Work Text:
A/N: I am just finishing up the WIP's on my computer. Please don't take this story too seriously – it isn't that good but it still holds some sentimental value to me personally.
Please do not repost, recreate or translate.
Summary: Harry is a member of an ancient vampire Pureblood family. To be even seen with a Spawn is considered the biggest betrayal and will be punished with death... But we never do choose the ones we fall in love with, and vampire or not, Harry is no exception to that.
Warnings: AU, mentions of character death, mild blood and gore, sexual content
Hinnom
There are certain misconceptions mankind has about vampires.
Harry was older than he could even care for and he had to learn the hard way that the life of a vampire wasn't an easy one. Living a life that was solely based on making others suffer for one's own survival and pleasure would do that to any sensible person, wouldn't it? It put life and everything related to it in perspective – nothing would ever last forever no matter how endless it may seem.
Eventually roses lose their scent, rainbows shed their vibrant colors and fade into dark skies, and dreams shatter and crumble like many mighty kingdoms had perished as well.
There was no romance, no profound knowledge, no great stories to be told in Harry's existence, contrary to human belief. Fact was that when there was no time limit days simply dragged, years passed, and no single fuck was given about precious little things. There just was no reason to feel certain ways or need certain things if all one has known is a privileged life with close to no obligations.
Harry had wandered the earth longer than he would have preferred but even now he still kept on learning new things about himself, discovering new sides he didn't even know he had. A life of eternity would only drag you down eventually, make you feel older than your body would ever be capable of showing, and Harry had been sure that he'd kill himself at some point just to start the next adventure already.
He had never known that the next adventure could be love.
Surprisingly those silly humans had been right about this fickle thing - it truly did come at the most random of moments, in the most unconventional of ways. When Harry Potter had found Tom Riddle everything had become different.
Things had started changing faster than Harry had ever experienced before. He had started feeling things, new things, he had started seeing meaning in things. The things he had deemed to be important or in the very least relevant just didn't seem to hold any value to him anymore and he had started taking risks that he later on would pay for, at the highest price possible.
In the eyes of a mortal there was undoubtedly a certain type of romance in spending all of eternity with your lover. It seemed like a fair deal – eternal beauty and pale skin in exchange for the blood of others. It all sounds so simple, a daily existence that would quickly flow into decades, centuries... Endlessly. You'd be there to watch the world burn and then watch as the world rebuilt itself. All that would matter was having a lover by your side eternally, without a cloud in the sky yet in reality, it was all so different.
Falling in love brought nothing but pain and problems.
No, Harry understood his basic needs, his thoughts, but when it came to truly understanding his entire being to the very core, only Tom could. To this very day Harry still believed that Tom and himself weren't meant to be together.
They just kind of happened.
Tom wasn't supposed to be here in the first place.
He was created against the rules and Harry knew that Tom should have never been dragged out of the flames of hell. He should have stayed dead after that vampire had attacked him, but the vampire had done something unthinkable. He had resurrected Tom and just like that, Tom had gone from being a fragile human to something exceedingly dangerous to the Pureblood family, a long line of vampires Harry was a part of.
Tom had become a Spawn.
Being a Spawn, Tom had abilities Purebloods did not and although they were few, they were advantages that could lead to the downfall of the monarchy they had spent centuries on building. Tom was immortal, truly. His skin would not burn because of sunlight, his bones would not melt from holy water. Crucifixes? Tom said it tickled when he picked one up.
And although the fangs should give away Tom's vampire status, one look in his eyes would tell any sensible Pureblood that he just wasn't a part of the family for Tom's eyes were icy blue and that was the opposite of the bright red all the Purebloods had.
It had been a lonely life Tom had been forced to live before he had met Harry, one not even worth living. Tom had been shunned and he had been completely forced to rely on himself. He didn't even know what powers he had and how special he was.
But Harry did.
Harry had always seen Tom for the amazing creature he was.
'You're late.'
He took his time to take off his cloak, drape it over the lush arm chair to his right and then he ran a hand through his unruly hair. The room was dark and Harry could see it was nicely decorated yet above all, being the primal animal he was deep down, he could smell the blood on Tom's skin.
