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***
Sometimes Tom truly hated having to deal with children.
Unfortunately, being Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and now Headmaster of Hogwarts meant that he had to spend most of his time dealing with them.
While Tom enjoyed teaching, especially to those who had skill and focus, it was the immature behaviour of the students that grated on his nerves. He had always maintained strict rules in his classroom and wouldn’t tolerate foolish behaviour, but when he became Deputy Head several years ago he found that his calm but stern demeanour had less of an impact outside of the classroom.
The students seemed to feel immune from punishment when they were in larger numbers or after night fell. Tom could punish students for fighting in the corridors or kissing in store cupboards after hours all he liked, but it wouldn’t stop them doing it again. He was powerless.
But now McGonagall had finally retired, deciding Tom’s sneaky suggestion that she opened a cattery would make the perfect career change, and with McGonagall gone, Tom now had the power to make some proper changes at Hogwarts.
But though he had more power, Tom also had to be more hands-on with students, dealing with their petty arguments and quite frankly, insufferable issues. Mostly coming from, Willow and Tristan Potter.
Willow and Tristan were twin first-years who had been Sorted just four days ago. Willow had been Sorted into Slytherin, while Tristan went to Gryffindor. The twins didn’t handle the separation well and had been causing problems in and out of classes by refusing to leave one another’s side even when their timetable demanded that they be in different places.
Tom had planned to allow them a week of the behaviour before stepping in, so he could claim he tried to give them chance to settle before starting on punishments—it wouldn’t do to look like a monster, after all—but Willow and Tristan had destroyed that grace period by getting into a heated fight.
Willow had been arguing with some sixth year Slytherins who were mocking Tristan, defending her brother, Willow let off some quick hexes of her own but not before Tristan got hit by a few himself.
Her skillset was rather impressive for an eleven-year-old, and Tom would definitely keep an eye on her in lessons, but for now Tom’s attention was drawn to Tristan instead. Tristan’s injuries weren’t severe; he’d simply been hit with an Itching Hex but as he wouldn’t stop scratching the rash, it caused Madam Pomfrey to sedate him to stop his skin getting infected before the Healing Salve could take effect.
“Do you think you’ll return to your dormitory any time soon, Willow?” Tom asked sharply, glancing at the girl who was sat rigidly in the chair by her brother’s bedside. “Madam Pomfrey said Tristan will be fine; he’ll sleep all night and be healed by morning.”
Willow shook her head mutely and looked away from Tom.
Tom chose not to argue with her; her father would be getting in soon and it wouldn’t do to have Willow upset at Tom when he arrived. Tom didn’t know the Potter family, but he always liked to make a good first impression on people so that they were easier to control and manipulate. If he ever needed to of course.
Tom liked to have control. He liked the power that came with it and treated life like it was a game of chess that needed careful planning.
Usually, that worked in Tom’s favour, but there were times when something would come up and throw Tom’s pieces right off the chessboard itself.
Or sometimes it was a someone. Harry Potter came hurrying into the Hospital Wing, his robes billowing behind him, and throwing off Tom’s analytical strategy entirely.
Tom’s original intention had been to be polite and charming to Harry while firmly telling him that he’d expect the twins to improve their behaviour in time or else there’d be consequences. Tom had hoped that Harry would then do Tom’s job for him by keeping his children in check via owl post, and Tom wouldn’t have to waste any more of his time on dealing with those particular children.
Tom just hadn’t counted on Harry being attractive. He could tell where the twins got their wild black hair from, but while Willow and Tristan had dark hazel eyes, Harry’s were a bright green that stood out vibrantly against his olive skin tone. His nose was a tiny bit crooked like it had been broken and healed by somebody who wasn’t very skilled at Healing charms, and his lips were red and plump, perfectly bow-shaped. Harry was tall and slender, and though his clothes looked a bit rumpled and very Muggle, underneath his robes, Tom could sense a strong magical core. It was almost as if Harry wasn’t aware of the power he could truly show off if he carried himself with more sophistication. He owned it without shoving it into anyone's face. Must have been a Gryffindor, all that self-sacrificing rot.
Tom wasn’t one for finding other people attractive very often, and usually when he did the person didn’t have much magical strength. Harry, on the other hand, appeared as powerful as he was attractive, and that was a rare combination that Tom couldn’t ignore.
And though Tom’s original plan was no longer in play, it was no matter; Tom had always been gifted at thinking on his feet.
Harry hurried over to Tristan’s bedside without even glancing at Tom, pulling Willow into a brief hug before turning his attention to his son.
“Is he supposed to be sedated?” Harry asked loudly to the room, frowning as he studied Tristan’s prone form. “I thought he only got hit by an Itching Hex.”
“He did,” Tom said, catching Harry’s attention for the first time. “Madam Pomfrey simply sedated him so he wasn’t in any discomfort, and the Healing Salve should be taking effect now.”
Tom caught the exact moment that Harry’s breath hitched and his pupils widened. Tom knew that he was classically handsome, and most people who were attracted to men found him appealing. Harry appeared to be no exception, his hands suddenly attempting—and failing—to flatten down his hair as he flashed Tom a smile.
“That’s good to know,” Harry answered, reaching his arm across the bed for Tom to shake. Tom took the offered hand, squeezing his fingers around Harry’s hand lightly before letting it go. “You must be Headmaster Riddle; I’m Harry. Sorry my ex-wife couldn’t make it; she’s out of the country on her honeymoon.”
While Tom didn’t doubt his abilities at seducing a married man, it did make things a lot easier if they were divorced. And just to make sure…
“Step-parents are of course welcome to join us for meetings,” Tom muttered lowly. “So if you have anyone…”
“No, it’s just me,” Harry said quickly, running his hands through his hair again with fingers that were indeed ringless.
From the corner of his eye, Tom caught sight of Willow looking at Tom curiously. She appeared to be a perceptive girl, and Tom was already confident that she would make a fine addition to Slytherin House. As such, it was another reason why Tom wanted to move the conversation away from the Hospital Wing.
“Lovely,” Tom said with a small smile. “Shall we proceed towards my office? Madame Pomfrey has things under control here.”
“Sure, sure,” Harry answered, casting a distracted look down at Tristan. “Willow, you should get back to your dorm before curfew.”
“No, I’m sleeping here,” Willow huffed, folding her arms across her chest.
Harry’s brows furrowed. “Tristan’s in good hands,” he assured Willow. “You don’t have to-”
“Headmaster Riddle already said I could stay,” Willow argued, prompting Harry to shoot Tom a quizzical look.
Tom returned his look with an elegant smile. “Madam Pomfrey has agreed to it. Now if we could make our way towards my office…?”
Tom trailed off, and Harry seemed satisfied that an explanation would be coming. He gave Willow one last hug goodbye and gave Tristan’s hand a squeeze before following Tom wordlessly from the Hospital Wing.
“I can’t believe it’s been fifteen years since I was here last,” Harry murmured as he walked, more to himself than to Tom. “Everything still looks the same.”
They arrived at the statue leading to the Headmaster’s office at a slower pace than what Tom was used to, mainly because Harry kept stopping to re-familiarise himself with things he hadn’t seen for years. He even looked thrilled to see the gargoyle concealing the entrance to Tom’s office.
Once they were inside, Tom offered Harry a seat before summoning two wine glasses which he placed down on his desk.
“Sparkling water?” Tom offered. “Or would you like something a bit stronger?”
“I think I’m gonna need something stronger,” Harry answered with a resigned sigh. “Just give me whatever you’ve got.”
What Tom had was red wine, one of the finest elf-made ones there was—the bottle had cost more than some people earned a month. He filled their glasses, and Harry took a grateful gulp. Tom’s gaze trailed down the line of Harry’s throat, and to the sharp collarbones peeking out from under his shirt.
“So the twins are acting up, are they?” Harry muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was worried this would happen.”
