Devil town is colder in the summertime,
"You can come in!" the tiny boy in the compartment says immediately after Tom opens it. He's alone in there. He's still in muggle clothes, unlike Tom, who changed before coming so he would fit in.
It's way easier to leave a good impression on potentially useful people if you look like you belong.
This boy doesn't look particularly useful; his clothes are oversized and he looks ungroomed. He doesn't look like he knows what he's doing. But the compartment is empty, and Tom's feet are tired from having to walk to the station. And maybe he will be quiet.
"Thanks," he says politely, because there is no point burning bridges even if he's unlikely to get anything out of them. At least not yet. He wants to be on more solid footing, more culturally aware, before he picks fights in the school that is to be his safe space, a second chance at the greatness he knows he is capable of.
He closes the door behind him and ignores the other's big, green, hopeful eyes as he sits down to read.
Or tries.
"I'm Harry Potter. Who are you?"
Tom's book falls shut.
"Harry Potter? Didn't you kill the last Dark Lord?" Tom asks, suddenly reordering all his previous thoughts about the other boy. Maybe he just looked that way because nobody was bold enough to make him dress differently. Maybe he was alone because everyone else was being respectful. Has Tom made a social blunder?
"Yeah," Harry admits, looking a bit bashful now. "But it's really not a big deal, I just found out about it. What's your name?"
I'll lose my mind at least another thousand times,
It didn't take long for Tom to figure out that it was less that Harry was just beyond reproach in the wizarding community, and more that he just didn't know anything about it yet and therefore was oblivious to following the rules. In hindsight, their first meeting should have taught him that. Harry pulling out a pocketful of gold coins for candy to share had probably been less him being extra generous and more him just not understanding wizarding currency yet.
At the time Tom hadn’t known much himself, but Harry was proving himself to be uniquely immune to picking up the social cues and habits that Tom so desperately relied on to fit in. Perhaps because his fame did indeed leave him a bit beyond reproach; Harry simply went through the first few weeks of school more engaged by wonder than any desire to adapt and blend in. He was quiet, but friendly, and spoke to everyone, though none so much as Tom. Because of this, no one seemed willing to hold it against him, beyond maybe the potions teacher making a snide remark or two and some staring in the halls when Harry trotted past with unkept hair and muggle shoes peaking out from beneath his robes.
Of course, Tom wasn't going to complain. Having a rich celebrity friend who didn't really understand social norms, be they wizard or muggle, was advantageous generally. Two years later, Harry was wrapped around his finger even if they were in different houses, Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively. Tom helped him study, watched his Quidditch games, saved him a spot in class and at dinner, forced him to buy clothes that actually fit him.
And Tom was the handsome, helpful sidekick, best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. He was acing all his classes. Everyone in school knew him. Harry had bought all his school supplies the moment Tom "accidentally" let it slip that he couldn't afford them for the next year.
"I want to go outside," he whines. Tom rolls his eyes. No one is watching, and Tom doesn't bother with being perfectly polite around Harry anymore. They've been friends for long enough, and friends are allowed to be a little mean to each other. Tom just has to watch the boundaries of being too cruel.
"I'm not keeping you here, Harry," he says, and he isn't. Tom had never said that Harry needs to stay with him. Harry is just loyal enough to assume. It is endlessly amusing to Tom how easily Harry has attached to him. Even considering his past, which Harry has occasionally shared bits of, alarmingly similar to his own, could not possibly warrant this amount of attachment issues, Tom is sure of it. He was neglected and orphaned too, and he does not possess half the clinginess of Harry, who fawns and waits on Tom just because he was his first friend.
Then again, no one ever tried manipulating him into being clingy, either. And Harry has Tom doing that. Tom helps him succeed socially and academically, points out all his good qualities when he needs to hear them most, and on the occasion that Harry seems to be getting close to another boy in their year, well perhaps he gets a little bit meaner. So maybe it's not Harry’s fault for being so dependent. Maybe it's Tom's fault for getting a greedy little high by having Harry entirely to himself, when he's not even in Gryffindor with him.
The chosen boy has chosen a Slytherin over his own red-and-gold house. Tom is downright gleeful at the thought.
"I don't want to leave you alone," Harry says, breaking him from his rather self satisfied thoughts, and Tom sighs.
Harry will no doubt stay with him if he doesn't leave, but he might resent it. And there is no point in him making his best friend miserable, even if he does enjoy it.
