Love and Compassion

"Harry?" Tom groaned, blearily opening his eyes, his head pounding.

"Floo the healer, tell her that Tom is awake," Harry snapped, turning around to Mrs. Lestrange.

Mrs. Lestrange looked startled at Harry's tone of voice.

"You can get my house elf to do it. I understand you're upset, Mr. Potter, but I won't have you disrespect me in my own home," Mrs. Lestrange replied, irate.

Harry opened his mouth, obviously about to argue, but he took a deep breath before calling on the Lestrange house elf and asking it to call the healer.

Harry turned towards Tom, whose stomach squeezed in happiness to see his face.

Harry's bright green eyes were shrouded in worry and anxiety, scanning Tom's body in distress.

Despite his body feeling like it was on fire, Tom had to restrain himself from smiling in delight. His plan had worked; Harry had come! It just proved that Harry could never truly be upset with him, and if Tom ever really needed him, he'd be there.

Tom wanted Harry to hug him, pull him close, and of course apologise for his ridiculous behaviour. Sending Tom to the Lestranges was cruel, and Harry was always harping on about emotional maturity, which made him a hypocrite.

Tom ending up badly injured was a direct result of Harry's ridiculous stint of ignoring him and sending him away. Tom hoped this would be enough to deter him from ever doing something like that again, lest Tom have to do something even more extra next time.

"Tom, how are you feeling?" Harry asked, his face softening as he clutched Tom's hand.

"Pain," Tom croaked out.

He wasn't even lying for sympathy either; he genuinely was in pain and lots of it. His whole body felt like it was burning, but Tom could somewhat ignore it.

He knew pain.

He knew hurt; it was his old friend. He had endured before, just like he would endure now. Before Harry, his life had been dark; he knew nothing but rejection and pain, but Harry changed that.

He changed Tom.

He was able to ignore his fear and distress; Harry's very presence chasing it away and brightening Tom's world.

"I know, I'm sorry, but the healer's on the way, and you'll feel better, I promise," Harry swore, taking Tom's other hand and squeezing it softly.

The healer reappeared shortly after, giving Tom a range of different calming and pain potions, murmuring to Harry about damaged bone fragments in the back of his skull.

"I've fixed the most concerning damages, but he'll need to take this twice a day for five days. He should be as good as new after that," the healer advised.

"Yes, of course." Harry stood up and shook her hand. "Thank you so much for your work and coming so quickly."

"I'm happy to help. I've worked for the Lestranges for almost fifteen years. As soon as the house elf popped into my office, I came right away," the healer assured him, packing up her stuff.

Harry frowned. "Yes, well, I appreciate it, but I hope the same level of urgency is applied to everyone who needs urgent help."

If Tom weren't so drugged up on pain medication, he would've rolled his eyes.

"Can we go home?" Tom slurred, struggling to keep his eyes open once the healer left.

"Yes, of course."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to move him right away? Maybe he should rest for a few more hours?" Mrs. Lestrange asked from where she stood near the door.

"It's nice of you to show concern now, but I think I'll take him home where I can make sure he's being looked after," came Harry's sarcastic reply.

"Excuse me?"

"The boys were left unsupervised with their wands, allowing them to—"

Mrs. Lestrange raised her hand, demanding silence. "Mr. Potter, I know you're not like us, that you were raised... differently, but in our world, once a child is of age and has a wand, it is not our responsibility to trail after them. Magical accidents happen all the time; they're growing lads. It's simply boys being boys."

"Boys will be boys? One of them hit Tom with expulso at close range! He could have been killed! What sort of child does that?! You're lucky I didn't demand to see whose wand was used," Harry hissed, outraged.

"You can demand all you like, Mr. Potter; that doesn't mean it would've happened. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone with the power or influence to take one of our children's wands," Mrs. Lestrange responded, flippant.

Harry gritted his teeth, turning back to Tom.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can I sleep in your room?" Tom asked, his voice raspy as he lay on the sofa back home.