Tom nodded, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his finger. “As I explained in my letter, Willow and Tristan are both displaying concerning behaviours. The incident today has been the worst; Tristan was the brute end of a joke, to the older Slytherins, which resulted in an argument with Willow and her housemates, concluding in Tristan getting hexed in response, and Willow hexing her housemates in retaliation.’’
Tom paused, watching Harry’s reaction. Naturally, Harry seemed genuinely concerned, his fingers toying with a bright, multi-coloured rubber bracelet he wore around his wrist; Tom could only assume one of his children had made it for him rather than Harry simply having awful taste in jewellery.
“Aside from the fight,” Tom continued. “Despite being in different houses, Tristan and Willow are refusing to be apart. As you saw tonight they won’t even sleep in different rooms and have both been setting up beds in the Gryffindor common room at night. They go to the same classes, even when they’re timetabled differently, and have reacted with strong verbal aggression when professors have tried to intervene. I understand that children struggle when they come to boarding school for the first time so I’ve tried to be patient, but the escalation to physical aggression makes me think something needs to be done. You said you were worried they might act like this?”
Harry nodded. “Ginny—their mother—and I got married just a couple of years after school and had the twins a year later. We’re both the kind of people who rush into things without thinking, and we assumed that because both of our parents had started a family young and are still happily together that things would be fine for us, too.”
Harry paused, toying with the bracelet on his wrist again.
“Anyway, the twins were only two when we got divorced. Ginny and I both have seasonal jobs but we work opposite seasons, so I have the kids while she’s away and she has them when I’m busy. Adding into that grandparents, godparents, and aunts and uncles...well, Willow and Tristan had to move around a lot and they only had each other as something constant. All we ever wanted was the best for them, and we tried to be as good parents as we could be despite the split, but I guess our best wasn’t good enough.”
“If you’ve truly tried your best then there’s nothing else you could have done,” Tom countered, fixing Harry with a serious look as Harry took another hefty sip of wine. “It’s very interesting information that you’ve given me, and I think I have an effective way of dealing with this problem.”
Normally Tom hated consulting with parents, but Harry was an exception—and Tom had the perfect idea to ensure that Harry had to keep coming back to see Tom.
“I propose that we have a weekly family session between myself, yourself, and the twins,” Tom suggested. “If the route of their behaviour stems from emotional issues then punishment isn’t going to be much of a deterrent. Does that sound agreeable to you?”
Harry blinked slowly, his gaze dropping from Tom’s eyes to his lips for just a moment—but for long enough for Tom to notice.
“Yes, that sounds great,” Harry grinned eagerly. “When’s good for you?”
***
The classical music Tom had playing in the background automatically faded into silence as a knock sounded at his office door. With a flick of his wand he closed the window which had been allowing cold air into the room—Tom always liked to feel a bit of a chill on his skin—before opening the door with another wave of his wand.
Tristan and Willow Potter stepped through together, ten minutes earlier than the time he’d told Harry to arrive. The twins looked slightly apprehensive, but walked into the office without hesitation, meeting Tom’s eyes as they took their seats opposite him.
Following the hexing incident five days ago, Tom had decided to extend his grace period towards the twin’s behaviour until their first family meeting. He would have started on giving out punishments sooner if he hadn’t wanted to make himself look so considerate to Harry, but the fact remained he didn’t want the students playing up under his leadership of the school, so there was only so much time he could remain patient. It wasn’t just Harry that Tom needed to charm, but governors and the Ministry as well.
“Your father will be arriving shortly,” Tom said as way of greeting, clasping his hands on top of his desk. “He and I have spoken and agreed that the four of us will have weekly sessions to discuss any issues you may have, and try to find solutions for said issues, understood?”
Tristan nodded mutely, sharing a look with Willow who readily took the lead in the conversation.
“That’s very nice of you to offer us support, Sir,” she answered with a strained smile, “but we’re fine; we don’t need any help.”
“I’m afraid your actions over this last week have led me to believe otherwise,” Tom retorted smoothly, forcing out a smile of his own. “Or do you think that hexing your classmates, sleeping in the wrong dorms, refusing to go to your own lessons, and arguing with teachers is acceptable behaviour?”
“We’re just sticking up for ourselves,” Tristan said with a huff. “Everyone should just leave us alone.”
“There is no alone at boarding school,” Tom stated, keeping his tone light—though it took effort. “The point of these family sessions is that in time you’ll feel comfortable being apart and make new friends. And don’t deny you haven’t made friends; can either of you even tell me any of the interests that your dorm mates have?”
Tristan and Willow shared another look.
“Er, Demi really likes, uh...cats,” Willow tried, and despite fumbling through her answer she looked at Tom defiantly as if daring him to fight her on it.
Fortunately for her, Tom was more interested in another conversation; one that had been the real reason that Tom had asked the twins to arrive earlier than their father.
“So you may not know your dorm mates well yet,” Tom said carefully, tilting his head slightly. “But, just for an example of how knowing someone can improve your relationship with someone, could you tell me some of the interests that your father has?”
Tom saw Willow distinctly roll her eyes, but Tristan didn’t pick up on it and leaned forwards in his seat as he answered.
“Dad really likes Quidditch, playing and watching,” Tristan said with a confident nod. “And he likes music, but old people bands like The Ramones and The Clash.”
“Muggle bands,” Willow added. “He only likes them because Uncle Sirius made him listen to them since Dad was a baby. Do you like music, Headmaster?”
“We’re not here to talk about me,” Tom said sharply. Yes, Willow was definitely a perceptive girl but it wasn’t enough to stop Tom’s queries; he seldom allowed anything to throw him off course. “I just want to help you make some new friends so you don’t feel as alone when you need to be in separate classes or dormitories.”
They were spared from continuing the conversation when the Floo roared to life and Harry stumbled through moments later. While the last time Harry had met Tom he’d been dressed in somewhat scruffy clothes, this time Harry seemed to have really made an effort, clad in form-fitting black jeans and a grey jumper. The clothes were still too Muggle for Tom’s liking but he was pleased that Harry seemed to have made an effort this time; Tom could even detect the hint of cologne in the air.
“Hi, kids,” Harry greeted, hurrying over to his children and pulling them both into a tight hug. When he let go he gave Tom a sheepish smile and inclined his head. “Headmaster Riddle.”
Tom allowed himself a small smirk, which deepened at the hint of a blush creeping onto Harry’s cheeks.
“Hello, Harry,” Tom said. “I was just explaining to Willow and Tristan about the importance of making new friends and getting to know other people.”
“I don’t see why we need to make new friends,” Tristan said gruffly. “The boys in my dorm are always making stupid jokes; I don’t like them.”
“You’re not limited to your dorm mates,” Tom retorted easily. “In fact, it doesn’t matter to me whether you make friends from other Houses or even other year groups; however I am afraid that the two of you will have to be separated at times and it might be easier on you if you have other people to talk to.”
“You know, me and Uncle Ron hated your Aunt Hermione at first,” Harry added. “We thought she was bossy and stuck-up, but once we actually spoke to her and got to know her we became the best of friends. You just need to give the other kids a chance.”
Willow and Tristan glanced at each other uneasily. Their rigid postures suggested to Tom that they were holding something back; he’d kept enough secrets of his own to know when other people were doing the same thing.
“I’m prepared to go back and sleep in my Slytherin dorm,” Willow said firmly. “But I think we should be allowed to stay in lessons together. The syllabus is exactly the same; it’s not like we’ll miss anything out.”
She was right, but being right wasn’t always enough to win an argument.
Harry seemed to agree with Tom. “I’m sorry, Will, but rules are rules. I think it’s very nice that Headmaster Riddle has let you get away with so much already.”
The twins both scoffed.
“You never followed the rules,” Tristan countered argumentatively. “Grandad Potter has told me all about the bad things you did at school.”
“We’re not talking about me here, Tristan,” Harry shot back sternly, though the way he rubbed the back of his neck conflicted with his tone.
