away from Earth and its sun, there faintly did he see the stars twinkling, light-years away. 

Satisfied and brimming with excitement Harry looked back to Death, smiling ear to ear. “Uh-Yeah my questions, Merlin I feel dumb asking them they seem so stupid compared to well this!” 

Death wasn’t looking at him, they were looking far into space, a little frown twisting on their face. “You are free to ask anything, they were important enough for you to visit me, were they not?” 

“No-no you’re right, they were… I’ve met another me, Harry Potter, that universe's I guess-did I create another universe by changing it? Do mine and Voldie's no longer exist, the one where we’re from?” 

Something shifted he couldn’t identify what, but whatever it was, was about to happen and it made Harry’s skin ripple, his blood boil. His body was warning him, and Death noticed, squeezing his hand to comfort him. 

“Yes. It split into two. Your universe is still alive and moving forward without you, but if they were to open your tomb they’d discover it vacant. No one has though… Do you wish to visit?” 

“NO! Sorry-uh I didn’t mean to yell. Okay, um back to my original question, my soul has always reacted to Voldie’s soul. I mean it feels incredible but lately, I think after meeting the younger me, it’s been weird with Tom. How do I fix it?” 

“Fix it? Why?” 

“What do you mean-it’s Tom! I hate it, he’s my son I don’t want to feel um-weird ya know?” 

“He’s not actually your son.” 

Harry groaned, they’d had this conversation before and he was over it.

“I know that! I don’t want to feel whatever the fuck we’ve been feeling, I mean it’s not all the time just sometimes, it’s weird.” 

“Hmm, weird but normal I suppose, your souls are not the same but similar, too similar they want to merge and your exposure to Potter is not something I recommend… It’s confusing them. Voldemort being corporeal is another factor, but he and you are merged almost completely. I don’t understand it, your situation is rare, I’d need to go there, experience it myself.” 

“WHAT! Voldie and I? Are you fucking serious why didn’t-” He was cut off by hot air and immense amounts of pressure. 

A meteor was approaching and hurling in fast. 

“Holy shit.” Harry whispered under his breath, kicking his feet so he floated closer to Death. 

“Ah, there goes the Mesozoic Era. Isn’t it beautiful Master?” Death hummed happily. 

Part of the Earth exploded on impact. Harry didn’t find it beautiful. 

“Go home Master, I’ll visit you soon.”

“I don’t know what soon means to you-” Harry blinked and that was it. He blipped again, his soul slamming into his body like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, so he flailed instead. Smacking something, or someone he supposed because they cried in pain. 

“Why? I thought I was far enough away this time!” Voldie shouted, but his anger didn't seem genuine. His tone was tense. 

Harry peeled his eyes open, sure enough, he was in Draco Malfoy’s office in the fetal position on his dull hideous gray couch. He didn’t have the energy so he just mumbled back garbled nonsense. 

Voldie approached cautiously, gently covering Harry’s forehead with the palm of his hand. “You don’t have a fever.” 

His throat felt raw and his lungs burned badly. Harry questioned hoarsely, surprised by how swollen his lips were. “H-how did you kill me, I can’t remember.” 

“Oh, I kissed you till you suffocated, plugged your nose. It was quite romantic.” Voldie sighed, stroking Harry’s face with an adoring smile. 

"Get out." 

Voldie didn't listen fast enough Harry flicked his finger, only realizing after that this wasn't his space to destroy, oops. Voldie crashed across poor Draco's desk smashing it, papers flying and wood splitters exploding across the room. 

Draco, the poor kid opened the door at that exact moment, dropping the towering stack of books he was balancing with a bewildered shout. Harry sighed, he felt bad, really bad. He got up using the couch to hold up his shaking legs. 

Voldie moaned, stringing a creative and incredibly vulgar line of curses as he struggled up. Harry ignored him, but he’d have to ask him to repeat some of those later. He smiled apologetically at Draco, the poor kid was trembling, looking back and forth from his destroyed office and to Harry like a broken pendulum. 

“He’ll fix it, it was his fault.” Harry jabbed his thumb in Voldies direction. 

A breathless, “Fuck you.” echoed out from Voldies pile of debris.  

Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s sorry. Don’t worry he won’t be staying for long.” 

He leaned in, Draco’s already pale face went ashen. Harry whispered. “I have another favor to ask you, don’t worry I’ll owe you one.” 

---

Same Day, That Afternoon

Harry Potter clutched his now crumpled letter in between his hands, shivering from both the cold and his rattled nerves. He was instructed to enter a secret back entrance of the Ministry, Gaunt had asked for him and he’d lied his way out of the house just to be here. Why? He didn’t know, he couldn’t say no, nor did he want to take back his promise. He sighed.

‘I need to see a mind healer, I’m…not well.’

“Potter, psst Potter, do you want to freaking die, get inside now!” Whispered Draco Malfoy who had the door pried open. His face was white and his gray eyes were wide with fear. 

"Sorry, Malfoy!" Harry cried back. 

He rushed for the door, slipping through the small wedge that Draco was barely holding open. The door was heavy, extremely so and it squeezed his chest, he lost his breath before popping out on the other side. He'd used more strength than he'd realized, crashing into Draco, who immediately crumpled instead of trying to catch him. 

Laughter that sounded like his rude inner critic echoed around the small room he found himself in. Harry shoved Draco who was sniffling away and got up himself, brushing his robes off with a huff before glancing at who was laughing. 

It was Gaunt, he should've known. Gaunt wasn’t wearing an outer robe he wore a red, low collared knit sweater, his cheeks were rosy with laughter and his body shaking, his hand was covering his mouth, pinky tracing the flat mole on the corner of his mouth. Harry blushed wondering why he was looking. He stepped back, offering Draco a hand. The blond slapped it getting up on his own, sneering. 

“Thanks for the help Draco, I couldn’t remember where the entrance was.” Gaunt smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“You're welcome.” Draco’s eyes were curious observing them both, searching for something. 

Harry could guess, it was strange enough talking with himself but to an outsider, it must be fascinating. 

“Well, I’m here what do you need from me?” He questioned. 

“That my dear is between you and me.” Gaunt sang. 

“Draco may I use your-” Gaunt added like an afterthought.

Draco cut him off. “Yes, but please for the love of Merlin keep everything intact?” 

“Of course, no problem.” Gaunt promised sweetly. 

Harry followed Gaunt in a daze, he vaguely remembered saying his goodbyes to Draco and before he knew it he was seated in a small office on the highest floor of the Ministry. 

“Mipsy-two,” Gaunt said, snapping his fingers. 

She appeared, smiling her ears wiggling happily. “Yes, Master Gaunt how may Mipsy-two serve yous?” 

“Get us some tea and sandwiches, could you? Oh, oh and some booze I can’t do this sober not after the day I’ve had.” Gaunt groaned hopping up on Draco’s desk, swinging his feet back and forth. One of the odd Muggle shoes he wore had a lace untied, whipping the wood and making little snapping noises with every swing. 

“Um-” Harry choked out, he felt nervous all of a sudden. “-Your letter, it didn’t say much.” 

Another pop announced Mispy-Two’s return she set everything down on the low table between them, his eyes bugged when she smacked a huge bottle of clear liquor along with two crystal glasses next to their tea and sandwiches. Gaunt acted like a starved animal he thanked Mipsy-two so vigorously she was perplexed as she was embarrassed and pleaded for him to stop before popping away. 

Harry wished he could pop away too. Instead, he gingerly reached for his sandwich, he’d eaten before he left so he nibbled on the lettuce just to be polite. Gaunt filled up his glass, sandwich in his other hand, hopping back up on the desk. 

Gaunt chewed hungrily, munching and moaning into it, the lettuce crunched loudly and Harry lowered his sandwich to watch the spectacle of it all. 

“Yomrabegrawhrag ahh, sorry. Ahem, you’d not believe where I went today, it was bloody insane! I didn’t get to tell Voldie about it so I feel all pent up you know like I wanna tell someone who’ll believe me! I saw fucking dinosaurs today Potter, DINOSAURS!” Gaunt gushed, specks of food flying until he swallowed. 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What?” 

“Yeah I know, ugh you don’t believe me, but it’s true.” Gaunt wiped his hands on his pants hand striking out like a viper for his glass.

Gaunt then proceeded to chug the entire glass of alcohol without a wince. Harry gawked, giving up on his sandwich and lunging for a hot cup of tea. He sipped it, grounding himself by swirling the hot beverage around his mouth. Harry knew one thing, he knew from Gaunt’s tone, his tone, and the way his face twitched that he was telling the truth. 

Which was shocking. He stuttered shyly.  “Uh-you’re not lying I know you’re not.” 

His twin, could Harry really call him that? It felt wrong too… Maybe just Gaunt for now. Gaunt breathed out giggling when the booze kicked in, his playful eyes darkened and Harry squirmed in his seat, he felt like a specimen being examined before it was cruelly dissected. 

“Sometimes I forget, that you’re me.” Gaunt mused, flicking his finger. 

Harry was startled when the bottle beside him hurdled into Gaunt’s waiting palm with a loud smack. 

“I-I don’t think that.” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. 

His teacup rattled in his hands, he set it on his lap and linked his fingers together around it to soothe some of his stress. 

“Oh-well I didn’t mean it literally, we’re obviously different people but like spiritually? Magic thinks so, well I hope she does because I’m about to test it.” Gaunt murmured into another filled glass, before downing it with a hissy exhale. 

“What are you talking about, test it?” For some reason, his hormone-rattled brain exploded and he blushed, freeing his other hand and smacking himself in the face, his cheeks were hot to the touch. 

Thankfully, Gaunt was too tipsy to notice paused, furrowing his brow before answering. “ Yeah, I made an oath to Dumbledore that’d-” He froze smiled cheekily laughed, continuing. “-I’d meet him in Nurmengard on the first Friday of January. OH fuck yes, I just told you and it didn’t hurt me all!” 

Gaunt pumped his hands up in the air, the empty glass shimmered reflecting the room’s flickering candlelight through the crystal. Harry sat dumbfounded he had no clue what Gaunt was talking about, and boy if he didn’t have questions before, he had them now. 

“What, why would he make you swear an oath to that? What is Nurmengard?” Harry swallowed, maybe he needed a glass of that booze after all. 

“Oh, just where he locked his boyfriend up, I mean I’m pretty open to a lotta things but the prison, jailer dynamic does not do it for me, to each their own though.” Gaunt said, biting his lip then looking at Harry with a cheeky grin. 

“His… You can’t p-possibly mean Grindelwald  !?” Harry felt faint and Gaunt noticed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I know he’s important to you and this might be a shock.” Gaunt jumped down, snagging the bottle and gently pouring a sizeable amount into Harry’s teacup. 

“How could you possibly know?” Harry snapped, regretting it immediately. 

Gaunt ruffled his hair with a somber smile. Harry felt it again, that tingly sensation that roused whenever they touched, he panicked jerkily scooting himself out of Gaunt’s range. Gaunt snapped his hand back to his side, retreating slowly, but he left the bottle by Harry. 

He didn’t hop back up on the desk but he crossed his arms, regarding Harry carefully. “Sorry, you’re right I don’t know, but you don’t know me either.” 

“Right, I’m so sorry I didn’t consider-” Harry stuttered, voice cracking. 

Gaunt cut him off with a wave.“-No, I’m the adult here it’s my job to think not yours. I should’ve been more delicate, it’s a touchy situation that’s why I wanna meet with them, I want to know everything, what their planning how many followers Grindlewald has retained, and how deep Dumbledore is in on it. I won’t let them hurt my family, you’re included in that now Potter. I want to protect everyone if I can.” 

“I can protect myself… and I’m not a kid I’ll be twenty next summer.” He huffed, sipping on his tea then coughing loudly, it was vodka and it burned his nose. 

Gaunt laughed at him and for some reason, it didn’t offend Harry. It was infectious and he was laughing too before he realized. After that, they chatted more about Dumbledore but Gaunt didn’t reveal anything about his past, and that was okay Harry refused to accept that’d this be their last meeting. 

“So I want you to take my place on that day, here.” Gaunt announced, pouring himself a cup of tea. 

A slightly intoxicated Harry spit out the contents of his glass everywhere. As he fervently dabbed his pants with his napkin, he glanced up at Gaunt in disbelief. 

“Excuse me?” He hollered. 

“You’re excused.” Gaunt giggled slapping Draco’s desk like he’d had just said the greatest joke of the century. 

Harry wasn’t amused. “Seriously what are you going on about?” 

Gaunt cleared his throat, his skin was flushed and his eyes shimmered. Or maybe it was Harry’s eyes, now that he thought about everything in the room was hazy, slow-moving, and oh so beautiful, why was everything so gorgeous? 

“I-” Gaunt announced straightening up his posture and pointing at Harry. “-am going to train you, make you into me. Oh don’t look so scared kid, it’ll just be for a day, see I can’t even tell them where I’m going, you know Tom and Voldie I c-can’t-” He hiccuped. “-Tell ‘em.” 

“R-Right.” Harry burped. 

They laughed again. It was hysterical. By the time their fit ended, Harry’s stomach hurt and his jaw ached, but he was so, so delighted. 

“Okay okay, I’ll do it, when-when do I start?” He breathed, chomping on his sandwich. 

Merlin, the texture of the bread was incredible, he moaned Gaunt had been right before, this was fucking delicious. 

“I’ll-well not today-Tempus-holy fuckery it’s way too late we-we gotta get ya out of here!!!” Gaunt yelled, his body must’ve moved without him being aware because he flopped onto the floor with a blubbering muffled shriek. 

Like a miracle, the door opened just as Harry staggered up, woah the world spun and he barely caught himself before he fell too. 

“What the actual fuck is going on in my office now!” Draco screamed, his wand was clenched tightly in his hand, the other arm was full of paperwork.

Harry covered his ears. “Ouch, don’t be so loud Malfoy!” 

“Oh my-have you guys been drinking!?” Draco yelped, his voice quieting into a desperate whisper, he peeked back out into the hall, satisfied with whatever he found, shutting the door and glaring intensely at them. 

“Sorry kid, can you do me another favor and get Potter out of here, I’ll distract the demons, and I’ll owe you double!” Gaunt muttered quite confidently for a man who was intoxicated off his ass and using a table as a crutch. 

“Triple!” Draco growled, stomping his foot. 

“What-ugh fine, dammit.” Gaunt rolled his eyes, but he had the hint of an amused grin ghosting his lips. 

Harry wondered if Gaunt was proud of Malfoy, what a weird thought, he’d never ever felt proud of Malfoy, Merlin he’d used to hate the bloke. He didn’t know if he hated him now, he was so tired too tired to hate anything right now, maybe later. 

“Mmm can’t you feel it? They’re looking for me!” Gaunt sang, smirking like the devil. 

Draco and Harry shared a terrified look. Draco grabbed Harry’s elbow yanking him out the door. Halfway down the hall, Harry heard Gaunt yell. “I’LL OWL YOU LET’S MEET AGAIN TOMORROW!” 

By the time Harry had been kicked out of the Ministry by a cursing and spitting Draco Malfoy and snuck into his room, lying face down on his bed he laughed and laughed until he cried. 

“Why-why-why does this always happen to me?!” 

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I love all your reviews and I hope you liked this one, please let me know what you think of Death too <3 <3 Next chapter is the Yule Ball then a time skip to the day Harry's got to go to Dumbledores (and Potter will take his place yay )

Chapter 8: Yule Never Believe This!

Yule Ball, Present Day   

 Harry Gaunt snuck in behind a gaggle of teenage girls. It was crowded, stifling with body heat and voices climbing over each other, contesting to be the loudest in the room, and what a massive room it was. It was lavishly decorated, the ceilings were covered in large stalactites, twinkling lights like the stars in between, and spelled snow flurried down, only stopping short of the guests’ heads.    

“The Dark Lord declared that his father will be attending tonight.” One of the girls shrieked.  

He looked over so quickly his body jerked, bumping his shoulder into a passing server. The server apologized profusely, handing him not one but two cocktails. Harry stood stupidly, holding them both while being forced to walk by the moving crowd, still close behind the group. 

A girl with lengthy, brunette braids declared with a dimpled smile. “Oh Merlin, doesn’t his father look exactly like him? Neither of them ages a day! Their blood must run strong.”  

“You’re so naive Diane, the Dark Lord is in his seventies, he’s used something, very dark…Rumors say he's immortal, maybe this ‘father’ of his is connected to that!" Another girl proclaimed. She had blonde hair tied tightly in a bun, and wore a burgundy dress with a train she had to lift as she walked, but her knuckles were clutched white. She was nervous despite her confident tone. 