Harry had been fussing over him nonstop, constantly at his beck and call.

Tom loved it.

"Yes, of course, I want to keep an eye on you anyway. Just to make sure everything is okay" Harry agreed, softly stroking Tom's head.

Tom let out a content sigh.

"But just so you know, you're grounded. One for your stunt you pulled with Don and two for playing so irresponsibly with a wand. You're old enough to know better. You won't be seeing your friends until you go back to Hogwarts, and you won't be seeing your wand either," Harry said sternly, after a beat of silence.

Tom's first instinct was to be furious; he hated being told what to do, and he certainly didn't like being parted from his wand. However, he didn't care much about seeing his friends; he found them annoying in large doses, and he already had to deal with them at Hogwarts.

But he didn't like being parted from his wand, that seemed like a step too far.

He tried to argue his case, but Harry surprisingly stuck to his word, refusing to give in.

In the end, Tom let it go, knowing that he'd find it anyway and just use it when Harry wasn't around.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"The holidays went too quickly; I can't believe I'm back at Hogwarts so soon," Tom sighed, closing his trunk and zipping it up.

"Aren't you glad to be back? You've spent most of your holiday confined in the house unless I've dragged you out to watch me practice," Harry asked from where he stood leaning against the door.

Tom had enjoyed his time grounded thoroughly, using it as an excuse to cling to Harry and not let him out of his sight. He also milked his injuries for as long as he could, insisting on sleeping in Harry's bed and having Harry take care of his every whim.

"Yes, I suppose so," Tom lied.

Harry regarded him silently, pensive.

"Hogwarts is your home, isn't it? The place you care about more than anything?" Harry asked carefully, his eyes never leaving Tom.

Tom relished in the scrutinising gaze.

It felt right; Harry should always look at him.

"I love Hogwarts. When I was at the orphanage, I longed for a place like that. A place to be around people like me, a place to belong, but I have you now. My home is wherever you are," Tom admitted, allowing himself to be truthful, which was a rare occurrence.

"Oh, Tom," Harry grinned, pulling him into his embrace and hugging him tightly.

Tom closed his eyes, basking in Harry's scent, holding him closer.

"You're a pain in the arse, but I really do love you."

"I know," Tom replied, smug.

Harry let him go, kissing his forehead.

Tom turned around to grab his trunk when Harry's hand suddenly shot out, gripping his wrist, hand tight.

Tom turned around, bemused.

All traces of softness and amusement were gone from Harry's face.

"If you do anything like that to a muggle again, I promise you you'll regret it, and I don't care how badly you injure yourself or get your friends to hurt you. Harm anyone, and you won't like the side of me you see, Tom; you cannot win against me. Do not take my kindness for weakness."

Tom's heart thudded, his mouth dry as genuine fear shot through him.

He watched Harry leave the room, wide-eyed and shaking.

~~~~~

"We've got transfiguration next," Malfoy groaned as they walked out of Potions.

"What's wrong with Transfiguration? Dumbledore might be a mudblood lover with a ridiculous bleeding heart, but he's a great teacher. Probably the best." Asked Julius, who ended up overhearing Malfoy's remark as they got into the corridor.

Julius Nott and his twin sister Ursula were a year above Tom and his friends. Tom only saw them at important functions, and Ursula occasionally at the Black residence, as she was somewhat close with Walburga.

However, the twins were in Ravenclaw. Although that didn't deter them from hanging out in the Slytherin dungeon, as most of their childhood friends resided in the house, as well as their brother Theodorus, who was a fifth year.

"You can say that; you're not in Slytherin. He acts like we're criminals and would rather reward mediocrity. He gives those idiot Hufflepuff points for breathing," Malfoy insisted.

"Maybe you're just mediocre; I never have any issues with gaining house points," Julius teased.

Malfoy stuck his middle finger up at him.

~~~~~

After Harry's threat before getting to Hogwarts, Tom had felt on edge and anxious.