“And I’m sure your father faced punishments for his bad behaviour,” Tom added, allowing himself a fleeting moment to enjoy the idea of Harry facing another kind of punishment. “And I’m afraid I am going to have to start taking away House points and giving you detention unless your behaviour improves. I am willing to be supportive but ultimately I am Headmaster of a school and I have to keep it in check. Now, is there anything you want to tell us that would mean we can support you?”
Tom had always been good at getting people to give him information, sometimes without them even realising the value of the information that gave away. So it stood to reason that Tom would be just as good at getting people not to give their secrets away to him.
And to his satisfaction, but Tristan and Willow shook their heads.
Harry looked somewhat disappointed by the twin’s answer, but if they had admitted to something that could be easily fixed then Tom wouldn’t have a valid excuse to get Harry to come to the castle on a weekly basis.
“Fine,” Tom said sharply. “So from now on, Willow, I would like you to return to your dormitory to sleep at night. You’re free to spend time together out of lessons, of course, but as soon as it’s curfew I want you in your own Houses. Until next week I’ll allow you to share classes, but don’t get used to the idea. I also want you to choose another student and find an interest you have in common with one of them, and tell us about it next week.”
The twins nodded, their eyes sullen like most students when they had to take orders from a professor.
“Thank you for being so fair, Headmaster,” Harry murmured, giving Willow and Tristan a pointed look. “We all appreciate it, don’t we?”
Willow and Tristan nodded reluctantly, mumbling the word, “yes,” underneath their breath. Harry gave the twins a fond smile, and they hugged one more time before Tristan and Willow returned to the main part of the school.
“I mean it, you know,” Harry said. “I really do appreciate the support you’re giving the twins. I know it must be tough being Headmaster and having to balance being strict with being understanding.”
“Being Deputy Head gave me plenty of practice,” Tom answered conversationally, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “There was a seventh-year girl who got pregnant two years ago; it was rather interesting seeing McGonagall torn between pulling her hair out or allowing the girl to cry on her shoulder.”
Harry grimaced. “That must have been rough. I have to admit, I was a bit worried when I heard McGonagall was retiring. She was Deputy Head when I was at school and even though she terrified me a bit I knew she always had my best interests at heart. You seem to be a great replacement for her, though. Did you always want to do this?”
Tom shook his head. “I actually worked in a shop for a little while after Hogwarts, and did some travelling across Europe. I felt something was lacking, though, and soon after I arrived back in the UK I heard about Dumbledore’s unfortunate demise, and it got me thinking about teaching. He didn’t think I’d make a good professor, you see, but I decided to go for it and I’ve been content in my job for almost twelve years now.”
“Dumbledore was a bit of an eccentric one, wasn’t he?” Harry smiled. “Brilliant wizard, of course, but rather odd.”
A brilliant wizard, yes, but not as brilliant as the one who’d slaughtered him and stolen his wand.
“A real tragedy,” Tom said, managing to keep a straight face. “Do you mind if I put some music on? I stick to the classical tunes in my office because I find it keeps me productive, but please don’t think that’s all I listen to. I actually rather like Muggle music; I’m especially fond of The Clash.”
Harry’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, and his eyes lit up with excitement. “No way?! I love The Clash!”
“Really?” Tom exclaimed, feigning surprise. “Next time you come bring a record with you if you’d like; we can listen to it together.”
“I’d like that,” Harry said, biting his lip as he smiled. “So I’ll see you next week, yeah?”
***
Tom ended up seeing Harry earlier than a week later.
Ginny, the twin’s mother and Harry’s ex-wife, came too, and she and Harry sat on either side of Tristan who was sat slouched in his chair with his arms folded across his chest.
“I appreciate you both coming on such short notice,” Tom said to Harry and Ginny, though focusing his attention on Harry. “I’m sure you can respect that we do not tolerate physical violence at Hogwarts.”
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Tristan?” Ginny asked sternly, laying her hand on Tristan’s shoulder—which he immediately shrugged off. “I know it’s not like you to be violent. If you’re being bullied-”
“I’m not being bullied,” Tristan hissed, drawing his arms closer around his body. “Luka was just being a pain and I wanted him to shut up.”
“You don’t punch people in the face to shut them up, Tristan,” Harry countered. “You broke that poor boy’s nose.”
Tristan shrugged.
“Tristan, if your parents are willing to vouch for the fact that you’re not usually physically aggressive then I’m willing to give you one chance to explain your version of events,” Tom said, glancing at Harry. “Luka is refusing to say anything, so if he did anything to provoke you then I suggest you tell me now, otherwise you’ll be the only one facing punishment.”
“I just don’t like Luka,” Tristan stated with a huff. “That’s all there is to it.”
Tom could tell that Tristan was lying, but it wasn’t Tom’s problem if Tristan was too proud to tell the truth. Besides, Tristan had gotten away with more than Tom usually allowed so it seemed only fitting to strengthen the punishment.
“In that case, I’m taking thirty points from Gryffindor and you’re getting two weeks detention with Professor Snape,” Tom said, fixing Tristan with a stern look. “And I hope you understand the seriousness of using physical violence against another student?”
If Tristan was going to attack someone, he should have at least used magic. Fists were nothing but a commoner’s way of dealing with a problem, lacking the finesse and power that came from magic.
“Is there anything you want to say to Headmaster Riddle?” Ginny asked Tristan, giving him a pointed look.
Tristan glanced towards Harry, who nodded, which prompted Tristan to turn to Tom and say, “sorry for misbehaving, Headmaster.”
“Truthfully, Tristan, I don’t believe in apologies,” Tom replied. “An apology is just words; I’d much rather you make an effort to improve your behaviour and show you’ve learned from your mistake.”
Tristan nodded, before bidding his parents goodnight and leaving to return to his dormitory.
“I’m sorry to have to rush off, Headmaster, but I left my husband alone to cook and I really don’t trust his skills in the kitchen,” Ginny said, getting to her feet. “I assure you that I’ll be having a stern word with Tristan if this bad behaviour continues; I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll get him sorted in time,” Tom reassured her with a charming smile. “Send my regards to your husband, will you? I’m friends with Blaise’s mother; she told me the two of you were married now.”
“I will do, thank you, Headmaster,” Ginny said with a smile of her own. “We’ll have to have you round for dinner one night; Harry, you should come as well.”
The Weasley family were by no means anyone that Tom was bothered about impressing, but now Ginny was married to a Zabini it would be worth keeping her as an acquaintance of sorts, in case he ever had need to act upon her new family connection.
“I shall take you up on that offer one night,” Tom smiled.
Once she was gone Tom turned his attention to Harry, who was toying with the rubber bracelet around his wrist again.
“Willow made this for me when she was seven,” Harry said, noticing where Tom was looking. “I still don’t know where me and Ginny went wrong with the twins. Ginny’s from a big family so they have plenty of cousins and they get on great with all of them. We kind of expected that they’d be Sorted into different Houses, but we just assumed that they’d be fine and make new friends.”
Tom noted then the stress lines under Harry’s eyes, suggesting he hadn’t been sleeping well, and the bitten-short nails on his slender fingers. Tom had never had children of his own and wasn’t interested in having any, so he couldn’t quite understand why Harry was so worried when the situation was being dealt with.
Then again, Tom had been told on several occasions that he lacked the ability to empathise, and the ability to put others first. And admittedly Tom didn’t see the point in putting others first unless it still benefitted him in some way, but he understood enough about empathy to fake his way through it.
“I don’t think there’s anything you or Ginny could have done with the twins,” Tom reasoned. “If you say they got on well with their cousins as they grew up and never displayed aggression until now, I really do think it’s simply an emotional problem for the two of them. Coming to Hogwarts can be hard for first-years, and perhaps the twins feel anxious unless they’re together; anxiety in children can sometimes present itself through aggression.”
Harry didn’t seem quite convinced, but he managed a weak smile.
“You’re very smart, you know,” Harry murmured. “I was always better at practical magic, but academically I was better in some classes than others. I’m glad I’ve got your brain in on this; I’ve been at my wit’s end thinking about it.”