'Did you miss me, my love?' Harry drawled rather arrogantly. Harry had grown up with the world at his feet, never truly had a care in the world. The only real thrill was being with Tom – if anyone would ever know, they'd find ways to torment Tom in the worst ways, and they'd burn Harry alive at dawn. It was a dangerous thing they were doing right now. Even speaking to each other could cost them their heads.
Tom growled and in the darkness Harry could see his eyes glimmer, and his teeth too as his lips formed a snarl. He stepped out from the shadows into the moonlight and his mouth was stained with blood – there was a dead raven at his feet.
Well, at least Tom had found a way to entertain himself while waiting for Harry. For a moment Harry admired Tom, how loneliness had carved a rough man out of this gorgeous, darling creature. Harry did not look down upon Tom but he could still see his human side so clearly, and he could definitely hear Tom's heart beating. Harry could rip Tom's heart out of his chest right now and Tom would still live.
Harry could sometimes sing and dance to the rhythm of Tom's heartbeat. It was so gorgeous, something that reminded Harry of how hollow his own chest was.
Harry's heart had never born. He'd been born dead.
Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but in a blink of an eye Tom stood in front of him. He was faster than Harry – and he was the only one who could hold Harry down, too.
'I'm sorry I'm late,' Harry then admitted, not in defeat but as a peace offer. He hadn't come to fight. He had come to enjoy Tom's presence, to be soaked up within his entire being. Although Harry did not have a heart to give, he firmly believed he did have a soul and it longed to be intertwined with Tom's.
The expression on Tom's face did not relax and Harry groaned as he slammed his mouth on Harry's – reclaiming something that should never be his, but was willingly given a long time ago. Obviously Tom was not in a mood to talk, and a part of Harry was at peace with this. He knew the other male would speak soon enough. Harry opened his mouth for Tom, giving back what he received tenfold, and it wasn't long until their clothes fell to the floor and their legs were tangled up as their hands feverishly ran over each other's bodies. Tom was still warm – Harry had never been warm before, until the first time he had made love to Tom.
The first mistake they made was not paying attention to the time.
Harry ended up staying all night and he did not leave before sunrise – he was asleep by the time the sun started rising, and Tom got out of bed to close the curtains before his lover could get hurt.
Tom ran his tongue over his fangs and tasted only Harry on his lips, and as he peeked through the small sliver of space between his two curtains, he admired the sunrise for a moment before closing them more firmly. Harry's back was turned to him, and he was all pale skin and angelic beauty. He looked so young and Tom wanted to wake him already, so they could make love again.
It was't fair that they had to spend so much time apart.
Being immortal, Tom had become even more aware of the time passing. He was filled with so many questions, with so much resentment.
Tom was stronger than all those Purebloods combined, so why did he have to be an outcast when they should adore him, see him as a leader? Furthermore, if Spawns were not allowed to be created, then why was Tom here? Who had created him, what purpose did he serve? Deep down Tom was convinced that he couldn't be the only Spawn. There had to be more out there, more like him. Just how many Spawns were out there, unaware of their power, incapable of doing anything but taking the abuse the Purebloods inflicted upon them? He glanced behind himself at Harry, at how he was the simple picture of innocence. Harry was a Pureblood too, but he had never treated Tom as anything less than him despite his upbringing... And it made Tom wonder. There were still so many things Tom didn't know about Harry, even if he knew he knew Harry more than anyone else.
It was unfair, Tom thought to himself again. His thirst for blood could never be fully sated, but his hunger for Harry even less so. He could be inside of him, like he had been mere minutes ago, and they still wouldn't be close enough.
Tom closed his eyes and saw flashes of a past life, flashes of last night. Of milky thighs and lips parted in a silent scream, of dying and coming harder than ever, of pain and pleasure.
