FIC: The Bonds of the Heart ~ NC-17 ~ HPTR
Title: The Bonds of the Heart
Author: batsutousai
Rating: NC-17(of course)
Pairings: Tom/Harry(mentions of various others including but not limited to Neville/Draco, Ginny/Harry, Remus/Severus)
Warnings/Kinks: Angst, mentions of character death, post-war fic, slash/yaoi, mentioned het, dirty mouths, sappy/fluffy romance(*gags*)
Summary: CHALLENGE FIC: When Harry Potter and Tom Riddle say they can't live without each other, they really aren't joking. Obligation and affection are two very different things.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Challenge handed forth by Naked!Tom Whore/hirei.
A/N: Took me long enough to get my arse in gear and write this bloody thing.... -.-
I tried to keep them as IC as I could. Please let me know if I managed that? *puppy eyes*
I don't write romance. I hate writing fluff and sap. I'm sorry. *bursts into tears and begs for forgiveness*
THIS IS A ONE-SHOT.
A ONE-SHOT, DAMNIT.
I'M NOT WRITING ANYMORE.
ONE CHAPTER.
NO MORE.
I'LL THROW THINGS AT YOU, LIKE DEAD PENS AND MY BROKEN DVD DRIVE IF YOU PESTER ME, DAMNIT.
ONLY ONE CHAPTER.
*glares knowingly and stocks up on dead pens and sharp rocks*
Harry Potter faced his opponent with a grim smile. The battlefield around them sounded with curses and hexes of varying degrees of seriousness. Only he and his opponent had no words.
Both men raised their extra wands - their originals wouldn't work, after all - and silently mouthed a curse.
Their curses raced at one another and, too late, both wizards realized that this would not work. Indeed, the curses rebounded, turning on their creators in a glorious explosion of lights and a void of silence.
Then, all went dark.
-~/\~-
He woke to pain. It was so intense, he couldn't even scream. Was this hell? Is that why it hurt?
How was it that he could think, but not speak?
His movement - that of one in pain - warned the watching nurse that something was wrong. She ran for the doctor, only to find him worrying over the other man they found among a sea of bodies. Only these two had survived. It had looked like a war ground.
The doctor ordered that the two men be moved back together as they had been originally. At least then they could watch them together.
His pain, it had stopped. Why? He opened his eyes.
Emerald green met ruby red. "You," they spoke as one.
There was a cough and both pairs of eyes - each unique in their own way - turned to a man in a white Muggle doctor's uniform. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," the Muggle said evenly, not allowing his nervousness at those strange eyes to show on his face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'd feel much better if he weren't here," the man with green eyes muttered, looking away.
"I'd feel better if you were dead, Potter," the red-eyed man spat.
The doctor sighed. Great, old rivalries. Just what I need, he thought, trying not to scream. "Gentlemen, might I enquire about your names?"
"I'm Harry Potter, he's Tom Riddle," the green-eyed one said evenly.
"That is not my name, you half-wit."
"What would you rather I call you? Mother-fuck-"
"Gentlemen!"
"He's no gentleman!" both shouted, pointing their fingers at each other.
The doctor felt like he was in primary school again. "I need the phone numbers of your closest family-"
"Dead," Mr Riddle said sharply.
"Same," Mr Potter agreed, shooting his room mate a furious look.
Screaming was sounding better and better every other moment. The doctor pursed his lips. "You two are stuck in this room, together, until we see fit to let you out. Learn to get along, gentlemen," he stated coldly, then spun on his heels and stalked from the room. He slammed the door behind him, then leaned against it.
"This is all your fault!" Riddle shouted.
"My fault?! Excuse me?! Who tried to kill who first, you fucking arse-wipe?" Potter shot back.
The doctor left with a groan. As long as they're still alive tomorrow...
-~/\~-
One Month Later
-~\/~-
The doctor walked into the room to find the two men staring at each other sullenly. They'd been like that since Riddle had gotten fed up one day and stalked from the room. They had dragged him back after he'd collapsed in pain three rooms down and neither had spoken a word since then.
"Look, gentlemen..." The doctor let out an aggravated sound when neither looked away from the other. "BOYS!"
Green and red turned around to glare at their shared doctor.
"The hospital and I agree that you are both well enough to go back out into the real world. You said, Mr Potter, that you had a house in London?"
Potter nodded silently.
"Your clothing is right here," he held up a pile of clothing, "and there will be a van out front in five minutes that will take you to where ever in London it is that you need to go."
"What about pay?" Riddle asked suddenly.
"We billed your banks." The doctor set down the pile of clothing on a chair, then turn and left.
Riddle and Potter stared at each other for a long moment, then Potter spoke, "Look, you fucker. I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me. We're going to Diagon Alley and finding out what happened after we both got knocked out, then we'll go to my house. We'll figure out what to do after that. Agreed?"
"Fine," Riddle spat, then got up, grabbed his clothing, and slammed into the bathroom.
Potter sighed and dressed in the main room without complaint.
-~/\~-
The Leaky Cauldron was empty. When they got into Diagon Alley through the open portal, they found that it, too, was empty. A sheet of newspaper blew over and struck Potter in the face. The two men looked down at it and let out similar exclamations of horror:
MAGIC GONE?!
Witches and Wizards Everywhere Complain of Lack of Magic
"Nonsense!" Riddle asked, grabbing the paper from Potter's hands and ripping it in half.
Potter grabbed the paper before Riddle could finish ripping it to shreds and dropped it on the ground, then pointed at it. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Both stared at the unmoving paper for a long moment, then Riddle stepped forward and tried.
Again, the paper was still.
"Nonsense?" Potter said, turning on his horrified enemy. "What spell did you use?"
"The same as yourself," Riddle replied. "The Magic-Less Curse."
"The worst future a wizard will ever face-" Potter started.
"-is one in which he has no magic," Riddle finished.
They stared at one another in horror for a long moment.
"What have we done?" Potter whispered, then fell to his knees and cried.
Riddle just stared down the empty street. What have we done? his mind echoed his sworn enemy.
-~/\~-
After a night's sleep at the freakishly silent home Potter had inherited from his godfather, the two enemies went together to find the bank that Gringotts must have become.
They found Gringotts in what had once been St Mungo's. They'd finally re-made the Muggle inside and created a bank out of it. Goblins no longer ran the bank. Rather, small humans with bad attitudes ran it.
"I think we can guess what happened to the other magical creatures now," Potter murmured as they got in a line before one of the windows.
"I can't believe I'm stuck as a Muggle," came Riddle's aggravated response. It was the only thing he'd really said since they'd learned that they were just as barren as the rest of their world.
Potter rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Both men stayed silent until they got to the head of the line.
"Names?" asked the once-goblin.
"Harry Potter and Tom Riddle," Potter murmured, leaning forward secretively.
The once-goblin's eyes widened. "Come through here, then follow me," he ordered, opening a small swinging gate next to his window.
