Wuthering Heights

Hi Tom,

Sorry for replying so late! I don't know if you've heard already, but London got bombed. Don't worry, I cast a spell on the place to be hidden from muggle eyes. I've never done this before and it was quite difficult; I had to get the ministry to help and all, but I've definitely settled in.

I sent Jeanne back with a small pouch full of treats. Use them sparingly!

See you soon,

Harry

The writing, although clumsy, seemed distant and hollow. It was brief, short and uninteresting. Just what was happening in muggle Britain?

Not that he cared about Harry- Harry Potter, of course.

He just needed a home to go to.

See you soon.

He held the letter close to his chest.

He felt oddly impatient for December to arrive.

A home…

"Oh." After Avery was done huffing nearly his entire guts out, he handed Tom a pouch. "This came tied with Jeanne."

It really was treats for his stupid owl.

"I wish I had an owl too."

When Tom didn't reply and they stood in awkward silence, Avery turned around.

"And uh. Thanks. For knocking some sense into us. I mean, what were we thinking? You're the only one with sense here."

After a second, Tom stretched his face into a smile. "No problem. And sorry for getting all mad. I just haven't been doing well lately. I hope you'll be so kind as to tell the others that as well."

Avery seemed to brighten up. "Yeah, man, no problem! I hope we can continue staying friends. You're like, so cool."

"Of course."

***

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

Yes, I read about the Blitz. I was worried there wouldn't be a home for me to return to anymore. I understand that you couldn't reply to me quicker due to muggle situations.

I have gotten the treats for Jeanne and will be feeding her treats less and only for special occasions like you suggested.

Do not worry about replying. You are busy and I already appreciate your efforts. As long as I know your home is safe, I am fine.

Tom made sure to put 'your home' instead of 'my home' or 'you.' He thought carefully, wanting to give the same, short-cut, straight-to-the-point answer.

The moment he let Jeanne go, Avery was already pulling Tom by the wrist.

"Let's go! Quidditch tryouts! I want to watch Rosier!"

Tom was observant. He could tell by Avery's hand holding onto his wrist, his pinky slightly extending to the beginning of his palm, that he hesitated to hold on to his hand. Although he did not understand why simply holding his hand was an issue (since skinship seemed to be of no problem for Avery), Tom decided to appease Avery for now—making sure he would have no traitors in the near future was still one of his top priorities—and grabbed Avery's hand as they sped to the Quidditch pitch. Avery did not look into his eyes for the rest of the day.

Rosier was quite exceptional and made the team and got the role he wanted, Keeper. This was good. Tom had no particular connection to Quidditch other than Harry Potter (? why is he thinking about him?) And he wondered if he could get anyone on the Slytherin Quidditch team to like him, since all they cared about was Quidditch and a good lot of them already disliked Tom's 'Riddle' part of his identity.

November passed by quite peacefully. It was a shame to say that Tom wasn't able to recruit anyone to his group, but it was all fine. However, he had his eyes on Malfoy.

Avery did mention that Abraxas Malfoy's parents were associated with Avery's own, which meant it would mean they were already familiar with each other. Although not that much.

Tom only mentioned the idea offhandedly to Avery, but he seemed quite eager to do it. Tom and Avery's beds were next to each other, so some nights they talked about what they knew. Avery seemed to quite like the attention.

However, Tom did make some progress on Professor Slughorn's radar. Avery's newfound obsession with Tom only made Slughorn pay more attention to him. Avery was glued to Tom, which pressured Mulciber and Rosier to tag along and be close as often as possible. Mulciber was a wimp, Rosier was near-close to failing charms without Tom, and Avery was just weird.

Tom did often check the trophy room and once brought Rosier, who wanted to see his own family up there.

"That's my father, right there." Rosier pointed to a man of light hair, looking like he just ate something sour—a tight face, if you will.

"You look nothing like him." Tom said matter-of-factly, looking at Rosier's dark brown hair, much akin to Tom's.