And Harry would have to explain all those marks on his body one way or another, eventually. For someone who was immortal, time was essential, and Tom knew this. He walked over to Harry and rested his hand on Harry's hip, and Harry's hand instantly shot out to grip his wrist in a bruising hold. His red eyes were wide open, like Harry had never been asleep in the first place.
Tom knew better. Harry was a predator just like Tom himself was. They were required to sleep with one eye open. It was in their nature.
Oddly, they had never spoken of their statuses. Of the danger they put themselves in every time they met up in secret like this. Tom wondered why. Were they avoiding the inevitable with this behavior, or were they simply playing with fate?
'Do not open the curtains. The sun is rising.' Harry's eyes widened in mortification, but he knew better than to get up and check. Even though this piece of information distressed his lover, Tom was happy that they were able to spend more time together now. He knew it would bother Harry however. 'Rest. I will wake you when the sun goes down again.'
Harry opened and closed his mouth and then he finally huffed and just pulled Tom down on top of his body.
'Sleep with me,' Harry murmured. Tom's eyebrow cocked up. Harry ought to know Tom would never truly sleep. He couldn't, anymore. Tom only slept to dream, not to rest.
But Tom was willing to indulge his lover.
So he wrapped his arms around Harry and closed his eyes.
Harry's head rested on Tom's chest and never had there been a sound quite as addictive as Tom's heartbeat.
It was Tom's heartbeat, that was the reason they were in this mess in the first place. But Harry didn't have the heart – no pun intended – to call this a mess. It was a bad romance they were in.
Harry'd been watching his prey for 2 minutes now.
He was tall, had parted hair, strong shoulders. He was the kind of prey Harry would play with, before sucking dry of blood. What always amused Harry was that these kinds of men were so strong amongst humans, but they were as weak as a kitten as soon as Harry would come into the picture.
To dominate the dominant, was in the very least... Exhilerating.
It was night, and humans knew that when night had fallen, the world was the Devil's playground. Harry didn't understand why this specimen was out, late at that, so it couldn't be by mistake. Was this creature truly so arrogant to think he wouldn't be attacked? Harry's gums started stinging as he allowed his fangs to elongate, his red eyes narrowing.
Never mind that. Harry was hungry.
Harry stretched his neck but as soon as he jumped down the ledge he'd been perched on the man was gone.
And Harry didn't even have the time to respond when he got knocked onto his back and was forced to stare into such pale blue eyes they almost seemed to glow . Harry didn't know how to respond. Never, in all of his life, had a prey even managed to think about getting away, let alone knock Harry over. What was going on?
His lips parted in a snarl and the man on top of him smirked. He had fangs too.
What?
'Who's hunting who?' the male wondered. Harry growled, digging his fingernails into the male's coat. The male didn't even look fazed or afraid.
'What the fuck are you?' Harry hissed. This creature had a heartbeat, he had blood rushing through his veins yet... He wasn't human. He was alive yet he had powers that belonged to the dead. This shouldn't be possible. Those bright blue eyes considered him almost with childlike fascination before his fingers reached out to touch Harry's face. His fingers were hot – Harry's skin was cold, icy. The male on top of him seemed equally surprised as Harry was at that.
'Why aren't you attacking me now?' the male wondered. 'I sensed you staring – why aren't you trying to fight me?'
'Because I was hungry,' Harry growled, 'you have a heartbeat and I thought you were food. Obviously not.' Although I'd still like to suck you in another way , Harry thought to himself. He kept those thoughts to himself however and instead said, 'Can you get off me? You're heavy and I still need to find something to eat. Obviously you don't suffice, whatever you are.'
Harry should feel intimidated, shouldn't be having a conversation with whatever he was talking to right now. This man was faster and stronger. But... Harry simply never had felt the true feeling of fear. He was one of the highest ranked vampires in his family, he was older than he cared for. There had never been a reason to be afraid.
The male complied and got off his hips but his hand took a hold of Harry's hand and their eyes met.
'Your kind has been avoiding me for years. Why? We're the same, are we not?' the male asked him. Harry wondered at that. Was he banished...? There never was a real reason for vampires to abandon one of their kind – they were all family, all came from the same parents. Unless... Harry's eyes widened as he stared at this man, took in his blue eyes, his warm skin, his fangs.