Had he underestimated Harry?

Was Harry more observant than he had given him credit for?

Tom knew Harry wasn't dimwitted or stupid, but he did peg him as being horribly naive. He always harped on about having love and compassion for people; Tom usually got away with lying to him effortlessly, and Tom had stolen from him and other people in the early days without him being any the wiser.

Tom couldn't understand how he could be so perceptive to know that Tom had purposely got himself hurt.

Tom was so worried and on edge about it that his mood had been foul the entire time back at Hogwarts.

His patience was limited, and he found himself snapping at people much more easily. Yaxley had found himself at the end of Tom's ire more than once.

He wasn't as irritating as Malfoy, but Tom had to tread somewhat delicately with Malfoy. He was prideful and self-obsessed; if Tom was too mean to him, then he'd defect.

So whilst Tom found himself making sarcastic comments and being short with Malfoy, he left the jinxes to Lestrange, who had little to no care for Malfoy and his ridiculous feelings.

Alphard was smart; he skilfully avoided Tom when he was in some of his worst moods.

~~~~~~~~

"Mr. Slytherin, that is fifteen points from your house for purposely defying my orders," Dumbledore said, his tone severe as he looked over at Tom.

"It's not my fault; I finished a while ago. I've been standing around for ages bored out of my mind," Tom rebutted, irate.

It had been two weeks since Tom had last seen Harry and also the last time they had spoken. Harry hadn't written to him the entire time, which made Tom seethe with anger.

How dare he not write to see how Tom was getting on?

Anything could've happened to him!

The staff were so incompetent at times that it was a wonder he hadn't ended up dead, not that Harry cared.

Prior to this, they exchanged letters every few days, and now Tom had no way of knowing what Harry was up to and who he was speaking with. It was infuriating, but Tom wouldn't break first.

He'd wait him out until Harry cracked and wrote to him.

Dumbledore, however, looked taken aback by Tom's attitude. He may not be as taken by Tom as some of the other teachers, but Tom had never been anything but nice and polite towards him or around him.

He certainly had never mouthed off to him before.

However, before Dumbledore could reprimand him for his attitude, Malfoy (never one to back down from being rude to Dumbledore, who was a constant thorn in his father's side) decided to chime in.

"We're all bored; we finished the spell ages ago. Yet we have to wait around for these nitwitted Hufflepuffs, and Tom gets penalised for going above and beyond!"

"It wasn't going above and beyond; I made it very clear that I do not want anyone doing the second part of the spell without me going over it. Tom could've caused a very dangerous accident," Dumbledore replied, his tone firm.

"I have excellent control over my magic." Tom gritted his teeth but forced himself to relax. "Even if I did cause an accident, I would've been able to control it."

"You may have, but you're a child. There is plenty you do not know. Ten points for disobeying me and five points for speaking so poorly to me. I expect better from you, Mr. Slytherin."

Seconds from exploding, with his workbench vibrating due to his magic, Tom grabbed his stuff and hurried out of the room.

Fuck Dumbledore and fuck the consequences.

~~~~~~~

Tom decided he absolutely loved Dumbledore.

After his outburst, Dumbledore had decided to write to Harry and inform him of his behaviour. This wasn't out of the ordinary for Dumbledore; he was a renowned snitch who loved contacting the students' parents, especially the Slytherins.

He had written to the Lestranges more times than Tom could probably count.

But whatever he had written to Harry had made him finally reach out to Tom.

Tom was usually a master at concealing his feelings, but he couldn't stop the pure, unadulterated joy that spread across his face as he saw Harry owl sweep into the dungeons.

Tom,

I've just gotten a letter from Dumbledore expressing some concern about your behaviour and your attitude to learning. This isn't like you at all, and honestly, I'm worried.

Is everything okay?

I'm sorry I've not written before this letter; it was immature of me. You act so mature for your age sometimes that I honestly forget that you're just a child, and for that I am truly sorry.