“Who cares?” A young girl, she didn’t look over fifteen yelled, her voice so high pitched she had to practically scream herself raw to be overheard over the music. She continued. “He’s hot!”  

Laughter and giggly shrieks followed, only a few grumbles of disagreement. Harry’s brows were raised high into his bangs, but he wanted to hear more.  

Who exactly did they think was Tom’s father?  

Obviously not him.  

Someone pushed into his back, Harry yelped thrusting forward, sidestepping one of them by an inch. Diane, he thought? Her nose almost brushed his sternum. He yanked his glasses high so not to hit her in the face. She looked up at him, glanced away then back at him with wide, calculating eyes.  

“EXCUSE ME?” She screamed.  

He pointed his free pinky down, wiggling it at himself, mouthing. “Me?”  

“YES, YOU!” Diane yelled, her cheeks rosy and chestnut eyes alight with excitement.  

Harry leaned in, so he could speak at a somewhat normal volume and still be heard. She blushed furiously and the other girls screamed, encircling them. He rolled his eyes.  

“How can I help you?” He asked, smiling brightly.

He missed when Tom was young, like this. He’d grown up so fast, so eager to be an adult that it felt like Harry had missed an important stage of his life.  

Maybe someday he could have another?  

He’d fantasized about having another child, but life…okay Tom and Voldie constantly got in the way.  

Harry had never told them of his wish, too terrified of what they’d say. He loved Tom, but Tom’s childhood always carried the weight of ‘What will he become?’ and ‘How did I fuck up the timeline by being a shitty parent this time?' Harry had, of course, abandoned those worries long ago. Voldie hadn’t permitted him to mentally abuse himself for twenty-odd years or so.

But as much as he lied to himself... Tom wasn’t exactly a ‘normal’ child growing up.  

Harry had always dreamed of having a big family, but with Tom that just wasn’t an option, he was far too territorial. Harry knew that the moment he started to speak in full sentences. 

It was too much of a risk.  

Now, Tom was old, leading his country, and Voldie no longer prowled in the depths of Harry’s psyche. 

A golden opportunity, right? He didn’t think Tom would be having grandchildren for him any time soon. Harry would love to adopt another child in need, raise them himself, or have one of his own...with whom? Well, he didn’t want to think about the logistics, it would only ruin his fantasy. 
Tom and Voldie would have an outright fit if he brought someone new into... Harry didn’t have a label for whatever it was they were doing, unfortunately, a baby would have to wait.   

Thinking about all that, his smile wilted. Those thoughts made his heart pang, as much as the vein now throbbing in his temple. 

The teens closed in, eager to hear what question Diane had for him.  

“Are you related to the Potters? You look like you could be Harry Potter’s cousin?” Diane asked, eyes flickering up curiously at the two drinks Harry still held over his head with shaking arms.  

The crowd was so thick, he didn’t think he could escape without apparating. 

Harry laughed, biting the dry skin off his bottom lip and swallowing it before answering. “... That’s a complicated question, sweetheart.”  

She laughed, giving him a knowing look. “Oh, you’re a bastard then?”  

He blinked, lowering a crystal glass, the pink drink almost sloshing out with how quickly he moved. Harry knocked it back. It tasted sweet, like strawberries with an explosion of mint that set off his taste buds, fireworks in his mouth.  

“Nope." He answered bluntly, lapping up a chunk of berry off his bottom lip.  

She pouted, confused. “What’s your last name?” 

“Gaunt.” Harry grinned mischievously.  

Another girl had shoved her way between them, a sentence dying on her lips. Harry stepped closer, finally having enough space to lower his other drink, it was lime and the rim was lined with thick, salty crystals. 

He licked the rim, winking at her. She paled, shrinking in on herself and staring past him at the person he’d felt approaching, whoever it was, was high ranking because all the voices had quieted down and the air in the room had shifted, allowing them a wide berth, a bridge of ballroom floor erupting through the sea of guests.  

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding, darling? Come, Tom, and I have a seat reserved for you.” Voldie announced, grabbing Harry’s wrist prying the half-filled drink out of his clenched fingers. 

Harry sighed, defeated. He didn’t turn around right away, he wanted to play the scene more and he didn’t want to be introduced, they’d be disappointed. 

“What’s wrong? Did someone insult you?” Voldie whispered, brushing hair away from Harry’s ear, kissing the tip of his earlobe hard, but he didn’t stop. Voldie trailed rough kisses down his neck, lingering in the crevice of his collarbone and breathing in. 

“No. I was just overthinking things.” Harry hissed, pleasure shooting up his spine when Voldie licked him again, skimming his pulse point and sucking. 

“Look at me.” Voldie ordered, fingers clasping around Harry’s chin forcefully tilting his face up so their eyes met. 

Harry’s neck ached, he clenched his jaw. The crown of his head pressed painfully into Voldie’s ribs but when their green and blue gazes converged, the sensation roused him. His soul magic ignited, blasting around the room. People were shouting but he could barely hear them, they sounded muffled, far away. 

Voldie growled, thumbing gentle circles into Harry’s cheek. "I won't allow anyone to insult you, not even your conscience. I did not fight your disgusting, self-deprecating, and frankly erroneous thoughts all these years for them to come back and harm you. I alone am permitted to do that." 

“You’re bossy, did you know that?” Harry leaned in, kissing the tip of Voldie’s nose. It was cold. Voldie laughed but Harry breathed in, allowing his magic to do something that Voldie had taught him how to do a long time ago, unaided flight. 

He hovered, his boots arching and his knees bending as he floated up, fingers digging into Voldies shoulders to keep him from flying any higher.

Voldie’s eyes dilated, he reached out, but Harry slapped him away. They were of equal height now, it sent ripples of arousal through his body. He seized Voldie’s collar, pulling him close.

Harry quietly moaned, his lips vibrating against the shell of Voldie’s ear. "I said, you're bossy Voldemort. You need to figure your shit out. Threatening to kill Tom, blah, blah, blah-how about you shut up and do something? You’ve been all talk since I got your body back. I don’t wanna be patient anymore. You've always said he's our son, so be a good Daddy and put him in timeout." 

He had only meant to tease him, but the more he said, the more Harry realized how honestly he meant it. 

This soul magic business was no fucking joke! 

Harry, mortified, released the spell and pushed himself back. But it was too late, the damage was done. Voldie plucked him right out of the air, cupping his ass and pressing Harry so hard into his chest that it knocked the wind straight from his lungs. 

“I'd kill Tom a million times if you asked it of me, for even a single night with you.” Voldie said breathlessly, hurling the glass he’d somehow still been holding onto the floor. It shattered.

Harry frowned, flattered if not a little peeved. He didn't want Tom dead just … unconscious for a few hours, maybe? 

He stubbornly kept his mouth shut. Voldie bit Harry's bottom lip, hard enough to break the skin. Voldie lapped up his blood then stuck two fingers between Harry’s lips, his tongue running desperately over Harry’s chin, teasing over the cut on his lip. 

Harry gave in, relaxing his jaw, allowing Voldie’s fingers inside, immediately Voldie’s fingers retreated only to move to the back of Harry’s head to shove him forward. He moaned into Voldie’s mouth. His Dark Lord tasted like lime, and despite his confident speech, Harry didn’t put up much of a fight. 

Magic itself urged them, not caring where they were, everything else fading into the background. Harry had never felt it like this before, even with Death there’d been a separation there, but now, between them, that line had disintegrated, a rusty wire blown away by a strong wind. This emotion was involuntary, all-consuming. It was hunger, thirst, a painful emptiness that demanded to be filled and only Voldie could satisfy it.

They may have forgotten they were in a crowded ballroom, but the guests surrounding them undoubtedly did not. Especially when Tom, who was asking about their whereabouts, listened to the yells and whispers surging through the crowds about the ‘other’ Dark Lord deflowering a Potter in the center of the floor. 

That got Tom's attention. The only 'Potter' who'd been invited was technically his Father. 

Harry felt something bouncing around in the back of his skull, like a pinball. It was easy to ignore at first, easier still with Voldie’s fingers plunging underneath his shirt, his jaw aching, and the frantic attempts to keep up and meet Voldies advances beat for beat. 

Tom’s shouts were harder to ignore, the blast of a bombarda being blocked by the bored wave of his wand in Voldie’s hand, which had slipped away from his nipple so fast that Harry had yelped in surprise. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" Tom’s voice finally cut through the haze. 

Harry reacted as rationally as he could, he kicked with all his strength. Voldie did not like this however, his blue eyes still clouded over with lust and something corrupt, feral. 

Voldie was gone. 

Whatever had taken them had freed Harry, but kept Voldie locked up and swallowed the key. 

For the first time since he’d come here, the childhood fear of his Voldemort, the one who’d tried to kill him his entire life, the one who’d been a crazed, snake, husk of the Voldie he knew and loved returned and Harry’s gut gnarled, something was wrong…very, very wrong. 

Harry reacted instinctively, his magic crackling out of his fingertips. He didn’t utter a spell, he just did whatever his magic told him to do. 

“Stop!” Harry screamed, as his magic struck from his fingers like a lighting bolt. 

But the strangest thing happened, Voldie absorbed the spell, stumbling back, not even falling over. Then the spell ricocheted back, blasting Harry over the crowd of screaming people and into the massive twelve-foot tall Yule tree. The branches he’d noticed before when he’d entered the ballroom, were heavy, sagging with glass ornaments and white chalky, imitation snow. 

Glass cut into his back and fake snow covered his body, coating his skin and penetrating his eyes while his fingers numbly grasped for a hold on the branches as gravity dragged him back down. Branch to branch Harry couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but warm liquid, the itching sensation of the chemical snow, and pine needles lacerating his frantic clenching fingers as he plummeted to the ground. 

Someone, he had no idea who blanketed his fall, stopping him from breaking half the bones in his body by sheer fractions of an inch. 

Harry lay there, his ears closed and his body trembling. Blinking out white crusty flakes of the tree's snow, it collected in the corner of his eyes but he was too weak to lift a hand to wipe it away. People were yelling, shouting, and generally panicking around him but whoever had cast the cushion held it firm, so he still hovered a few feet off the ground. 

Finally, some of the shock wore away and his body started burning. Harry sighed in relief. He'd been waiting for the pain, it was proof he wasn’t dead. He lifted himself on quivering elbows then when he was secure sitting on his ass, he tried rubbing his face. 

In his haste to see clearly, he forgot he was probably covered in white, and the glass, ugh the fragments were embedded everywhere, he froze his oozing fingers hovering above his eyes. Harry breathed in, coiling his magic, getting a feel for how full his core was. Harry frowned, ignoring the stinging, aching throb of his body. He didn’t feel right, sure his body was here, but it was as if he was using magic just not-huh, it felt like he was being drained. 

It struck him then. He yanked up his shirt, happy to find the inside free of guck. Harry wiped his eyes clear and opened them. They burned dry and irritated as he rapidly blinked, at the same time his ears popped. He got up, sliding a bit on the floor. The heels of his boots were also coated and slick. 

Tom and Voldie were dueling, one of them had thankfully put up a shield. Some guests, mostly Death Eaters, were closest, watching and jeering with fascination while the majority of people were hiding or crying behind anything they could find, or had left the building altogether. 

Harry rubbed his gritty temples hissing when a chunk of glittery decorative glass dislodged from his matted hair, shattering onto the ground in front of him. 

“LORD GAUNT, YOU’VE GOT TO STOP THEM!!” 

He turned around with a groan, stepping on the remains of the bulb with his shoe. It was Draco running at him full speed, three of his little friends following closely behind. Harry sneezed, his snot was white and a stray pine needle scratched the inside of his nose. He wiped it with the back of his sleeve, whimpering when he felt more grit cover his face in its place. 

Draco and his friends stood in front of him, granting him a wide berth. Blaise Zambini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott, none he’d ever met in this universe of course, but he knew their grandparents. Their eyes were wide, ogling him with loose mouths. Harry could only imagine how he looked. 

Harry sighed. “I’ll try but I think something's fucked up, I don’t… Well I have magic but it’s depleting fast, I think-” He pointed a finger at Voldie who was, oh shit he had Tom pinned to the ground, the closer he squinted the less it looked like a proper duel and more of a one-sided brawl. “-Voldie’s stealing my magic, you stay back, keep safe kids. I’m going in.” 

“Wait, Lord Gaunt, surely you can’t mean to go in there alone?” Pansy cried, but Harry was already limping away and toward the shield harboring his two idiots. 

“I’ll be okay!” Harry turned, offering them a sticky thumbs up. 

It was ruined when Harry sneezed again and white, snotty glitter splat on the floor. He sniffled, choosing to jog away as fast as his now swelling ankle permitted. He'd embarrassed himself enough today, thank you very much!

Harry huffed, slapping his bleeding hands on his hips. The shield was robust, but it was Voldie’s, he could work with that. Voldie was stealing his magic, he knew that for certain now. If only he had eyes like Pumpkin's and Voldie’s he’d be able to see it. Harry couldn’t see it but he could feel it. He reached out and to his delight, the shield believed he was Voldie. 

Perfect. 

Shuttering his eyes tight he crossed the threshold, his skin buzzed, intoxicated by Voldie’s magic. Voldie sensed him too, allowing Tom brief respite. Harry was too far away to see his eyes, but he just knew that Voldie wasn’t all there, something was still wrong. Tom seized his chance, flinging Voldie hard, but he didn’t know Harry was there, he probably couldn’t see much, not with one eye swollen shut and a broken nose. 

He lifted his hand, catching Voldie with his magic before he was hurled out of the shield. It wasn’t offensive, he wasn’t trying to hurt him, a smile bloomed on Harry’s face, happy that this spell didn’t bounce back. He felt another pine needle stabbing the inside of his cheek that he’d missed, he spat it out. Harry held Voldie there, ambling up to him slowly, but to his befuddlement, Voldie as he approached, beamed at him. He didn’t look hurt at all, simply overjoyed to see Harry. 

“Dad, get back, he can’t even speak, he just says your name over and over.” Tom roared, clutching Harry from behind and yanking him into his arms. 

Voldie’s face twisted, he didn’t like that. Harry could feel his emotions, they threaded into his own, interweaving together, a shared loom between them. Tom, who he hadn’t even noticed until he was touching him, was making Voldie upset. The magic being stolen increased in strength, it felt like it was pulling, and stretching his insides. 

“He’s…Dad, he’s stealing your magic! How is that possible? We’ve got to kill-”

Harry cut him off, arching on his tiptoes and capturing Tom’s bloody chin, drawing him down so their gazes met. 

“Pumpkin, leave us. Go now, you’re pissing him off, he’ll sap me dry if you don’t leave now, don’t worry I’ll take care of it, just keep everyone safe!” Harry said, grinning bitterly. 

“No, no I refuse!” Tom snarled, his fingernails digging into Harry’s skin where he grasped him. 

“Tom. Go. Now. I won’t ask a third time.” Harry hissed, wiggling violently out of Tom’s relaxing grip. 

Tom looked at him, finding emotion in his face that defeated him, soothing his rage. “Okay Dad, but if you need me I’ll be a step away, I’ll kill him. You just say the word, promise me you will not hesitate.” 

Harry frowned, he knew his emotions were being warped, twisted by his proximity to Voldie. “I promise, let me go, Pumpkin.” 

Tom’s hands flew up in the air and Harry ran, hugging Voldie with all his strength, his head ramming into his heaving chest. 

“Harry Potter, you finally submit to Lord Voldemort?” Voldie crooned, picking Harry up while rubbing pacifying circles into his back. 

Harry stilled, Voldie sounded out of place, the tenner of his voice climbing and diving to a tune he’d long forgotten. 

He sounded like Voldemort. 

“Voldie, baby look at me, snap out of it, please for me?” Harry shouted, digging his nose out of Voldie’s chest. 

“Need…inside.” Voldie slurred, biting viciously into the crux of Harry’s neck. 

Harry screamed. It hurt so fucking bad. Voldie had no mercy, no gentleness that he usually carried. He was brutal, his teeth digging and tearing bloody, ravenous lacerations into Harry’s already delicate, scraped skin. 

The pain shifted, and euphoria started sinking, latching onto his bones, burrowing into every fiber. Harry defied it. Success was painful and disorienting. He slapped Voldie in the face with all his strength. It worked, startling them both. Voldie immediately dropped him to the floor. Harry’s tailbone throbbed but he was too thrilled to concentrate on that.

“Merlin, darling, what happened to you?” Voldie shouted, fingers dragging up and over Harry’s pale, scowling face. 