Unless someone had done the unthinkable and this person was the result from it.
'What is your name?' Harry asked. The man frowned.
'My name is Tom Riddle. That's all I remember.' That's all I remember... That should say enough. Vampires never forgot. They never forgave. Tom was created, and one of their clan had done the unforgivable. He had created a vampire out of a human, he had spawned his own kin.
Harry had only heard of Spawns by ancient stories, told when he himself had been at the beginning of eternity by himself. Never had he actually thought to meet a Spawn in real life, for a Spawn could always be linked back to its creator, and they could easily outpower Harry's family. One shall always face death penalty for creating a Spawn. They'd have to burn alive in morning light. Or feel their inner organs melt into one heavy clump of pain after drinking Holy Water. Deaths of a vampire were always gruesome and never painless. Harry thought that could be life's compensation for all the humans vampires made suffer in their lives.
'You know the answer, tell me.' Tom demanded. Harry's mouth opened and closed. This Spawn... He was beautiful, and intelligent to boot. Harry had always been taught that Spawns were not aware of their own power and would shy away as soon as they'd sense a true vampire. Tom, however... Tom was special, and something in Harry's mind seemed to click. It was odd, and it was hard to describe. But it was the feeling of finally being complete – of having found something you were missing. Harry swore to himself it hadn't been love at first sight, lust at first sight at most. But he suddenly did not want to leave.
Even if conversing with a Spawn was considered the worst betrayal, and would too, be punished severely.
'Take me to your hiding place,' Harry replied instead. Tom was staring at him intently, and Harry knew that Tom knew he could kill him. Tom was out of Harry's league and for Harry, someone who had always gotten and killed whatever he could and wanted to, it was exhilerating. He could feel something in his stomach that Harry had only rarely felt, maybe once or twice, and it was unadultured lust. Harry had always thought he was the Alpha, the one in control, but it was something instinctively that just wanted to roll over and bear its throat to Tom.
And for a predator to feel something like that was overwhelming. Harry had never felt fear so he did not know the true extent of the danger he had put himself into in that very moment. Did Tom feel it too? Harry wondered about that and he licked at his gums as his fangs retracted again. Tom followed the movement carefully and his pupils had dilated.
He nodded and they ran off together, and they fucked like animals. They fucked until Harry couldn't take it anymore, until he was whining and clawing at Tom's shoulders like he was the pitiful human here and after that he knew in the depths of his pleasure that he was mated to Tom. It hadn't been just a one time thing and he told his mate everything he knew.
As always, the truth did come out. And they both paid a high price for it.
Tom was fast asleep when Harry woke up at sunset, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. His ears strained themselves like they always did when Harry was awake and hungry – yet the only heartbeat he could hear, was Tom's.
Harry had heard about dreaming before but he had never experienced it himself. Whenever he rested it was like he would simply blink his eyes – he was unconscious when he was asleep, but never experienced adventures or horrors like Tom sometimes could. Harry felt hollow.
Harry licked his lips and forced himself up, trying not to stir Tom awake. It was no use. When Harry looked to his side, he realized Tom was already staring at him and it didn't occur to Harry that Tom simply dreamed out of boredom but never truly needed sleep.
'I have to leave,' Harry stated. Tom frowned.
'Why?' That was a good question, a question Harry momentarily couldn't answer. Because he had obligations – because he had places to be, people to see, Harry supposed. But to completely, randomly disappear... Harry had never thought of it. Most likely he hadn't because he knew he'd be chased after for eternity and that was something Harry wouldn't very much enjoy but on the other hand, a life of secrecy... Harry wanted Tom to be acknowledged, too. He still didn't support the thought of Spawns because it could be dangerous but Tom... Tom was something special.
'I don't know,' Harry honestly replied. He rose from the bed nonetheless and started dressing himself. Tom lingered in bed and his unrelenting gaze made Harry feel naked somehow, like his soul was bared. To humans it was arguable that vampires had a soul as they killed for a living but Harry thought that every being that was capable of sensible thought and emotion had a soul.