"Fine," he concedes. "To the lake. But I'm bringing a book."
Harry gives him a blinding smile.
Harry falls asleep with his head on Tom's hand out by the lake. It's just the last of the summer sun before fall begins, and the lake is dyed a deeper blue than the ocean, Tom imagines. He’s never seen it, but it can’t be as beautiful as this moment is, with Hogwarts, his home, rising into the clouds and the last remnants of a summer breeze rippling the leaves above them. Tom doesn't bother Harry even when his hand falls asleep. His book is too good to pause, and the atmosphere too pleasant to interrupt.
Hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night,
"Want to sneak out with me?" Harry asks.
"What?" Tom asks, grumpy with lack of sleep. They will have even more studying to do soon. He wants a good careers, and must get all O’s, so he is staying up later than he should. Harry has already expressed concern, and the girls in their classes look alarmed by the dark circles under his eyes.
Appearances are important. He should get some dreamless sleep potion, or something, to at least ensure what little beauty sleep he gets is restful.
"To Hogsmeade. I think it's really stupid they won't let us go. We're both orphans. Who do they think is going to sign it? Your last three foster homes? Because nobody there remembers you. They had to be obliviated. You accidentally lit them on fire."
It hadn't been accidental. Tom just wants to be fostered by an actually good family. One with money, no other children or pets, and adults very easily misled by innocent smiles.
"We'll use my invisibility cloak and some of the secret passages!"
That actually sounds doable. Tom isn't really surprised because Harry is intelligent, (he wouldn't have kept him around so long otherwise,) but still he feels a bit… proud? Not only has Harry successfully thought up a plan to get out of Hogwarts that would likely work, but he immediately came to Tom to invite him. Codependency really was efficient.
"Alright," Tom agrees hesitantly, and an hour later, they're hidden in the corner of some reasonably clean place that serves tea alongside all its less interesting drinks. Harry seems quite delighted with his butterbeer though, so Tom decides he can't critique it when it makes them money from multiple crowds.
Harry pays. Of course he does. Tom doesn't have parents, so he can't afford it, obviously. Though it is worth noting that the money is immediately returned once the waiter recognizes Harry. She promises not to say anything, probably assuming that the two of them are hoping to avoid fans, not detention.
Having a famous friend is so useful, Tom thinks to himself over his tea. They really need to get out more. See what other free things he can get. See how many other people can see him hanging around with Harry Potter, a wizarding celebrity. Maybe important people.
"We should do this again," Harry says across from him, apparently thinking something similar. The butterbeer is making him blush. Or maybe that's the cold weather.
"Maybe next month," Tom suggests, and Harry smiles at him.
I still get a little scared of something new,
"I like you. Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" Harry asks the day after they find out it's happening.
Huh.
Tom hadn't thought about that.
Then again, Harry does blush a lot around him recently. He’s gotten even touchier than they were before, though that doesn’t mean much. Tom isn’t very fond of physical affection, but he tolerates it on occasion, and Harry has always had a good sense of when and when not to initiate it with him.
Harry has leaned on Tom's shoulder twice in the last month. He keeps knocking their hands together. He stole Tom's pumpkin juice that morning, right out of his hand, and drank it. Tom had only been mildly annoyed, and so just ignored Harry’s smug smile.
Harry is fourteen. That is when that sort of thing is supposed to happen, isn't it? Half the boys in fourth year Slytherin are panting after the Beauxbatons champion. Harry's annoying housemate Ron keeps staring at his other annoying housemate, Lavender, whenever Harry drags him to the Gryffindor table for lunch.
It's normal to start liking someone at this age. And Tom knows the signs, really. He just didn't notice Harry showing them. He didn't even know Harry was gay.
He isn't. At least, he doesn't think so. He doesn't really like anyone. He appreciates beauty, surely, but he’s never felt like doing anything about it. He can’t envision himself ever wanting to. But Harry is tolerable and sure to be doting, and if he's known and loved as the best friend of the Boy Who Lived, think of his status as the boyfriend of the Boy Who Lived.
"Sure," he says, a simple reply. Harry doesn't expect anything more than simple anymore; if anything he seems to prefer it. And if being blunt is ever to his advantage, Tom won't hesitate to take the easier path. Lying all the time is stressful.
"Oh, thank Merlin!" Harry gasps, and leans against Tom's chest like all the air and bravery has gone out of him. "I wasn't sure what I would do if you said no! But Ron said I had to do it!"
