Chapter Text
It takes Harry a few moments to collect himself. Tom's hand around his wrist feels like a brand. His fingers feel as if it’s burning after Tom kissed it. He has to tell himself that this is really happening.
Your pulse is racing. I wonder why.
Harry knows why, and he knows that Tom knows why as well. "You know why," Harry whispers. "You've known for a long time now."
Tom's smile widens as it dawns on him that Harry is, in fact, not that oblivious. "Yes," he breathes. "It's been some time now."
Harry tries to pull his hand away from Tom's grasp but Tom holds on. The taller boy has a satisfied look on his face. Harry sighs. "Can you sit or something, my neck is aching now. You're too damn tall."
At that, Tom moves to sit on the ottoman in front of Harry. They are seated too close to one another now, their knees touching, and the back of Harry’s mind briefly registers the fact that he can’t really run away if Tom tries anything, being blocked by the wingback chair and Tom himself. Tom’s hand no longer clings to Harry’s wrist, but now his fingers are loosely intertwined with Harry’s instead, obviously not wanting to let go. Harry thinks that Tom is actually probably quite clingy, even though the other boy would vehemently deny it.
And to think that he previously shied away from any sort of touches.
“How did you find out?” Harry asks.
“That secret will remain with me,” Tom says enigmatically, a small knowing smile on his lips.
Harry rolls his eyes. Fine, he’ll let it go this time. He gazes at Tom sitting on the ottoman, legs crossed and looking pleased with himself, and asks, “What do you think about my feelings for you then?”
This is probably the first time Harry sees a question catch Tom slightly off guard. Tom lowers his dark wine eyes to his and Harry’s intertwined hands, seemingly to struggle with getting his words out, which is a first considering he usually always has a witty comeback ready at the tip of his tongue. It’s not a surprise though. Tom never really talks about his feelings, so Harry stays quiet, giving him the much needed time. When Tom finally speaks, it is soft. “I was overlooking numerous things when it came to you. I wasn't paying attention and had been taking your affections for granted.” He finally raises his eyes to look at Harry. The warmth in them is paired with such tenderness that Harry’s breath leaves him. “Once I realized your affections to me, and when I finally, finally, started looking at you, I can’t help but to — as Hermione has put it quite so aptly — fall hard. So, I think, Harry Potter, that you are ridiculously marvelous and that you definitely should not consider Malfoy as a potential betrothed.”
The loud laugh that erupts from Harry surprised himself. “Okay, first of all,” Harry wheezes out, to Tom's amusement, “I don’t blame you for not realizing my feelings because you’re too focused on your studies and Head Boy responsibilities, and secondly, your pompous ass is kind of oblivious to affections.” At Tom’s slightly offended look, Harry laughs again. “Don’t you dare tell me you forgot about how you vanished Romilda Vane’s chocolate on Valentine’s Day during our fifth year.”
“The fact that it was Valentine’s Day escaped my mind,” Tom says dryly. “It was early, I hadn't had a cup of coffee, and obviously she did not have any eloquence which was evident from the way she shoved the chocolate into my hands with no explanation and ran away. Vanishing the gift was the most logical step. I have no need for suspicious delicacies.”
“Fair enough. Dean Thomas ate some of the chocolates she gave him and it turns out it was spiked with Amortentia.” Harry does not need Tom to say anything to understand that his face is saying that, see, Tom Riddle is always right. “Fine, I won’t bring that up again,” Harry relents with a chuckle.
Tom sighs, his thumb mapping Harry’s knuckles. “I thought that you were truly oblivious to my advances.”
Harry was, to a certain extent, but then Tom and Hermione were on a first name basis all of a sudden and he became suspicious. He gets even more suspicious when out of nowhere Tom starts to allow Harry to initiate small touches. It was just small taps and nudges here and there but Harry knows that it’s quite a big deal for someone who is strict with their personal space. He approaches Tom like how he would a Hippogriff, a highly dangerous proud being. Ron would have objected to the analogy saying that Tom is a venomous snake, but snakes are easier to figure out for Harry who lives among them.