Besides, human beings killed for food too – they killed cattle.
In a way, so did Tom and Harry.
Harry closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. He had nothing to hide for Tom but he had told his most closest relatives and friends lies upon lies. Essentially Harry had made the choice between Tom and his old life already and the answer was clear as day. But Harry wasn't emotionally ready to step away from everything, and everyone.
He wondered to himself in that moment if he ever would be. Or if he already was but simply was too immature to give up the safety that home offered him. He had turned into a liar after meeting and loving Tom after all. He could be lying to himself right now as well. Lying was quick to go from a neccessity to a nasty habit, to a way of life.
'Harry.'
'Yes – yeah, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm here.' Harry didn't know why he just affirmed he was there. Tom could see him, couldn't he? It should be obvious Harry was still here. He'd always be near Tom. If Harry's heart would beat, it would beat solely for Tom. 'Just thinking.'
Harry was older than Tom but age was nothing. Tom knew more of the world than Harry did. Tom had more wisdom, more... What was that word? Emotional intelligence, knowledge of human nature. Having never had a beating heart to care for, Harry supposed he had never truly tried to understand matters of the heart either. He knew how to live, sure enough, had spent oceans of time reading and studying out of boredom. A life of eternity did things to a person.
But whereas Harry had always learned to simply accept and endure a person's existence, appreciate it at most, he had never loved a person. Not until he had met Tom.
Harry could feel in his very bones that their time was running out. Something was coming, something awful, or something that would simply change their daily lives.
'Do you feel that too, Tom?' Harry asked, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Tom paused, his breathing even, his heartbeat a steady thumpthump-thumpthump-thump-thump in Harry's ears. Harry'd always be hyperaware of that.
Then, Tom got up and he just stood next to Harry. Harry knew in that sole moment that if he'd go back, he might not see Tom anymore. Of course, Harry always had that dreaded feeling whenever they parted once more. But this time... It felt different. For the first time in his long, long ( too long ) life, Harry could feel his own heart in his chest. And it felt heavy and cold, like a clump of lead.
Harry licked his lips and Tom touched his cheek, and their eyes met. Harry moved his lips, tried to say anything, but he could not. He was struck by the emotion in Tom's eyes, by the fact that even if his instincts (heart?) told him not to leave Tom, not this time, he still would. Harry had to. Feeling profound sadness strike him at his weakest point, Harry lowered his eyes and finished buttoning up his shirt. He walked away from Tom and touched his cloak and took another deep breath through his nose as his fingertips brushed over the lush fabric.
'Harry,' Tom said again, trying to break the silence. Truly, Harry felt chained to this existence. Life didn't excite him anymore, and he could not remember the last time he had felt a thrill, a kick if you may, out of living. The only times Harry felt complete was when he was with Tom... It was said that once a vampire found its mate, they'd truly be at their strongest. Together. As one.
But Harry did not want to put Tom in danger. Perhaps Harry should disappear... Just not with Tom.
Maybe Harry should face his punishments for the betrayal he had committed himself to.
'You're crying,' Tom stated incredulously and Harry's eyes widened. He looked at Tom in shock and then touched his own face and realized his lover, his mate, had been right all along. He was crying, but for the love of whatever God was up there, Harry could not fathom the last time he had cried. He doubted that in his entire lifetime he ever truly had a reason to cry.
Tom looked equally shocked. Vampires weren't supposed to be able to feel sorrow but this feeling ran bonedeep and it hurt Harry to think of losing Tom. And only this time, this night, did it feel so real.
Harry sniffed and rubbed his cheeks angrily.
'Just one of my bodily functions. I'm fine,' Harry argued and then as if deciding something, he added a curt, 'I should go.'
'But Harry, I need to tell you –' Tom paused, his hand lingering uselessly in the air.
Harry had already disappeared and the second mistake Tom made was not following him.
