‘’...Tom?
I looked up at him from the wood floor, he looked down on me, standing. His eyes were cold, and Harry’s vision was tunneling.
He looked like a god from down here. The warm candles seem dull and dark in comparison.
"Yes Harry?"
He didn’t feel much for the dying thing on the ground. He stopped caring after the 5th horcrux. I guess he made me feel nostalgic, that is why I kept him around.
“Why?” he croaked. He felt his breath fading away, his neck starting to feel sticky from drying blood.
Tom thought for a moment, staring at his dying husband. Why did he feel so…sad? Why is a detached part of him saying this is so wretched and wrong.
He didn’t exactly feel it. It felt more like someone else’s emotions. Like the feeling of something on the tip of your nose, but not quite getting it. Like throwing out your old favourite shirt, or book.
It took effort for Harry to breathe now
What should Tom do? He doesn’t know healing magic, he didn’t care for it in Hogwarts like Harry did.
And oh, how Harry loved helping people.
is apprenticeship at St Mungos. Tom remembers. In their first few years after Hogwarts, Tom was desperate to spend as much time with his most darling person as his ministry job would allow. Lunch breaks were flooing to Harry’s office, eating what was left of dinner the night before, our silence, his eyes, his hands and his looking. He did a lot of that. Looking at me.
I remember back then, He’d make me forget my pride and humility. He’d make me dance and spin in the decorated kitchen walls of Godrics Hollow. He’d taught me to enjoy cooking and romance, and cheap dollar cakes at the corner store.
Those were Tom’s favourite years together. Though when Tom rose in political power, he created more horcruxes. And more connections, and cared less and less for Harry.
I also remember when I slept with a woman. I did a lot of that. Sleeping with powerful men and women. And the way he looked at me when I brought a bastard home. He was hurt, and all I did was work. We stopped having lunch together after that. He stopped dancing for a while after that.
I remember him forgiving me. Even though he knew I never stopped.
I also remember the muggle record player that was always playing. His slow dancing with Delphi. Or the frantic offbeat boogie as they both didn’t know what they were doing, but still indulged my bastard child anyways. He loved the Delphini.
Tom could close his eyes and still see it playing in his mind. That eye rolling song Harry would sway too while grinning straight at me. He loved Elvis and The Ronnette's.
‘Do I need your arms around me?’
‘Do I live my life for you?’
‘Do i always feel so warm each time,
I look in your eyes of blue?’
Even the nightly letters he would send to Delphini in her final year at Hogwarts, as if she wasn’t my mistake. Even the tears he shed for her on her graduation day, for gods sake. As if she was his.
He still loved me when I brought another woman's child home. When I would sleep in my office instead. When we stopped having lunch together. When we stopped dancing together. When I fucked other women, when other men fucked me. When I stopped enjoying cheap cakes. When I stopped thinking of what he'd like at bakeries. When I kept putting in the bare minimum. When I stopped loving you.
When? Why? I-
I wonder, my love, the last time I ate leftovers with you.
The last time I noticed him looking at me.
The last time I enjoyed the silence.
The last time.
This is the last time.
Now he will never look at me again, as I watched the green of his eyes dull. Staring but not seeing.
And Tom didn’t care. He stopped caring a long time ago. Maybe it was the horcruxes, or maybe the power.
Tom felt the soul bond they took over a decade ago, fade, and return to mother magic. Blood is still sticking to his leather shoes. And the gash in Harry’s neck is still weakly leaking blood
And Harry was gone.
It was all gone.