Harry peeked up at him, sitting on the floor he tucked his knees up to his chest, his trousers were smeared white, he snatched Voldie's wrist, digging his dirty nails into Voldie’s skin. He pleaded, his leg bopping, sliding up and down nervously. “Voldie, something happened, I didn’t-fuck I should’ve told you, Death warned me about this, but they were as vague as they always are and I didn’t take it seriously… You don’t remember?”  

Voldies shield disintegrated and Harry screamed himself raw. “TOM, STOP, HE’S HIMSELF.” 

The ballroom was quiet, you could hear a pin drop. 

Tom’s footsteps were cautious, but Harry could hear him coming, feel him stand behind him, his hand hovering protectively over Harry’s hunched form. Tom obeyed gingerly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder then squeezing hard. He didn't say a word. 

The rest of the evening moved quickly. Harry sat in between them at the head of the table, still filthy and covered in fake snow as he ate his five-course meal. No one was talking above a whisper, but oh were the whispers loud, the tension and stares in the past would’ve made him sick. But infamy was something he’d long ago grown accustomed to. Harry was just pleased that Voldie and Tom were pretending everything was normal for his sake. 

“Darling.” Voldie reached out, Harry didn’t flinch even as Voldie stroked the deep teeth marks scabbing over on his neck, blood crusty and dried. 

“Hmm, yes?” Harry swallowed a massive bite of mashed potatoes, licking up a fatty glob of leftover gravy off his gold spoon. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t recall much, Tom told me everything. I don’t know what came over me, it was intense. I forgot where, when I was. You said Death warned you this could happen?” Voldie licked his thumb, moistening it and wiping away some of the congealed blood from Harry’s neck. 

Harry snatched his wine glass, gulping it entirely without tasting it. “Kind of, they weren’t clear, said they'd visit us soon, said our situation is rare. I believe them. Do-” He looked at Voldie, his fingers trembling around his glass, bowing it. Harry continued. “-You think we can’t touch anymore, do you think our proximity is the cause?” 

“No.” Voldie lied. Swiping his thumb under Harry’s bottom lip, bringing it back to his lips, and licking away a stripe of gravy. 

“Stop, Dad’s right.” Tom interrupted, hooking his fingers around the middle of Harry’s chair and skidding it across the floor with a screech, closer to himself. 

‘No.” Voldie and Harry said sternly in unison. 

Tom raised a dark brow, shaking his head at them, his red eyes hard. “Dad, you need help. Should I call a mind healer? He broke my fucking nose, again! And he tried to kill you!” 

"I wasn't trying to kill him." Voldie snapped defensively, slamming his fist on the table. 

“Excuse me?” A small, feminine voice piped up. 

Three heads whipped in the direction, they weren’t expecting an interruption. 

“Luna Lovegood?” Harry whispered. 

Somehow, she heard him, smiling brightly, nodding so hard her chin hit her chest. 

“Yes, you’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?” She asked, her voice breathy with excitement. 

Neville Longbottom was standing a few feet behind her, his arms outstretched as if to stop her, and his eyes wide as saucers, mouth bobbing open and closed with terror. 

“You have a death wis-” Tom started. 

Harry pinched him hard between the thin skin covering his ribs. Tom hissed but shut up. 

“Uh-well yes, technically I was Harry Potter, I'm Gaunt now.” Harry said. Underneath the table both Voldie and Tom grasped each of his thighs, rubbing mirrored circles into his flesh. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you, ever since I saw you in Gringotts in my second year, you’re free of Nargles but contaminated with Umgubular Slashkilters… It’s horrible.” Luna said, her eyes springing with tears she didn’t wipe away. 

“Oh-” Harry said, tears misting in his own eyes. “ -Thank you, Miss Lovegood, that’s very kind of you. I’ll watch my back." 

He ignored Tom and Voldie’s disgruntled sighs of exasperation, but their fingers stayed firm on his thighs. 

Luna bowed with a dreamy smile. Harry tilted his head down to hide a smile of his own. Neville bowed too, sweat dripping off his brow as he towed his girlfriend back while whispering for forgiveness under his breath. 

The rest of the night was a blur. Harry vaguely remembered being introduced as Tom’s father. He went through the motions the best he could, only lasting an hour before falling asleep face down in Tom’s lap. In his dreams, Death spoke urgently to him, warnings that faded into obscurity, long forgotten by the time the sun’s weak light bled through his and Tom’s shared bedroom window. 

---

January, 1st Friday 1999

Harry Potter regretted every decision in his life that had led up to this moment. He’d never drink again, except for today he had to play up the act after all. The act he’d been practicing all week for. Two letters were stuffed into his breast pocket. They were to be used in, no when he was discovered. Gaunt had promised him that they’d find out but the goal was to keep up the charade as long as possible.  

He felt ill. Gaunt had patted him on the back, went over the plan in a rush then escaped before Harry could do as much as nod. He stood dumbly in the lobby of the ministry in the clothes he had been loaned by Gaunt. It wasn’t his style, a pair of jeans and a thin striped v-neck shirt. He’d taken a polyjuice potion, they’d tried other ways but this ensured they looked identical. 

The first time they just tried styling his hair and using makeup. They’d both agreed it wasn’t enough, so they tried spells. Gaunt said they’d see right through that so that was crossed off the list. The next and final try was a polyjuice, which Harry had argued might not even work, but to his horror it did. 

Gaunt had promised Harry he’d give him a headstart, by fighting with them, starting an argument so Harry had an excuse to avoid them. Gaunt had whispered an apology on his way out the door, saying he’d been a bit too ‘spicy’... whatever that meant?! Harry had no idea, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked like he’d been coached too. He was to act bored outwardly but irritated and short lipped if anyone was brave enough to speak to him 

He could do that. 

“Lord Gaunt!” 

He couldn’t do it. 

“Yeah?” Harry answered curtly, smiling in that lopsided way he’d seen Gaunt do many times. 

It was a ministry worker, surprisingly it was one of his old classmates, a Slytherin he couldn’t recall the name of, who’d graduated a few years before him.

The Wizard looked shy but hopeful, shoving a thick stapled packet out with trembling hands. “Excuse my impertinence My Lord, may I bother you with a proposal? I’ve-I’ve tried getting it approved by the Dark Lord many times but he always returns it! I know he’d listen to you if you endorsed it!” 

This wasn’t something he’d gone over with Gaunt, he’d been coached on every single response to say… To Voldemort and Tom. Not random Ministry employees. 

I am Gaunt. What would Gaunt say in this situation, he’s being used obviously… Would we stand for this? 

No… But he would be too nice about it… while also being cruel. A bizarre but powerful combination. 

“Lemme see it.” He smiled brightly. Gaunt’s canines were sharper than his own. He almost cut his tongue simply by shoving it to the roof of his mouth. 

“Really!?” The employee gushed, stretching his hand out further. 

Harry reached out too, snatching the imposing stack of paper out of his hand. He read the cover and his stomach thudded into his gut. 

‘Magical Creatures Employment Act’ 

He glanced up. Eager brown eyes scrutinized his every expression. Harry struggled to keep his face blank as he flipped to the first page. In very floral deceptive language the bastard was arguing away The Dark Lord’s decade-old laws permitting magical creatures their right to work and live in the wizarding world. To fucking exist, like they weren’t living breathing beings with thoughts and dreams of their own. 

To put it lightly, Harry was pissed off. Normally he would’ve exploded, screamed, or destroyed something. But would Gaunt do that? No, no Gaunt was much too patient for that. Dumbledore had threatened to kidnap and kill him and Gaunt was having tea with the old man this very moment!

“No fucking way, kid.” He grinned, his voice sickly sweet. 

“Excuse me?” 

Harry’s eyes flicked over to the enormous, roaring fireplace in the visitor’s lobby. He side-stepped a few feet closer then chucked the proposal with all his strength into the flames with a cackling laugh. 

“Who do you-.” Harry loomed closer, keeping a smile on his face. He didn’t need to fake the fury boiling in his eyes, that was authentic. “-think taught my Pumpkin to not be a racist piece of shit? Who, answer me.” 

“Uh- you?.” The man shrank in on himself, clutching his robes with shaky fingers. Sweat was building on his brow as his eyes flickered at the fire incinerating his proposal and back to Gaunt with horror.  

The wizard was taller than Gaunt, but standing there, Harry felt like a God. 

“Why does it sound like you’re asking me a question?” Harry snarled. 

“Please forgive me, my Lord.” He begged.

“No, I don’t think I will, and I’ll do worse than that if you don’t disappear from my sight. Now.” 

Thundering footsteps echoed out as the man ran for his life. A triumphant smile spread across Harry's face. The spectators gawked and rushed away when he made eye contact pretending to be busy. This was something he could get used to. 

He walked on ignoring them. He bumped into someone, looked over, and who would know, it was Draco, brilliant. 

“Hello, my Lord, I have a message from the Dark Lord. He requests your presence.” Draco said with a low bow. 

Harry cringed. “Uh-um tell him that I refuse?” 

“ME?” Draco squeaked. “-I thought we…do, do you want me killed!?” 

“NO!” Harry screamed, drawing even more eyes. 

He wanted to cry. 

A young witch approached, standing awkwardly next to Draco. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes terrified. “The other Dark Lord, he is asking for you to meet him at his manor, right away.” 

“I don’t wish to see either of them... They both know why.” Harry tried answering confidently, but the young woman and Draco's questioning look told him otherwise. 

“Um, I was told to tell you this if you responded that way.” Her voice was quivering. “Ahem… ‘Darling, your acting skills are still atrocious. Try better next time, if you don’t come by on your own accord and explain yourself I will burn down the ministry and kill your pet fish.’ 

OH OH, HE KNEW A RESPONSE TO THIS ONE!

“Bastard! Well, you tell him that I’ll take back his birthday promise if he does! Also, that if he even so much as looks at my fish I’ll rip his soul from his body and eat it for fucking lunch!” 

She looked like she might faint. “Uh, he knew you’d say that as well…I have an answer from him, my Lord.” 

Harry deflated, he answered, voice barely above a whisper. “Um, okay?” 

Clearing her throat and flushing, she spoke. “Sweetheart, you can never take that back. Your threats are as adorable as you are. I have a theory about our Yule incident. You gave me your memories and I’ve been watching them over and over, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I believe I have a solution. Prepare yourself, it’ll be much like our night back in ‘84-”

She burst into tears, digging into her purse and yanking out a handkerchief, blowing into it while mouthing wordless blubbery apologies, then said. “Sorry, I wouldn’t dare repeat the rest, I’m-please Lord Gaunt, go to him! He threatened my family!” 

His mouth dropped open, gasping in horror. Dracos’s gasp harmonized with his. Harry snapped his head toward Draco. Harry coughed into his hand, Gaunt blushed all over his body and it was so warm he smacked himself in the face, struggling to hold in a scream. 

Harry looked away from her, pretending not to have heard that, or the implications of what that night back in ‘84’ could be referencing. “Wow. Alright. Please don’t tell me you have a message for me as well Draco?” 

Draco cleared his throat, digging in his pocket and pulling out a neatly folded square of parchment, he read it aloud like he had a wand shoved in his temple. “Actually, yes. Merlin, what did I do to deserve this? He said to tell you, ‘Dad, I have no clue what I did to anger you. I’m a very forgiving Lord…but if you ever insult my antique compass collection again I’ll use that tower I built for you, yes that one. Come see me at once. With Love, Pumpkin.’ Salazar, that was embarrassing… he built you a tower, sir?” 

Harry didn't know anything about a tower, so he just rolled his eyes and nodded, pretending to understand but refusing to elaborate. Then an idea struck him. Harry pivoted to face Draco, a mischievous smile twisted on his face. “Draco, may I speak with you privately?”

Draco's eyes bugged from his head, obviously not expecting Gaunt to ask him that, he pointed an awkward finger behind them. "Uh, sure?" 

Oh no, he’d completely forgotten about the girl! Harry spun around, smiling awkwardly. 

Harry blurted, itching his face nervously.“Um, just uh-tell him I’ll see him after lunch and that he can’t burn or kill anything before that!” 

The poor witch sniffled and bowed silently. She walked away at first but she didn’t get but a few steps away before she started running. He could hear her crying loudly until she was muffled by the elevator doors chiming shut.

Harry buried his face in his hands and screamed. He numbly felt someone shouting and dragging him and the soft, muffled sound of the elevator doors closing. 

“POTTER? MERLIN, POTTER-YOU MADE ME DO THIS!” 

The slap to the face was unexpected, the second slap was just annoying. He caught Draco’s fingers in his own, tightening and squeezing them hard. Draco hissed, yanking his hand back and cursing.

“Why are you pretending to be Gaunt? Who put you up to this, Dumbledore?” Draco complained, sneering as he rubbed soft circles over his reddening fingers. 

Harry sputtered.“No, Gaunt asked me-wait how in the world did you realize, I’ve barely been here fifteen bloody minutes?”

Draco stood still, staring at Harry seriously, then he began circling him, stroking his chin while nodding to himself every so often. The elevator lurched, opening to a random empty corridor. 

The blond tried shoving Harry again, but Harry wasn't interested in being shoved by Malfoy anymore. Gaunt had a surprising amount of strength for someone so average in height. Harry also found it easier to channel magic into his fingertips as he grabbed Draco’s shoulders first, dragging them out of the elevator and into the hall. Harry slammed Draco into the brick wall. The elevator dinged again, the doors sealing with a soft metallic clunk. 

“Y-You’re c-choking m-me, I can’t-” Draco coughed, his face purpling. 

Harry’s eyes widened and he jumped backward, releasing the fingers he didn’t even notice had been clenching around Draco’s thin neck. His fingers felt like they were on fire and guilt churned in his stomach like molten lava. It came back up as bile which he swallowed with a grimace. 

“I'm so sorry Malfoy! I don't know what came over me. You know I’d never hurt you intentionally!” Harry eased himself down onto one knee, reaching out a jerky hand for Draco to take. 

Draco regarded him hesitantly, swallowing painfully over the mauve welts blooming on his neck. He hovered his hand over Harry’s for a long second before sighing and grasping it, Harry nodded once then hauled Draco back up with him. 

They stared at each other for almost a minute before Draco felt safe enough to flick his wand over himself, whispering scourgify to clean the dust that stuck to his robes. 

“I didn’t recognize you immediately Potter, not until I felt you. You didn’t frighten me when I approached you, Gaunt’s magic is overwhelming and yours is strong yes, but not the same. Your plan is stupid, if I can figure you out surely the Dark Lords shall take one look at you and kill you on sight. You said Gaunt told you to do this? He knew this as well, does he wish you dead?” Draco asked roughly, but he didn’t shy away from Harry. 

Harry was relieved by that, he hadn’t meant to hurt him, it just-he’d felt it before testing the polyjuice with Gaunt, some kind of power took hold, it was uncontrollable, he had to wonder if Gaunt felt this way all the time. 

“No, no at least I don’t think he doesn’t he-uh- I can’t tell you the specifics but he has something very important to do today, and he needs me here so the Dark Lords don’t go looking for him, he’s under oath and can’t tell them his whereabouts.” Harry defended Gaunt furiously, he knew Gaunt wasn’t doing this with bad intentions. 

“Are you guys fucking?” Draco asked bluntly, crossing his arms and narrowing his blond brows but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. 

“WHAT?” Harry cried, blinking in disbelief at Draco. 

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed, tired of Harry's stupidity. “You and Gaunt, I know you’re attracted to him, which is fucked up and if you want my opinion-” 

Harry cut him off with a shout. “Who the fuck said I wanted your opinion, Malfoy? I don’t want to-to Merlin, I can’t even say it nor imagine it, I don’t want to have sex with him if that’s what you’re thinking! It’s complicated, okay!” 

“I think you’re lying to me, Potter that’s what I think. But if you beg for my help I’ll give it to you. You look exactly like Gaunt, I’ve seen him groveling before, it was a pretty sight, do it for me and I’ll help you.” Draco smiled perversely at Harry, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“You’re sick!” Harry yelped. 

They stared at each other again. Both glaring hard, Harry gave in first with an exasperated sigh, he fell on both knees, he could already feel them bruising as they whacked mercilessly against the cold stone floor. 

“Please, Malfoy, I need your help.” Harry begged in a cheap imitation of what he thought Draco wanted to hear. 

Draco laughed at him. “Again, that was pathetic.” 

Harry gulped, not sure what to do, he tried recalling every expression Gaunt had ever made in his vicinity. He breathed in and let his mind go blank. 

“I don’t want your help, especially if it’s from a brat like you Draco, but I’ll admit this, I need it. I need you, it can only be you.” Harry gazed up at Draco his eyes hard at first, but they slowly softened like he was looking at a guilty child who he just couldn’t stay angry at even after they’d broken his favorite sneakoscope. 