When Harry came home he was weary. He wanted to sleep – he entered the manor without a sound and the candles flickered in the wake of his steps, candlewax dripping down the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. His mind was filled with questions, questions about his origin and his identity, questions about why things had to be a certain way. Harry was not a child but he was filled with childlike confusion.
Harry was not dumb, and he was not blind.
And he was not stupid enough to think that the moment he walked into the dining room and looked his family in the eye, he was okay.
His eyes slid over the faces of them all. Sirius, his godfather. James, his birth father, Lily, his birth mother. Albus, his grandfather and Albus Severus, his brother. Harry looked at them all and knew this was the last time he'd see them again, like this, so beautiful, serene almost in their expressionless demeanor. And still even if he had not lived for so long as most of them had, he felt like he was different, had learned something they never would.
Harry stood perfectly still in the doorway as his father was the first to rise from his chair at the head of the table, from his rightful place at the head of the family. He walked over to Harry with grace Harry had learned to obtain too throughout the decades. In a year, Harry would have taken over his father's position as an Elder.
Harry looked his father straight in the eye, his own eyes bloodshot from crying. He was certain there were teartracks on his face and mud on his clothes and shoes from his walk in the woods. But he had come home, because he couldn't take the lies anymore, and because he had to take his punishment.
'How could you?' his father simply asked. His face looked like it was cut out of marble, so expressionless, void of any thought of emotion he might be feeling. Harry realized in that moment that if being cold and distant equaled being a good leader, an Elder, he never would've made it anyway. Harry's gaze once more wandered from his father to his family. They were all staring and Harry wondered, had they already distanced themselves from me? Am I the only one capable of feeling this complete heartbreak?
Harry was afraid. He was genuinely afraid and for a moment he couldn't breathe. He needn't to – he would survive anything, and he didn't even need to breathe per se. But he felt like he was being suffocated and he was capable of feeling.
'I love him,' Harry stupidly said. His father leaned forward and did the unthinkable and in that moment, Harry lost all hope.
His father kissed him on the mouth, the Kiss of Death, and his family turned their faces away from him.
Tom woke that following morning with a restless feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He went to his daily activities, not knowing that the next morning, his lover was to be executioned. He hunted, ate, visited a library and walked amongst humans like he was one of them. A girl tried to ask him for his ''number'' whichever that meant, and Tom snapped her neck in an alleyway and left her cooling flesh for the rats to feast upon.
The usual.
There was one thing that was unusual though, something that caught Tom's eye. The longer he walked the streets, the more eye contact he had with people... Who rather seemed different and familiar at the same time. Tom frowned, kept on walking, thinking about where he could sleep tonight and where he could get new clothes as his own were apparently not according to current fashion. Convinced people somehow knew he was a predator, Tom lowered his head and walked a bit faster.
He walked into a more quiet street and quickly managed to part from the crowd. However, the more isolated he grew... The more he felt like he was being watched. He turned, preparing to run, when he was suddenly forced to pause.
There was a man standing right in front of him, staring at him like all those people before, had.
'Hello, young Daywalker. You seem lost.'
And then it dawned in on Tom. Those people had seemed familiar, because they all had eyes like Tom.
Harry stared at the sunset from his safe position in the shadows, even though he knew it was no use since he'd die in less than 24 hours anyway. Normally around this time he'd be waking up, have breakfast with his family, and then go out and about and bring whatever kills he had made back home. He'd go out and make his family proud the way he knew best, which was by being the perfect son.
The perfect son they were going to burn alive.
Was it wrong to love, Harry wondered, or was it wrong to freely choose the person you love regardless of what nature they were? Harry didn't think that either one of those two were wrong but the society he had happened to be born in must think so, if punishment was so severe.
Maybe vampires truly weren't able to love but only felt a sense of belonging. What did that make Harry? Because he was firmly convinced that these emotions he had for Tom... They must be love. It must be, because all the romance novels he had read, all the times he had spoken to great writers like Shakespeare himself, described all the things he felt right now.
