Never is a Long Time
Tom’s morning routine changed recently, and it had become horribly unpleasant.
- 6am - Wake up from yet another nightmare and shower before anyone else, sometimes with Harry’s towel wrapped in his hand.
(“But why do you need it, Tom? I just used it!”
“So you can borrow my robes but I can’t use your towel?”
“...I guess it’s fine. Still don’t know why you need it.”
“...Don’t worry about it, Harry.”)
- 7am - Spend 15 minutes either tickling Harry awake or watching him sleep, depending on his mood.
- 7:15am - Watch Harry get taken away by the dirty mudbloods for breakfast.
- 7:30am - Disappear to the restricted section of the library.
Not too different from last year’s routine, actually, except for one huge change.
Hormones.
Suddenly, Tom was as horny as every other teenage boy when such emotion was BENEATH him, goddammit.
(And wouldn’t he like someone beneath him for real.)
He saw Harry’s hair in the soft black curls of Bellatrix and kissed her during Harry’s first Quidditch match. Harry was unreasonably upset with him afterwards, for reasons neither of them fully understood.
He saw Harry’s eyes in the worshiping green gaze of Lamar and accepted a blowjob in the fourth floor bathroom.
He smelled Harry’s scent while lounging in his bed and had to excuse himself to the Gryffindor common room so many times Harry started asking the house elves if they had forgotten to wash his bedsheets.
It is incredibly annoying. Tom would give up his nose to not be trapped in a hormonal 15-year-old boy’s body.
But it’s not all bad. Harry flushes an appealing tomato red when he’s woken up by Tom in the mornings. And when Harry finds out Tom has fooled around with yet another partner, the boy gives Tom a tongue-lashing that is both adorable and chiding. And almost every weekend, the two of them would study on Harry’s bed, sprawled over the blankets, legs tangled.
Being a teenager wasn’t so bad, then.
In November, Headmaster Dippet announced the upcoming Yule Ball in the spring. Every student, 4th year and above, can bring one date to the ball. The announcement was met with a collection of groans from the younger students and giggles from the older ones. Several girls and boys began to go out of their way to grab Tom’s attention by bringing him homemade treats and fancy gifts.
Tom couldn’t care less, but after refusing the 17th batch of baked goods that day, Tom decided to drop into the Room of Requirement for some blessed peace and quiet.
The young wizard discovered the room by accident earlier in the year in a half-hearted attempt to find a special chamber that was supposed to contain the secret of the Heir of Slytherin. Unfortunately, his younger friend’s face kept making unwarranted appearances in his mind and he found himself begging his lust-addled brain for some focus. At that moment, a door appeared. Inside, there was a soft, crackling fire and a single chair with a small pile of books all about Salazar Slytherin.
This time, Tom closed his eyes and thought hard about the chamber of Secrets. When he opens the door to the Come and Go room, there’s a single book on the floor. Salazar Slytherin’s diary.
A couple hours later, Tom comes out of the room and finds himself face to face with a frustrated-looking Harry. Harry had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot impatiently, a bad habit that Tom found obnoxiously adorable.
“Where were you?” Harry demanded. His glasses slid down his nose a little. Tom gave in to the urge to right them and used the excuse to smooth down one of the wild black curls that dropped over Harry’s eyebrow.
“Am I not allowed to have a life away from my adoring fans?” Tom teased, walking down the hall. Harry hurried after him.
“I don’t think people love you as much as you think they do,” Harry lied. Stupid, unusually attractive, annoyingly perfect wizard. “How many hearts have you broken today? Wait, no, I don’t need you feeding my inferiority complex any more than normal, thank you. You’re supposed to teach me potions today. We’re learning amortentia.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Just sprinkle some rose petals in water and tell the professor you can smell something minty and lovely or something. The potions professor will scarcely know the difference.”
Harry frowned. “Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. What, you received too many gifts from your million suitors?”
“Maybe. ‘Tis both a blessing and a curse.”
“Shut up, mate!” Harry laughed and knocked Tom lightly on the back of his head. “Hey, so I asked Millie Chang to the Yule Ball this morning.”
“Oh?” Tom flexed his fingers, trying not to care.
“She said she wanted to try asking you first.”
Tom smirked. “Well I can’t fault her taste. I’ll make sure to turn her down extra nicely for you.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Who do you want to go with?”
You, Tom thought. He imagined teaching the smaller boy how to dance as Harry stepped on his toes and Tom held the boy close. The two of them could whirl around the ballroom until Harry was too tired to move, take a break in the garden outside, maybe nap under the stars…
“Tom, are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Tom rubbed his head. Harry had narrowly stopped him from walking into a grouchy painting who shook his fist at the boys. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“Another nightmare?”
No. Yes. Tom had been having nightmares since the day the bomb hit Mr. Wilkes’ study. The thought still frightened him - how close they were to death that way. And all for what? Muggles. Fighting over power. What a ludicrous idea. If only they knew who held the real power in this world they shared, they wouldn’t bother trying to destroy each other over another scrap of land or meaningless title.
“Tom, please talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me,” Harry said.