Rosier shrugged. "I get told I look like my mom a lot."

Tom's eyes kept glancing at "Henry Potter." on a shiny golden badge placed carefully behind a glass window. He shook his head and started looking for the name 'Riddle' again.

"Oh, look, a list of head boys." Rosier casually rolled out a very long piece of names hidden behind a bunch of trophies. "This should be in the prefect drawer all the way across the room. Why is it here?"

Tom bumped his shoulder with Rosier's arm. He was quite tall, but Rosier still let himself be pushed to the side as Tom took a grab at the long list of names.

"I was looking for this since September." Tom said, mostly to himself. He's seen the Head Girls list but could not find the Head Boy's anywhere.

"Riddle…Riddle…Riddle…" Tom mumbled to himself like crazy while reading every single name dating back to the very first Head Boy.

Nowhere. Absolutely no Riddle anywhere.

Rosier grazed his eyes over the list of names behind Tom. "What if you try looking for your name on your mother's side?"

Tom looked up at the taller boy. "What? But I'm a pure blood."

Rosier looked like he regretted what he said. "I don't know, okay? Your dad could be half-blood and have gotten his name from his muggle dad or something. I don't know. You said they were dead!"

Tom frowned. "Then how would I be a pureblood?" Could I be a half-blood?

"Well, you'd still be three-fourths magical, so the pureblood overtakes the halfblood and stuff... as long as the ratios count."

Tom never thought of this. Rosier wasn't a total git after all.

"Huh. That's a lot to consider. Thanks, Rosier."

Rosier rubbed his neck sheepishly, a small gleam of pride shining through him. He turned his head to avoid looking at Tom, who looked like he walked through a pit of fire before glancing at another name.

"Oh, look, there's a Gaunt in here. All the way from 1760."

Tom has read about the Gaunt family before, one of the sacred twenty-eight. Speaking of, Tom had yet to meet or hear about anything with the name 'Gaunts' in his school.

"Their pureblood thing was so bad I think they had a major inbreeding problem." Rosier said, knocking on the glass. "Pretty sure they died out."

Oh.

"Even my family isn't that bad. And they love blood purity culture an' stuff." Rosier continued. "I mean, I get their values, but we gotta let a half-blood in every now and then."

Tom nodded, looking at the badge. "Yeah."

That was probably what happened to him.

Then exactly what family did he come from?

***

The skies in the Great Hall looked like spoiled milk. It was snowing very heavily outside.

Avery's head was attached to the table as he groaned. "I want to go to Hogsmeade so bad."

"I don't see why it's such a big thing." Tom said, putting his homework away in his bag. It was a Friday afternoon. "And you have plenty of work to do."

"That's because you've never been. Your guardian guy is so boring, never even taking you to Hogsmeade."

Tom paused at the comment but quietly continued going back to what he was doing.

"Next year, when we go for the first time, you'll finally understand. They have a bunch of cool stuff."

Just then, Jeanne came gliding in and onto Tom's table, right in front of him, with the Daily Prophet tied to her beak.

'FLAMBUOYANT FAWLEY' OUSTED FROM BEING MINISTER OF MAGIC

Tom frowned as he read about Grindlewald declaring war to muggles, the minister of magic being kicked out and slight mentions of Dumbledore before casting it away. These weren't much interest to him.

"You can go now." Tom said, staring directly at Jeanne. Her eyes stared back. She was expecting something. Tom didn't have any treats on him.

Confused, he gently patted his hand on Jeanne's head, watching her relax.

"I wanna pet her too!" Avery butted in. Before he could even get his hand on her, she nipped his finger.

"Ow! She always does this."

Tom smiled. Jeanne clearly had her head set straight.

The two boys watched her fly away.

"Man, I really want an owl." Avery went back to sulking.

"I think you should focus on doing your homework." Tom said, sitting more upright. "And why all the sadness? Winter break is soon."

Avery groaned. "Piano."