Harry knew that he could've ran but he also knew that he would've put Tom in danger. His family would've never rested until they'd captured Harry. And Tom? They would have tortured him until eternity. He got what had been coming to him a long time ago or so he told himself, and Harry didn't feel any regrets at all. No... Loving Tom, had only made Harry's bleak life worth living.
Harry watched as the sun slowly died at the horizon and the sky turned dark. Maybe Harry just couldn't fully believe it – a part of him, the spoiled brat in him, was still convinced that his family would change their mind. After all if they loved him then wouldn't they want to protect him the way Harry protected Tom by doing this? Harry thought that those humans had it easy. They had a limited timeframe, true, and for most parts they were nothing but prey. But they lived, truly lived, they loved, they dreamed. Humanity was beautiful in its own fleeting way and it was something Harry envied. He wanted to be able to feel the sun on his skin too, without feeling pain. He wanted to be able to dance and sing and laugh and fuck without a care in the world.
He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, slow and steady, trying to feel for a heartbeat. He wondered if it was annoying, or if one would grow accustomed to it. Harry wanted, above anything, to have a beating, thriving heart stronger than his mind. Having been locked up in his own bedroom there was not much he could do he supposed, with his own little brother guarding the door.
Still it made Harry wonder.
Harry's eyebrows knitted together as he gazed at the window. Even he wouldn't be able to live a jump from this high up without broken bones.
Yet...
'I knew it.' Tom looked Grindelwald straight in the eye as he felt his lips curl up in an incredulous smile, and he got up and ran his hands through his hair. 'All this time – I knew I couldn't be the only one, there had to be more like me out there... You, you all, you're just proof of it, aren't you?'
He looked at the Spawns – Daywalkers, they called themselves – in the room and a laugh escaped his mouth. For the first time in years he was capable of feeling a sense of accomplishment, happiness. He was right! He'd been right all along, there had been more of them out there. He wasn't alone, and he was not a freak of nature.
After seeking him out, Grindelwald had brought Tom to their hiding place and had told him everything. About how some of the Daywalkers had different powers than others, how they'd had been secretly planning an attack to the Purebloods all along and had been recruiting whichever of their own kin they could find. But Grindelwald was growing old and weary – he was not to be on the front lines.
He had followed Tom for a long time, and knew that Tom was Harry's mate. He knew that if anything, Tom was the missing link they needed.
Tom would have to lead them, in Grindelwald's place.
Tom stared at all their faces. Bellatrix, Theodore, Lucius, Draco, Narcissa, Regulus, Igor... And so many others whom he had forgotten the names of.
'What is your answer, Riddle?' Grindelwald asked, with the hints of a smile. He had the perfect soldier in front of him – a soldier with a cause, a glimmer of hope to fight for something he had always wanted. Yes, Grindelwald thought, in their isolation, they had all become desperate of a brotherhood of the sort.
Tom opened his mouth to reply, say Yes, yes let's fucking slaughter them and make them pay for everything they put us through, but then he paused. Harry was a Pureblood too.
'I will do it,' Tom said, 'but I want Harry Potter. No one is to touch him.'
Grindelwald frowned. 'I thought you already heard.'
'Heard what?' Tom asked with an irritated tone in his voice. Grindelwald's expressionless eyes bored into Tom's.
'Harry is to be executed tomorrow morning, at dawn.'
Harry was to be bound at the torture rack with his hands above his head and his feet together, and everyone of the family gathered to watch. No one said a word, and they hadn't even wanted to look at Harry's face – they had just wanted to watch him burn for committing the only sin a vampire could commit, which was betraying its own kin.
Therefore, Harry's head was covered with a leather bag, and he was still wearing the clothes he'd been wearing when he had come home that dreaded night. A covered head was not uncommon – Harry was a disgrace, and disgraces were too disgusting to even look at.
The sun had not risen yet but the sky was lighting up slowly and Harry's family watched from the shadows down at the pit Harry was in as Harry's body struggled against the binds. He didn't speak, and couldn't. Following tradition he had been gagged so that he would not disturb those who had wanted to sleep instead of witness.
Lily Potter tried to keep herself from crying.