“Holy shit.” Draco blurted, his face flushing crimson as he stepped back bumping into the wall and outlining the brick with his fingers. “That was convincing, I mean-I forgot you were Potter for a second! Okay, okay get up, get the fuck up Potter!” 

Harry scrambled upright, embarrassed to find himself blushing too, that’d felt way too much like a roleplay, one that he hadn’t fought enough against. 

“That was weird Malfoy, really, really weird, don’t you have a fiance? Should you be doing stuff like that?” Harry questioned, wincing and rubbing his knees, he’d cut one and it stung painfully against his pant leg, he could feel warm blood trickling its way down, zigzagging through his leg hair like a maze. 

“Shut up, Potter! Aren’t you dating that Weasley girl? You were quick to get on your knees for me, for a taken man. I thought you’d be married with two redheaded spawns by now.” Draco hissed, but his voice was unsure and a little breathless like he hadn't recovered from Harry's act.

“I… you.. you told me to, so I....” Harry retorted weakly. He had no defense, honestly, he hadn’t even thought of Ginny until Draco had brought her up, he loved her, that he knew but he’d been dreaming of Gaunt for weeks, waking up in cold sweats and banishing any lingering feelings even as he crawled back into bed with his girlfriend. 

Draco’s smug smile fell, he stared at Harry blankly, not expecting that sort of answer. Draco spoke softly. “Oh.”

“Let’s-” Harry blurted. 

“Go.” Draco finished Harry’s sentence lamely. 

“Right.” Harry said numbly. 

They stumbled back into the elevator, Draco punched in the key to take them to the dining hall. It was a quiet ride. Harry stared at Gaunt’s reflection looking back at him in the elevator's four mirrors. Curly hair was sticking up in all directions, he took a step forward, ignoring Draco’s grunt of confusion. He reached up, touching the mole on the left side of his face curiously, it tingled again piercing arousal into his gut. 

“It’s strange, we don’t have many differences but there’s just something about him, I can’t explain it, I don’t know if you know this Malfoy-” Harry turned away from the mirror, ignoring the other reflection taunting him behind Draco. “-But the Dark Lord’s when they took me to that office, they talked about Gaunt like he was from another universe, I think-no I know he’s me, me from a different time, a different plane. That must explain why I feel these things, it’s not natural.” 

Draco paled, then he smirked sadistically. “You think he returns those feelings Potter? No, Gaunt is in love with the Voldemort he brought with him. I’ve seen them interact, heard them together when no one was watching, they love each other. You do not fit in that triangle, don’t fool yourself, it’ll only hurt you. Forget that, your life is in danger. Think, I know that’s hard for someone with your brain capacity, but you promised the second Dark Lord you’d see him before lunch, it’s-” Draco cast a tempus, 12:30. “-Almost one and that Dark Lord always has his lunch at 1'aclock. I know I said I’d help you, but even I can’t cancel a date with a Dark Lord.”

“Some help you are.” Harry muttered, grinding his teeth, He could do this, no he had to do this, Gaunt said he’d be back by two, and if he wasn’t he was to tell Voldie, not Tom under any circumstances. 

“I’m all you've got, that’s the only talent you Potter's have, being ungrateful blood traitors.” Draco snapped back, his hackles raised, he looked like he wanted a fight. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, not falling for the bait, yet . He opened his mouth to insult Malfoy’s family but the elevator shuttered and its doors whisked open, the full dining hall lay before them, filled with Ministry employees and the sweet, warm smell of food. The voices and laughter quieted like a wave as soon as Harry entered. He scowled, not used to this kind of treatment.

He followed Draco to an empty table, well it was empty after he sat down, the employees at the end of it ran screaming as soon as he sat his ass on the uncomfortable bench. Draco laughed and laughed while Harry just sank in his seat, clenching his sweaty fingers back and forth over the dirty tabletop, hissing when he noticed he’d sat on top of a rouge glob of grape jelly that stuck to his trousers like sap. 

So focused on the jam sticking to his ass, Harry hadn’t realized that Draco was talking to him. 

“-And that’s why you should just run away. Gaunt can handle them, I think he’s the only one that can, I don’t like you Potter, but I don’t want you dead.” 

Harry blinked. “Uh, that’s nice of you Malfoy, but I have a backup plan, Gaunt thought of it, and it’ll save my life when they find out, but I’m just supposed to stay here so both the Dark Lord’s spies can report they’d seen me around the ministry, it’s nothing but stalling for time.” 

Draco’s face scrunched. “Yes, but you don’t have much time left, do you believe Gaunt will forgive you if the Dark Lord burns down the ministry?” 

Harry had forgotten all about that threat. He sighed into his hands. “He… He won’t actually do that, right?” 

Draco shrugged. “Don’t know, but I know the Dark Lord who asked for Gaunt, the one Gaunt calls Tom, he was pretty furious, grumbling about his compass collection and how he wanted to strap Gaunt to a table and-” 

He raised his hand, and thankfully Draco shut his mouth, but not without giving Harry another arrogant smirk. 

“You find this funny, don’t you?” Harry balked, kicking Draco under the table. 

Draco winced and kicked him back, hard in the shin. Well, Harry wouldn’t take that, he sat up and scooped the remnants of the squished jam onto his finger, flicking them at Draco as hard as he could. Harry laughed loudly, when the jam splattered directly on Draco’s forehead, sliding down his nose.

“You look like you're having fun, darling." 

“Yes, Dad, it appears you are enjoying yourself. I had no idea you were so friendly with Lucius's son.”

Harry froze, too terrified to turn around, he slumped back into his seat, watching Draco’s face cycle through every stage of grief. 

“Why father, it’s unlike you to not be screaming or praising me by now, are you feeling well?” Tom, he remembered Gaunt calling him said, his voice delicate but deadly like a poisonous flower. 

Two separate hands clenched into his shoulders, both with different levels of strength, one massaged him while the other dug their nails into his skin, breaking into his flesh.

“You’re so tense, darling. Come upstairs with us. We want to talk with you, smooth over things after this morning. We’re a family after all, what is a fight between family? You've said yourself it’s not mature to run away from confrontation and to be honest. ” Voldemort, no Voldie said, sarcasm oozed from him like an open, infected wound. 

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, he bit the inside of his cheek and blood swirled into his mouth, the taste calmed him for a reason he didn't know, it always had. He breathed in, glancing down at his stuffed breast pocket and praying that Gaunt was on his way, he'd better be or Harry might not live to see his return. 

---

Nurmengard, January 1st, 1999

Snow and ice surrounded Nurmengard prison, swirling around its sharp corners and whipping furiously over its narrow cone-shaped top. Harry Gaunt conjured a bigger, fluffier coat as soon as he apparated in front of it, but he wasn't close enough to the large doors, so he had to trudge through a large snowdrift just to get to the entrance. Harry yanked the coat up to his chin, cursing as the wind sliced into his face, and tugged at his clothes. He could feel his eyebrows and eyelashes freezing. He threw himself the last few feet to bridge the gap between where he stood and the door, slamming into it with a bone-crunching crash. 

He didn't want to go inside yet, surely they knew he was there but... He needed a minute to himself. It'd been weeks since he'd been alone, and seven decades since Harry was truly, alone. Voldie was always with him, providing dry commentary, complaining, or ranting in vivid detail how he'd love to fuck Harry on any particular surface Harry happened to glance at for too long. It was annoying but strangely comforting. Now his head was barren, but for his own thoughts, which he'd remembered having more of, maybe he'd started repressing his own monologue and adopted Voldie's as his own.

It felt like he had to start over. 

Harry shimmed into a protective wall, the wind stilled and he leaned into the safety of it with a breathy sigh, opening his coat and digging deeply into his fur-lined inner pocket. He smiled but snapped his mouth closed again to keep himself from chattering. Harry turned, back facing the wind so he could light his cigarette. He only managed to take a single, long drag before the door slammed open, walloping him painfully in the shoulder. The door itself was carved from stone, it vibrated his bones and he swallowed a scream. 

"Oh, Mister Gaunt we felt you arrive, I assumed you'd let yourself in, Mister Gaunt?" Dumbledore's voice hollered out, the hinges relaxed a bit and Harry took the opportunity to squeeze himself out with a wheezy moan.

He grabbed the wall and held himself upright, protecting his cig with his life from the wind and the door. His hood flew off, fluttering his hair free, it stung, stabbing his eyes. Harry decided to ask an important question first. "Can I smoke inside, Albus?" 

Dumbledore laughed, his laughter blew away on the wind. "You may do whatever you wish. Who am I to tell you what to do Mister Gaunt?" 

Harry scowled, but he was too cold to argue right now, so he walked, purposely shoving Dumbledore as he passed by him and inside the prison. It wasn't much warmer than outside but without the wind it was bearable. He decided to leave his coat on. 

"Nice place you two got here." Harry said sarcastically.

His voice echoed out and up, bouncing around the empty cells like a boomerang, and like a boomerang, it came back to him whispering 'nice place you two got here' back into his ear, but it sounded cynical, malevolent, a ghost that'd feasted on his words, spitting them back out after sucking them dry. 

"Oh yes, Gellert and I have made it quite the home for ourselves, the upper floors perhaps will persuade you to visit us again." Dumbledore said warmly, as he slammed the doors shut with a wave of his wand. 

Harry's eyebrow raised, he took another drag and breathed out a heavy veil of smoke, it twirled up high and he watched it instead of scrutinizing Dumbledore. He waited and waited but Dumbledore's voice never echoed back to them. 

Dumbledore chattered about mundane things as they made their way to the center of the building, Harry didn't respond but for a few hums here and there, smoking his cig past the filter and reluctantly stomping it out when Dumbledore stopped walking. The old wizard was looking up, so Harry followed his gaze, he couldn't see much, the building was so massive it looked as if it'd started creating its own weather system, a dense cloud blocking out the light from penetrating the few windows at the top. 

"Would you mind taking my hand?" Dumbledore asked innocently, already reaching his hand out for Harry to take. 

Harry rolled his eyes but slapped his palm on Dumbledores. As soon as their skin brushed they shot up into the air like a torpedo. Harry watched the floors whiz past them, hazy blurs of grey and white that got more colorful the higher they went, the cloud, which turned out to actually be a cloud was wet and surprisingly warm as they broke through it, Harry felt sick when they randomly jerked to the left. Dumbledore lunged out, grabbing Harry's midsection and holding him upright as they landed heavily on a stone platform. 

"Woah, that was kinda fun." Harry admitted sheepishly after his adrenaline wore off. 

Dumbledore's laughter intermixed with a man's laugh he'd never heard before. Harry stilled, grabbing his soft furry sleeve between his fingers, sliding it back and forth as he peered into the darkness, looking for the Wizard, the Wizard who'd built his own tomb, Gellert Grindlewald himself. 

Grindlewald said playfully. "Harry Gaunt, welcome to our humble abode, please come inside, Albus says you enjoy Earl Gray? It's also my favorite, come in, don't be shy on my account."

Harry took a deep breath, gazing into the darkness. "Not sure why you two care so much about my tea preferences... You've got booze, right?" 

TO BE CONTINUED

Notes:

IT GOT TOO BIG I HAD TO SPLIT IT UP SORRY:,( MY GOD I've rewritten this three times I came up with a wonderful plot to implement three chapters or so down and it's all I can think about lmaooo It involves all our boys traveling together and getting separated in another universe and I am so excited!!!!!! So I kept getting distracted of course, that with Christmas around the corner and all, just ugh. But my work gave me a huge bonus so that was fun! OHHH and thank you the views on this story are insane, I am surprised as heck not gonna lie lol Thank you all for reading and commenting you guys are wonderful :) Much love to everyone, I hope you like this chapter <3 <3

Chapter 9: Three's A Crowd

1938, October 

Voldemort didn’t need sleep, not when Harry did that for him. 

Harry did not always visit him in his dreams. Oftentimes while Voldemort stayed awake, he pilfered through Harry's memories, experiencing them as if they were his own. It was remarkably similar to using a pensive. Harry didn’t know Voldemort could do this, yet there were many memories with locked doors. 

Some were black, burnt, and when Voldemort reached out, the wood was blistering to the touch. 

He counted them a thousand times out of boredom and frustration as the years slogged by. There were fifty doors in total that Voldemort could not open, none were guarded exactly the same way and he theorized that the way the outside protected itself was associated with that particular memory. 

But he couldn’t prove that until he was allowed inside one. That’s why it was such a shock the day one unlocked on its own. 

He’d been listening to Harry’s grumblings while he cleaned the kitchen, complaining about Tom’s confusing letter he’d received that morning. That’s when Voldemort heard the hinges on a door far at the end of hall 300R screech, flinging itself open hard enough to bash into another doorway, producing a hollow bang that reverberated through the hall. 

Voldemort dropped his book. It tumbled out of his lap and onto his rug, pages crinkling and squishing together like a makeshift accordion. He kicked it aside with his slippers, tightening the sash on his silk bathrobe, he dashed out of his room and down hall 300R to where he heard the crash. 

He knew exactly which door it was. It was one of his doors. How did he know that? He could feel it, he’d stood outside a few doors like this one, and he could feel part of himself inside. The memories that called to him all had a certain pull that teased his navel and tugged. 

Voldemort had been very interested in this one. It was covered in frost-coated moss and frozen bare branches that stabbed out of its cracks as if there were massive trees inside that it could not contain. 

An owl hooted and branches rustled as a gust of icy air whispered over his body, fluttering his robe and dislodging the soft hairband he used to keep his bangs out of his face. It fell down onto his neck making his dark locks flop into his eyebrows. A few stray strands poked his eyes. He blinked staring into the Forest of Dean, his fingers twitched, digging excitedly into his thighs. 

Voldemort didn’t stop the devious smile from spreading up, stretching the corners of his mouth until his jaws ached in protest. 

“Voldie, are you ignoring me? I need your help! How do I respond to this?”

Voldemort stilled, relaxing his hands and breathing through his nostrils, the cold bit his insides, nipping at his lungs but the magic was viscid in the air. For a memory it was very realistic, it was old, yes but newer than other blurred ones like the ones tucked away in hallways A through J. 

He licked his lips, steering his attention back outside. His place as Harry's 'Horcrux' was a complicated one. Harry didn't like labels and refused to call Voldemort anything but his 'companion'. Voldemort didn't fight that, why would he? He'd always choose Harry over purgatory. 

Shuttering his eyes his consciousness was thrust back outside. It was jarring at first, seeing from Harry's eyes, but now it was second nature, an extension of himself. In retrospect, their relationship hadn't changed much from their universe.

He watched Harry's soap-lathered arms dunk back into steaming water that sloshed around in the sink’s metallic basin. Dishes clanked and jostled one another, and miscellaneous silverware shuffled at the bottom each time he dived back in. 

Voldemort couldn't feel the sensation of it on Harry's skin, but he could imagine it.

'You're making a mess of yourself, Potter. We've had this conversation many times. You're a Wizard, not a Muggle. It's embarrassing." 

 'Oh, so now you're speaking to me? I thought you might still be angry at me about-wait, is this one of your reverse psychological tricks to get me to talk about last week again? You can't shame me for one-night stands, especially at our ages! I'll take anything I can get, I'm not exactly getting younger you know?'

'... Potter, no I am not using reverse psychology on you...today. It's your own fault for falling for it every time, maybe you should do some self-reflection on why that is, hmm? Enough of this nonsense-wait what do you mean, you aren't getting any younger? You're not technically getting older either, all of your problems are in your head, I would know, I'm trapped here.' 

Harry finished washing the last dish and gently set it on the drying rack, plopping his arm back in and yanking the drain, allowing all the water to slowly trickle out, leaving all the dirty silverware nestled on the bottom with all the food gunk. Voldemort sneered. Harry had ignored his question about household chores again, typical. 

Voldemort snapped out of his thoughts when Harry paused, pruney fingers clenching around a steak knife. His eyes widened but Harry's did not. Voldemort could see Harry's reflection looking back, wavering in the cottage's warped window pane.

He looked so young. Voldemort was always surprised in the rare cases he caught a glimpse of Harry. It was like reading a biography only to be jarred out of perspective by the last chapter being in the third person. His hair was messy, he hadn't been out of the house for a few days, but Voldie knew he was bathing at least, not that he kept track of those mundane things. 

The reflection did not do Harry's eyes justice, a cheap imitation but it still made that strange feeling return, the one he'd been eradicating the last thirteen years here, but like a mold that spread its spores everywhere... it kept growing back.

He gritted his teeth but didn't open his eyes. He was curious as to why Harry was just staring and holding a dull knife, maybe he was having another episode.

"Sometimes I wanna cut you out." Harry spoke aloud, his knuckles clenched white. He inched closer to his reflection, but he wasn't looking at himself. 