"You skipped out on Quidditch tryouts for this; shouldn't you be excited?"

Avery just groaned even louder.

"Are you going back home this break?" Mulciber asked. "I recall you staying back last year."

"Yes. I have intentions of going back," Tom said, finally closing up his bag. It was filled to the brim with textbooks and paper.

"Why didn't you go back last year?" Avery added, apparently done with his whining.

"That's because I was at Wool—because I liked Hogwarts so much I wanted to stay here."

That wasn't completely a lie. Compared to Wool's, Hogwarts was so much better. He didn't want any of them knowing about the orphanage.

"Your Harry Potter guy lets you do that? Lucky. I wanna stay here with my friends over break." Avery was back to complaining.

Tom decided to shut his mouth. He didn't want to say anything by accident.

Soon, all of his worries and his busies would die down when winter break finally came.

Tom stared out the window in a cold gaze. Avery and Rosier were busying themselves with chocolate frog cards while Tom could feel Mulciber's quiet eyes on him. He wished Mulciber was quite predictable as well, so he could get some of his alone time.

Mulciber always threw him off. Although a wuss, he was sneaky and quite smarter than the rest (he never asked for homework help either). He certainly had a keen eye and seemed a little distrusting of Tom.

If Mulciber was loyal to him, he would be useful in maintaining connections. He can quite literally mold himself to any person and friend group. He was good.

Now the only problem was how to get him on Tom's side.

He didn't really understand what was up with Avery but he needed something like that in Mulciber. In all of them.

He shrugged. Something to worry about after winter break.

"What're you reading?" Mulciber asked, pointing at the book Tom was holding.

"Wuthering Heights" Tom replied sweetly. "A muggle book."

"Oh…" Tom could feel more distance between him and Mulciber.

"Although some suspect the author might've been a witch." Tom was lying straight through his teeth. "I thought that was interesting so I picked up one of her books." Tom had no idea who Emily Brontë was.

"Ohhh…" That sounded more like it.

The rest of the way home, Tom just watched Avery and Rosier argue over a Merlin card before eventually chiming in.

***

"Bye Tom!" Avery shouted before he went to follow his sister. Tom waved back awkwardly while he looked around. Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.

He felt himself feel cold. Where was he?

I have a home to go to...

Did he leave him? Was Tom abandoned?

Wool's… Wool's Orphanage… Tom started biting his nails.

Of course, of course, of course...

"Heya Tom!" 

Tom turned around, almost violently, when a soft tap was felt on his shoulder.

It was Harry Potter.

"I'm so sorry. I had to pick up an extra shift at work." Harry Potter genuinely looked apologetic.

Oh, he was busy…he was busy…that was okay… he was just busy…

Tom slowly nodded. "Okay."

"Do you wanna check out the new place?"

Right, the house had to be enchanted due to the war.

Tom quietly trailed behind before he hesitantly held Harry Potter's hand.

Harry Potter helf onto it back tightly. Too tightly. It was not soft or gentle at all; it was a type of grip you held when you had way too many things on your mind.

Tom did not care at all; he was too busy calming himself down silently.

Don't worry, Tom; you have a home now.

Harry whisked Tom away from King's Station to what Tom would reminisce as his childhood home in the near future.

It was a muggle neighbourhood, with very muggle people.

By this time, Tom already had let go of Harry Potter's hand as he carried Jeanne's cage and his guardian helped him with the trunks.

The sun shone on Tom's face, despite snow piled up everywhere.

"Here," Harry Potter said, pointing to a small gap between two houses.

"I remember you complaining about me barely using magic."

Tom remembered how he had to practically force Harry Potter into pulling out his wand. He was quite reluctant to believe his guardian was a wizard.

Harry Potter did a slight hand movement with his wand, a simple gesture Tom had yet to recognize. It was then when a sudden crack could be heard. Tom turned his head slightly to see a house, right between the other two, rise from the ground up. The house Tom remembered from August appeared in front of him.