Tom tutted sympathetically, standing from his chair and moving around to the other side of the desk so that he was stood behind Harry. He laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, the softness of Harry’s jumper pleasant beneath Tom’s fingertips.
Harry relaxed under the touch, letting out a sigh of relief. He truly was an intriguing character; Tom couldn’t explain why he felt so drawn to him.
Tom had taken sexual partners before, but that had only been because of Tom’s own curiosity and in most cases just something to do. Harry, on the other hand, had Tom willing to put in effort and time towards making things between them work. Tom wasn’t sure what he wanted—a relationship or just sex, who knew?—but damn, he couldn’t stop wanting Harry. He didn’t think he’d ever worked so hard in his life for something he wanted, either.
But Tom was a man who liked to get what he wanted, and though he tried to come across as a patient man he really didn’t like to wait. And talking and empathising was all well and good, but Tom knew he needed to push harder if he wanted things to go further with Harry.
“I can’t let you leave here all worked up,” Tom murmured softly, giving Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Harry sighed again, letting his head tilt back ever so slightly. “Through my travels I’ve learned the art of massage; if you’re feeling tense I’d be happy to help if you’re okay with that.”
Tom hadn’t any sort of training in massage, but he was naturally skilled with his hands.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Harry said, but he was already relaxing further into his chair.
“I don’t mind,” Tom purred, putting his hand on Harry’s other shoulder. “Just sit back and close your eyes; I’m sure you’ll be feeling refreshed in no time at all.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Harry breathed as Tom started to rub the muscles of Harry’s back and shoulders. “You really are a man of many talents.”
“This is nothing,” Tom smirked, adding just a bit of pressure to his movements. Harry’s body felt firm and soft under his touch, and Tom could feel Harry coming undone from just the touch of his fingers. He leaned down to breath against Harry’s ear. “I have very magical fingers, Harry.”
Harry made a noise then that sounded like a stifled moan, and Tom knew then that he wanted Harry to make that sound for him again.
“Maybe,” Harry said breathlessly, “you can show me just what you mean by that.”
Just as Tom was about to reply, a knock sounded at his office door and Harry jolted forwards in his chair. Tom glowered as he span around to face the door, opening it with a hasty flick of his hand.
Professor Snape stood the other side of it, looking past Tom to eye Harry with distaste.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Headmaster,” he said, sounding not sorry at all. “But one of the idiot sixth-years decided it would be funny to cast an Enlargement Charm on a Venomous Tentacula, and Professor Sprout needs assistance in containing it.”
“Just show it your face,” Harry muttered under his breath. Tom didn’t think Harry cared that he was still talking quite loud because he only rolled his eyes when Snape sneered.
“I see your father’s parenting skills made you into a respectable adult,” Snape shot back, voice oozing with venom.
“Severus, the Tentacula?” Tom cut in, hurrying Snape along.
It was an interesting connection between Harry and Snape there, one that Tom would have to ask Harry about sometime. For now, though, he had to deal with a very venomous plant.
Damn teenagers.
***
Tom had just put his paperwork away and was about to prepare himself for bed when a frantic knock sounded at his door.
Tom closed his eyes, letting out a huff of annoyance before standing and striding to the door to open it impatiently.
He was immediately pushed aside by Willow Potter, who strode into his office with tears streaming down her face.
Tom had spoken to Willow just hours earlier, along with Tristan and Harry. Neither of the twins had made much effort getting to know any of their dorm or classmates, and had been reprimanded by both Tom and Harry for getting increasingly more verbally aggressive to their teachers towards the end of the week.
Tom sincerely hoped that Harry appreciated just how much effort he was putting into dealing with Harry’s children, especially when dealing with the problems of youths was one of Tom’s least favourite things about his job.
And crying children were the worst, in Tom’s opinion, because they tended to be too upset to listen to reason.
“What’s wrong, Willow?” Tom asked, resigning himself to fixing the situation. “You really do need to see your Head of House if there’s an issue.”
“Snape won’t help me with this,” Willow spat out bitterly. “Please, Headmaster, I really need you to get my dad to come over.” She paused to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas, and Tom crinkled his nose in disgust. “I’ve just realised I didn’t bring my jewellery box with me, and I need dad to bring it now.”
“And this couldn’t possibly have waited until tomorrow morning?” Tom enquired dryly, not understanding what could possibly be so upsetting at leaving some jewellery at home.
“No!” Willow exclaimed, glaring up at Tom with a dark gaze that would have intimidated anyone with a sensitive outlook—Tom was not one of those people. “You said I needed to make friends, and tonight all my dorm mates were talking about their pretty necklaces and bracelets, and when I couldn’t find mine they starting laughing at me—I only tried to join them because you made me!”
The girl was talented, Tom would give her that. Very impressive manipulation techniques, Tom noted, and he wondered where Willow got it from because her parents and brother were both far too open with their emotions to be able to control a situation like that.
Still, Tom wasn’t fazed in the slightest by Willow’s outburst. But fortunately for her, Tom had absolutely zero objects for seeing Harry again.
“I’m afraid dealing with teasing is something you’ll have to get used to at this school,” Tom said dismissively. “I’d think a smart girl like you would be able to mock people back much more efficiently. Now try and clean yourself up while I contact your father.”
Harry answered the Floo call very quickly, and Tom supposed most people would if they were contacted out of the blue at gone ten at night. Harry’s hair was more wild and dishevelled than usual, and his eyes were red with tiredness. Still, he listened intently as Tom repeated Willow’s request, and promised to be over as soon as he could.
Willow sat rigid and silent at Tom’s desk as she waited for her father to arrive, and Tom was never much one for small talk. Willow started when the Floo in Tom’s office roared to life, and Harry stumbled through moments later clutching a pale pink box.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Willow said sweetly, wrapping her arms around Harry’s middle before disappearing looking much happier than she had been just minutes ago.
“That girl has you wrapped around her little finger,” Tom commented, eyeing Harry’s oversized, holey Quidditch jumper with amusement. If things got serious between them then Tom would definitely take Harry clothes shopping so that he could look something more than a doting father.
“Tristan, too,” Harry admitted. “I’d drop everything for either of them. Sorry to disturb you at this time of night; I’ll leave you be...oh.”
“What?” Tom queried, frowning as Harry froze in front of the fireplace.
“You don’t seem to have any Floo Powder,” Harry said, turning back to Tom bewilderedly.
Tom glanced over Harry’s shoulder to the mantelpiece, which indeed was bare. Tom knew for a fact that he always kept his jar of Floo Powder stocked up, and he hadn’t noticed it missing...until after Willow came to his office. She had definitely lingered near the fireplace when Harry had arrived and had left looking like she’d never been upset in the first place.
If it hadn’t worked out in Tom’s benefit then he’d have been annoyed—though maybe Willow had wanted this to happen; she’d certainly picked up on Tom’s interest in her father.
“I completely forgot I had to lend it to Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she’s gone home tonight to see her wife,” Tom lied smoothly, offering Harry an apologetic smile. “It’s too late to contact anyone else, I’m afraid, and of course you won’t be able to Apparate home. Don’t worry, though, I’m rather adept at Transfiguration; I can make you up a bed in my quarters for you to stay the night.”
Harry swallowed heavily, and Tom glanced at the bare expanse of his throat, so smooth and unmarked that Tom just wanted to bite it and leave his bruises on Harry’s skin.
“That’s good of you, thank you,” Harry said quickly, hands pressing against his hair in a hopeless attempt to flatten in. “I am sorry to keep on intruding on you.”
“I don’t consider it intruding, I quite enjoy your company,” Tom replied, giving Harry a slow look up and down. “Shall I show you to my room?”
Harry’s cheeks blushed under Tom’s stare, and he followed Tom silently to the bedroom. It was located up a spiral staircase that went all the way up to the top of the tower. During daylight the window from Tom’s bedroom offered stunning views of the Great Lake, parts of the Forbidden Forest and the mountain range beyond.