He finally gets his confirmation during that one eventful breakfast where Tom actually talks before his coffee. And then he patted Harry’s head. The whole school had erupted with wild gossip after that morning because that is not what Tom fucking Riddle does. Poor Draco’s pureblood mannerisms flew out the window when he inhaled his pumpkin juice instead of drinking it when he saw the head pat. Blaise had dropped his knife in surprise, the utensil clattering loudly against his plate before he was then slapping Draco’s back to dislodge the juice. All in all, it was a chaotic morning. In the chaos, Tom had remained nonchalant and read through his paper like what he just did was the most normal thing in the world.
So Harry decided to do a small test at the end of their sixth year. It had been a clear Sunday, just a week before the summer holiday, and Harry had told Cedric Diggory almost a week previous that he needed his help for something. He had vaguely explained that he needed Cedric to just pretend that he needs to talk privately to Harry while he was out with his friends and the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain agreed. Cedric definitely delivered one hell of a performance with spectacular timing.
Harry is enjoying the neck massage that Tom is giving him as they are sitting enjoying the sun outdoors with Hermione when he hears Cedric calling him. He almost regrets his decision as Tom’s hand stills around the nape of his neck before slightly clenching as if he is trying to make Harry stay. Tom never really liked Cedric, so it is perfect. It is simultaneously a nightmare. Cedric boldly walks up to them and Harry feels a shiver down his spine as Tom removes his hand when he makes a move to stand. “Hey, Cedric,” Harry says, walking over to the Hufflepuff. “What’s up?”
“May I talk to you for a bit?” Cedric asks. He looks over to Tom and Hermione, and grins. Harry can tell that he is having fun and a sudden jolt of fear for Cedric’s wellbeing runs through him. “I hope you guys don’t mind if I steal Harry for a moment.”
Harry turns around to look at Tom and Hermione. What he sees immediately makes him feel that he should apologize to Cedric profusely because Tom is looking absolutely livid. Tom is scowling openly when he usually always keeps his expressions under control, his eyebrows scrunching in pure distaste and lips turned down. Harry turns his stare at Hermione instead and hopes that she can see the slight panic in his eyes. If there is one person who can hopefully calm Tom down at that moment, it’s Hermione. Hopefully. “Uh, sure thing,” Harry manages to blurt out. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
They walk off some distance away but even then they both can feel Tom’s fury infused magic. Harry swears he can feel Tom’s magic crackle like the onset of lightning. “So,” Cedric starts, looking down at Harry who is feeling like he has just maimed an innocent Puffskein, “I’m assuming that this experiment is related to a now seething Tom Riddle?”
Harry winces. “I’m truly sorry Cedric, I didn’t know that he would react that strongly. I might’ve accidentally put your life in danger.”
“You have. I have to watch my back now,” Cedric laughs. “But I’m assuming that you found the answer you were looking for?”
Harry looks to Cedric who is softly smiling at him. “Yes, I did. I owe you one, Cedric. Thank you for doing this.”
Cedric gives a pat to Harry’s shoulder. “You owe me a Quidditch win to be honest. Maybe later, if we both play professionally.” He glances back at the direction where Tom and Hermione are and then winks playfully at Harry. “You better get back to your boyfriend before he kills me, Harry.”
“I— He’s not— We’re—” Harry sputters before he gives up trying to form any coherent sentence. He lifts his hands in defeat before dropping it as Cedric walks away back towards the castle, chuckling to himself. Harry sighs to himself as he makes his way back. He has one furious Tom Riddle to calm down.
Harry huffs at the memory. When Tom arches one eyebrow at him, Harry gives him a smile and decides to be forthright. No better time than during the witching hour, right? "I was oblivious at the start, can’t deny that. Then it became quite obvious. But when I realized that you were starting to show your curiosity, it actually freaked me out a little."
Tom actually looks surprised at that. "How so?"
"I know you, Tom Riddle, and I know the way you sometimes fixate on things because you find them intriguing, only to drop them once they stop being fascinating to you," Harry sighs. "You would have this intense stare, like you were trying to figure me out, and I almost had your undivided attention whenever we were together. I could feel your constant gaze and it frightened me.
"And then you actually came to the Quidditch match. Way to pick a timing, that being the last match of the season. I almost fell out of my fucking broom when I spotted you. I thought I was hallucinating." Harry slowly shakes his head, as if he is still in disbelief. “Years of asking you to come watch and you finally did during the most important match.”