Her husband's hand was on her shoulder and he squeezed her, and Lily just kept looking forward, too aware of her relatives. She didn't want to watch – she had spent last night crying, mourning over her son. James had said that it was to be expected and that Albus should learn from this. Lily hated her own kin for the first time in her life.
Lily did not plead for Harry's life. Perhaps this was out of cowardice. She just knew that whomever stood up for betrayers was considered a betrayer themselves, and they'd be strapped up and burnt to death as well.
James squeezed her shoulder again and this time, Lily turned around. The sun was starting to rise, why would James want her to look away?
She gasped as she looked into blue eyes and then screamed as she got pushed down. The Potters fell down, all one by one, joining Harry in the pit where the sun started rising.
Even the gag couldn't shut Harry up as he screamed while blisters and blood formed on his skin and Lily screamed in terror as her own skin started burning too. She ripped at her flesh, trying to ease the pain, but she kept on bleeding.
From the shadows, Tom Riddle watched and howled.
He stared at the ashes that were the remains of the only man he had ever loved in his life and wondered where they had gone wrong.
Maybe if they had talked more, it wouldn't have had to end like this. What they used to have was so good, wasnt it?
So then why did he have to go away?
Tom knew that nothing he could've said or done would've made any change. He couldn't go back in time and confess Harry all the feelings he felt for him. Tom couldn't tell Harry he was all Tom had left to live for. Because whereas Tom liked to fool himself into believing there was more to Harry in this lifetime, there simply wasn't.
And now Harry was dead and so was everything they ever had. Everything they had fought to keep in between them, everything they had cherished... From that first feeling of love sparking in between them, from that very first kiss, to their last meeting and last embrace. Tom remembered it so vividly like one of those movies those humans seemed to cherish. He remembered the smell in the air and the darkness, he remembered that last lingering look in Harry's eyes.
And he should've stopped him from going but Tom never had been able to build up the strength or courage. Because deep down he had known Harry was not meant to stay. He didn't belong there, he belonged elsewhere, he had belonged in a world Tom was not a part of.
Tom could not truly fathom it as he stared at the torture rack, the blackened print Harry's body had left behind on the wood. He knew everything he had lived forward to was gone right now, intellectually, but it was like his soul refused to admit that something he had held so dearly, could be gone so easily.
And then he didn't even start about the sheer ache that went through him right in this very moment.
'Orders, sir?' Bellatrix asked from behind. Tom was numb and anguished at the same time. How could he had let this happen? How could Harry have done this to him? He hadn't even said goodbye... Tom's hands tightened into fists and he pressed his lips in a tight line. His cheeks felt wet.
'Take anything you can get and then burn the fucker down,' Tom said without a detection of emotion in his voice.
He did not notice that Albus Potter had forcibly taken Harry's place.
The Potters were only the start.
The Daywalkers did not rest under Tom's leadership and quickly, their name changed from Spawns, to Daywalkers, to Death Eaters.
Tom killed Grindelwald and adapted a new name. He would not rest until every Pureblood family has been swept off the face of the earth. Tom had died along with Harry. Lord Voldemort was a cold, but effective leader.
One day, when Voldemort sat under a full moon and gazed out at the stars, he was utterly restless. He felt empty in spite of everything that he had gained. He was finally the leader he was meant to be – had all the riches of the world, even servants. He was in the right place.
But the top was awfully lonely.
It was the sound of a twig snapping, that made Voldemort look behind himself. No one was behind him, but the moment he turned his head, there was someone in front of him. He had him on the ground with a forearm digging deep into the cloaked person's throat.
'Give me one reason why I shouldn't cut off all your limbs and feed them to the dogs,' he growled. The person underneath him gasped, and then a soft, 'Who's hunting who?' made Voldemort freeze in his tracks.
He used his free hand to tug the cloak off the person's head and instantly backed off.
'You were supposed to be dead,' he incredulously said. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wanted to be happy, but he... This simply couldn't be.
'Missed me?' Harry's cocky voice said nonetheless. Harry stared at him for a bit longer before he just reached forward and pressed his body against Voldemort's.