Tom didn’t spend much time in his room, admittedly, and it was sparsely furnished, with only a bed, armchair, dresser, and wardrobe inside. He kept all of his books and his desk in his main office—and his more particular selection of books were kept hidden in a heavily Warded box in his wardrobe.
Tom made quick work of turning the armchair into a bed, complete with dark green sheets that matched the furnishings of the rest of the room.
“There you are,” Tom said, gesturing to the bed that was only inches from his own. Tom had never been fond of the small, circular room before because of the lack of space, but it didn’t seem to be much of a problem now. “The bathroom is through the door on the left, and if you’d like a glass of water or anything then just call out for a House-elf and one will come.”
Harry nodded and bid Tom goodnight, and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Tom changed into his own pyjamas and settled into his own bed before he spared a glance at Harry. His inky black hair framed his head like a halo against the white of the pillow, and his red lips were parted slightly as he breathed heavily. Harry looked a lot more relaxed in sleep than he did in his waking hours, and the look suited him; no worried eyes or nervous fidgeting.
Tom settled further into his bed, still studying Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry didn’t have to be asleep to have his worries eased; Tom could help him with that. Tom could take control and take Harry apart in the best possibly way, leaving Harry knowing nothing but bliss.
Harry seemed to be very much asleep, so Tom had no qualms about sliding his hand down his body, past the waistband of his boxers to stroke his rapidly hardening cock. Admittedly, Tom probably wouldn’t have cared even if he’d known Harry was just feigning sleep.
Tom kept his eyes trained on Harry as he stroked himself, his fingers working up and down his length as he pictured burying himself inside Harry. His gaze fell on Harry’s lovely, bow-shaped mouth, and imagined pushing his cock past those red lips and letting Harry drink his essence.
Tom came with a silent cry, fisting his length until he was completely spent.
Even then, Harry didn’t stir.
Tom fell back against his pillow with a satisfied smirk on his lips. He slept soundly that night.
***
Tom awoke early the next morning, as always, with the sky outside the dark blue of dawn. Tom stretched his arms out beside him, and turned to the spare bed he had set up in his room.
Harry was still asleep, turned on his side and facing Tom. His head was resting on his arm, and he looked utterly content and comfortable. As the sun began to rise, golden rays shone down through the window casting beams of light over Harry, illuminating the inky darkness of his hair and the flawlessness of his skin.
Harry was beautiful, and Tom decided then that he wasn’t going to wait any longer. If Harry rejected his advances then Tom would apologise, wait a short while, and then turn up the charm, but Tom felt confident about his chances.
Quietly, as to not wake Harry in case he left before Tom could talk to him, Tom rose and retreated to the bathroom to shower. When he returned, freshly washed and dressed, Harry was finally stirring, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Tom had believed Harry’s hair to have been messy before, but that was nothing compared to his hair after a night’s sleep, which made Harry look like he’d been crawling through a jungle undergrowth.
Tom could only imagine how it would feel to pull on those strands of hair.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, putting those thoughts aside for later. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very,” Harry answered with a nod. “Thanks again for putting me up.”
“I’m happy to do it,” Tom smiled. “Do you have anywhere to be?”
Harry shook his head.
“Would you like to have breakfast with me this morning?” Tom asked, allowing his gaze to run down the length of Harry’s body in the bed. “Saturday mornings are awfully quiet for me, and I’d be glad for the company.”
Tom’s twist on the truth seemed to work on Harry, whose expression softened as he nodded.
“Sure, I’d love to stay,” Harry said, stretching his arms over his head and flashing Tom with just a peek of his flat stomach and the narrow line of his hip bone. “Er, maybe I should go home and get changed first, though,” he added, looking down at his night clothes abashedly.
“No need,” Tom stated, opening his wardrobe with a wave of his hand. “I have clothes in here you could borrow; there’s some I never wear so you can keep them, in fact. They’ll likely need a little bit of tailoring to make them fit you properly but that shouldn’t be hard to do.”
In actuality, Tom never kept clothes he didn’t wear—he didn’t like to waste the space—but the image of Harry wearing Tom’s clothes was too tempted to pass up.
And Tom could barely contain his satisfied smile when Harry came into Tom’s small sitting room, hair still damp from the shower, and clad in a pair of slacks and an emerald green shirt which made the vividness of his eyes pop. The shirt fitted well in the shoulders, as they were both of a slender build, but the sleeves and the hem of the shirt were too long for Harry, the hints of his fingertips peeking out from under the sleeves.
“I always like to think I’m tall, but I always seem to befriend people taller than me,” Harry commented lightly, rolling the sleeves to his elbows. His forearms were bare, save for the plastic bracelet around his wrist.
Tom rather enjoyed his sitting room when he wasn’t too busy to use it. The room was circular, and the walls were almost entirely made from glass which let in the sunlight and gave perfect views of all of Hogwarts grounds.
“Come sit,” Tom offered, tapping the space on the loveseat next to him. It wasn’t the most practical of eating areas, but it was far more intimate than sitting at dining chairs.
“I haven’t had Hogwarts food for years,” Harry said excitedly as plates of breakfast foods appeared in front of them. “No dinner can ever beat the Welcoming Feast. You know,” he murmured as he reached for the eggs, his leg brushing Tom’s in the process. “I’ve been trying to think if I’d ever seen you while I was at school, but I just can’t and I’m sure I’d remember your face. When did you graduate?”
“1990,” Tom answered, fingers curling around Harry’s wrist as he reached for the pumpkin juice. “Allow me.”
Harry touched his wrist almost awe-struck as Tom released him to pour Harry a glass, and Tom purposely made sure to make their fingers touched as he passed it over.
“How about you?” Tom asked, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Harry blinked. “Hmm?”
“When did you graduate?” Tom expanded, a wave of his wand setting some quiet piano music to play in the background. Tom had listened to those Muggle punk bands Harry had brought records of, and though Tom could see the appeal in some of the anti-authority lyrics, he much preferred his own classical music.
“‘98,” Harry said, licking his lips. “I missed you by a year then.”
“And how fortunate that I didn’t begin teaching until after your graduation,” Tom mused, giving the side of his hand a slow lick that had Harry’s eyes widening. “Things may have been much more difficult for us if I had once been your professor.”
“I remember one of my Defence teachers, Gilderoy Lockhart...I’m sure you heard about him,” Harry said conspiratorially, leaning close to Tom’s shoulder. “I don’t know how it is, but there were rumours he was sacked for dating a seventh-year girl.”
“Those rumours were true, so I heard from McGonagall,” Tom nodded.
“The whole situation was terrible really, regardless of whether she was legal age or not,” Harry added, “but now I think it would be fun to date a professor; it would be a little bit naughty but without any of the actual legal problems.”
Tom knew he had good reason to be confident.
“You say professor, but what about a professor who also happens to be Headmaster?” Tom teased, placing his hand on the loveseat, right by Harry’s leg.
Harry took a sharp intake of breath. “I’d say that’s the jackpot—or at least, one particular Headmaster is.”
“Harry,” Tom purred, sliding his hand onto Harry’s knee and giving it a squeeze. “Would you like to go out for dinner with me next week?”
Harry smiled brightly, and Tom didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look at him with such joy in their eyes.
“Absolutely!”
***
First-years had never been Tom's favourite class to teach. Most of them, regardless of their blood status, didn’t know much about defensive magic and lacked the attention span of their older peers.
Practical lessons were particularly testing for Tom. The first-years, of course, loved them, but they were so unrestrained and lively with their magic that it was a wonder to Tom that none of his students so far had gotten themselves seriously injured.
His current class was a combined one of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Naturally, Willow and Tristan sat together, but the others stuck firmly to their own Houses. Tom found it ironic that of all the Houses the twins could be split between, it would be the two with the biggest rivalry.
"I want you in groups of four," Tom barked to the class. "Take it in turns--one of you practice the disarming spell, one of you try to deflect it with a simple shield, and the other two watch to give feedback."
With a wave of his wand Tom sent the desks and chairs to the side of the room, while the children scrambled into groups.