Potter grabbed Riddle's arm and half-dragged the elder man after him. Even though magic was gone, distance between himself and Riddle hurt like hell. Potter thought it might be left from their original bond. Riddle had no thoughts on the matter. Or, at least, none he was sharing.
The once-goblin led them down a hall to a tall door. He knocked on it firmly, then motioned for them to enter when someone on the other side called, "Come in!"
Potter led the way in to the office, smirking when Riddle hurried to follow him; the ex-Dark Lord certainly hadn't forgotten the time he'd collapsed back at the hospital. The two took the empty chairs in front of the desk and remained calm and silent as the once-goblin on the other side of the desk looked them over with a sneer.
"How the mighty have fallen," the now-man finally spat, his dark eyes glinting with hatred. "What do you fools think of the world you fought over now?"
Riddle's face turned nasty and he opened his mouth to speak, but Potter managed first, "We wouldn't know - we haven't seen much. We just got out of the hospital ourselves."
"And is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Don't you tal-"
"Would you keep your mouth shut for once, you moron?!" Potter hissed furiously at his companion.
"You're dead, Potter," Riddle replied with a cold look.
"I dare you," Potter hissed back, meeting cold look with cold look.
The once-goblin cleared his throat after a few minutes worth of staring contest, feeling much better knowing that the two who had caused their world's plight were having just as much, if not more, trouble dealing as his people were. "What is it that you fools came here for?" he growled, determined to not let his pleasure at the two's fighting show.
"I need money out of my vault," Potter offered after shooting Riddle one last look of pure loathing. "Food is key to living after all, despite what this fool may say to the contrary." A self-satisfied smirk bloomed on his face when Riddle growled.
"I will not be needing anything today," the ex-Dark Lord said in a high-and-mighty voice.
"So you're going to starve," Potter replied, standing.
"What?" Riddle gave Potter a strange look.
Potter smiled innocently. "You can't seriously think that I'll be wasting my money to feed your lazy ass, you fucker. If you want to eat, you need to get your own money."
Riddle growled again, but stood. "Fine." He looked at their audience with a disgusted look. "We'll both be getting money from our vaults."
The once-goblin snorted. "Sit down, you fools. We do things the Muggle way now, which means that you have paperwork to fill out and then we'll give you ATM cards."
"Of course..." Potter sat again calmly.
Riddle looked lost. "What?"
Potter snickered. "ATM cards, you moron, are what Muggles use to get their money from designated machines - it draws the money from your account. If you get the right sort of card, you can also use your card to make purchases at stores without ever actually touching the money."
"Finally. A wizard I don't have to explain this to," the once-goblin whispered, relieved. "Mr Potter, you can have a wonderful time explaining the wonders - or horrors, considering who this is - of the Muggle world to Mr Riddle later. Right now, I need both of you to sign these papers." He slid two small piles of paper across the desk to them, a pen on top of each stack.
Potter quickly started through his papers, signing away with calm ease - it obviously wasn't the first time he'd dealt with money in the Muggle world. Riddle, on the other hand, was still stuck on making the pen write. "Merlin...damn..."
Potter reached over, clicked the top of the pen, then went back to his papers without a word. Riddle glared at him. "Sign your fucking papers, you bastard," Potter muttered under his breath, not looking up.
Riddle let out another growl, but did as he was told. It took him an extra moment to adapt to the Muggle pen, but he didn't end up needing any more help from Potter.
Once the two had finished their stacks of papers, they were traded for bank cards. "We'll have this information keyed in by the end of the day, until then, you can't use any ATMs. Expect check books later this week in the mail. For now, how much would each of you like to withdraw?"
"Two hundred pounds should do it for today, I think," Potter spoke. When Riddle opened his mouth to speak, Potter shot him a sharp look, then added, "Two hundred for each of us."
"Excuse you, Potter," Riddle spat. "But I don't remember saying that you could decide my finances for me."
Potter just gave him a bored look. "When was the last time you used Muggle money?"
Riddle sneered, but didn't respond.
The once-goblin snickered, then passed four hundred pounds across the desk from the locked money drawer in his desk. "I'll have this debited from both of your accounts immediately. Make sure you have the appliances needed to keep things cool," he suggested as Potter took his two hundred and held the rest out to Riddle.
Potter nodded. "I think I'm good, but thank you for the suggestion," he said calmly, then stood. "Come on, you moron. We need to get some food and a change of clothing. Then we need to go back to the house and make sure everything is working right - some of the things were using magic to keep them running."
"Don't order me around," Riddle snapped.
Potter shrugged. "Unless you'd rather remain here, of course." He had the door opened before Riddle reacted.
"Wait, damnit! You can't leave without me!!" Riddle hurried from his seat and dashed after Potter, who was acting as if he hadn't heard him. "I hate you," he spat, grabbing Potter's shoulder in a painful grip.
Potter frowned at him. "Next time I say 'come on', why don't you just follow me, instead of fighting with me about it?"
"I don't let people order me-"
"Tom, you're not Voldemort anymore. Grow up," Potter muttered tiredly before jerking his shoulder from the other's grip. "Let's go." He started towards the exit of the bank.
Riddle bared his teeth at Potter's back, but followed him anyway, taking care to remain within a few metres of him at all times. It wouldn't do to collapse in front of all these people, now would it?
-~/\~-
One Month Later
-~\/~-
Potter felt ill. It was the third day in a row, and he was sick of it. He wanted to go to a doctor and see if someone could figure out what was wrong with him this time, but he didn't want Riddle finding out. While they had gotten to the point that being on opposite levels of the house or opposite sides of a department store no longer left them feeling dizzy or caused one of them to faint, they still had to remain in a same building together. Outside, it was as it had been when they woke in the hospital - more than five metres of distance between them was liable to leave them both screaming and one of the two were certain to faint if they pushed it too much. The two had tested the hell out of their bond to see if they had any freedom at all; they hadn't been particularly pleased with the results.
Potter sighed and shifted restlessly on the couch in the lounge. Despite his illness, he hadn't found any real problems when it came to living with Riddle. The elder man spent his every free waking moment in the Black Family library. Both Potter and Riddle did their best to stay out of the other's way as much as possible and they only forced themselves upon each other on Fridays to go out to any stores they needed to go to. Meals were generally taken at different times, though there had been the rare evening meal that both Potter and Riddle ended up in the kitchen at the same time for. On those occasions, however, they would remain silently polite and make their food quickly before returning to their respective hiding holes.
Potter's train of thought was broken when he heard someone at the doorway of the lounge. Riddle was leaning against the door frame, looking as crappy as Potter felt.
"You too, then?" Riddle commented in a quiet voice.
Potter closed his eyes and nodded, not feeling like exerting the effort needed to pull together an actual response to that.