Voldemort was startled, not expecting Harry to speak to him with his actual voice. It was jarring. He couldn't help but fall for the trap that was being set, he gulped, focusing on Harry's hot breath fogging up the window. Harry looked hard right back, it was like they were staring at each other even without Voldemort present in the flesh. 

He admitted only to himself, of course, that it was effective. He felt a tiny bit of something building inside him. He hoped it correlated with the saliva he forced himself to keep swallowing as he traced over Harry's face again and again. Loving how his brow furrowed as he glared, he looked ridiculous!

'I don't understand why, I've been completely cordial to you lately. You won't hurt me, only yourself. Is that what you desire, Potter? I believe you've suffered enough.' 

Harry snorted, cocking his head and gently tapping the serrated edge against his plump bottom lip. He slid it up and down, over the dry skin and Voldemort watched intensely as Harry's pink tongue darted out and licked it. 

Voldemort was relieved when Harry spoke to him inside his head this time. 

‘What I desire? Funny, you of all people to ask me that, no one has-not in a long time. You and Death might be the only ones to ask, and truly mean it. Right now, I desire your opinion on Tom and you’ll give it to me but tomorrow? Tomorrow I don’t know… I have been conflicted lately. I’ve begun to actually feel guilty about you, isn’t that funny?’

Harry laughed, losing some of the tension coiled in his hunched shoulders, tossing the knife back into the sink with a clatter. He ran his wet fingers through his hair, the oil in his hair and water on his fingers quarreled, some curls sprang back while others stuck flat on his head. 

It took a minute before Voldemort answered. He was trying to think about what Harry could be feeling guilty about in relation to himself. When nothing came to mind, Voldemort spat impatiently. 'Quit stalling Potter, spit it out.'

'Do you feel like I kidnapped you? That I’m imprisoning you here with me? I-I know I am but do you think it’s immoral? That I’m betraying my old self by treating you this way, is it inhumane? Would it be better to leave you back with Death? They certainly weren’t happy to part with you, they said you deserved it, I agree…But I’m doing this to the both of us just to…” 

‘To ease your soul.’ Voldemort finished for Harry. 

Harry pouted, finally turning away from the window and stomping toward the living room, plopping down on his atrociously ugly leather chair. The hinges creaked and groaned as he flung himself dramatically into the cushions. It was a new addition, it looked out of place next to all the ancient furniture it was squeezed beside. Harry didn't say anything again; he just groaned into the chair, mumbling things that Voldemort couldn't hear. 

Voldemort sighed, eager for this conversation to be over so he could go inside that memory. His curiosity had been ignited and it burned brighter by the minute, desperate to know why that memory had been repressed.

'Potter, shut up and listen to me.' 

Voldemort could see again. By pressing his face against the fabric, Harry was obscuring his vision, so when he opened his eyes, Voldemort was startled by the light. 

'Fine.' Harry mumbled back, he sounded nervous, like he was dreading Voldemort's thoughts on the matter. 

'I think you're weak-'

Harry balked, interrupting him.

'Oi! Now, you're just hurting my feelings!' 

'Are you too stupid to follow basic instructions? I said shut-up. I wasn't finished, may I continue?' 

Harry paused, together they gazed out the living room window. The autumn leaves were struggling to keep hold of their oak branches, the loose ones snapping off and whipping toward the cottage, some smacked the windows, scratching over the glass creating gentle little hisses as they scraped over the pane. 

Harry hummed, nodding jerkily for Voldemort to continue.

'As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. You’re weak, but it suits you. Your weakness saved me, you tore me from Death’s hands, and for that, I owe you for not one lifetime but a thousand. I am in your debt Harry Potter and when I escape your mind I will keep you as you’ve kept me. Protect you and raise you above all others, you’ve shown mercy not just to myself but to my counterpart here, you’ve raised him with love, something I myself could not do. Be free of guilt, it's a worthless emotion. Feel pride… if you do not, fear not I will feel it in your stead.’ 

‘Wow.’ Harry so eloquently responded. Voldemort could hear him sniffle and he saw Harry’s hand shoot up to smear a tear from the corner of his eye. ‘You-dammit you’re good Voldie. Thank you for that, but I’ll never allow you to escape, that’s where you’re wrong, I love this world I live in too much now to let you destroy it! Uh-can you help me with my response to Tom now? He's getting bullied in Slytherin and no one knows Slytherin politics better than you.’ 

A half-hour later of bickering and a few screams of irritation from them both over the letter to send to Tom, Voldemort was finally free to return to his home inside Harry’s mind. When he pried his eyes open he was freezing, still standing in front of the door which to his horror was slowly closing, its rusty hinges scraping and squeaking as it staggered itself shut.  

Voldemort jumped forward, sticking his hands in between the door and the latch, shoving it open with all his strength. It fought him but he glared and cursed, pressing his entire body weight against it until it obeyed his will, bashing it open again. He ripped out his bathrobe's sash, knotting it around the handle then around another door’s knob to prop it open so he could escape later. 

He breathed in relief as the door wiggled but could not free itself. Voldemort turned, now bare in his thin pajamas, he closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, imagining himself in robes, when he blinked again he was wearing his favorite black and green set, paired with his sleek, shiny dress shoes. He laughed smugly, pride seeping from every pore as he began walking into the Forest of Dean. 

It was how he remembered it, but for a few glaring things that had changed, Harry’s memory was newer than his own but the forest’s magic glowed and whisked around him. Like all memories, it felt real, but this one was particularly intense and he was keen to find out why. 

Two tents caught his attention, he trekked over, knowing the participants of the memory could not see him, and like all the others he’d visited it looped over and over. However, the door was determined to shut, so he had a time limit. If he was trapped here he’d have to ask Harry for help as he slept and that would give away his secret, he would no longer be able to snoop around Harry’s memories, and that would bore him to death, he’d already read every volume in his self-created library fifty times. 

He was about to open the first tent when a familiar moan caught his attention. His fingers froze on the flap as his breath hitched. Voldemort was curious but he had to see who was sleeping in this tent first. He quickly peaked in, not surprised to see Hermione Granger shifting uncomfortably in her sleep, clutching a thin blanket between her fingers, her wand grasped tightly in her other hand. 

Voldemort rolled his eyes, slamming the flap shut and almost running to see who was in the other tent. He knew who was in the other, it was Harry’s memory after all. But why was he moaning like that? Who was he sleeping with? The only other one who might be here was Ronald Weasley and Voldemort dreaded him being the one making Harry sound so erotic and satisfied. 

Quick, rapid breathing penetrated through the thin burlap material. Voldemort clenched his fingers over the flap of the tent. Skin slapping against skin and the wet sliding of flesh inside flesh stirred his gut and surged blood into his groin. 

“Tom, Tom please right there, again God’s yes right there, oh fuck-fuck-fuck oh my-” 

His nails stabbed through the tent as he ripped it open, his eyes hard and dick harder as he stepped inside. Harry’s moaning, pleading face was not something he’d prepared for, and this was not something he could’ve imagined even in his wildest of fantasies. Harry was being fucked in the Forest of Dean by his Horcrux, barely whole, but whole enough to be ‘solid’. Harry obviously found him perfectly solid, with how he was allowing Voldemort’s soul piece to relentlessly rail him. 

Voldemort stared with slow blinking dry eyes, mouth wide, and heart-thumping erratically in his chest. He couldn’t look away, it was too much. He felt so many emotions at once, jealousy, arousal, and for some reason, rage. 

His rage did not stop him from slipping his hand in his robes and touching himself in rhythm with every thrust that his Horcrux counterpart fucked Harry to. He fluttered his eyes, moaning along while pretending he was in his Horcrux's place, tightening and flexing his fingers and wishing he knew how hot and tight Harry felt. 

When Harry came, both Voldemort and his Horcrux did only seconds after. 

Voldemort was horrified to hear himself and his Horcrux moan in the exact same tenor, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harry’s crying, euphoric expression.

His cheeks were red, tears streamed down his face and his eyes were almost solidly green such a beautiful shade. 

Jealousy twisted and churned, a hot flame that ripped through his veins.

He wanted to rip Tom Riddle’s neck from his shoulders and eat his counterpart alive, to consume, to devour and claim every part that’d been inside Harry as his own. 

He wanted to be inside. 

‘Voldie? I fell asleep, where are you?’ 

Cum dripped over his fingers. Voldemort couldn’t move, even as his Harry called out for him, trapped in his room. Harry was unable to see the hallways, all he could see was the room that Voldemort had created for himself while he slept. Voldemort cursed, wishing his mess away with a hiss of irritation.

It took all his self-will to rip his eyes away from Horcrux Tom Riddle as he kissed and opened up memory Harry again, slurping and kissing away their shared cum only to thrust inside again. 

Memory Harry melted, gasping in excitement, wordlessly begging and whining for Horcrux Tom Riddle to fuck him again. 

Voldemort shuttered his eyes closed, dashing out of the tent, cursing as he noticed that the memory's door had freed itself and was beginning to close yet again.

He stumbled over branches and rotting leaves, barely wedging himself through the narrow crack of the door. As soon as he stood safely on the other side, it slammed shut behind him. Echoing around the hall of memories and locking shut with a solid click. 

Voldemort leaned against it, clutching his robes and breathing erratically. He forced himself down the hall in a daze. 

When he finally made it to his room, his fingers lingered over the golden doorknob, clenching around it multiple times before commanding himself to calm and open it. 

Harry sat cozily on his loveseat, smiling curiously at Voldemort and cocking his head. Voldemort gulped, willing his face blank.  

“Where were you, Voldie? You smell-” Harry sniffed, his nose wrinkled. “-Like the woods.” 

Voldemort smiled brightly, striding over to his chair and sitting down confidently. “Ah, I was exploring my memories. Not much else to do around here but self-reflect.”

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that, I wish there was more for you to do. With a brain like yours, I bet you’re bored out of your mind cooped up like this.” Harry said softly, cupping his chin in his hand. 

His gorgeous eyes widened with an apology lingering unsaid on his tongue. 

There was a lot more Harry could do with his tongue than apologize, and for the first time, Voldemort didn’t prevent himself from envisioning it.

“That’s alright darling, you keep me plenty entertained." Voldemort hummed, crossing his legs, not for comfort's sake, but to keep himself from lunging forward. 

A bottomless pit had opened inside him. Only growing more onerous to contain, with Harry merely an arms-length away. Voldemort smiled, flexing his fingers into the soft velvet of his chair. 

Harry's reaction did not disappoint, but it made the pit widen. His hunger faint at first now panged his gut, a sharp, rumbling discomfort he hadn't felt since he was a child. 

Harry recoiled, wrapping his arms around his midsection and squeezing while frantically scooting back in his seat. He protested, his voice cracking. “Darling? What the fuck, don’t call me that, eww what’s wrong with you!?” 

---

Nurmengard, January 1st, 1999

Harry Gaunt sat, stuffed uncomfortably in a chair that creaked and groaned every time he shifted. What he really wanted to do was escape altogether, but he still had an hour of this left before he had a valid excuse to leave. 

Grindelwald was old, but he’d aged damn well, and when the couple was together it looked like they’d lost twenty years off their skin, their smiles were blinding and their hands fit together like puzzle pieces. 

  ...He wasn’t jealous , no of course not… 

"-and we’ve been together since, it took years to convince Albus to return to my side, our love had rekindled by the time we fabricated our duel-did you read about that in the paper Gaunt?”

Harry fought to keep his eyeballs still, they so badly wanted to roll around, but he prevailed. He nodded curtly instead, swirling around the whiskey in his glass, sloshing back and forth, some of it splashing up, dusting the back of his hand. 

"Yeah, I remember. My son was suspicious, he didn't buy it for a second. I won't tell him he was right though, it'd inflate his ego and that's the last thing he needs." Harry gave a hollow laugh, that Albus and Gerllet bought hook line and sinker. 

He swallowed a groan, sipping his drink and trying not to grimace at the taste. He despised whiskey. 

"Your son is a hindrance. He’s ruined our plans at every turn. He was a factor I had not foreseen. He is a formidable and ambitious opponent that must be removed. He is far too kind to Muggles. They are dangerous and must be dealt with, eradicated. Surely, you understand that Lord Gaunt.” 

Gellert slipped his hand from Albus’s widening them in a gesture of helplessness, feigning a remorseful expression like his hands were tied and this was the only feasible option. 

Harry frowned, grinding his teeth to stop himself from shouting. “No, no I do not. I’m no muggle lover, but I taught Tom to be respectful and… I know he doesn't follow everything, he has his own opinions on things, which is great. The two of us do not always agree, but he knows there are certain things even I won't forgive, and so far he has respected that. War with Muggles is one. I never wanted, Merlin , I still don’t want to be involved in this, I know my son can take care of himself. I’m not here to talk about politics. You both want something from me. Quit beating around the bush and ask me your questions.” 

‘You will lose ’ Was obviously between the lines if Harry’s scathing and resentful tone was anything to go by. 

Gellert lowered his hands, smirking at Harry. He wanted to beat that smile off his face, maybe just rip it off completely. Now wouldn’t that be satisfying? 

“ Albus. ” Gellert murmured, looking at Dumbledore, but he kept his eyes on Harry. 

Harry was never talented at concealing his emotions and a Dark Lord was not a Dark Lord without being an expert in analyzing even the slightest shifts of facial cues. So, Harry didn't bother trying to suppress his irritation. 

Albus smiled at Harry, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. “ Harry- ” Harry hissed. He hadn’t given Dumbledore permission to use his first name. Dumbledore continued, pretending he hadn’t heard. “-I assure you, Gellert and I disagree on how this should be done, but you can’t pretend Tom isn’t your responsibility, he is your son. What Gellert and I want is for the greater good. Muggles are becoming more dangerous by the passing day. It is up to us to control them as their betters. We are shepherds and they are our flock. Sure we’ve been pushing them in the right direction for thousands of years, but we must cull them for our and the Earth’s safety. Surely you understand. As the Master of Death, I can only imagine what you’ve seen. Don't you wish to protect mother magic? Protect our society before they discover us. They will discover us, Harry, it is only a matter of when.” 

This was scarcely anything Harry needed to be told; he knew it all too well, but he didn’t desire to be manipulated, not by Dumbledore, not by anyone. 

Harry took a sip from his drink, shivering as it sent alcohol into his veins, warming his body. 

“ So ? How is that my responsibility? What, because I am the Master of Death? I am not a native to your universe Albus. I owe you nothing, I am here because of Tom. I may leave at anytime, and I won’t hesitate to abandon you all here and take my son with me. I have nothing to lose, not when I’ve already lost it all in my last lifetime. I demand your honesty. I don’t care for pretty words, especially from you. ” He said this all with a mocking smile, leaning back in his chair and switching his glass back and forth between his hands boredly. 

Albus’s smile fell, but only for a second. If Harry hadn’t known that face as well as he did he would’ve never caught it. It was that slight. Harry smiled wider, snapping his fingers to refill his nasty drink, a toast. 

“Why Gaunt, don’t you think you’re judging our character too quickly? You must be conscious of your hypocrisy, your son is no angel, he is often called a demon. A monster. Tell me, why doesn’t he age, do you have something to do with his immortality?” Gellert cut in, sipping from his own glass, his beard twitching. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing!” Harry snapped. “Do not ask things I’m sure you already know the answer to. Do not bring Tom up again, I am not here for this. This is about me, right?” 

Gellert and Albus looked at each other. They could probably read each other’s faces as well as him and Voldie. Merlin, he missed Voldie. Voldie was great at these things, he loved debates and wordplay. He should be here instead. Harry hated this. He was also concerned about Potter. He knew Potter would be spared by those letters, but how long would Tom and Voldie wait for him? If he didn't come back exactly when promised, would they go looking for him? 

Yes .

How annoying. He needed a damn vacation. 

“Of course, our apologies.” 

Harry huffed, glaring at them and wiggling in his chair. The room was cozy, very old-fashioned but it was still frigid. Had Gellert and Albus managed to find a way to turn themselves into Dementors?

He took the opportunity to glance around the room. On the farthest side, left of the kitchen and the room’s only natural source of light, were small windows, only two. They had ice crystals that resembled stained glass. The sunlight coming in was almost blue, a fire roared, steaming as snow fell down through the chimney, and gusts of wind kept it exploding and crackling with life. It breathed like a dragon and Harry watched it, imagining the flames unfurling and devouring the room, swallowing them whole.  

“Lord Gaunt?” 

He blinked, slowly moving his eyes away from the hearth and back to them.

Harry whispered. “Sorry?” 