Tom kept a close eye on the students, knowing quite quickly who was excelling and who was struggling. There were only a few students in this class that Tom might consider giving extra tutoring to, but even they still needed to prove that they would be worth Tom's effort—Tom only tutored the best.
Willow and Tristan, Tom noticed, had grouped together with Caelum Flint and Adrastos Carrow who were both large and tough. They’d both been in detention frequently at the beginning of term for fighting, but Tom had written to Adrastos’ mother Alecto, who Tom knew would have no problem disciplining her son through letter—and whatever she had said to him had worked for the most part. When he paired up with Caelum, however, he tended to forget his mother’s warning.
Tom turned to face them when he heard Caelum and Adrastos laughing loudly—and mockingly. Tom drew his wand as he prepared to intervene, spotting the hardened glare and rigid posture of Tristan instantly. But just as Tristan prepared to swing his fist, Caelum and Adrastos were on the floor, writhing around in terror before Tom could even cast a spell.
Willow shoved her wand back in her pocket quickly, but not fast enough for Tom to miss it. Tom sent her a warning look before hurrying over to the boys and casting a counter-curse; he knew the spell they had been cursed with but what Tom didn’t know was how Willow had known it.
Or perhaps he did.
“Pucey, Parkinson; escort these two to the hospital wing, please,” Tom barked to two of the more sensible Slytherin students. “Tell Madam Pomfrey that their shield charms broke and rebounded on them, but I fixed the effects and just to give them a once over.”
Pomfrey would never be able to tell what had happened thanks to Tom’s counter-curse, and the first-years would have no idea that Tom was lying. Even Caelum and Adrastos would be too shaken by the curse to remember the truth, so only Willow and Tristan were in on the lie.
“Class dismissed,” Tom shouted, much to the glee of the students. “Willow, stay behind, please; I’d like to get a witness statement from you.”
Tristan hovered in the doorway but Willow waved him on, before taking a seat at the front of the classroom in front of Tom.
“That was an interesting curse you used,” Tom drawled, sitting on his desk and crossing one of his legs over the other. “Very interesting, indeed.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Headmaster,” Willow said quickly, looking Tom defiantly in the eye.
“Willow, I know exactly what that curse was. A very nasty one that no seventh-year would know, let alone a first-year,” Tom said sharply. “A curse that makes the victims have vivid hallucinations that they believe to be real, usually of terrifying things. Did you know that it’s very Dark magic?”
Willow swallowed nervously but she kept up her strong gaze. “I’ve never heard of it before, Headmaster,” she said innocently. “They were both being rather cruel to Tristan though, so I’m not sorry they got hurt.”
“I do not want you to lie to me, Willow,” Tom stated, folding his arms across his chest. “That curse can only be found in one book in Hogwarts and that book is kept locked in the Restricted Section, supposed to be available for only select N.E.W.T students with express permission of the Headteacher and a Ministry official. Madame Pince believes a student broke into the library last night to read it because the security charm she keeps around it was not triggered but completely broken. I saw you with your wand out, Willow, and you were the only one close enough to hex those boys. Or am I to believe that you’re telling me the truth and Tristan is the one to blame?”
“No!” Willow cried frantically, jumping to her feet. “I did it! Please, don’t tell my dad. I know it’s Dark magic but I just find it fascinating. And I’m tired of people bullying Tristan and being mean to us, so I thought that if I used just a little bit it might scare everyone into leaving us alone.”
Tom wondered how Harry would react if he knew what his daughter was getting up to at school. Tom had no intention of telling him because the fallout would likely stress Harry out too much to spend time with Tom, and really Tom saw no harm in allowing Willow access to materials on Dark magic—although he wasn’t going to reveal that just yet.
“I may be tempted not to tell your father,” Tom said, “as long as you tell me why it’s so important to you to protect your brother. He can clearly look after himself, even if it’s not in a very helpful way.”
Willow bit down on her lip, scuffing the floor with her shoe. “I’ve always looked out for him; I’m forty minutes older than he is, and I know it’s not much but I still feel like I should be a big sister for him and not just a twin. Tristan has…problems. I can’t tell you what because I promised I’d keep it a secret, but he’s really self-conscious and he’s scared that if he sits in class with anyone else then they’d find out.”
All those weeks of family sessions and Tom had found part of the root with just a bit of blackmail. He’d have probably dug it out of them in therapy soon, admittedly, had he not been biding his time to keep Harry coming back.
“Willow, you are an incredibly intelligent and gifted girl,” Tom said, Summoning a piece of parchment from his desk. “I’m not going to tell anyone what you’ve done on this occasion, and you won’t be punished. I also have an offer for you to consider.”
He handed the parchment over to her. If anyone deserved tutoring from Tom, Willow had clearly proven it was her.
“I run a very exclusive club at Hogwarts, but if you want me to tell you about it, you’ll have to sign that parchment,” Tom said. “It’s not an obligation to join, but it’s jinxed so that you’ll not be able to repeat or pass on any information I give you about the club.”
Willow hesitated for not even a second before she signed her name, shivering as the magic from the jinx ran through her.
“I do not consider Dark magic to be a bad thing,” Tom continued. “In fact, I think it is a very powerful magic that is very misunderstood. The club I run offers students with the right talent and mindset to practice and learn Dark magic under my supervision and allows them to expand their knowledge of magic. Unforgivables are off limits because there’s always a risk of the Ministry tracking them on a wand belonging to a minor, however, everything else is available. I have books and research texts that are not found anywhere else in Hogwarts, and the older students are incredibly supportive of the younger ones. I think you’d fit right in.”
For twelve years now Tom had been training students in Dark magic, completely in secret. He earned their trust and loyalty, and sent them off into the world with a knowledge and appreciation of Dark magic, and resentment for the Ministry. As the years went by more and more of his students entered the Ministry, waiting and biding their time until Tom would one day order them to strike.
The Ministry had no idea an army against them grew right in their midst.
Willow tilted her head as she processed the information.
“You can do that? Why do you want us to learn Dark magic?” Willow questioned, tapping her hand against the desk.
“I just believe you should have a more open view of magic, rather than following what the Ministry tells you is acceptable,” Tom admitted, entirely honest. “Do you want in, Willow? I give the members advanced school work as a cover, but advanced work means you won’t be following the lesson plan and therefore means there’s no reason for you to have to stay with your House during classes.”
“You mean I can stay with Tristan if I join?” Willow asked eagerly, her mind seemingly already made up. “Count me in, Headmaster.”
“We use codenames in our meetings,” Tom informed her with a cold smile. “When we’re there you no longer have to refer to me as Headmaster; just call me Voldemort.”
***
The Grove was one of the best restaurants in all of Wizarding Britain. The owner and Head Chef, Rabastan Lestrange, was highly regarded in the culinary world, and reservations were hard to come by. Rabastan was also a close confidant of Tom’s, and many a meeting between themselves and mutual friends was held in the restaurant’s kitchen after hours.
None of the diners seemed any the wiser that the kitchen doubled up as a den of iniquity—Harry included.
Harry was wearing the shirt that Tom had given him, now tailored to fit his body and arms much better. He wore black jeans with it that clung to his legs like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination, and had used some potion on his hair that had turned the wild strands into slightly less wild waves. He certainly made a fine-looking companion; anyone who saw Harry and Tom together would see a beautiful couple who radiated magical power.
“This is such a nice place,” Harry commented as the host led them to their seats, right by the window in Tom’s favourite spot. “My parents managed to get reservations here once but it took months. How did you manage so fast?”
“I’m friends with the owner and his brother,” Tom answered, gesturing for the waiter to bring them the wine menu. “The Lestrange brothers.”
Tom didn’t miss Harry’s shiver.
“I, uh, know of Rodolphus Lestrange,” Harry explained at Tom’s querying gaze. “His wife is my godfather’s cousin. I met Bellatrix once; she’s eccentric, you could say. I was only nine, and she ruffled my hair and pinched my cheeks while calling me half-blood scum.”