It doesn't matter how mad you think I am at you; I will always love you, and you can always write to me, and I will always reply.

You're my entire world, and I miss you so much already that I've gotten myself a muggle calendar, and I'm counting down the days until the spring holidays.

Don't be a stubborn git and refuse to write back to me either.

With love,

Harry.

Tom responded back immediately.

Harry,

I am glad that you have come to your senses and realised the error of your ways. You were being immature.

However, do not listen to Dumbledore; he favours every other house other than Slytherin, and the minute anyone decides to show any sort of creativity, he punishes them. He cannot handle how intelligent I am, and he rewards mediocrity.

You know I have excellent control over my magic, but when I pointed that out to him, he removed fifteen house points from me. It is not fair.

I do not know what I can do to prove to him that my greatness shouldn't be punished. You know it's bad when Malfoy is the one defending the injustices I am going through.

What did Dumbledore say to you? In fact, send me the letter.

I expect a reply within the next 24 hours.

Yours always,

Tom.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry responded back within the hour.

Don't be an arse; no one likes self-righteous know-it-alls. I'm not sending you the letter either.

Be good!

Love,

Harry.

Tom let out a startled laugh.

He really did miss Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe you enjoy doing this stuff," Lestrange said, his nose scrunched up in disbelief.

"Knowledge is power," was Tom's response, carefully unpacking his bag on the library table.

Over the last three weeks, Tom had formed a little study group that consisted of him, three Ravenclaw second years, and two Ravenclaw third years.

They met twice a week and would mostly do homework, but sometimes they'd discuss interesting magical theories or talk about international magical history.

Tom knew it was important to get connections and surround himself with the rich, intelligent, and powerful, but he had to admit that he enjoyed his little study group, them having those qualities was only a bonus.

Since he was the youngest, he was able to learn things from them, and it meant he was already ahead of the curriculum. He had helped with their second and third-year homework, even staying up deep into the early morning studying for their tests as if he was going to take them.

"You sound like such a swot sometimes; I'm almost shocked you didn't end up in Ravenclaw," Lestrange smirked. "Or I would be surprised if I didn't know how cruel you could be."

Having a quick look around to ensure no one was around, Tom let out a smirk of his own.

"It's always good to keep people guessing, and besides, one day I'll be the greatest wizard in the world. It only makes sense for me to know everything."

"And what will I do as your right-hand man?" Lestrange asked, his smirk becoming playful.

"Who says you'll be my right-hand man? There's Malfoy or Yaxley or even Alphard."

"Alphard doesn't have the stomach for it; you can only deal with Malfoy in small doses, and Yaxley doesn't have an original thought in his mind," Lestrange pointed out, gleeful.

Tom couldn't argue back; he was right.

Out of all his 'friends,' he could tolerate Lestrange the most, and even then it couldn't be for long periods of time. The only person Tom truly didn't mind having around was Harry.

"What do you want to do anyway? You always go on about being the best wizard in the world, but that's not exactly a job," Lestrange asked, curious.

"Well, I suppose I'll be Minister of Magic. Make Britain great again; take it back from the clutches of mudbloods," Tom replied.

It was the only logical answer.

Who better to lead wizarding Britain than Tom?

That way he could do what he wanted and when; no one could be in charge of him and tell him what to do. He would be completely independent to shape and mould the country in his image.

He knew as he got older his plan would shape up more and he'd have a better idea, but for the time being all he needed to do was focus on presenting a good image and building connections.

"We should travel after school, go on adventures. Imagine if the Deathly Hallows were real; we could go around the world and try to find them."

Travelling with someone?

Tom couldn't imagine anything worse.

"I'll pass, and what are the Deathly Hallows?"

Lestrange shrugged, stretching out. "They aren't real, just some fairy tales my house elf used to read to me when I was younger."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Go away. My study group starts in five minutes, and I don't need you loitering around talking about nonsense fairytales."