Riddle stepped unsteadily over to the couch and Potter moved his legs so the other could sit. Riddle did, then held out a book to Potter, his finger marking a page. "I think I may have figured out why we're sick," he offered.
Potter shrugged, ignoring the book offer. He wasn't fond of reading on the best of days, let alone when he wasn't feeling well. "Let's hear it, then," he muttered, but the words had no bite to them, as they might have a few days ago.
Riddle sighed and leaned back against the couch, hugging the book to his chest. "The bond we had as wizards was unique, as you know, and when we were forced into this Muggle lifestyle, that bond had to become Mug-"
"We've already discussed this," Potter said tiredly.
"Would you just shut up and listen for once?" Riddle grumbled. This illness was really making it hard to put any real feeling in his words.
"Just don't beat around the brush for once - I'm too tired for it right now," Potter sighed.
"Fine." Riddle flipped open the book to the page he'd been holding, unintentionally resting his arm against Potter's leg. "The Muggles, of course, have their own forms of non-magical bonding - like marriage, family, and blood siblings. I found a reference to an older Muggle practise that appears to have been created when the Muggle and magical worlds had been melded together millennia ago and somehow survived. It was a bonding that was based around arranged marriages."
"Sounds cruel," Potter commented thoughtfully.
Riddle smirked. "Basically, the two who are bonded cannot do much of anything without each other. Ignoring the bond will make both ill and may even kill them if taken too far."
Potter's eyes had widened comically. "You think that's the bond that's been created between us?!"
Riddle stared at the younger wizard. "Are you feeling any better?"
Potter paused and thought about it, then nodded fearfully.
Riddle nodded down to where his arm and Potter's leg were touching. "Physical contact lessens the symptoms."
Potter looked like he might actually be ill and he drew his legs away from his housemate. "I'm going to hate myself for asking this, but did you find a way to end this thing?"
Riddle felt rather ill himself as he recalled what he'd read. "Consummate the bond," he stated in as even a voice as he could.
Potter rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "That's what I was afraid of." He let out a little laugh that sounded almost like a sob. "The worst luck."
Riddle stood with a groan. "I don't like this any more than you do, Potter," he pointed out darkly.
Potter let out another laugh-sob. "You're the genius here; what do you suggest for now?"
Riddle stared down at the book in his hands. "We'll just have to stop avoiding each other so much."
Potter glanced up at Riddle and the elder wasn't surprised to see tears in the jade eyes. "Well, we'll just have to start eating together, I guess."
Riddle sighed. "You're aware that the bond will, eventually, force us to consummate it or it will kill us?"
"I know. I'm just...just..."
"Not ready for this right now?" Riddle supplied.
"Yeah."
Riddle glanced up at the clock above the fireplace. "I'll see you at five for dinner, then?"
"That should be fine," Potter agreed wearily.
Riddle nodded sharply, then walked from the room to return to the library. Each step farther away from the lounge made him feel a little worse, but it was nothing like the illness of earlier. Their brief contact hadn't been enough to appease the bond, but there was no way they would be able to stand one another's presence for long enough at this point to do so. They would just have to feel ill for a while.
-~/\~-
By the time Friday came around, the two sworn enemies had yelled at each other twelve times and come to blows three times. Neither felt like they were about to die of some unknown illness anymore, but they were so sick of each other that they almost agreed to not go out shopping and be forced to spend the whole day together.
Breakfast showed them that they had no choice but to go out, however, as they were both low on food and Potter needed some new dishes - their last fight had included flying plates and a number of them had broken.
Potter took a deep breath at the door of the house and turned to look Riddle in the eyes. He held out a hand. "Let us agree to keep our comments to ourselves and at least try and act civil to each other while we're out of the house," he suggested.
Riddle was tempted to sneer and refuse, but he was acutely aware of both how much of a blow Potter's pride must have taken for him to say that and how much of a blow his own pride would take if they started a fight out in public. So he took Potter's hand and they shook on it.
"Right, then. Le-" Potter paused and glanced at Riddle out of the corner of his eyes. "Sorry. Shall we head out?"
Riddle nodded. "Let's," he agreed, impressed at Potter's attempt to not order him around for once. Not that Potter ordering him around wasn't needed sometimes - Riddle just didn't understand some things about the modern Muggle world and he probably would have already caused a number of faux pas if the Muggle-bred ex-wizard hadn't been there to stop him from making an ass out of himself.
The two remained silent during the walk to the nearby grocery. Instead of splitting up as soon as they entered the building - as they usually did - Potter and Riddle each grabbed a hand basket and walked up and down the aisles together. They remained mostly silent for the trip, only speaking to point out a deal on something that didn't look too bad - they were still eating together, after all, and a meal for two would be easier than each making their own meals. After checking out, they walked their purchases home and put them away without shouting at one another.
Done re-stocking their food, the two walked out to the nearest bus stop, then took the bus into the city. There was a small shop that Potter had gotten his first set of dishware at during the war that they went to.
Once inside, Riddle immediately noticed a pattern that he liked better than the swirling brown and tan dishes that Potter had. He pointed them out to Potter. "How about those ones?"
Potter cocked his head at the floral pattern. The green flower stalks looked surprisingly like snakes while the red and blue flowers looked suspiciously like lion and eagle heads respectfully. The background was a soothing yellow and the flowers were arranged in such a way that it looked as if a badger was taking up the centre of the image. Potter picked up one of the plates with sad eyes. "It's the Houses," he said softly to his companion.
Riddle picked up a bowl and inspected it. On the bottom, he found what he'd been looking for. "Here, see?"
Potter blinked back tears at the name scrawled on the back. "Do you think he's here?"
Riddle pursed his lips and scowled at the name for a long moment before stating, "We can certainly ask."
Potter sighed and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nah. We don't have to visit with him."
"I can put up with the coot for five minutes, you know," Riddle grumbled, setting the bowl down carefully.
Potter let out a gentle laugh and Riddle was surprised at how free it sounded - he certainly hadn't ever heard the younger man laugh like that before. "Do you really like these dishes, Tom?"
Riddle blinked in surprise a few times. Potter had only used his given name a few times before, and usually it was filled with venom. This time, he just sounded curious. Riddle fought back the happiness that threatened to suffocate him and cursed the bond angrily.
"Tom?"
"I-" Riddle glanced down at the careless hand on his arm. "Yeah, I do."
Potter smiled and made a note of the make number. "Let's go order them, then," he suggested cheerfully.
"You don't mind?" Riddle asked, curious. They would, technically, be Potter's dishes, not his.
Potter shrugged. "They remind me of what we lost," he explained simply. "And, anyway, if you like them, you're less likely to start throwing them at me."
Riddle rolled his eyes at the playful banter. "You always could have caught them, you know."