“Bellatrix is a very dear friend of mine.” Tom waved his hand dismissively when Harry’s expression dropped instantly. “It’s no matter to me whether you like her or not; I know she’s a peculiar woman with peculiar ways. She was, however, the only person I could trust while I was at school.”
“Didn’t you have many friends then? I’d have been lost without Ron and Hermione.” Harry bit his thumb, while the waiter brought over the wine menu leaving Tom’s lack of answer less obvious.
“Do you have a preference, Harry?” Tom asked, giving the menu a quick once over. “I lean towards red but if you like anything else…”
“No, red’s fine,” Harry said quickly. “You can choose the wine; I’ll drink whatever.”
The waiter tried very hard not to roll his eyes, until Tom shot him a dark look.
“We’ll take a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon,” Tom said sharply, handing the menu back with a little more force than necessary. “And tell Rabastan that Tom Riddle is here and would like to see him.”
The waiter’s eyes widened and he nodded frantically. “Of course, sir; I’d be happy to get him for you.”
“You, uh, scare people easily for a Headmaster,” Harry commented, before his face broke into a grin. “Are you hiding any dark secrets from me, Tom?”
“Only my murderous past,” Tom retorted with a smirk; he’d heard the best way to confess the truth was to disguise it as a joke, and Harry indeed laughed his comment off.
The wine came then, along with Rabastan Lestrange.
“Tom, my friend,” Rabastan greeted, pulling Tom’s hand into a firm handshake. “It’s been a while; who’s this pretty thing you’ve brought with you?”
Harry flushed, but eyed Rabastan confidently. “I’m Harry Potter; Sirius Black’s godson.”
“Oh, Sirius?” Rabastan exclaimed, and even Tom hadn’t realised that the Black family outcast was the godfather that Harry often mentioned. “I remember him from when he was just a kid. Stopped seeing him so much after he ran away.”
“Wouldn’t you run away with Walburga as your mother?” Harry responded darkly. “I met her portrait, and that was enough for me.”
Rabastan shared an amused look with Tom, which went entirely over Harry’s head.
“I can’t stand here chatting all night, unfortunately, but I will take your orders directly to the kitchen now and start on them myself,” Rabastan offered. “For you, Tom?”
“Filet mignon, cooked rare,” Tom ordered. “And yourself, Harry?”
“I’ll have the chicken linguini, please,” Harry said. After Rabastan had left he leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “Tom, please let me put something towards tonight; this is going to be an expensive meal for you otherwise.”
Tom shook his head. “I asked you out, Harry, and I’d like to treat you.” He smiled, and gave Harry a slow look up and down. “You’ve never told me what you do for a living.”
“Haven’t I? Oh, it’s nothing too exciting,” Harry answered, taking a sip of wine and just about managing to withhold a shudder. “I make Quidditch supplies, and I’m always busiest at the end of the league when teams want new equipment for the next round. This wine’s strong; nice, but strong.”
Tom took a sip of his own wine, relishing the taste of blackcurrants and cedar. “I believe it’s an acquired taste. It also goes very well with steak. White wine would go better with your pasta; I can order you some if you’d like.”
“This is fine,” Harry smiled, taking another sip from his glass, eyeing Tom from behind the rim. “Can I be honest with you, Tom? This is my first date since my divorce nine years ago. I never really had time to date because the twins were my priority but now they’re at school and...well, I really don’t want to mess this up.”
“You’re not messing anything up, darling,” Tom purred, lip curling when Harry shivered at the pet name. He reached his hand across the table, laying it on top of Harry’s. “You’re fascinating to me. There’s something about you that isn’t like anyone else; I like that.”
Harry bit his lip, looking at Tom through his lashes. “I could say the same about you. Plus, you’re very easy on the eyes.”
Their food came then, and the conversation turned light again as they ate. As usual, Rabastan had outdone himself, the food being exquisite. The steak was cooked to perfection, and every mouthful was a delight.
When they’d finished their meals and the paid the bill, Tom helped Harry into his coat, gripping his arms as he leaned into his ear and whispered, “care to spend the night with me, darling?”
Harry nodded eagerly, and just moments after they stepped through the Floo back in Tom’s office, Harry was upon Tom.
Harry clutched Tom’s arms as he kissed him frantically, tasting of berries and oak. Harry’s lips were divine, soft and pliant under Tom’s; Tom bit down hard on Harry’s lower lip and was rewarded with a moan, allowing Tom to slide his tongue against Harry’s.
With a growl, Tom pushed Harry against the wall, his hands capturing Harry’s wrist and pinning them over his head. Harry responded by lifting his leg and wrapping it around Tom’s waist, the hardness of his erection pressing against Tom’s own.
Tom’s mouth traced a path from Harry’s jaw to his ear, sucking Harry’s earlobe into his mouth before he bit down on it.
“Will you give me control, Harry?” Tom whispered, nuzzling against Harry’s neck. “Give me control and I will make you come completely undone in the best possible way.”
“Anything. Anything you want,” Harry breathed, turning his head to capture Tom’s lips with his own again.
“To my room,” Tom said against Harry’s lips, tugging at Harry’s wrist to lead him up the stairs.
As soon as the door shut behind them Tom pushed Harry onto the bed, leaning over him as he tugged those skin-tight jeans down Harry’s legs.
“Take everything off,” Tom ordered hungrily. “And then will you wear something for me? A piece of jewellery?”
“Alright,” Harry nodded, shifting to undress as Tom turned to his dresser.
When Tom found what he’d been looking for, he turned back and was stopped in his tracks momentarily at the sight of Harry waiting for him on the bed. His body was beautiful, and his eyes glowed with lust as he watched Tom hungrily.
Tom allowed the locket to slide from his fingers, clutching onto just the tip of the chain. The golden body of the locket gleamed, the emeralds of the serpentine ‘s’ glittering; Tom could almost feel the part of himself kept safe in the locket shivering with anticipation as if it too was enticed by Harry’s beauty.
“I’d like to let you have this,” Tom murmured as he crawled across the bed and over Harry, who lifted his head to allow Tom to put the locket around his neck. “It’s a family heirloom; I trust you to keep it safe.”
“Tom, I couldn’t-” Harry started, but Tom cut him off with a kiss.
“No arguing,” Tom breathed against Harry’s lips. “It looks beautiful you.”
Tom Summoned a vial of oil to him and poured a liberal amount over his fingers.
“Open your legs for me, Harry,” Tom purred. “There’s a good boy.”
“God,” Harry groaned, breath stuttering as Tom pushed a slick finger inside him.
Tom swiftly added a second finger, opening Harry up for him. “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Tom uttered as he pumped his fingers in and out of Harry. “I’ve wanted to make you mine from the first moment I saw you. I can make things so good for you, as long as you surrender yourself to me.”
“I-I,” Harry stammered, his words lost in breathless gasps. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. Please, fuck me.”
Tom unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pushing the fabric aside as he released his aching cock from its confines behind his boxers. He applied the oil to his erection, slicking himself up before pulling his fingers out of Harry and positioning his cock at Harry’s entrance instead.
Harry’s hands came up to grip Tom’s shoulder as he pushed inside of him, head thrown back as Tom stretched him open. Tom took advantage of the exposed skin, running his mouth across Harry’s neck, licking and biting and owning.
Harry’s body was warm and tight around Tom, gripping him hard in the best possible way. And Harry himself was lost in bliss, moaning and writhing with pleasure, completely undone under Tom’s touch.
Tom picked up the pace, slamming into Harry hard as he grasped Harry’s wrists again and pinned them at either side of his body. Tom smirked as minutes later he felt Harry’s body tense, leaning down to hiss in Harry’s ear.
“Come for me, darling. Come for me.”
Tom’s words completely broke Harry then, and he cried out loudly as he came, the locket on his chest almost shaking as if it could feel Harry’s pleasure—perhaps it could.
The sight of Harry breathless and sweaty, completed sated, and wearing nothing but Tom’s locket was too much for Tom, and he opened his mouth in a silent cry as he released inside Harry.
What Tom knew now, more than ever, was that he never wanted to let Harry go.