"I would never say no to you," Tom lies, and holds Harry's hand as they walk back to the Common Room.
He can say no just fine. And Harry definitely knows it, from all the times he’s denied his wild antics or refused to get along with other people he doesn’t see the benefit in. But it’s an easy lie that Harry accepts, no stress required.
The Ball goes fine. The champions complete their dance, then Harry pulls him out to dance too. He is the far better dancer of the pair, so he leads. Harry touches him all night, cuddles and nudges and brushes his face against Tom's lapel.
Tom lets him, and thinks that at least Harry cleans up nice. He's in basic black and white, but Tom got to do his hair. It looks the closest to any actual style he's ever seen in four years. And the crisp white collar on his robes looks stark against his skin, bringing attention to his face. Gone is the little boy in their compartment that first year, replaced with an intelligent, well-adapted and well-respected friend.
Tom, obviously, looks stunning. He pretended to let Harry help him pick his robes, something he knows from observation is a thing that some couples do. Though obviously, he gently led Harry to an actually good choice. For some reason, Harry got set on bright-blue for him, which he doesn't understand, when Slytherin-green is right there for the both of them. But blue does look nice on him, just like any colour does. He's got cerulean on, with a lining of dark stormy grey-blue. It makes his brown eyes look liquid. It draws everyone's eyes to him and whose arm he's holding, which is perfect.
He knows they'll be in the papers the next morning.
It's perfect.
But I feel a little safer when I'm with you,
They've been dating for two years. Of course, Slughorn loves them both. He has them next to each other in potions.
"Crush it," Harry whispers to him, knocking their shoulders together in the space between their stations.
The instructions say to cut it, but they also have a typo on the first page. Tom hates new books like this. They're so censored and cheap. He would have taken the other one, but Harry seemed to think that he should, out of duty of being "a good boyfriend."
He should remember to use that as an excuse the next time he introduces Harry to someone politically important. I'm being a good boyfriend. I'm introducing you to my friends.
He doesn't seem to be making any progress cutting the bean, and Harry's potion seems to be going well, so Tom goes ahead and copies him. He's made plenty sure that Harry doesn't fail his classes over the years, so he is perfectly competent at potions.
He doesn't really want the Felix Felicis since he can brew that himself if he wants to, but he does want to get yet another perfect grade. And honestly, he's ahead of everyone but Harry and another Gryffindor, and even she's a step behind the two of them. If he has to remake it, he probably can.
He crushes it.
At the end of class, Slughorn doesn't know what to do with two perfect draughts. The liquid luck goes to Harry, and Tom is promised his own dose as soon as Slughorn can make it.
"Thanks," he whispers to Harry. He'll ask where he learned to crush it later.
"I'm just happy I could be useful to you for once. I feel like all I can ever do is tell you that you're handsome and buy you things, and you're doing all these big things for me, making everything perfect. You help me study and you plan our dates. I just wanted to help for once."
"Nonsense," Tom says, and brushes his hand along Harry's face. As predicted, Harry freezes, but doesn't look displeased. He melts in Tom's fingers. He always has. "I love it when you buy me stuff."
And when he lets Tom borrow stuff. Harry has a vault of old Potter family belongings, and he doesn't know the worth of half of it. He doesn't know how dark some of those books are for such a light side darling family to own. He doesn't know the curses on those heirlooms.
Harry laughs, and they go out to sit by the lake again. The sky is bright cerulean-blue. Harry leans on his shoulder.
Tom doesn't love Harry. Really, he doesn't. He wants power in the world, and Harry is just an easy way to get it. People know Harry, and once Tom has an in, it really isn't hard to impress them with his own strengths. But he does enjoy Harry. He's glad that Harry is smart enough to be interesting but stupid enough to fall in love with someone who can never love him back. He's glad he's a good enough actor that Harry will never guess.
Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you've fallen this way too.
Harry asks Tom to marry him two years out of Hogwarts. Harry is a popular Auror, backed by his reputation for killing a Dark Lord when he was a baby and the political power that Tom has been building for years.
And Tom thought he'd go into politics, but instead, he gets a teaching job at Hogwarts. It's nice. He has unlimited access to the library. To the Room of Requirement. The Forbidden Forest, and a new generation of minds to form and recruit the best of.
Of course he tells Harry yes. What else would he say to that?
No way is he passing up an opportunity like this.
"I love you," Tom lies at their wedding, and he doesn't ever regret it.