"How come no one saw this?" Tom asked, looking around at the muggles near then, clearly uninterested.

"Charm. It makes them really not care or notice us. It's a ministry spell." Harry Potter said, unlocking the door. 

Harry Potter grinned. "The house being hidden between two houses was my idea, though. Got inspired by someone I used to know."

Woah, there are multiple wizarding houses like this? Tom felt like he had been missing out on so much more magic due to being at Wool's.

"I left your room the same as it was, but the house is already pretty much empty anyway, I think."

By the time Tom reached his room and Jeanne was out of her cage and on the windowsill like she was once more, Tom let himself fall down in bed.

He was with Harry Potter for only two weeks before. He was quite a mystery, Tom concluded. He had yet to know much about his guardian on a personal basis.

"Hey, Tom." Harry Potter said, with a casual smile on his face. "Can you help me dry the dishes?"

Unable to say no, Tom got up from his seat and into the kitchen, where he was handed a towel way too big for his own hands.

While Harry Potter washed the dishes, Tom dried the dishes with the towel. This went on silently for about five minutes before Tom was able to speak up.

"Why can't you just use magic?" Tom asked. Harry Potter did not even spare a glance before he answered, "I personally believe in being able to do things on your own. Being too dependent on magic isn't any good. There was a man in my life who was exactly like it, and it did not end well for him. I think I decided to try to be simpler in how I do things."

"It's not like we can't do it. Muggles create new inventions to make life easier all the time." Tom grumbled, drying and putting away the dishes anyway. It was only two of them, so there weren't that many to clean.

The late August sunlight hit the glass plate in Tom's hand before it hit his face. He frowned in annoyance.

By the time Tom put the last dish away, Harry Potter had dried his hand and bent down to meet Tom's level.

"Growing up in an orphanage and suddenly discovering magic may seem new and incredible—it was like that for me. When you're surrounded by so many muggles. it's just like that. But magic has its bad sides, and I believed being able to enjoy the mundane had it's pros. Plus, it wasn't so bad, right? We got to spend time together."

Harry Potter ruffled Tom's hair, his hands still a little wet from the moisture that seeped into his pores. "Plus, I think you'll be able to do great things. For me at least." Harry Potter had whispered that last part to himself, but Tom pretended not to hear it.

"Let's go to Diagon Alley in about half an hour. That's more than enough time to get ready, right?"

After that point, Tom and Harry Potter had continued doing chores together. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. Especially laundry. Tom forgot how much he hated people touching his clothes.

It wasn't much of a big deal. Unlike at Wool's, everything was so homely, although spacious and empty. Harry Potter always hummed songs Tom didn't recognize (but who's to say? He never listened to the radio. They had one at the orphanage and the other kids always hogged it)

Harry Potter had a sort of aura around him that made him look warm and friendly. But for some reason, there was always a certain distance between the two. This frustrated him.

Christmas was in 3 days.

Supper came by quick. Tom was gently awakened to see Harry Potter's gleaming (gleaming? since when?) stare back at Tom's brown ones. He had fallen asleep.

Asleep? In a stranger's house?

Tom slapped himself mentally. No. This was his guardian.

He slapped himself mentally again. No. Harry Potter took him in out of pittance, and Tom accepted because he wanted to get away from Wool's—and experience the Wizarding World as best as he could.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to cook with me like we usually did, but you slept so peacefully I left you alone. Hope that's okay."

Tom felt the duvet cushion over his body and he felt warm. Hogwart's beds weren't this comfortable, and he already thought that it was quite plush and sweet compared to Wool's.

He also didn't remember covering himself in the duvet before he fell asleep.

When Tom first moved in with Harry Potter, he really liked the fact that the dining table was right beside the window, where Tom could stare at the muggles doing garden work, watch older kids sneak out of their windows at night and see boys his age playing. Tom often did this to him and Harry Potter awkwardly fell out of words to say.

Today it wasn't.