***
Tom was in a particularly good mood on Monday morning; a weekend of good sex could do that to a person.
Naturally, with the start of the school week came news that ruined Tom’s high.
“Why?” Tom snarled, glowering at Tristan who sat the other side of Tom’s desk with his arms folded, “would you think it’s acceptable practice to punch the Head Boy in the face? Especially given that Louis Weasley is your cousin!”
“He had it coming,” Tristan muttered, kicking the bottom of Tom’s desk. “He’s a stuck-up twat.”
Tom’s nostrils flared, feeling his patience wearing incredibly thin—and he never had much patience to begin with.
“Tristan, I can understand hexing and cursing other students you have arguments with,” Tom stated sternly. “But physical violence is so barbaric—so Muggle. I said there were only so many times I could be understanding with you, and now I’ve had enough. I can’t call your father here to coddle you instead of punishing you for this plain stupid behaviour.”
“I’m not stupid!” Tristan shouted, shaking his fists in front of him as if he was unsure what to do with them, before settling on shoving everything on Tom’s desk to the floor. “I don’t care what you and Louis and all the teachers say; I’m not stupid so you can go to hell.”
Tom blinked, looking at Tristan with a calm but dark gaze. Tristan’s current behaviour was exactly the reason that Tom didn’t mind that he didn’t experience emotions like everyone else—emotions turned people into uncivilised animals.
“Whatever would your parents say to hear you talking like that?” Tom tutted, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward threateningly. If being nice wasn’t going to work with Tristan, Tom wasn’t going to bother holding back anymore. “You’re rather sensitive, Tristan. Did I strike a nerve when I called your actions stupid?”
Tristan glared back, gripping onto the desk hard.
“Is that why you need your sister with you in lessons?” Tom pressed, knowing that he was close to cracking Tristan. He had learned with Harry, who Tristan was so similar to, that he opened up completely when Tom dug just a little deeper. “Because you don’t understand anything that’s said unless she explains it to you simply?”
“No!” Tristan hissed, banging his fist on the table. “I can’t-” he lowered his voice, dropping his no-longer furious gaze to the desk. “I can’t read.”
And there was Tom’s answer, the thing he had been pushing for. Admittedly it wasn’t what Tom had expected, but Tom had always been able to solve puzzles with ease when he had a clue.
“What do you mean you can’t read?” Tom queried, sitting back in his desk and relaxing his posture.
Tristan blinked at the changes. “When I see words, all the letters look out of order and some look back to front or higher than the others, and I can’t make sense of them. So there you go, I am stupid. Now what are you going to do?”
No wonder Tristan had reacted so badly to Tom’s pushing. Tom didn’t feel guilty for it, though, because why should he? It wasn’t his fault that Tristan had low self-esteem, and he’d finally got the answer that Harry had been striving for.
“Tristan, you are not a stupid person,” Tom said firmly, eyeing Tristan with an unwavering gaze. “I believe you have a condition we’ve encountered a number of times at Hogwarts in students who have Muggle heritage; it’s called Dyslexia.”
“Dyslexia?” Tristan repeated, looking thoughtful. “Is that a real thing?”
“Of course, what motive could I have to make it up?” Tom snapped, before he softened his expression. “I’ll get Madame Pomfrey to test you for it. There’s no cure, but depending on the severity we can support you in several different ways. But rest assured, Tristan, this condition is not a mirror of your ability; you can’t classify yourself as non-intelligent simply because you struggle to read. How have you hidden this for so long? I’m assuming that Willow knows.”
Tristan nodded. “She’s the only one I told. She covers for me in lessons, and tells me what things say and helps me with my writing. Willow’s the one who always writes letters home and just passes on messages for me. That’s why I don’t want her to leave me in lessons; I don’t want anyone to make fun of me.”
“Is that why you react so aggressively when people taunt you? Because you feel so self-conscious about your reading that any negative comment to or about you causes you to become angry?” Tom asked, knowing he most likely would have his theory confirmed.
“I guess,” Tristan shrugged.
“Well,” Tom said, leaning forwards once more. “I am allowing Willow to remain in your class because she’s moving on to advanced work. That said, I don’t want you to rely entirely on her, so I would like you to join my duelling club. There will be no reading involved, and it will give you a chance to channel your anger in a productive way. However, you won’t be able to join for a month because you’ll be in detention until then.”
“What? That’s not fair!” Tristan complained. He fell quiet when Tom silenced him with a glare.
“You punched the Head Boy in the face; that can’t go unpunished,” Tom retorted smoothly. “Besides, you need to learn that there are consequences for your actions. Understand? Good—you’re dismissed.”
Damn Potter twins. Still, Tom had finally got a plan in place to improve their behaviour, and taking his time had given him chance to earn Harry’s heart in the process.
And that was what really mattered.
***
Tom barely had time to turn and greet Harry before Harry was kissing him, clutching his arms desperately as he moved his lips against Tom’s.
Then Willow sniggered and Tristan made a gagging noise, and Harry tore his face away from Tom’s with a look of horror.
“Shit!” Harry hissed, the look of horror on his face growing. “I mean sugar! Hey, uh, hey kids.”
Tom rolled his eyes affectionately.
“Dad, you’re kissing a professor?” Tristan exclaimed with a grimace. “That’s so gross; professors are so old.”
“Not that much older than me,” Harry countered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was going to tell you when I saw you, I swear; I just didn’t expect you to be here now.”
“That’s alright, Dad,” Willow smiled. “Now Mum’s got Blaise I think it’s good that you’ll have someone, too.”
“But a professor?” Tristan repeated, shaking his head. “I guess better the Headmaster than Professor Snape.”
Harry shuddered at the thought. “Well thank you both for being understanding.”
Tom laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder, pleased to note the chain of the locket around Harry’s neck, with the locket itself hidden beneath his t-shirt.
“Please take a seat, Harry,” Tom offered, gesturing to the chair next to Willow. “I have some good news for you, which I have already discussed with Willow and Tristan.”
“Oh?” Harry said, sparing a fond glance at his children.
“After speaking to them both separately I’ve been able to devise a way to support their needs,” Tom explained. “Willow has been bored in class as the work is far too easy for her, leading to frustration. Therefore, I’ve spoken to the other professors and from now on Willow will be given advanced work; and I’ve said she can remain in class with Tristan because she won’t be following the class curriculum, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Don’t tell your Aunt Hermione,” Harry said with a smile to Willow. “She’d have done anything for advanced work.”
“And as for Tristan,” Tom continued. “Madame Pomfrey has confirmed that he has Dyslexia, and in the next week we’ll be doing an in-class assessment to devise the best techniques we can apply to support him. He has low self-esteem as a result of it, but he’s agreed to join the duelling club to try and channel the aggression that’s been stemming from that.”
“Tristan, if you’ve struggled with reading why didn’t you say anything to me or Mum?” Harry asked, looking at Tristan with concern. “I can’t believe we didn’t know.”
Tristan shrugged. “It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled.
“It isn’t,” Tom corrected easily. “And Willow helped him cover it up. These changes will be a start, but I’d like to continue these family sessions every week so we can all keep updated.”
Tom busied himself with paperwork while Harry had a quiet word with both of his children, and when they left Harry turned to Tom with adoring eyes.
“I can’t believe how much happier they seem,” Harry beamed, crossing over the desk and settling himself astride Tom’s lap. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist to pull him closer, and Harry rested his head against Tom’s. “Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?”
“Not enough,” Tom purred, pulling Harry into a slow, long kiss.
Harry’s fingers fumbled with the locket to pull it out, and once he had Tom could feel it pulsing between their chests.
“In that case,” Harry said with a wicked grin, sliding off Tom to kneel in front of him. “I want to show you just how much I appreciate your brilliant mind.”
Harry had no idea just how brilliant Tom’s mind really was. But he would, one day, when Tom was ready to show the world who he really was. And as long as Harry fell in love with Tom Riddle, then surely he would love Lord Voldemort, too.