Potter laughed his free laugh again, then walked up to the counter to talk to the young woman there about ordering a set of the dishes. Riddle followed him after taking a moment longer to stare at the dishes. He wondered if Dumbledore was near by, perhaps in the shop? A part of him was glad that Potter had decided that trying to find the old man wasn't worth it, but another part of him wanted to know how Dumbledore was coping with the loss of his magic. Knowing the eccentric old man, he was probably just fine.
"Bookstore next, then?" Potter inquire as he walked back over to Riddle.
Riddle blinked. "Are they delivering the dishes to the house or something?"
Potter shook his head with a smile. "No, she's going to pack a set up for us. We'll have to drop back by on our way home, but that shouldn't be a problem."
Riddle nodded. "Okay, then. Shall we?"
"Let's," Potter replied.
The two walked out of the store and across the street in a peaceful silence.
Blue eyes smiled down at the two unusual men from a workshop above the store they'd just been in. Sure that his two once-students wouldn't be killing one another any time soon, Dumbledore went back to his dishware.
-~/\~-
The week after their trip to town followed in much the same way that their daily life had been before that Friday. The two were back to fighting constantly, though they were careful to not break the new dishes.
It was Wednesday when Riddle finally decided he'd had enough. He left the safety of the library an hour before dinner and stalked over to the lounge. As expected, Potter was stretched out on the couch, a book of word searches on one hand and a pen in the other.
Riddle cleared his throat.
"Either start talking, or go away. I'm not in the mood to put up with you today," Potter snapped, not looking up.
"What changed?" Riddle inquired, fighting to keep his voice even. "We were getting along smashingly on Friday, but come Saturday we were back at each others' throats again."
"Our truce was over," Potter replied coldly. "Why, bastard? Did you like that day without being snapped at?" The younger man looked up at his housemate, ready to throw out another insult, but he froze when he saw the open pain in the ruby eyes.
The two stared at one another for a long moment before Riddle turned away. "I'm going to bed early. Have dinner without me."
Potter started to rise from his seat, puzzle book and pen forgotten. "To-!"
"Shut the fuck up," Riddle snapped before spinning on the balls of his feet and stalking towards the stairs to the upper levels.
Potter jumped over the back of the couch and hurried after the ex-Dark Lord. "I'm sorry!"
Riddle's door slamming was the only answer he got.
Potter hurried up the rest of the stairs and came to stand in front of Riddle's door. "Tom, please!" he cried.
Something hit the door and shattered, making Potter flinch. "Go to hell, you hypocrite!" Riddle screamed.
Potter dropped to the ground and hunched over, feeling horrible. He'd been so happy on Friday. He and Riddle had been getting along wonderfully and he'd almost felt like a real person again. But Friday night he'd had a vivid nightmare about the war and so the first thing he'd done Saturday morning was snap at his housemate. Things had just gone downhill from there, helped along by a string of nightmares that left him snappy in the morning, which would, inevitably, start another fight that would just escalate during the day.
In the silence, Potter heard sobs and it took him a moment to realize it was him. He clutched his knees to his chest, then started speaking, careful to keep his voice even, "I had a nightmare Friday night. It was about that night when Lucius Malfoy snuck into the school so he could drag me back to you. When he killed Neville, remember? And then Draco cursed his father with some nasty dark curse. Lucius managed to get out the Killing Curse one last time to kill Draco before he died."
The hallway remained silent.
"On Saturday night, I dreamed of your attack on Hogsmeade right before Christmas. I saw Ginny falling to Wormtail's wand right before Hermione killed him with a well-aimed Slashing Hex; she was so broken up after that, after having killed someone. It was like we'd lost Hermione along with Ginny, and Ron wasn't doing much better."
Riddle's door creaked open and his head poked out, but Potter didn't seem to notice.
"On Sunday, I watched as Bellatrix cursed Sirius back into the Veil. The memory kept playing over and over again and each time I was too slow to save him."
Riddle stepped out into the hall proper, eyes downcast and wet, just as Potter's own eyes were.
"On Monday night, I saw Ron jump in the way of a Killing Curse that was meant for me. And while I was distracted by killing his killer, Hermione was behind me, killing again and then getting killed herself. Falling to Bellatrix before I could kill her."
Riddle knelt before Potter on the ground, unsure whether or not he should touch the younger man.
"And last night..." Potter glanced up and the broken look in those jade eyes made Riddle gasp. "...I dreamed of the Final Battle. I remembered seeing Remus fighting Greyback and Snape fighting Dolohov nearby. And then we both cast and everything went black." Two tears made their ways from each of Potter's eyes, down his already damp cheeks. "And I was so angry at you and at myself and so I started snapping at you about every stupid little thing and you got hurt for it and I'm so sorry-"
Riddle leaned forward and pulled Potter against his chest, eyes closed tightly. He understood now why Potter had been such an ass the whole week. The war had been hard on both sides, though it was, no doubt, worse on the 'light' side, as so many of them were children who had never seen war before and who lost their friends before their very eyes. Riddle had been careful to not let himself care about anyone on his side more than the short grief over the loss of a good fighter. Cruel, but effective.
"I'm sorry too, Harry," Riddle whispered to the younger man. "I'm sorry..."
Potter wrapped his arms around Riddle and buried his face in the elder man's shirt before breaking out into sobs. Riddle just held him, feeling tears on his own face. Why did it have to hurt to care about someone?
-~/\~-
Potter had ended up crying himself to sleep outside Riddle's room, and the elder man hadn't been able to muster the strength to take the sleeping man any farther than his own room. So he set Potter in the bed, then crawled in with him. It felt good to be holding the younger man, and Riddle cursed the bond until he fell asleep.
-~/\~-
Potter woke, for the first time since before the Final Battle, feeling safe and warm. Rather than open his eyes and figure out why he felt so good, he just snuggled closer to the person holding him.
Wait. Person?!
Potter opened his eyes and swallowed hard at the sight of the sleeping ex-Dark Lord. It scared him a little that he wasn't as bothered as he thought he should be by the knowledge that he was in the same bed as Riddle. Given, they were, at least, both still dressed, but still....
Riddle let out a strange sigh and his eyes blinked open slowly. When he recognized the green eyes watching him, he choked. "H-Harry?!"
Potter blinked, hadn't Riddle called him Harry last night? Riddle never used his first name. "Morning," he responded softly.
Realization coloured ruby eyes and Riddle groaned. "I'm sorry. I didn't feel up to carrying you to your room last night, so I just brought you in here and..."
Potter shook his head, then rested it on Riddle's chest, smiling when he heard his frantic heartbeat. "It's okay, Tom. It's..." He paused, realizing how sappy that was going to sound.
"What?" Riddle inquired, wrapping his arms around the younger man.
Potter swallowed. "It's nice. I-I don't remember the last time I woke feeling..."
"Safe?" Riddle supplied softly.
"Yeah."
"I know." Riddle bowed his head so he was breathing in the scent of the other's hair. "It's the bond."
"I know. I just...can't bring myself to care right now."