"So, how was Hogwarts so far?" Harry Potter's elbows were on the table, something Tom was strictly told not to do his entire youth.

"It was okay."

"Make any new friends? I saw that one kid with you."

Tom stared down at his own plate. "Yeah. That was Avery. He was the only one who talked to me last year."

Harry Potter's face fell. "Really?"

Tom nodded.

"Why?"

"Because of my last name." Tom didn't understand why he was talking truthfully. He would've usually lied. Something in his gut told him this was the right thing to do. Since when did he care about doing the right thing? He'd already killed people by the time he was eight.

"Slytherin has their own gang of purebloods. My last name is too 'muggle' for them."

"So you already know more than enough about blood. I didn't even know I was a half-blood until my third year." Harry Potter laughed.

Tom sighed. "If only they knew I was a pureblood like them."

"What makes you think that?"

Tom froze. The voice was cold.

He looked up to see Harry Potter stare back at him with a blank face. He couldn't tell what Harry Potter was thinking. Tom was bursting with anger from the inside. Of course he can't do the 'right thing' by telling the truth.

"I have to be." Tom declared, unbreaking the gaze they had at each other. "How else am I this good? My academics are perfect, and I have a bunch of purebloods following me—I mean friends."

Harry Potter's cold gaze softened quickly. He gently placed his hand on Tom's and sighed.

"Tom. Blood purity changes nothing about a person."

What…?

"Being a pureblood doesn't mean you're better at magic, smarter, or better. It's just what you are due to circumstance."

Yeah right. It's because you're a halfblood. You're just defending yourself because you're offended; I couldn't possibly be the likes of you.

"In fact," Harry Potter continued. "Even before I entered Hogwarts, the two most powerful, and I mean the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world, revered by everyone, were halfbloods."

Harry Potter had a gaze in his eyes that made it difficult for Tom to decipher if he was lying or not. Tom could not spit back a snarky remark.

"And funnily enough," Harry Potter added. "One of them was named Tom."

A pause. Then a smile. Harry Potter immediately went back to focusing on his own meal.

Tom looked outside at the muggles. They all looked miserable and sad.

***

It hadn't been long since Tom arrived back... home. It was the day of Christmas Eve and he and Harry Potter were looking around for ornaments.

"I bought a fake tree beforehand, actually." Harry Potter had said earlier. "I wasn't sure I was confident enough to preserve a real one."

Tom scoffed. If he were in Harry Potter's position, he would do everything from scratch.

"What about this one?" Tom turned to see a round, shiny Christmas ornament painted to resemble the face of Santa Claus—muggle Santa Claus—with rosy cheeks and a big smile placed beside Harry Potter's face.

Tom couldn't help but snort a little big. "Oh, please, everyone knows Saint Nicholas was actually a wizard—"

Harry Potter put his palm on Tom's lips. It smells of pine trees and warm butter. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell as quickly as he could before opening them up again. Harry Potter was smiling.

"Oh, please, let loose a little! I think this is quite silly. Have more fun, Tom!"

Tom hesitated, then looked back at the muggle Santa again before dropping it into the basket.

Their afternoon went by fast from a busy day of shopping.

They decorated their small and fake tree that smelled nothing of a natural pine tree—even Harry Potter smelled more minty than that—and spent the evening prepping for dinner together.

Harry Potter was humming songs more often. He sometimes swayed to the side.

Tom went back upstairs to change his shirt after accidentally staining it in tomato paste, and when he went back down, he saw two small boxes under the tree.

"What are these?" Tom questioned. Harry Potter put his hands to his waist.

"Gifts, of course! Both muggle Santa and wizard Nicholas loved gift-giving!"

"One for me, one for you." Harry Potter pointed at the two boxes.

He was in an awful good mood.

Tom, for the first time in a while, went to bed excited.

By the next morning, Tom had already forgotten about the gifts under the tree when he went downstairs. 

The room was a little chilly, but it was all good.

Harry Potter was already up.