“You said to ask you questions, so I’ll begin small. I had asked you how you managed to unite the hallows?” Albus asked, his eyes kept flicking nervously to the fire that Harry had been so intently gazing at. 

Harry threw back his head and laughed. “Small, that’s your small question? You’ve got to be kidding me?!” 

Albus sputtered and Gellert to his surprise chuckled along with him. He checked the time on the wall, he had half an hour left, he hoped Potter was holding out alright…

---

The Ministry Of Magic, January 1st

Harry Potter was not holding out alright. 

He had been escorted into the Dark Lord’s office and forced into a rocking chair that was old, and rickety, squeaking loudly with each nervous breath of air he sucked into his heaving chest. 

For some reason his being sat there by the other Dark Lord, Voldie had caused a fight between them. The letters that he had yet to give them burned in his breast pocket but the intensity of their argument made him too scared to move yet. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.

They had not been so kind to Draco however. He was underneath Harry on the floor, tied up in ropes and wriggling so violently that he occasionally brushed Harry’s shoe with every vain attempt to loosen the ropes binding him. Harry kept twisting his ankle to shove him off, but by the fifth time, Draco lost any energy he had left, sagging pathetically against Harry’s foot. 

“I don’t care where you put him but Dad’s chair is off-limits, it’s disgusting we don’t even kno-” 

“Enough Tom, if you don’t shut your mouth I’ll gladly shut it for you.” Voldemort snapped, jabbing his wand into Tom’s neck. 

Harry’s eyes widened. Was-was that his wand? Oh, Merlin, it was, he knew his wand anywhere, his own vibrated where he had it tucked in his waistband.

“Don’t fucking touch me, old man, I don’t care how much Dad loves you I’ll kill you again and this time there won’t be a third time, I’ll find a way to be rid of you permanently.” Tom hissed, spitting like an angry alleycat. 

Voldemort laughed, lowering his wand away from Tom, then to everyone’s surprise he patted Tom’s head like he was soothing a pouting child. “Maybe Harry’s right, you do have cute qualities. Now, let’s focus on our guests, hmm?” 

Tom slapped Voldemort’s hand away, cursing under his breath and stomping toward Harry. He was glowering, and then maybe just because he could, he kicked Draco in the stomach. Draco wheezed but managed to muffle his scream. 

Harry shrank in his rocking chair, staring up at Tom with wide, terrified eyes. It clicked why Gaunt had told him to go to Voldie if he had a problem. 

Tom’s temper was fiery and his mood swings were unpredictable. 

Before Tom could open his mouth, Voldie slid to his side, stretching his arm out with his palm flat, fingers curling impatiently. 

“Well, are you going to give them to us or not? You are Potter, aren’t you? He’d never let us hurt you, I know that for certain. He left us an explanation, correct? If he didn’t, I’ll let Tom have you. It’d be such a shame to disappoint Harry and have to torture you.” Voldemort frowned, shaking his head apologetically, as he spoke, but his blue eyes were hard and his foot began tapping in time with the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. 

He moved quickly, digging his fingers into his pocket while holding his breath, not breathing again until the now crumpled letters were pressed into Voldemort’s waiting hand. 

Voldemort picked them up delicately, eyeing the names scrawled on the front with distaste. 

“His handwriting is atrocious as ever.” Voldie grumbled, handing over the one with Tom’s name on it flippantly. 

Tom snatched it, glaring daggers at Voldie but ripping the letter open in exactly the same way. It was like observing a mirror and its reflection standing side by side. Their eyes moved back and forth, reading quickly with flat expressions that did not betray a single emotion. They peeked at Harry, opposite eyebrows raised, then shared another look between themselves. 

Then they laughed. 

Harry gaped, not sure what else to do but the more they laughed the less he believed his jaw would ever connect again. 

Voldie had his hand on Tom’s shoulder to help him keep upright, and their faces were red by the time they finished. Draco, sniffling, squirmed himself closer, perhaps to get some comfort and Harry couldn’t blame him, the Dark Lord’s laughter was not a pleasant sound.

When he thought it was finally over, it got worse, they began hissing. Draco sobbed, Harry dared to glance down and saw the blonde foaming on his gag, gray eyes watery and pleading for Harry to save him. Harry paled, shook his head once then snapped ramrod straight back in his chair, letting the wood press into his spine. 

The last deep breath he took had a mind of its own, a kind of compulsion which took control of his tongue, Harry blurted."What did the letters say? Gaunt, he promised me he'd be back no later than two. I wasn't-I did it to help him, I owed him and Malfoy didn't have anything to do with this, he's innocent!" 

Tom smiled. 

Harry's heart kept in his throat; he was not expecting that. 

"Let's have lunch." 

Ten of the most awkward minutes of Harry's life later he was shaking like a leaf, seated next to Draco who noticing Harry hadn't put his napkin in his lap, gasped and yanked Harry’s napkin, forks and knives flinging to the table as he quickly put in Harry's lap for him. Harry traced Draco with eyes, grimacing at the painful bruising and rope burns covering his arms and neck. 

“So Potter, tell us about yourself. I’ve read up on your file for curiosity’s sake, but I’ll admit I’d love to hear about your life from your perspective. Words can only say so much.” Voldemort asked, flatly. He did not show the same interest in him that Tom was, and for that Harry was thankful if not more suspicious about the contents of the letters. 

“Uh-” Draco nudged him under the table and Harry took that for what it was, a warning not to stutter. “-My family is normal. They've been loyal to Dumbledore and his cause since before I was born. My accomplishments are nothing special. I’m the youngest seeker of the century, I’m alright in my schoolings, my strongest skill is defense and my dream before my family completely aligned themselves with Dumbledore and we had to go into hiding was to be an Auror.” 

Tom frowned and Voldemort gave a shrug, sipping on his red wine but his eyes kept darting toward the dining hall’s enormous double doors. 

“An Auror, truly? V is that what Dad wanted to do as well, something so mundane? They both are powerful, although Potter has a lot of maturing to do, he will be great. There is no debating that fact, it’s a waste.” Tom said, eyeing Potter carefully. 

Voldemort sighed, now offering them his full attention, his sharp nails grating over the rivets of his glass. “Yes, your father would’ve lived like this if I didn’t exist, don’t ask him about it though, he’ll have a tantrum for the thousandth time about how I ruined his life, but look at him now he’s immortal, a Necromancer and has raised a Dark Lord of his own. All Potters have a terrible thing in common, if not prodded and pushed they’re dull and do not rise to their full potential. Luckily we’ve caught this one before it’s too late, there’s hope yet.” 

The anger should have sealed Harry’s lips, instead, it made them too hot to stay together. “No.” He shouted. But seeing their astonished faces, he started over and lowered his voice. “I-you see what I meant to say was no, I don’t need prodded or anything of that sort. I agree with Lord Gaunt and I am… very loyal to him. Who-” He paused again, but no one interrupted him, taking a nervous sip of water he continued. "-Can you be loyal to other than yourself , right?” 

“I see it now.” Tom mused, snagging a bread roll out of a woven basket. It was steaming hot but he didn’t even flinch. He bit into it like an apple, steam swirling from his mouth like smoke. He swallowed then spoke again, glancing over to Voldemort, to confirm his thoughts. “The similarities, though the way he carries himself is different, he is not so on edge. Boy-” 

Harry flinched, twisting his head so he was facing Tom. He spat defensively. “I am not a boy.” 

He chose to ignore Draco’s choking and sputtering and frantic whispers for him to shut up. 

“I remember when you were his age, Tom. Harry called you boy a single time, I think you were but seventeen, a boy indeed." Voldemort smacked his wine glass down, smirking like he had a hook slowly reeling up his left lip. “You were so angry you did not speak to him for three days. I laughed and told him to duel you, prove that you were still a boy. Not much has changed, I fear.” 

The doors slammed open, only Draco and Harry startled. They all stood up, scrambling to right themselves as Harry Gaunt burst through the doors wearing a massive coat, coated in ice and stinking of whiskey and smoke. His cheeks were red, his hair knotted and swept back. Gaunt was carrying a clunky box under his right armpit. Whatever was in it clanged and scraped like a heavy piece of metal as he bounced up and down on his heels, while he stood in the doorway. 

“Am I late?” Gaunt asked cheerfully, but the atmosphere of the room must have been apparent because his smile faded quickly. 

“Fifteen seconds late, darling. I was giving you an extra thirty seconds because I love you and I don’t want to upset you on New Year.” Voldemort spoke up loudly, but there was no sarcasm, if anything he sounded threatening.

What would've happened if Gaunt hadn't arrived within those thirty seconds. Harry pushed that thought to the corner of his mind, knowing he'd wake up tonight in a cold sweat, just imagining what horrors the Dark Lord's could have committed. 

“Merlin, I totally forgot I promised to go out with Ginny tonight!” Harry cried, his heart racing until he looked at the clock, 2:01 PM. He sighed in relief, he had plenty of time. 

Gaunt laughed, he seemed to have no trouble walking in his bulky coat, he patted Harry’s back still chuckling. “Aww young love, isn’t it precious. What’d I do… Actually, who am I kidding? That was the worst time of my life… You know my love life has always sucked, why do you think that is?” 

Harry followed Gaunt’s pointed glare to Voldemort who was rolling his eyes and uncrossing his arms, but he could see the tiniest smile creeping onto his face, it was the most genuine expression he’d seen on Voldemort for their entire interaction. 

"No idea, darling. Come here let me get that coat off you, it looks like it will squish you flat if you leave it on a second longer." Voldemort nagged, beckoning Gaunt to him with open arms. 

Gaunt growled, Harry could feel him vibrating even through the thickness of the fabric where he still touched his back, thankfully the separation kept that tingly feeling at bay. 

"I am perfectly capable, do not treat me like an infant." Gaunt turned to Harry, setting the obnoxiously large box on the table, it looked beat to hell and he plopped it down so hard that it cut a hole in the tablecloth. Then he shrugged the coat off, draping it in a chair beside Draco, who was still standing looking like a fish out of water. Gaunt turned back to Harry. "They bullied you, didn't they. I told them not to, oh shit Draco-" 

Harry watched Gaunt turn his attentions to Draco and start cooing over all his bruises. His eyes flicked to where Tom and Voldie were now whispering to each other, but he could feel Tom's dagger-like gaze cutting across him each time Gaunt touched Draco. Gaunt spun around, his magic was a whirlwind, the curtains in the room fluttered and the artwork scrapped the paint off the walls as they swung to a breezeless wind. 

"Their children, you knew or at least Voldie knew that Potter wasn't me, but not until you met him in person. You didn't hurt Potter, but Draco? He knew nothing, I'll fix him up but you better compensate him, help him get another job Tom!" Gaunt shouted, pushing Draco forward and pointing at him and all his bruises. 

Tom blinked at his Father, he opened his mouth about to speak. 

Voldemort elbowed him hard, directly in the ribs. "Tom is sorry darling, he went a bit overboard but that was before we read your...beautiful letters... As you can see we fed them lunch, and Tom will support Draco with any career of his choosing, it's the least he can do, right son?" 

The Dark Lord bit his tongue, to hold back a groan of pain, and oh, how did Harry wish to laugh aloud at him, to be the one to hurt him next, the bastard deserved it after what he'd said. 

"Draco go sit by the fire, I'll help you but I want you seated and hydrated, grab yourself a glass of water, no wine!" Gaunt didn't outright respond to Voldie, but his magic calming was an answer in itself. The room looked ruffled, but intact. 

Malfoy nodded, keeping his head down, snagging his glass of water off the table, walking cautiously toward velvet chairs placed by the coal-filled hearth. 

Gaunt smiled at him, pinching his cheek. "Thank you, Potter. I owe you big time. Don't worry I can tell them now, no need for secrecy any longer. You did well, being that you're alive!" Gaunt leaned in and whispered. "I'd bring you back anyway, believe me, they're getting a lecture for this, but if they'd hurt you it'd be a lot more than a lecture." 

Harry laughed. "That's wonderful Lord Gaunt-" 

The room stilled, it was as if time itself had stopped, he felt like his eyes had been submersed in molasses with how hard it was to turn them to look at everyone else, the Dark Lord's were holding their wands out but Malfoy was frozen, he looked like a Muggle photograph. When he lurched his head toward Gaunt, Gaunt was just burying his head in his hands and groaning. 

"No, no, no!" Gaunt shouted. 

A black hole erupted in the ceiling, it sucked all the light from the room, Harry didn't realize he was screaming until his throat started hurting. Then a skeletal head poked out of the hole, bony fingers sounding like nails on a chalkboard against the ceiling. 

"Harry! Oh, is this a bad time?" 

Harry Potter fainted when the skeleton began talking. 

Notes:

Happy Holidays:) Thank you for reading <3 <3 Also I'd love your opinion about how the story is going, or where you think it's going??? Cuz I have a plot that might be a ... Little crazy? So please let me know xoxo

Chapter 10: A Jump, Skip, And A Hop

Harry Gaunt leapt forward instinctively, snatching Potter before he fell to the ground, his fingers digging into Potter's ribs as he struggled to grasp him. Potter wasn’t heavy but the fall was so unexpected that it was a grueling effort to keep him upright. 

“A little help?” Harry mumbled into Potter’s hair, spitting out strands that got into his mouth while he stuck his arms under Potter’s armpits to gain a better hold. 

Tom rushed over, and Harry sighed in relief when his son pulled Harry off him. He opened his eyes, watching Tom lug Potter over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Tom’s eyes were huge. He tightened his arm around the kid’s legs and grabbed Harry’s wrist, pressing his thumb into his Dad’s pulse point painfully. 

He was shaking and it took a minute for Harry to process why. 

Tom was terrified.

“Pumpkin, it’s okay.” Harry whispered, clutching Tom’s wrist with his other hand and rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. 

“Harry? Can I come down?” Death questioned, but they were already floating down, so Harry wasn’t too sure why they’d asked, maybe just to be polite? 

“Tom? Let me go.” Harry asked. But when his son didn’t move Harry reached up, gently patting his cheek. When that still didn’t do anything Harry pinched him. The pain from that woke him up a bit. Tom gazed down at him, peeking over Harry then at Death who was now standing between them and Voldie. 

Harry glanced over at Voldie, they made eye contact. Voldie rolled his eyes, flicking them at Tom and smirking. 

The message was clear, Voldie thought Tom was overreacting. 

Harry knew a ruse when he saw it. Voldie was just as stressed as Tom, if not more. Voldie and Death didn’t have a good history. Death was Voldie's first and oldest enemy, and Harry was the thin line that divided them. 

He had all the power in their relationship, and sometimes Harry forgot it, but today was a sobering reminder. 

Sure, Harry joked about sending Voldie back but that’s what it was, a joke. Seeing Voldie clench his fingers around their shared wand and suck his magic into himself so it wouldn’t touch Death’s aura made his gut wrench. Did Voldie believe Harry would return him? No, no but it wouldn’t be like Voldemort to not have a backup plan in case such an event came to pass. 

He cringed at the thought. Harry didn’t want to imagine Voldie plotting his escape. He’s never wanted this kind of power, it made him stay up late questioning if their, or any of his relationships were authentic. 

Theirs had always been strained by imbalance. Voldie had time and time again reassured him, but how much of that was real and not for his own survival? 

“Master?” Death called softly, their voice vibrated the room, and Harry’s magic sang. 

He shook those depressing thoughts away and heeded the call. Only in the title was he Death’s master, no one could conquer death and Harry wasn’t daft enough to misconstrue the obvious. Like a phantom, one moment he was standing beside Tom, their hands brushing and the next he was in Death’s skeletal embrace. 

Bones captured him, piercing his sides and sipping away his essence, and the muffled shouts from Tom and Voldie buzzed by him, but flies in Harry’s peripheral. 

Fleshing fingers teased through his hair, and whispers in a language he didn’t know resounded through him but their translation was unnecessary they said. “I’ve come with answers, child of mine.” 

“Answers? Yes, I need those, don’t I?” Harry mumbled into a firm chest. 

Firm chest? 

Harry’s eyes flew open and he stuck his palms out, pushing himself away with a squeak. He looked up, his own chest was heaving with rattling breaths. 

Death wasn’t a human woman this time. They were a creature he’d never seen before. Their skin was purple. They had hair that was growing as he watched, unfurling, straight and thin but long, finally halting at their waist. Horns ripped through the flesh of their head, knotty curly, and spiked at the tip like a Ram. 

The force of the horns puncturing through their skull made blood, green to Harry’s amazement, burst from their head, weeping, a waterfall that trickled down their face like war paint. But Death felt no pain, had no concept of it but they frowned, mimicking Harry’s emotions. 

Death questioned.“Oh, Master, are you not well?”