"Yeah..."
It was too long for LJ. Part Two
Author: batsutousai
Rating: NC-17(of course)
Pairings: Tom/Harry(mentions of various others including but not limited to Neville/Draco, Ginny/Harry, Remus/Severus)
Warnings/Kinks: Angst, mentions of character death, post-war fic, slash/yaoi, mentioned het, dirty mouths, sappy/fluffy romance(*gags*)
Summary: CHALLENGE FIC: When Harry Potter and Tom Riddle say they can't live without each other, they really aren't joking. Obligation and affection are two very different things.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Challenge handed forth by Naked!Tom Whore/hirei.
A/N: Took me long enough to get my arse in gear and write this bloody thing.... -.-
I tried to keep them as IC as I could. Please let me know if I managed that? *puppy eyes*
I don't write romance. I hate writing fluff and sap. I'm sorry. *bursts into tears and begs for forgiveness*
THIS IS A ONE-SHOT.
A ONE-SHOT, DAMNIT.
I'M NOT WRITING ANYMORE.
ONE CHAPTER.
NO MORE.
I'LL THROW THINGS AT YOU, LIKE DEAD PENS AND MY BROKEN DVD DRIVE IF YOU PESTER ME, DAMNIT.
ONLY ONE CHAPTER.
*glares knowingly and stocks up on dead pens and sharp rocks*
Harry Potter faced his opponent with a grim smile. The battlefield around them sounded with curses and hexes of varying degrees of seriousness. Only he and his opponent had no words.
Both men raised their extra wands - their originals wouldn't work, after all - and silently mouthed a curse.
Their curses raced at one another and, too late, both wizards realized that this would not work. Indeed, the curses rebounded, turning on their creators in a glorious explosion of lights and a void of silence.
Then, all went dark.
-~/\~-
He woke to pain. It was so intense, he couldn't even scream. Was this hell? Is that why it hurt?
How was it that he could think, but not speak?
His movement - that of one in pain - warned the watching nurse that something was wrong. She ran for the doctor, only to find him worrying over the other man they found among a sea of bodies. Only these two had survived. It had looked like a war ground.
The doctor ordered that the two men be moved back together as they had been originally. At least then they could watch them together.
His pain, it had stopped. Why? He opened his eyes.
Emerald green met ruby red. "You," they spoke as one.
There was a cough and both pairs of eyes - each unique in their own way - turned to a man in a white Muggle doctor's uniform. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," the Muggle said evenly, not allowing his nervousness at those strange eyes to show on his face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'd feel much better if he weren't here," the man with green eyes muttered, looking away.
"I'd feel better if you were dead, Potter," the red-eyed man spat.
The doctor sighed. Great, old rivalries. Just what I need, he thought, trying not to scream. "Gentlemen, might I enquire about your names?"
"I'm Harry Potter, he's Tom Riddle," the green-eyed one said evenly.
"That is not my name, you half-wit."
"What would you rather I call you? Mother-fuck-"
"Gentlemen!"
"He's no gentleman!" both shouted, pointing their fingers at each other.
The doctor felt like he was in primary school again. "I need the phone numbers of your closest family-"
"Dead," Mr Riddle said sharply.
"Same," Mr Potter agreed, shooting his room mate a furious look.
Screaming was sounding better and better every other moment. The doctor pursed his lips. "You two are stuck in this room, together, until we see fit to let you out. Learn to get along, gentlemen," he stated coldly, then spun on his heels and stalked from the room. He slammed the door behind him, then leaned against it.
"This is all your fault!" Riddle shouted.
"My fault?! Excuse me?! Who tried to kill who first, you fucking arse-wipe?" Potter shot back.
The doctor left with a groan. As long as they're still alive tomorrow...
-~/\~-
One Month Later
-~\/~-
The doctor walked into the room to find the two men staring at each other sullenly. They'd been like that since Riddle had gotten fed up one day and stalked from the room. They had dragged him back after he'd collapsed in pain three rooms down and neither had spoken a word since then.
"Look, gentlemen..." The doctor let out an aggravated sound when neither looked away from the other. "BOYS!"
Green and red turned around to glare at their shared doctor.
"The hospital and I agree that you are both well enough to go back out into the real world. You said, Mr Potter, that you had a house in London?"
Potter nodded silently.
"Your clothing is right here," he held up a pile of clothing, "and there will be a van out front in five minutes that will take you to where ever in London it is that you need to go."
"What about pay?" Riddle asked suddenly.
"We billed your banks." The doctor set down the pile of clothing on a chair, then turn and left.
Riddle and Potter stared at each other for a long moment, then Potter spoke, "Look, you fucker. I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me. We're going to Diagon Alley and finding out what happened after we both got knocked out, then we'll go to my house. We'll figure out what to do after that. Agreed?"
"Fine," Riddle spat, then got up, grabbed his clothing, and slammed into the bathroom.
Potter sighed and dressed in the main room without complaint.
-~/\~-
The Leaky Cauldron was empty. When they got into Diagon Alley through the open portal, they found that it, too, was empty. A sheet of newspaper blew over and struck Potter in the face. The two men looked down at it and let out similar exclamations of horror:
MAGIC GONE?!
Witches and Wizards Everywhere Complain of Lack of Magic
"Nonsense!" Riddle asked, grabbing the paper from Potter's hands and ripping it in half.
Potter grabbed the paper before Riddle could finish ripping it to shreds and dropped it on the ground, then pointed at it. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Both stared at the unmoving paper for a long moment, then Riddle stepped forward and tried.
Again, the paper was still.
"Nonsense?" Potter said, turning on his horrified enemy. "What spell did you use?"
"The same as yourself," Riddle replied. "The Magic-Less Curse."
"The worst future a wizard will ever face-" Potter started.
"-is one in which he has no magic," Riddle finished.
They stared at one another in horror for a long moment.
"What have we done?" Potter whispered, then fell to his knees and cried.
Riddle just stared down the empty street. What have we done? his mind echoed his sworn enemy.
-~/\~-
After a night's sleep at the freakishly silent home Potter had inherited from his godfather, the two enemies went together to find the bank that Gringotts must have become.
They found Gringotts in what had once been St Mungo's. They'd finally re-made the Muggle inside and created a bank out of it. Goblins no longer ran the bank. Rather, small humans with bad attitudes ran it.
"I think we can guess what happened to the other magical creatures now," Potter murmured as they got in a line before one of the windows.
"I can't believe I'm stuck as a Muggle," came Riddle's aggravated response. It was the only thing he'd really said since they'd learned that they were just as barren as the rest of their world.
Potter rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Both men stayed silent until they got to the head of the line.
"Names?" asked the once-goblin.
"Harry Potter and Tom Riddle," Potter murmured, leaning forward secretively.
The once-goblin's eyes widened. "Come through here, then follow me," he ordered, opening a small swinging gate next to his window.