Lestrange rolled his eyes but packed his stuff, and left.

~~~~~

"This is fun!" Harry exclaimed, a crooked smile on his face.

"You and I have very different definitions of fun," Tom grumbled, giving him a scowling look.

Harry's smile got even bigger.

"You're loving it! I knew it."

"Don't be so ridiculous."

"You do!" Harry danced around Tom. "You had fun; you loved it!"

Tom attempted to keep his face exasperated and annoyed, but he couldn't fight the annoying smile making its way onto his face.

"Oh fine, it wasn't that bad," Tom snapped, glaring at him.

Tom had decided that he wanted to decorate his bedroom since coming home for the spring holidays. He would be going into second year and turning thirteen in a matter of months; he needed a change.

Something more mature and suited to his tastes.

When he had first moved in at eight, he was so overjoyed and overwhelmed by everything that he hadn't given much thought to his room other than painting it. But he wanted something more personal now, something more permanent.

When Harry missed him whilst he was away at Hogwarts, he wanted him to be able to go into his room and look at it and immediately feel Tom's presence. However, his current room was incredibly impersonal and almost sterile clean.

So when he came home from Hogwarts during the spring half-time, he had brought the idea to Harry about having his room completely redone as his birthday present. Of course, Harry thought it would be an excellent idea for them to do it themselves, and instead of using magic, he insisted on doing it the muggle way.

Which is why they had spent the last six hours hand painting his room. Tom had protested against the idea at first, but Harry kept going on and on about how much fun he would have painting it himself.

He even wanted to craft some of the furniture himself, it was madness.

"I've got paint everywhere; it's going to take ages to get this off." Tom sighed, making himself sound incredibly put out.

"Oh no, the horror," came Harry's sarcastic reply before looking around the room. "We've done a really good job, though. I think one more coat of paint tomorrow and it's done."

Sensing an opportunity, Tom was quick to agree, "Yes, I think it could do with one more coat, but that means I'll have to sleep in your bed."

"We have two spare bedrooms," Harry pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"Which are not furnished," Tom shot back.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, streaking it with paint.

"You've got me there, but there isn't any point as no one ever stays here anyway."

"Good, keep it like that, but still, you are incredibly peculiar when it comes to money. There's no reason for you to have not have furnished those rooms other than you being stingy"

"What are you talking about now?" Harry rolled his eyes. "You're so in love with the sound of your own voice that you're starting to make up things."

"Whilst my voice may be perfect, I am not in love with it. However, I am right. You are very weird when it comes to money. You obviously are incredibly wealthy, but unless you are spending money on me, you never spend anything. You wear the same clothes and shoes and will always pick the cheapest options, which makes no sense. But for your family or your friends, you always come up with the most extravagant gifts, but when it's your birthday, you are always so uncomfortable when opening anything that seems remotely expensive." Tom explained, his brows pinched in concentration. "It's almost like you grew up poor or something."

"Don't be ridiculous; you're over analyzing it. I spend my money like normal people; I don't need to splurge on silly extravagant things without reason. Your mind's just warped because you hang around with people like the Malfoys, the richest wizarding family in Europe, who have no sense of monetary value," Harry replied, but Tom couldn't help but notice the slight anxiousness in his tone.

"Maybe, but you never speak about your childhood. How did you grow up?"

"Covered in paint with a room that isn't even halfway finished isn't exactly the best time for me to start discussing my family dynamics. Let's get cleaned up and then have some dinner."

"At least tell me what your room looked like as a kid."

Harry paused, twisting his lips before saying, "Small."

"Really? Why?" Tom asked, intrigued.

"There just wasn't a lot of space for me in particular. It was hard, but I got through it." Harry shrugged, feigning indifference.

"Things were hard for me too, but then you came and rescued me," Tom murmured, grabbing Harry's hands.

Tom was always so eloquent, able to discuss and describe anything apart from his feelings. Feelings and being vulnerable made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and it was just foreign to him in general. Feelings were a weakness, but there was something about Harry that made him want to be open.