Purple, beefy fingers skimmed Harry’s cheek, their sharp cone-shaped nails pierced Harry’s skin, and his blood droplets fell like tears, mixing yellow with the green blood already bubbling on the floor. 

There were seven fingers on their hand, not five. 

Harry forced a smile onto his face. “No, no I’m fine, just surprised! You came sooner than expected Death… Um-quick question, why can Tom and Potter see you?” 

They chuckled, Death’s voice so different yet the same. All the dead harmonized together, it felt like a religious experience when they spoke. Whoever’s body they borrowed this time had been very masculine, their voice was deep, projecting over the others. It was so baritone that Harry’s inner ear tingled and he shot up to itch it. 

Death grasped his shoulder. 

"Yes, my meeting ended early and I thought why not visit my little master now?" Death paused, adding on an answer, they sounded bored."Oh, your souls are all linked, even young Potter can see me because of that."

Harry shuttered, sharing Death's power. He turned, suddenly remembering that Tom and Voldie were in the room with him. As he shifted in their direction with Death, he saw them, Tom still holding Potter and Voldie was flush to his side. They were the closest he’d ever seen them, standing by the bookshelves bordering the room, backs pressed against them. 

They looked scared, but Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything now. Death clenched their fingers into his shoulder, massaging the tight muscles then moving up to his neck and tightening. Harry didn’t even flinch. 

“Ah, interesting.” Death announced, their cloudy white eyes scrutinizing Tom Potter and Voldie curiously. 

A thumb rolled over his adam’s apple and finally, emotion broke through. Harry choked, grabbing Death’s hand and pulling it off. A flood of feelings burst, coursing and churning, an angry rush of endorphins and chemicals, all that had been blocked by Death’s influence. 

“The fuck?” Harry squeezed his head in his hands, rocking back and forth to cope with the pain only a second of exposure had caused. 

“Hmm?” Death cocked their head at him. “What’s wrong, Harry?” 

Harry groaned and shouted. “Ugh, nothing you only just gave me the worst migraine of my life!” 

Death muttered, eyes never wavering from Tom and Voldie. “Sorry Master, I was distracted. Anyway…may I inspect them?” 

“Dad!” Tom shouted.

“Harry.” Voldie spoke hoarsely, only a level below a yell. 

He stumbled past Death, standing in between them, spreading his arms out, his bones protesting and muscles screaming. It was a useless attempt to protect them, but all Harry had to fight with were words. 

All Harry got for his attempt was Death crossing their arms, and raising a hairless brow. “Why? You asked for me, now you won’t allow me to look? I’m getting mixed messages here, master.” 

“I-I did ask and I am thankful! I know you’re very-very busy managing all the universes and all, but I think there’s a better, less hostile way to go about this, don’t you?” Harry smiled, a bead of sweat sloped down his brow and into his upper lip, he licked it away. 

“Hostile?” Death asked innocently, blinking in disbelief. 

“Uh, well they could misinterpret it that way, Voldie knows you a bit but my son he’s never met you and not me, but some people have said you're intimidating?” Harry dropped his hands, smiling sympathetically.

Death hummed, scratching their chin. “Yes, now that you mention it I have heard that before.” 

Harry sighed in relief, turning around and giving Voldie and Tom a shaky thumbs-up. They did not share his happiness, however, mouthing. 'Get it out of here’ and 'What the fuck, Harry?’ 

He frowned. He'd been expecting thank you’s! They were both so ungrateful.

“Come, Harry, introduce me, though I think it’s easy to reason who I am.” Death laughed, extending their hand out for Harry to take. 

He pouted but did what was expected of him. Death seemed to crave emotion and 
Harry was their only source.

Harry had to wonder if for the immortal’s emotions were like drugs, why else would Death want a nobody master like Harry by their side. 

It didn’t make holding hands with Death in front of his son and Voldie any less embarrassing. 

“Pumpkin, this is my… friend I guess…yes my friend Death! I asked them to help us out with our situation and they arrived sooner than anticipated. Which is great, right?” Harry threatened not so subtly, jerking his head aggressively in Death’s direction.

Voldie gave them a strained smile, then he bowed. Tom’s body jolted. He looked at Voldie with wide, surprised eyes but he didn’t bow, instead opening his mouth to protest. Harry was about to interrupt to save his son from further humiliation, but Voldie sighed, raised his arm, and grabbed Tom harshly by the hair, shoving him down low beside him. 

Potter groaned, shifting in Tom’s arms at the sudden movement, but he didn’t wake up. For that Harry was thankful, but he’d have to lecture Pumpkin later if Voldie didn’t get to it first. 

“Why are they doing that?” Death whispered to Harry, having to almost crack in half just to reach Harry’s ear. 

Harry puffed his cheeks out to hide a laugh. “I think that’s obvious D, they respect you or fear you, what does it matter?” 

“If they respected me as you claim, they wouldn't have mutilated and divided their souls. It's a grievous insult, an abomination what they’ve done, not only these Voldemorts but what nearly half the universe's Voldemorts have done.” Death straightened up, voice bellowing around the room, all the windows in the room fractured. They continued. “They should be bowing to you master, worshipping you who have offered them mercy. That one-” Death pointed at Voldie, who was staring hard at the floor. “-understands that well.” 

“Woah, I get where you’re coming from, I really do but let’s focus on the problem at hand, please Death?” Harry begged, projecting every earnest emotion to Death that he could muster. Turns out it was a lot. 

Death sighed, mimicking an awkward smile they’d seen Harry do earlier. Harry smiled back. 

“What the fuck?" Tom hissed, yelping when Voldie cuffed him upside the head. 

Voldie ordered. “Shut up Tom. Seriously, shut up.” 

Harry fidgetted out of Death’s clingy grasp, clapping his hands together. “That’s enough groveling for today.” 

Tom and Voldie shot up. Their faces were red, from anger or blood Harry didn’t know, likely an equal mixture of the two.

Amusement bubbled in his gut. He did feel bad for his Pumpkin but seeing Voldie bow was always a treat. 

“So, what do you think?” Harry bounced on his heels, eager for an answer. 

For some reason out of the two, Voldie seemed the most irritated. He was grinding his teeth and crossing his arms, and glaring spitefully at Harry. Harry offered him a confused glance and received an even more frenzied glare for his trouble. 

Death strolled closer, both Voldie and Tom flinched on reflex. They chuckled but kept moving forward until they were directly before them. 

“Hmm, I see. Very peculiar and worse than I feared. I advise killing one of them, perhaps Potter since you have no deep-rooted attachments yet.” Death nodded, reaching out for Potter. 

They all responded at once. 

“NO!” Harry cried, springing forward to stop Death’s outstretching hand.

“That’s reasonable, I came to a similar conclusion.” Voldie hummed approvingly. 

Tom enthusiastically asked. “Can I do it?”

Harry didn’t have time to yell at them, he had to save Potter. He flew using the tremendous influx of Death’s magic in the room to his advantage. Lights and air blurred past him and by fate and a little luck (Harry later renounces that luck was ever involved) he launched himself in between Death and Potter. 

Death’s glowing hand grazed his chest. Harry's soul shivered, responding to Death's call, but he could also sense two familiar hands squeezing his shoulders while futilely trying to haul him away. 

“Wha-” Harry screamed, electricity flared through his body as his soul glitched, phasing in and out of his body like a surging tide.

“Master!” Death's fading voice was Harry's last memory before he went unconscious.
 
Muffled screaming and someone shaking Harry's shoulders woke him up. He groaned, his body was aching all over and his muscles were spasming. 

“Harry get up!” Voldie’s frantic shouting broke through the haze and Harry shot upright, blindly flinging himself forward. 

Arms enveloped him and he could feel himself being lifted up. 

He blinked, his eyelids sticking to torn robes but he relaxed knowing it was Voldie by the smell. 

“What happened?” Harry mumbled, but he was pressed so tightly against Voldie’s chest it just sounded like gibberish. 

Voldie answered with a crazed laugh. “You will not believe this, dear. Let me put you down now, but promise me that you will not act rashly." 

“Who dares interfere? Kill them!” A nasally voice cried. 

Harry pursed his lips as he was set down. Voldie spun him around but held him close grabbing both his shoulders so Harry could see the scene before them. He blinked, shook his head, rubbed his eyes then blinked again, not believing what he was seeing but no matter how many times he shuttered his eyelids the scene did not vanish. 

Tom Riddle, youthful, not a day over fifteen was strapped by ropes to a tombstone. Harry would know his age, he’d raised a Tom Riddle of his own.

Underneath Riddle’s straining back, Harry could make out the words ‘James Potter’. He frantically glanced at the Dark Lord he’d known would be there and he was right in his assumption, it was a bald taller snakey version of himself. 

A crisp, spring wind meandered through the graveyard, and Harry bit his tongue to hold back a laugh when the breeze did not affect his counterpart's very bald head. Harry melted back into Voldie's embrace, he didn’t know what else to do, this … this was bizarre. 

They all shared baffled looks at each other for a long thirty seconds before Harry broke the silence.

“What the fuck is this, where are we?” Harry sputtered. 

Voldie huffed a distressed laugh. “What did you do?! Why couldn't you let Death kill Potter? You always do this. Why do you constantly fight the natural order of things!?” 

Fury spelled through Harry, he elbowed himself out of Voldie’s arms, pivoting to face him. Harry glared. “What is that supposed to mean? If I followed the ‘natural’ order of things you’d still be dead and I’d still be in our universe...you know what, fuck you!” 

“Fuck me?” Voldie shouted back, his voice shrill with irritation. “I will fuck you! Tom isn’t here to stop me, he didn’t come with us, or did you fail to notice your precious Pumpkin is missing?” 

Harry’s stomach twisted. He didn’t need to look around to know Voldie was correct. Tom’s magical signature was nowhere, and the further he stretched his soul magic only confirmed it. 

“Shit-shit you’re right, what happened back there? Where’s my baby and Potter?” Harry yanked at his hair, tears burning his eyes. 

Voldie’s demeanor flipped, he stepped toward Harry, brushing his thumb under his eye and licking a stay tear that was slipping down Harry’s cheek. “Darling… no I didn’t mean to upset you. He’s strong, Tom will be alright and we will find them together.”

When Voldie kissed him, Harry didn’t fight it. He didn’t have the energy to and he needed it, he wanted to be grounded, his magic was haywire and his emotions volatile. Harry didn’t know where or what universe he’d stranded his son and Potter in. Voldie’s comforting and familiar touch soothed him, helping him to contain his magic. 

Harry kissed back, sighing when Voldie’s hands slid over his body, tickling his ribs and thumbing over his arse and pulling impatiently at his robes. Their tongues danced together, soft and tentative, almost careful. Voldie tasted like red wine, bitter with the stale smoke in Harry’s own mouth.  

“CEASE THIS!" Dark Lord Harry Potter cried. It sounded like a snake was nesting inside his esophagus. 

It killed Harry's libido, that's for sure. Voldie's too, Salazar. They'd both been so distracted by each other that they'd forgotten about the universe they'd dropped into. They pulled away, standing flush beside one another. Voldie gripped Harry's waist protectively. 

Voldie and Harry’s eyes met, a silent battle of words only they could understand torpedoing between them. A plan was settled on, save Chosen-one Tom Riddle and deal with Dark Lord Potter later was decided in three blinks. 

"I have questions, loads of them, but are you me?" Harry asked, pointing at the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord squinted at him, his wand pointing at Harry then switching between him and Voldie like he couldn't decide who was more dangerous. His eyes were garnet-red, not a hint of green remained. 

“You resemble me in my youth, but there are differences. Are you my future heir? Well, that matters not, I find myself more curious about your lover. Did you bring the future Tom Riddle here to defeat me? Is this one of Grindelwald’s plans? It’s laughable.” The Dark Lord Harry cackled maniacally. 

"What was that? Do you have something caught in your throat?" Harry blurted. 

Voldie groaned, mumbling under his breath for Harry to stop talking. 

Dark Lord Harry blinked, then barked angrily. "No, that was my evil laugh! How dare you insult me!"

"Oh." Harry whispered. 

“Darling…did I sound like that?” Voldie asked hesitantly, he already knew the answer. 

Harry snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh. “Uh… No, you…don’t be mad but you…you were worse, like waay worse.” 

“I…see.” Voldie sighed, frowning and shaking his head.  

Harry patted him on the back. “It’s okay honey, that’s all in the past. You’re doing a lot better, your evil laughs are down by at least 60%.” 

“You’ve been keeping track?” Voldie arched a brow down at Harry who blushed, quickly looking away to avoid replying. 

“Voldie, please can we just get out of here? That me is giving me the creeps!” Harry grumbled, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

Voldie beamed. His body was vibrating with excitement. He released Harry and they leaped into action. Voldie attacked first, but the Dark Lord Harry was equally as quick and their spells clashed, red and blue curses connecting and exploding together shaking the earth under their feet. Harry’s ears rang. It was such an enormous sound, a clap of thunder booming and their spells the lightning detonating all around them. 

He covered his ears, leaving them to it so he could look for Riddle, but when Harry turned away from the duel, eyes frantically scanning the graveyard, Riddle was no longer strapped to the tombstone. 

The ropes were cut, frayed, and crumpled underneath it. 

“RIDDLE?” Harry screamed over another explosion, struggling to stay upright from the resulting blast. 

“Yes?” A voice responded, but it echoed from behind.

Harry spun around, freezing when he came face to face with little Riddle, who wasn’t so little standing up. He was still taller than Harry by a few inches. He looked identical to his Pumpkin, but his eyes weren’t blue, they were a warm, caramel brown. Harry noticed the flash of the knife too late. Its serrated edges twisted, just skimming underneath his chin, teasing its blade over his skin. It stung like a papercut and he could feel blood begin to dribble, trickling down his neck. 

“Cute.” Harry breathed, smiling. 

Riddle scowled, not expecting such a reaction. Harry laughed, then flicked his finger. The kid screamed as he was flung into the sky, the knife falling softly onto the grass. Harry bent over and picked it up, tossing it into the air and catching it by the handle over and over lazily as he glanced up at the red-faced teen wriggling above him. 

“Aww, still missing your wand? Lemme get it for you, say what was your plan? Were you gonna stab me, then what?” Harry shouted, causally blocking a tombstone that had been blown up in Voldie’s fight, the chunks of marble stopping inches from Riddle’s head. 

“You…why would you save me, you’re the Dark Lord aren’t you?!” Riddle yelled, eyes flicking to the Dark Lord’s losing duel against Voldie, then to the hovering chunk that would’ve killed him, then back to Harry with wide, calculating eyes. 

Harry blinked, well that was a first. “Me?! The Dark Lord… I guess I would be here, wouldn’t I? We just got here, I don’t know anything, you’ll have to tell us all about it later.” 

He opened his hand and closed his eyes, calling Riddle’s wand to him. It sang for him, from the reaction of his own wand’s core to Dark Lord Harry’s he assumed the story about their twin cores was the same here as well. He held Riddle’s wand and the knife in each hand then looked back up at the teen with a cheeky smile. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand, eh?” Harry yelled. 

Riddle’s mouth fell open, but he wasn’t looking at Harry. Harry followed his gaze to the duel. Voldie wasn’t winning any longer, they were too equal and their cores resisted. 

“HONEY, LET’S GO YOU CAN FIGHT MY EVIL SELF LATER!” Harry hollered, his voice was hoarse from all the yelling. 

“BUT DARLING-” Voldie shouted back, his shoes skidding against the soft earth from the effort it took him to shield a tremendous spell the Dark Lord was blasting his way. “-THIS IS THE MOST FUN I’VE HAD IN YEARS, PLEASE FIVE MORE MINUTES SWEETHEART?” 

Harry facepalmed, counting back from ten before he was able to respond. “NO. WE’RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW!” 

Voldie’s shoulders slumped but he obeyed. Harry felt a tad guilty, but they had to get out of here and help little Riddle. Harry couldn’t see how Voldie was going to get out of this duel without his assistance. He sighed, strolling forward with little Riddle hovering a few feet behind him, shouting and yelling, Harry ignored him. 

Harry rolled his eyes, and breathed in, collecting his magic. With Harry’s exhale he threw his magic at his Dark Lord doppelganger. Voldie who had just cast a spell of his own and Harry’s spell merged, striking the Dark Lord simultaneously. 

Dark Lord Harry didn’t stand a chance against them both and he was blasted back, flying into the air and into a nearby oak tree. The old, twisted trunk groaned, it started falling over. Harry took this as the chance it was, to get the fuck out of there. 

Of course, that's when the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters decided to arrive. Directly in front of him, garbed in black, ragged robes with her skull mask pushed to the side, was Hermione Granger. A stark jagged scar zigzagged down her face and her brown eyes were wide with shock as they stared at one another. 