Potter grabbed Riddle's arm and half-dragged the elder man after him. Even though magic was gone, distance between himself and Riddle hurt like hell. Potter thought it might be left from their original bond. Riddle had no thoughts on the matter. Or, at least, none he was sharing.
The once-goblin led them down a hall to a tall door. He knocked on it firmly, then motioned for them to enter when someone on the other side called, "Come in!"
Potter led the way in to the office, smirking when Riddle hurried to follow him; the ex-Dark Lord certainly hadn't forgotten the time he'd collapsed back at the hospital. The two took the empty chairs in front of the desk and remained calm and silent as the once-goblin on the other side of the desk looked them over with a sneer.
"How the mighty have fallen," the now-man finally spat, his dark eyes glinting with hatred. "What do you fools think of the world you fought over now?"
Riddle's face turned nasty and he opened his mouth to speak, but Potter managed first, "We wouldn't know - we haven't seen much. We just got out of the hospital ourselves."
"And is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Don't you tal-"
"Would you keep your mouth shut for once, you moron?!" Potter hissed furiously at his companion.
"You're dead, Potter," Riddle replied with a cold look.
"I dare you," Potter hissed back, meeting cold look with cold look.
The once-goblin cleared his throat after a few minutes worth of staring contest, feeling much better knowing that the two who had caused their world's plight were having just as much, if not more, trouble dealing as his people were. "What is it that you fools came here for?" he growled, determined to not let his pleasure at the two's fighting show.
"I need money out of my vault," Potter offered after shooting Riddle one last look of pure loathing. "Food is key to living after all, despite what this fool may say to the contrary." A self-satisfied smirk bloomed on his face when Riddle growled.
"I will not be needing anything today," the ex-Dark Lord said in a high-and-mighty voice.
"So you're going to starve," Potter replied, standing.
"What?" Riddle gave Potter a strange look.
Potter smiled innocently. "You can't seriously think that I'll be wasting my money to feed your lazy ass, you fucker. If you want to eat, you need to get your own money."
Riddle growled again, but stood. "Fine." He looked at their audience with a disgusted look. "We'll both be getting money from our vaults."
The once-goblin snorted. "Sit down, you fools. We do things the Muggle way now, which means that you have paperwork to fill out and then we'll give you ATM cards."
"Of course..." Potter sat again calmly.
Riddle looked lost. "What?"
Potter snickered. "ATM cards, you moron, are what Muggles use to get their money from designated machines - it draws the money from your account. If you get the right sort of card, you can also use your card to make purchases at stores without ever actually touching the money."
"Finally. A wizard I don't have to explain this to," the once-goblin whispered, relieved. "Mr Potter, you can have a wonderful time explaining the wonders - or horrors, considering who this is - of the Muggle world to Mr Riddle later. Right now, I need both of you to sign these papers." He slid two small piles of paper across the desk to them, a pen on top of each stack.
Potter quickly started through his papers, signing away with calm ease - it obviously wasn't the first time he'd dealt with money in the Muggle world. Riddle, on the other hand, was still stuck on making the pen write. "Merlin...damn..."
Potter reached over, clicked the top of the pen, then went back to his papers without a word. Riddle glared at him. "Sign your fucking papers, you bastard," Potter muttered under his breath, not looking up.
Riddle let out another growl, but did as he was told. It took him an extra moment to adapt to the Muggle pen, but he didn't end up needing any more help from Potter.
Once the two had finished their stacks of papers, they were traded for bank cards. "We'll have this information keyed in by the end of the day, until then, you can't use any ATMs. Expect check books later this week in the mail. For now, how much would each of you like to withdraw?"
"Two hundred pounds should do it for today, I think," Potter spoke. When Riddle opened his mouth to speak, Potter shot him a sharp look, then added, "Two hundred for each of us."
"Excuse you, Potter," Riddle spat. "But I don't remember saying that you could decide my finances for me."
Potter just gave him a bored look. "When was the last time you used Muggle money?"
Riddle sneered, but didn't respond.
The once-goblin snickered, then passed four hundred pounds across the desk from the locked money drawer in his desk. "I'll have this debited from both of your accounts immediately. Make sure you have the appliances needed to keep things cool," he suggested as Potter took his two hundred and held the rest out to Riddle.
Potter nodded. "I think I'm good, but thank you for the suggestion," he said calmly, then stood. "Come on, you moron. We need to get some food and a change of clothing. Then we need to go back to the house and make sure everything is working right - some of the things were using magic to keep them running."
"Don't order me around," Riddle snapped.
Potter shrugged. "Unless you'd rather remain here, of course." He had the door opened before Riddle reacted.
"Wait, damnit! You can't leave without me!!" Riddle hurried from his seat and dashed after Potter, who was acting as if he hadn't heard him. "I hate you," he spat, grabbing Potter's shoulder in a painful grip.
Potter frowned at him. "Next time I say 'come on', why don't you just follow me, instead of fighting with me about it?"
"I don't let people order me-"
"Tom, you're not Voldemort anymore. Grow up," Potter muttered tiredly before jerking his shoulder from the other's grip. "Let's go." He started towards the exit of the bank.
Riddle bared his teeth at Potter's back, but followed him anyway, taking care to remain within a few metres of him at all times. It wouldn't do to collapse in front of all these people, now would it?
-~/\~-
One Month Later
-~\/~-
Potter felt ill. It was the third day in a row, and he was sick of it. He wanted to go to a doctor and see if someone could figure out what was wrong with him this time, but he didn't want Riddle finding out. While they had gotten to the point that being on opposite levels of the house or opposite sides of a department store no longer left them feeling dizzy or caused one of them to faint, they still had to remain in a same building together. Outside, it was as it had been when they woke in the hospital - more than five metres of distance between them was liable to leave them both screaming and one of the two were certain to faint if they pushed it too much. The two had tested the hell out of their bond to see if they had any freedom at all; they hadn't been particularly pleased with the results.
Potter sighed and shifted restlessly on the couch in the lounge. Despite his illness, he hadn't found any real problems when it came to living with Riddle. The elder man spent his every free waking moment in the Black Family library. Both Potter and Riddle did their best to stay out of the other's way as much as possible and they only forced themselves upon each other on Fridays to go out to any stores they needed to go to. Meals were generally taken at different times, though there had been the rare evening meal that both Potter and Riddle ended up in the kitchen at the same time for. On those occasions, however, they would remain silently polite and make their food quickly before returning to their respective hiding holes.
Potter's train of thought was broken when he heard someone at the doorway of the lounge. Riddle was leaning against the door frame, looking as crappy as Potter felt.
"You too, then?" Riddle commented in a quiet voice.
Potter closed his eyes and nodded, not feeling like exerting the effort needed to pull together an actual response to that.
Riddle stepped unsteadily over to the couch and Potter moved his legs so the other could sit. Riddle did, then held out a book to Potter, his finger marking a page. "I think I may have figured out why we're sick," he offered.