Tom chuckles. “And you won it spectacularly.”
“Yeah, I was trying to impress you,” Harry replies. He remembers that day vividly, the way the sun was almost blinding, the way the tangible energy from the crowd made his team excited for the match, and how his hands almost slipped from his broom when he spotted Tom sitting at the back seat along with the Slytherin spectators. He remembers being so elated by Tom being there that he vaguely registers the Bludgers coming at him out of the corners of his eyes before catching the unmistakable glint of the Golden Snitch and diving to catch it from pure instinct and adrenaline. He definitely remembers how Tom looked utterly floored by the stunt and how he had grinned when Harry tossed him the Snitch.
“Well,” Tom drawls, “I was impressed. I still regret the days I did not say yes to your invites.”
“You have to make up for it somehow,” Harry says jokingly, but then Tom is gripping his hand. Harry freezes once more, heart nearly beating out of his chest when Tom, for the second time, leans down to press his lips on Harry’s fingers. He does not stop at Harry’s fingers, opting to leave feathery kisses around the knuckles with the kisses lingering longer after moving to each one.
Lips still against Harry’s skin, Tom whispers, “I will, darling, I will.” He looks up at Harry, giving him a small crooked smile. Darling? Fuck— Also, how fucking unfair that Tom can look like a kicked puppy when he needs to— “Forgive me?”
Harry knows that he is not stupid but at this point he feels like his brain is definitely not working. “Um, I— Sur— Yes. Forgiven,” he stutters out. The low chuckle from Tom grounds Harry a little as he clears his throat. He decides that he should get all of his questions out before any more of Tom’s touches makes his mind even more muddled. Almost afraid of the answer, Harry asks his question quietly. “You said that you fell hard, but how serious are you?”
Tom straightens himself briefly before leaning forward, his free hand casually gripping the armrest of Harry’s chair. Harry, for probably the hundredth time that day, wills himself to keep his eyes fixed to Tom’s warm brown eyes. “If there is one person that I will always yearn for, it is you, Harry Potter. You are extraordinary and you surprise me every time. You are completely different from me and it should’ve exasperated me but on the contrary, you captivate me.”
Harry does not see Tom pull his hand which was holding his own away, but he feels it. He almost glances down but then fingers are tracing along his jaw. He leans back, almost shying away from the touch when he realizes that Tom has been inching closer. “You asked me how serious I am,” Tom continues, moving closer still, his hand now cupping Harry’s jaw, and Harry feels himself slightly panicking trying to just breathe, “And I have to say I am absolutely serious to the point that I wanted you to wear Slytherin colors to one of the most influential event where everybody can see that you are mine.”
“That was a bold move,” Harry chokes out.
“When have I ever done things partially?” Tom asks quietly. “Either I tell the world what I want and seize it or I don’t but still obtain it anyway. This time, I want them to know that you are out of their reach.” He pauses before the smug smirk is back full force on his face. “If my memory serves me right, you had no objection in wrapping yourself in my colors, looking absolutely delectable.”
Pressing his whole body back to the chair he is sitting in, Harry moves one hand to grip Tom’s wrist close to his face while he places his other hand on Tom’s chest. He’s not trying to push Tom away but he is feeling some kind of terror and his stomach is doing somersaults and Tom is too close—
“I covet you, Harry Potter,” Tom murmurs, and Harry can almost see the hunger in his dark eyes. “And I think I shall perish if you covet me no more.”
As Tom tilts Harry’s head up and as he leans down, Harry involuntarily makes some sort of strangled sound before he blurts out quite loudly, “Court me properly then.”
Tom pauses his movements, his eyes flitting down to Harry’s lips. The seconds seem to stretch too long and Harry feels a tad lightheaded. Mercifully, Tom pulls back. “Is that what you wish for?” He asks.
“Yes,” Harry breathes out. “Court me properly, Tom Riddle.”
Harry very nearly regrets his statement as Tom retreats, creating a considerable space between them, before he smirks again. But this smirk means trouble. This smirk means that Tom will probably go above and beyond, quite possibly embarrassing Harry in the process, to fulfill his request.
“If that is what you want, darling,” Tom promises.
Oh, I’m so fucked, Harry thinks.