"Happy Christmas, Tom." Harry Potter said, smiling. "Would you like cocoa?"

Tom, remembering last night, jumped at it and greedily opened his present box that had his name tagged on it.

He took out his present and frowned.

It was a jumper.

"Whatcha think?" Harry Potter asked, sitting beside Tom. He sounded a little dazed, almost drunk. But Harry Potter smelled of no alcohol. 

It was a jumper with the letter 'T' on it.

Harry Potter placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of Tom, then took out his own present and pulled out a matching one with the letter 'H' on it.

Harry Potter did not look well.

"Hmm." Harry Potter said in a sing-songy voice. "I used to have matching ones with my friend back in Hogwarts. His mom made me one every year. But I had to get this commissioned, haha. I can't knit."

Harry Potter immediately put on the jumper, watching Tom expectantly. He put it on hesitantly. In a usual case, he probably would've put it on right away. But his guardian was acting weird, completely different from last night. Tom felt that the air was off today.

It was alright, though. This was his first Christmas spent with actual gifts... and perhaps actual family.

"Mr. Harry Potter..." Tom began. Harry Potter shifted slightly in response.

"Why did you adopt me?" The word 'adopt' felt unfamiliar in his mouth. He's never had to say that word out loud before.

"Hm. A lot of reasons, I suppose." Harry Potter closed his eyes and lifted his face up, his mug in hand. "I saw myself in you."

Tom blinked. He saw himself in Tom?

"No parents, Hogwarts being your only source of joy... I dunno. It was like that for me too."

These answers were coming all too easily. Tom didn't even need to pry himself in to get them.

His parents were also dead?

"I guess I feel a lot of empathy—and pity—for you."

Tom just stared back at Harry Potter, dumbfounded.

He was a completely different character from the slightly distant, warm man Tom had once known.

Instead, he was cold. Frozen. Chilly. Like he was somewhere else mentally.

"I like you, Tom. I think you're pretty neat." Harry Potter leaned his head on top of Tom's.

Tom Riddle, a boy who had quite the distaste for skinship, stayed still. Like how he held Harry's hand in King's Cross.

Harry Potter still smelled like minty pine trees and warm butter. But with a mix of the sweet, hot cocoa, it was divine. Tom shuddered slightly as he engrossed himself in the scent.

What was up with him?

"I hope you don't turn out too terribly."

Tom was quiet.

"And please just call me Harry. Being called by my full name sends shivers down my spine. Especially from you."

Especially from him?

"Okay…" Tom nodded.

By the afternoon, Harry was normal. He acted as if in the morning, being dazed off, didn't happen. So Tom pretended as well.

"Calling me Harry now?"

"You asked me to."

"Did I?"

Once again, Tom couldn't tell if those words were a lie or a truth.

Harry Potter—Harry was quite odd.

***

Tom woke up in the middle of the night. His jumper was hung on the top of his bedframe, and Jeanne was asleep in her cage. He was terribly thirsty.

Walking downstairs, he heard quiet mumbles.

"What was I thinking...jumper...ron...why..."

Tom peered down to see Harry, looking at himself in the mirror near the kitchen, still wearing the jumper.

"Harry…?"

Harry turned around. His eyes were wide, almost in terror, but he was still smiling widely.

"Hi Tom, why're you up?"

"Nothing. I was curious about the noise." Suddenly, Tom wasn't as thirsty anymore.

He turned around to head back to his room, but the hallway seemed oddly long and too dark. Tom wasn't afraid of the dark; he never was. But tonight? Tonight he felt a chill inside his body.

"Too scared?" Harry Potter asked, right behind Tom.

He wasn't. But he nodded.

That night, he slept in the same bed as Harry Potter. He was a little queasy from what happened, but the calm sound of Harry's heartbeat and the smell of warmth and comfort radiating from his guardian eventually put Tom back to sleep.

He didn't mind if he had to deal with oddities like this, because somehow he was feeling content.