Potter shrugged, ignoring the book offer. He wasn't fond of reading on the best of days, let alone when he wasn't feeling well. "Let's hear it, then," he muttered, but the words had no bite to them, as they might have a few days ago.
Riddle sighed and leaned back against the couch, hugging the book to his chest. "The bond we had as wizards was unique, as you know, and when we were forced into this Muggle lifestyle, that bond had to become Mug-"
"We've already discussed this," Potter said tiredly.
"Would you just shut up and listen for once?" Riddle grumbled. This illness was really making it hard to put any real feeling in his words.
"Just don't beat around the brush for once - I'm too tired for it right now," Potter sighed.
"Fine." Riddle flipped open the book to the page he'd been holding, unintentionally resting his arm against Potter's leg. "The Muggles, of course, have their own forms of non-magical bonding - like marriage, family, and blood siblings. I found a reference to an older Muggle practise that appears to have been created when the Muggle and magical worlds had been melded together millennia ago and somehow survived. It was a bonding that was based around arranged marriages."
"Sounds cruel," Potter commented thoughtfully.
Riddle smirked. "Basically, the two who are bonded cannot do much of anything without each other. Ignoring the bond will make both ill and may even kill them if taken too far."
Potter's eyes had widened comically. "You think that's the bond that's been created between us?!"
Riddle stared at the younger wizard. "Are you feeling any better?"
Potter paused and thought about it, then nodded fearfully.
Riddle nodded down to where his arm and Potter's leg were touching. "Physical contact lessens the symptoms."
Potter looked like he might actually be ill and he drew his legs away from his housemate. "I'm going to hate myself for asking this, but did you find a way to end this thing?"
Riddle felt rather ill himself as he recalled what he'd read. "Consummate the bond," he stated in as even a voice as he could.
Potter rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "That's what I was afraid of." He let out a little laugh that sounded almost like a sob. "The worst luck."
Riddle stood with a groan. "I don't like this any more than you do, Potter," he pointed out darkly.
Potter let out another laugh-sob. "You're the genius here; what do you suggest for now?"
Riddle stared down at the book in his hands. "We'll just have to stop avoiding each other so much."
Potter glanced up at Riddle and the elder wasn't surprised to see tears in the jade eyes. "Well, we'll just have to start eating together, I guess."
Riddle sighed. "You're aware that the bond will, eventually, force us to consummate it or it will kill us?"
"I know. I'm just...just..."
"Not ready for this right now?" Riddle supplied.
"Yeah."
Riddle glanced up at the clock above the fireplace. "I'll see you at five for dinner, then?"
"That should be fine," Potter agreed wearily.
Riddle nodded sharply, then walked from the room to return to the library. Each step farther away from the lounge made him feel a little worse, but it was nothing like the illness of earlier. Their brief contact hadn't been enough to appease the bond, but there was no way they would be able to stand one another's presence for long enough at this point to do so. They would just have to feel ill for a while.
-~/\~-
By the time Friday came around, the two sworn enemies had yelled at each other twelve times and come to blows three times. Neither felt like they were about to die of some unknown illness anymore, but they were so sick of each other that they almost agreed to not go out shopping and be forced to spend the whole day together.
Breakfast showed them that they had no choice but to go out, however, as they were both low on food and Potter needed some new dishes - their last fight had included flying plates and a number of them had broken.
Potter took a deep breath at the door of the house and turned to look Riddle in the eyes. He held out a hand. "Let us agree to keep our comments to ourselves and at least try and act civil to each other while we're out of the house," he suggested.
Riddle was tempted to sneer and refuse, but he was acutely aware of both how much of a blow Potter's pride must have taken for him to say that and how much of a blow his own pride would take if they started a fight out in public. So he took Potter's hand and they shook on it.
"Right, then. Le-" Potter paused and glanced at Riddle out of the corner of his eyes. "Sorry. Shall we head out?"
Riddle nodded. "Let's," he agreed, impressed at Potter's attempt to not order him around for once. Not that Potter ordering him around wasn't needed sometimes - Riddle just didn't understand some things about the modern Muggle world and he probably would have already caused a number of faux pas if the Muggle-bred ex-wizard hadn't been there to stop him from making an ass out of himself.
The two remained silent during the walk to the nearby grocery. Instead of splitting up as soon as they entered the building - as they usually did - Potter and Riddle each grabbed a hand basket and walked up and down the aisles together. They remained mostly silent for the trip, only speaking to point out a deal on something that didn't look too bad - they were still eating together, after all, and a meal for two would be easier than each making their own meals. After checking out, they walked their purchases home and put them away without shouting at one another.
Done re-stocking their food, the two walked out to the nearest bus stop, then took the bus into the city. There was a small shop that Potter had gotten his first set of dishware at during the war that they went to.
Once inside, Riddle immediately noticed a pattern that he liked better than the swirling brown and tan dishes that Potter had. He pointed them out to Potter. "How about those ones?"
Potter cocked his head at the floral pattern. The green flower stalks looked surprisingly like snakes while the red and blue flowers looked suspiciously like lion and eagle heads respectfully. The background was a soothing yellow and the flowers were arranged in such a way that it looked as if a badger was taking up the centre of the image. Potter picked up one of the plates with sad eyes. "It's the Houses," he said softly to his companion.
Riddle picked up a bowl and inspected it. On the bottom, he found what he'd been looking for. "Here, see?"
Potter blinked back tears at the name scrawled on the back. "Do you think he's here?"
Riddle pursed his lips and scowled at the name for a long moment before stating, "We can certainly ask."
Potter sighed and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nah. We don't have to visit with him."
"I can put up with the coot for five minutes, you know," Riddle grumbled, setting the bowl down carefully.
Potter let out a gentle laugh and Riddle was surprised at how free it sounded - he certainly hadn't ever heard the younger man laugh like that before. "Do you really like these dishes, Tom?"
Riddle blinked in surprise a few times. Potter had only used his given name a few times before, and usually it was filled with venom. This time, he just sounded curious. Riddle fought back the happiness that threatened to suffocate him and cursed the bond angrily.
"Tom?"
"I-" Riddle glanced down at the careless hand on his arm. "Yeah, I do."
Potter smiled and made a note of the make number. "Let's go order them, then," he suggested cheerfully.
"You don't mind?" Riddle asked, curious. They would, technically, be Potter's dishes, not his.
Potter shrugged. "They remind me of what we lost," he explained simply. "And, anyway, if you like them, you're less likely to start throwing them at me."
Riddle rolled his eyes at the playful banter. "You always could have caught them, you know."
Potter laughed his free laugh again, then walked up to the counter to talk to the young woman there about ordering a set of the dishes. Riddle followed him after taking a moment longer to stare at the dishes. He wondered if Dumbledore was near by, perhaps in the shop? A part of him was glad that Potter had decided that trying to find the old man wasn't worth it, but another part of him wanted to know how Dumbledore was coping with the loss of his magic. Knowing the eccentric old man, he was probably just fine.