He could never truly express his gratitude towards Harry for changing his life completely, but his words and the look on his face were able to convey how he really felt.

Harry let out a smile that made him look pretty, his green eyes glimmering in the love that Tom craved.

He kissed Tom's forehead, and he barely suppressed a shudder.

"Nothing will ever be hard for you again," Harry vowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I wonder when you're going to get out of the sleeping in my bed phase," Harry mused, shaking his head as Tom got himself comfortable.

Tom doubted he'd ever get over it, and if anything, he believed he should be staying in there more. If he had to suffer months on end without seeing Harry in Hogwarts, it only made sense for him to allow Tom into his bed.

If Tom had it his way, he'd be sleeping in there permanently.

"It's lonely in my room, and with the orphanage and Hogwarts, I'm used to staying in a room with other people. What's wrong with that?" Tom lied, purposely making himself sound defensive, as he knew that would make Harry feel sorry for him.

"There's nothing wrong with it; I'm only joking. I'm glad t...."

The rest of Harry's words were drowned out as he took off his T-shirt so he could put on his pyjamas. His skin was tan and littered with some scarring, and Tom couldn't help but notice his toned and slightly muscular physique.

There was something about it that made Tom's heart thud and his mouth feel dry.

Tom didn't know why he was so startled by Harry's physique, as he was always training. He was very dedicated to his ridiculous career.

A bout of possessiveness burst through Tom, angry that Harry had been marred and permanently marked by others. Only Tom should be able to alter Harry in such a permanent way, and the thought of doing so almost made him salivate.

He'd love to see his mark on Harry one day.

He just had to make one first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stifled a yawn, bored out of his mind and counting down the seconds until he had officially been at the event for three hours.

It was Melania Black, mother to Orion and Lucretia, birthday which of course meant a ridiculously grand affair with every single important magical figure in the world in attendance.

Harry had only gone because Tom had deemed it the most important social event of the year, and it would be 'unseemly' and 'in poor taste' if he didn't.

So they compromised on Harry staying for at least three hours before leaving.

Harry didn't mind Melania; she was much more palatable than Mrs. Malfoy or Mrs. Lestrange, but she could be a little...cooky at times. She kind of reminded Harry of Bellatrix with some of her erraticness and mannerisms, but just in a less violent way.

But she was a little too obsessed with her 'darling Orion.'

You would think Orion was the second coming of Merlin himself with the way she doted on him, constantly cooing over him and telling him how intelligent and perfect he was.

She was ridiculously affectionate with him, which made Harry wonder how Orion had turned out to be so cold and unfeeling towards Sirius.

It didn't make any sense.

The boy was friendly, loved, and charming.

However, Walburga was pretty much how Harry imagined her to be.

Rude and cruel.

Harry found it astounding that in the future her and Orion actually had a successful marriage. A marriage of envy, Sirius had called it, telling Harry how Orion had adored on her and she him.

"Oomf! Sorry, Mr. Potter!" Orion apologised, sheepish after almost crashing into Harry.

It was weird how much the Black family all looked like each other but in different variations, but there was so much incest in that family that it was bound to happen. With his hands clutched around Orion's bony shoulders, Harry couldn't help but see Sirius.

The same cheeky smile, the same flinty grey eyes. Orion was obviously still very young, not yet grown into his features, but Harry was sure that is what nine-year-old Sirius would've looked like.

Harry wondered if Sirius had felt loved at nine years old among his family.

Did Walburga ever dote on him?

Allow him to run around and be carefree?

Harry knew time travel was a finicky thing, and he had already changed so much just by being in this time, but a part of him wanted to do something that could make Sirius's future childhood better. Harry imagined Sirius was suffering with his family far before Voldemort came onto the scene.

As Harry stood conversing with Orion, unable to keep the affection from shining off of him as he talked to mini Sirius, he didn't notice Tom lurking in the background, jealousy and possessiveness eating him alive.