“MIONE’, WHO'S THAT?” Ronald Weasely yelled, but he still had his mask on, ginger tufts of hair sticking messily out of the sides. 

Voldie apparated, a harsh crack and he was beside Harry, who was still standing dumbfounded just gaping at Hermione with dry eyes. Harry was afraid to blink. 

“What dear, you want to stay now?” Voldie teased. 

“Uh-no…no let’s go.” Harry whispered, wiggling his finger to float Riddle down beside them. 

The Death Eaters, noticing they had the chosen one shrieked, raised their wands to strike. 

Voldie apparted all three of them. Killing curse green radiating from the tip of Hermione’s wand was the last thing Harry saw before they cracked away. 

Harry, who still hated apparition collapsed into Riddle Manor’s lawn with a nauseated groan, his cheek squished into the grass of the well-manicured lawn and with childish frustration he started ripping it up at the roots, cursing and filing his nails full of damp soil. 

Voldie grabbed his back collar, Harry choked as he was hauled up and plopped upright. He smeared his dirty, grass-covered hands over his trousers with an exasperated sigh. Voldie was shaking his head. A smile crept its way onto his face and when Voldie began laughing it was contagious. Harry chuckled at first but the insanity of their current situation was just so…fucking ridiculous. 

They laughed, laughed, and cried until their guts ached and they were wheezing for air. 

“I love you.” Voldie hummed. They were standing mere inches from each other. A cut that Voldie had received from the duel was stark against his pale face. Blood seeped out of this hairline, he was smiling openly, the slope of his cheekbones and the sparkle in his clear eyes made Harry’s heart melt. 

Harry choked. After all these years, here and now in this strange universe, he finally felt brave enough to admit those feelings aloud. “I-I think I lo-”

“ENOUGH! YOU OLD BASTARDS HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!” Tom Riddle shouted, interrupting Harry before he could finish confessing. 

Voldie snarled. Anger contorted his face as he ripped his wand from his pocket, pointing it at little Riddle. “Have you zero tact, child? We rescued you, ungrateful brat. It is your own fault for falling for such an obvious trap."  

“Hey!” Harry crossed his arms. “I fell for that too you know… It wasn’t that obvious!” 

“Yes, it was.” Both Riddle and Voldie responded in unison. Each gazed at the other in amazement, then shared a smug smirk, admiring their genius. 

Harry sighed, defeated. “No, no you’re not allowed to gang up on me. Fuck it, let’s get inside. I need a bath, a drink, and your entire life story kid, in that order.” 

A half-hour later, Harry was in new, oversized robes, clean and smelling like pine soap. He'd rushed out of the bath but forgot to dry his hair, so it dripped, icy droplets down his back and wet his collar. Voldie and Tom were seated awkwardly across from one another. The tension in the parlor room made Harry want to reel around and escape, but he’d already been noticed and little Riddle had promised him wine. 

Two bottles of wine, unopened, sat on the long, glass table between the couch and a dusty, plastic-covered loveseat that Riddle sat on. The plastic squeaked obnoxiously each time he fidgeted. The mansion itself was Muggle, it was like a time capsule. Someone, the groundskeeper perhaps had obviously tried to preserve its furniture and antiques, but that attempt only made it feel more sterile and abandoned. 

Harry grunted. “Uh, hello.” 

Voldie tutted at him, and scooted over, patting the empty spot beside him. The couch had huge buttons indenting every two inches of it, and it was coral-colored velvet. Harry’s nose scrunched but he sat where Voldie wanted him to. Voldie grabbed his thigh, indenting his thumb into Harry’s muscles and rubbing in delicate circles.

“Dear, we waited to talk like you asked.” Voldie leaned forward, kissing Harry’s rosy, bath-warmed cheek. 

“No, we did not. I asked him a thousand times to tell me and he refused, then threatened to kill me.” Riddle hissed, the chair squeaked again. 

“Ah, that sounds right.” Harry murmured, eyeing the wine greedily. Two dust-covered glasses sat beside them. He waved his hand and they cleaned themselves at the same time the corks burst out of each bottle, then the glasses filled themselves. 

Voldie reached out for the red but Harry beat him to it, grabbing them both and chugging each one down right after the other. 

"The red pairs great...with the white." Harry muttered sarcastically. 

"You detest reds. Pour another glass for me. I want to hear Riddle's story, this universe is fascinating." Voldie commanded, tapping the table with his fingers. 

Two more glasses poured and Riddle's intense glaring later the chosen one began his story. 

Riddle cleared his throat. "It all started when The Dark Lord Evans killed my parents because of an incomplete self-fulfilling prophecy…" 

---

????,????

"Lord uh, Tom?...Tom... TOM GET UP! IF YOU DON'T GET UP RIGHT NOW I'LL BE FORCED TO DO THIS, YOU FORCED ME, DON'T MURDER ME FOR THIS…. IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" 

Tom groaned but he didn't open his eyes. He felt so cold, the cold made him sleepier, he wanted to go back to sleep. 

Why was his father being so annoying? 

Then someone kicked him in the ribs. Dad would never hit him…that hard. He roared awake with anger and pain, jabbing his wand into the assaulter's leg. He’d used a spell on instinct, mumbling it out groggily. The screams of agony gave Tom more clues, but when he opened his eyes the astonishment from seeing it be Potter, with a now shattered leg wailing in pain was ignored for the scenery. 

The reason Tom felt so cold, was because they were in a large hard snowpack in the middle of an ancient tundra, there was weak sunlight filtering through thick, somber gray clouds, and the ground was rumbling. A snowshoe hare was staring at them curiously, head cocked to side and nose sniffing as it blinked its sapphire eyes at Potter who was rolling around in the snow and wailing, with choking snotty snobs and blubbering about his leg. 

Tom sighed. His fingers were blue with the cold. They were not properly dressed. He’d felt cold before, or so he thought but this ice, this chill was debilitating and all-consuming. Tom could feel it crawl its way inside him, using every inhale to burrow and expand, to feast on his warmth and consume the fire every warm blood mammal had lit deep inside. He shivered then cast a warming charm. 

Magic was plentiful, so abundant that the spell was amplified and it sparked over him with enough strength to light a thousand hearths. 

Now Tom was screaming, his body was on fire. 

"Holy shit!" Potter screamed. 

Tom barely heard him as he rolled on instinct and steam bellowed around him as the flames were put out, just his clothes were singed and he gasped for air staring up at the sky as he panted. The ground was still trembling and he groaned as he pushed himself up, coughing from the burning smoke of his robes. He looked over at Potter, who had tears freezing on his pale, shocked face, his green eyes were wide but he was no longer looking at Tom. 

He followed Potter's gaze and swallowed his congealing, dried spit that'd been collecting in his throat. A herd of Wooley Mammoths was stampeding in their direction. Tom moved quickly, stumbling a bit but getting up was his priority. Potter tried getting up too but cried in pain. Tom snarled, reaching down and picking up the squeaking kid, slinging him over his shoulder and doing the only thing he could think of, he ran. 

Magic itself was out of the question, he couldn't trust it. His melted shoes slipped and slid against the dirty snow but he kept running. 

"We need to find a place to hide!" Yelled Potter, his face slamming against Tom's back with every misstep. 

"Great observation!" Tom sarcastically shouted back, almost tripping over a rock that'd been hiding in a snowdrift. 

Something roared but it wasn't from around them, it was from above. Tom stilled, huffing as Potter too twisted in his arms to look up. 

A Dragon, a Hungarian Horntail flew over them, black scales shimmering. It roared again and dived down into the Mammoth Herd. This, as it should've, frightened the elephants, they trumpeted and bellowed. Potter and Tom held their breaths, unable to look away, as the Dragon landed on an adolescent in the herd's back, biting into its neck and releasing a blast of fire. 

Some of the herd stayed, desperately trying to help fight off the Dragon, who had blood spattered all over it and claws digging jagged, deep lacerations into the young Mammoth's sides. The rest of the herd kept going, still steering straight for Tom and Potter. 

"GO, GO, PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" Potter wailed, slamming his fists into Tom's back over and over until Tom started moving again. 

Tom did run, as fast as his destroyed shoes would allow him, he was thinking of all the ways he could still use his magic without hurting either one of them, but he had to experiment, test it. He had no time.

Well, Potter's going to die and I'm going be a wraith in a prehistoric fucking wasteland!

A glimmer of magic caught the corner of his eye. Tom immediately shifted in the shield's direction. It was crude, a spell he'd never seen before but it was magic, so he honed in on it. The shield bubbled and waxed but didn’t permit him entry. He coiled his magic, and the foreign magic responded, relaxing, he pressed his way through. 

The force made him stumble and they crashed, a shouting mass of arms and limbs into the snow. Potter’s elbow cracked into his nose and Tom moaned, holding it and turning up to keep the blood inside. Potter scrambled upright, as much as his broken leg allowed, gasping and grabbing Tom’s shoulder, shaking it. 

“They’re going by us! Merlin, they can’t see us! What was that, a shield…Did you create it?” Potter exclaimed, awe and relief cracking his voice. 

“No. It isn't mine…This is dangerous Potter. Fucking dangerous I don’t know where we are and our magic is reacting wildly. Can’t you feel it? It’s suffocating.” Tom said gravely as he tried to sit up. 

Potter, noticing his struggle crawled over and reached out to help. Tom hissed. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Seriously? If you haven’t noticed it’s you and me here, alone? You touched me, you broke my fucking leg, asshole!” Harry snarled, retracting his arms and crossing them. His body was racked with shivers. 

“Shut up. SHUT UP I KNOW!” Tom screamed, grabbing his face in his hands to hide a silent scream. 

Potter laughed. It was a terrified exasperated one. “Hah, this is your fucking fault, you know that? I was awake. I heard you. You wanted Death to kill me! Did you think your Dad would allow that, are you stupid? You’re an immature child who doesn’t know when to give up. No matter what you do, your Dad will never love you more than a son, but your ego won’t allow that, will it?” 

“Potter, stop speaking now. I am your Lord, the immature one is you. I'm not opposed to killing you the Muggle way. Do not test me.” Tom growled, spitting and clenching his fingers into the snow to keep himself from lashing out. His fingers were numb and slow to listen. 

“I’d love for you to try, even with my leg I’ll put up a fight you won’t be soon to forget! We aren’t in any land under your rule Tom I will call you whatever I please until we escape this-whatever it is!” Potter cried, waving his hands around, glaring daggers at Tom, 

Potter’s eyes were alight, hard, and swirling with contempt. 

“I loathe you.” Tom said flatly. He didn’t know what else to say. The cold and the daze of being screamed at by someone other than his Dad was jarring and… enlightening. 

“Good, I hate you too! Now fucking do something, you’re supposed to be the most powerful wizard to have ever lived up there with Merlin, well prove it! Fix my leg and-and…oh my we’re going to die here I just know it!” Potter collapsed, falling back into the snow and slamming his fists into it. 

He didn’t want to admit it but the cold was sapping his energy away too and the holes in his robes were only aiding in that regard, but he’d be damned if he was going to die here. 

“I’m going to try again Potter. Get up and quit wallowing. I will try with half strength, so sit up.” Tom snapped precipitously. 

Potter sat up, snow clumped and clinging to his damp clothes. He was frowning but propped himself obediently on quivering hands, and his elbows were stark white with the strength it took to hold himself upright.

“Okay…” Potter grumbled, the flush was fading from his cheeks, he was exhausted. 

Tom gripped his wand, pointing it at Potter and closing his eyes. Usually, it was customary to flow all the magic you could muster into every spell, so this was a challenge. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t feel a particular buzz of excitement, not only from this but from the accident that brought them to this world, or time itself. Tom reasoned confidently that his Dad wouldn’t abandon them here and they merely needed to survive until his arrival. He itched to investigate the source of this shield before that happened...but Potter was correct, his father would be furious if Potter were to die, so he had to protect him as well.

How vexing. 

"Brackium Emendo." Tom whispered. 

Potter hissed but he didn't scream in pain, so Tom took that as a sign that it had worked properly. 

"Well?" Tom asked quickly. 

"Um-I think... here help me up." Potter huffed, poking his leg and wiggling it around experimentally. 

Tom rolled his eyes but got up, hesitating and after a swift inner battle with his pride reached out his hand for Potter to take. Potter sneered at him but stretched out too, when they touched this time a strange sensation shot up Tom's arm he shook it off but was curious to see that Potter too felt it.

The kid stumbled but successfully put weight on his leg, glancing up at Tom, smiling brightly. Potter reported happily. "Wow, it worked!" 

"Of course it worked, it was me after all." Tom chided, rolling his eyes. 

Potter frowned. "Ugh. Whatever, you said you didn't cast this, right? Then who did?" 

"That is what I intend to find out, we need any assistance we can get as much as it pains me to admit." Tom huffed, jostling the snow off his own, half-destroyed robes. 

"Yeah, yeah let's go find them, if they don't kill us first maybe they'll have something to eat. I'm starving!" Potter groaned and started trudging in a random direction. 

"Potter! The magic signature is this way." Tom shouted, sniggering under his breath. 

The kid stilled, his hair was wet and matted around his face. The polyjuice had long worn off and Tom decided he didn't mind Potter's features, they differed from his father in all the right ways, to the keen eye it was difficult to confuse the two. It made it easier to yell at him. 

"Oh. Right, I knew that." Potter blushed, pivoting in the snow to follow Tom. 

They walked in silence for a bit, fighting the snow and listening to the wind batter the shield around them. 

"So, this sucks." Potter commented. 

Tom sighed, he'd almost forgotten this was another version of his father personality-wise as well. 

"Yes." Tom replied curtly. 

" I bet this happens to you all the time, huh? Dimension travel or whatever this is." Harry said between chattering teeth. 

"No, actually this is my first time." Tom expressed sourly. 

"Ah. He doesn't take you with him? That's rough, does he take Voldemort?" 

"No." 

"Oh, so you don't know if he does or not?"

Tom didn't answer. He didn't trust he could without screaming, so he pursed his lips instead. 

Potter paused, then spoke so quickly Tom had to stop walking just to understand him over the sound of their footsteps. "Sorry, I guess that's a touchy subject. Hey, do you think I could try casting a warming charm on myself...without catching myself on fire? I'm freezing my arse off here." 

"No. Stop let me do it." Tom grate out, he wanted one too so he'd just try it on Potter first. 

"Cool. Cool. I'll just roll around and scream like you did if I catch fire..." Potter snorted, covering his mouth and widening his eyes after realizing what he had said aloud. 

Tom sighed again. "My father...he told me if you catch fire...it's a Muggle thing they say 'Stop, Drop and Roll.' he made me practice countless times and you're forbidden from telling him I used it and it worked. Understand?" 

Potter's cheeks puffed up, no doubt holding a giggle. "Yes, yeah okay... I promise I won't tell! Just warm me, please!" 

He cast the spell, careful with the force of it, smirking proudly at seeing the warmth return to Potter's cheeks and all his thin clothing dry immediately. Tom took no time in between spelling it on himself, sighing as his robes dried, then he hit them with a Reparo. 

"Alright, let's go once these wear off we can try conjuring new clothes." Tom announced, giving the grinning Potter one lingering last glance before walking again. 

"Huh, I liked you better a mess, it made you more relatable, less evil overlordy." Potter muttered, sounding disappointed. 

Tom wanted to kill him. 

"Potter, is it feasible for you to shut up until we get to our destination?" Tom asked, straining to keep his voice flat. 

"Hmm, no I don't think it is. I'm half-froze, got transported to another universe against my will, almost got trampled to death by Wooley-Fucking-Mammoths, and am stuck with the Dark Lord who's ruined my family's life. So no, I don't think I will shut up." 

"That's fair." 

A long, miserable half-hour of trekking later and muttering half-assedly in response to Potter's ramblings did they come upon a small village. It sank in the crescent of a valley, a river that should have been sheathed in solid ice was running clear, and grass green and lush as spring grew tall alongside its banks. 

"Finally, yeah they use magic." Potter bit his lip, searching over the valley for any signs of movement. 

"Yes, yes they do." Tom whispered, clutching his wand tightly in his hands. 

Potter looked at him with a raised brow. "Oh, no...you don't think..." 

An arrowhead shot between them, whistling through the air. Tom watched the sharp edge of its tip flashing as it whizzed past, but it froze mid-air, turning abruptly and zeroing in on them again. 

"Well, shit." Potter said, his voice wavering like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. 

Tom smiled. "This will be fun." 

Notes:

HAPPY NEW YEAR 🎊 hope you like this chapter!!! Love your comments as always they encourage me ❤️ thank you for reading!