"Bookstore next, then?" Potter inquire as he walked back over to Riddle.
Riddle blinked. "Are they delivering the dishes to the house or something?"
Potter shook his head with a smile. "No, she's going to pack a set up for us. We'll have to drop back by on our way home, but that shouldn't be a problem."
Riddle nodded. "Okay, then. Shall we?"
"Let's," Potter replied.
The two walked out of the store and across the street in a peaceful silence.
Blue eyes smiled down at the two unusual men from a workshop above the store they'd just been in. Sure that his two once-students wouldn't be killing one another any time soon, Dumbledore went back to his dishware.
-~/\~-
The week after their trip to town followed in much the same way that their daily life had been before that Friday. The two were back to fighting constantly, though they were careful to not break the new dishes.
It was Wednesday when Riddle finally decided he'd had enough. He left the safety of the library an hour before dinner and stalked over to the lounge. As expected, Potter was stretched out on the couch, a book of word searches on one hand and a pen in the other.
Riddle cleared his throat.
"Either start talking, or go away. I'm not in the mood to put up with you today," Potter snapped, not looking up.
"What changed?" Riddle inquired, fighting to keep his voice even. "We were getting along smashingly on Friday, but come Saturday we were back at each others' throats again."
"Our truce was over," Potter replied coldly. "Why, bastard? Did you like that day without being snapped at?" The younger man looked up at his housemate, ready to throw out another insult, but he froze when he saw the open pain in the ruby eyes.
The two stared at one another for a long moment before Riddle turned away. "I'm going to bed early. Have dinner without me."
Potter started to rise from his seat, puzzle book and pen forgotten. "To-!"
"Shut the fuck up," Riddle snapped before spinning on the balls of his feet and stalking towards the stairs to the upper levels.
Potter jumped over the back of the couch and hurried after the ex-Dark Lord. "I'm sorry!"
Riddle's door slamming was the only answer he got.
Potter hurried up the rest of the stairs and came to stand in front of Riddle's door. "Tom, please!" he cried.
Something hit the door and shattered, making Potter flinch. "Go to hell, you hypocrite!" Riddle screamed.
Potter dropped to the ground and hunched over, feeling horrible. He'd been so happy on Friday. He and Riddle had been getting along wonderfully and he'd almost felt like a real person again. But Friday night he'd had a vivid nightmare about the war and so the first thing he'd done Saturday morning was snap at his housemate. Things had just gone downhill from there, helped along by a string of nightmares that left him snappy in the morning, which would, inevitably, start another fight that would just escalate during the day.
In the silence, Potter heard sobs and it took him a moment to realize it was him. He clutched his knees to his chest, then started speaking, careful to keep his voice even, "I had a nightmare Friday night. It was about that night when Lucius Malfoy snuck into the school so he could drag me back to you. When he killed Neville, remember? And then Draco cursed his father with some nasty dark curse. Lucius managed to get out the Killing Curse one last time to kill Draco before he died."
The hallway remained silent.
"On Saturday night, I dreamed of your attack on Hogsmeade right before Christmas. I saw Ginny falling to Wormtail's wand right before Hermione killed him with a well-aimed Slashing Hex; she was so broken up after that, after having killed someone. It was like we'd lost Hermione along with Ginny, and Ron wasn't doing much better."
Riddle's door creaked open and his head poked out, but Potter didn't seem to notice.
"On Sunday, I watched as Bellatrix cursed Sirius back into the Veil. The memory kept playing over and over again and each time I was too slow to save him."
Riddle stepped out into the hall proper, eyes downcast and wet, just as Potter's own eyes were.
"On Monday night, I saw Ron jump in the way of a Killing Curse that was meant for me. And while I was distracted by killing his killer, Hermione was behind me, killing again and then getting killed herself. Falling to Bellatrix before I could kill her."
Riddle knelt before Potter on the ground, unsure whether or not he should touch the younger man.
"And last night..." Potter glanced up and the broken look in those jade eyes made Riddle gasp. "...I dreamed of the Final Battle. I remembered seeing Remus fighting Greyback and Snape fighting Dolohov nearby. And then we both cast and everything went black." Two tears made their ways from each of Potter's eyes, down his already damp cheeks. "And I was so angry at you and at myself and so I started snapping at you about every stupid little thing and you got hurt for it and I'm so sorry-"
Riddle leaned forward and pulled Potter against his chest, eyes closed tightly. He understood now why Potter had been such an ass the whole week. The war had been hard on both sides, though it was, no doubt, worse on the 'light' side, as so many of them were children who had never seen war before and who lost their friends before their very eyes. Riddle had been careful to not let himself care about anyone on his side more than the short grief over the loss of a good fighter. Cruel, but effective.
"I'm sorry too, Harry," Riddle whispered to the younger man. "I'm sorry..."
Potter wrapped his arms around Riddle and buried his face in the elder man's shirt before breaking out into sobs. Riddle just held him, feeling tears on his own face. Why did it have to hurt to care about someone?
-~/\~-
Potter had ended up crying himself to sleep outside Riddle's room, and the elder man hadn't been able to muster the strength to take the sleeping man any farther than his own room. So he set Potter in the bed, then crawled in with him. It felt good to be holding the younger man, and Riddle cursed the bond until he fell asleep.
-~/\~-
Potter woke, for the first time since before the Final Battle, feeling safe and warm. Rather than open his eyes and figure out why he felt so good, he just snuggled closer to the person holding him.
Wait. Person?!
Potter opened his eyes and swallowed hard at the sight of the sleeping ex-Dark Lord. It scared him a little that he wasn't as bothered as he thought he should be by the knowledge that he was in the same bed as Riddle. Given, they were, at least, both still dressed, but still....
Riddle let out a strange sigh and his eyes blinked open slowly. When he recognized the green eyes watching him, he choked. "H-Harry?!"
Potter blinked, hadn't Riddle called him Harry last night? Riddle never used his first name. "Morning," he responded softly.
Realization coloured ruby eyes and Riddle groaned. "I'm sorry. I didn't feel up to carrying you to your room last night, so I just brought you in here and..."
Potter shook his head, then rested it on Riddle's chest, smiling when he heard his frantic heartbeat. "It's okay, Tom. It's..." He paused, realizing how sappy that was going to sound.
"What?" Riddle inquired, wrapping his arms around the younger man.
Potter swallowed. "It's nice. I-I don't remember the last time I woke feeling..."
"Safe?" Riddle supplied softly.
"Yeah."
"I know." Riddle bowed his head so he was breathing in the scent of the other's hair. "It's the bond."
"I know. I just...can't bring myself to care right now."
"Yeah..."
It was too long for LJ. Part Two