This was an old argument. Harry had the right intentions, but he would never understand. What is the point of having the most power in the room if you can’t use it? Every night, the older boy tossed and turned to the sound of Harry screaming for help, Tom, where are you Tom, please! Help me! And then the wretched, horrible silence that followed except for the shrill ringing in his ears.
“I’m fine,” Tom said. Could he return to the daydream of him and Harry dancing under the stars, please? “Just leave it alone, Harry.”
“I’m worried about you. It’s not like you to forget to teach me potions. You used to spend our lunch hour lecturing me on the fundamentals of every ingredient, and now you’re telling me to just wing it? And you’ve been having nightmares every single night since-”
“And you?” Tom interrupted quietly. “How is this not touching you? How can you just be… Fine?”
“I’m not stronger than you, Tom, if that’s what you’re asking. I just… I used to get nightmares all the time until you helped me. Let me help you.”
Tom stopped walking so Harry stopped too. They were right in front of the entrance hall. Tom’s friends would join them soon, leaving them this precious, precise moment for Tom to say yes and to tell Harry everything.
“I don’t need help, Harry,” Tom said gently. “I know exactly what I need to do for this world to get better.”
Before Hogwarts, Harry and Tom would sneak snakes into Tom’s room in Wool’s Orphanage. These friends were gently curious about their human companions, inquisitive but largely independent, and always ended with a request to be put back in their garden homes. Even after the pair realized that their ability to talk to snakes was an impossible ability reserved only for the two of them, they never tried to abuse it. Communication was not the same thing as control.
But this creature was nothing like the garden snakes that wrapped themselves around Harry’s arm and sunned themselves in the patch of dried grass behind the Orphanage. Its power was indescribable. Beside his Basilisk, Tom had a vision of a prosperous wizard nation. No longer would they need to hide from the pathetic muggles and their baseless conflicts. Tom would simply control them all. There might be some difficulty at first but after a few centuries, Tom and Harry would be able to dominate peacefully for the good of mankind.
The Basilisk uncoiled its body noiselessly, awaiting its master’s command.
“You don’t say much, do you?” Tom smiled cooly, careful not to look into its eyes. The creature inclined its head respectfully, and then Tom realized. It was a creature unlike any other because it was not a creature. It was evidently born of dark magic that festered into something bigger and more evil than the great Slytherin founder imagined. It looked like a giant snake but its core was shadow and poison. It could only be controlled by a true Heir of Slytherin.
“Well,” Tom said in English. “It will be important to keep you hidden for now. Can’t have that muggle-lover Dumbledore getting in the way. And Harry - I will have to introduce you to Harry. You can protect him in my absence.”
“What do you hope from me, master?” The Basilisk asked.
Tom considered. How many opponents could this creature destroy before anyone managed to take it down? If they managed at all, that is. Tom did have a more important purpose, of course.
Tom’s grin sharpened. “Are you hungry, Basilisk?”
“Potter!”
Harry turned in surprise. A Slytherin? Were they looking for Tom? “Go on ahead,” He said to his friends. He waited until they were out of earshot before turning to face the girl. She was one of the Greengrass girls, a pureblood, but not as stuck up her ass as the other purebloods in Slytherin. A regular genius in Transfigurations, last he’d heard. He greeted her with a smile, which she returned half-heartedly.
“Can I… Talk to you?” The young witch pulled at her long, smooth hair nervously.
“Sure, Greengrass. But I’ll tell you right now, I have no idea where Tom went. The bugger skipped out on our Potions lesson again.”
“Actually, it’s about Riddle. If you wouldn’t mind…” She motioned ahead of her with an arm. Speculative, Harry walked with her to an empty room, not oblivious to the whispers behind their backs. No doubt there would be all sorts of rumours about the “Prince of Gryffindor” and a Slytherin spread around Hogwarts by tomorrow. Not that Harry took much care of the name. It was a lot less cool when you actually knew the origin story behind it.
(It was the day after the Quidditch game.
“And Harry Potter takes the Snitch again! There he flies, the Prince of Gryffindor, snatching yet another victory from Hufflepuff!”
“Shut up, Diggory.”
“Ah, but you love me Potter,” Diggory teased, ruffling Harry’s head so hard the muffin crumbled against his mouth.
One of the Gryffindor 1st years turned to her friend with wide eyes and whispered, “Is he really a Prince?”
Harry tried to refute the name for two solid weeks before even Tom was teasing him with it, and that was that.)
“So, what has Riddle done now?” Harry asked when Levira Greengrass shut the door behind her. Greengrass shifted her eyes around the classroom nervously. Then she took out her wand and muttered a quick silencing charm on the room. Harry took a seat on one of the desks, watching her pace.
“Riddle has always been good to us, you know,” she began. “He’d help me and my brother in our studies, give us advice, all of that. Recently, he’s been acting differently. Almost… Cold. Blaire - my brother - he’s so devoted he won’t listen to me. I think something’s wrong. And he always speaks so highly of you, Harry…”
Harry sighed, scrubbing his face. “I’ll talk to him. He doesn’t listen to me, though.”
Greengrass gave him a weird look. “Um…”
“What?”
“Doesn’t he only listen to you? He kind of looks at you like you’re the only thing in his life. The girls and I think it’s a bit romantic, actually,” Levira giggled, tension disappearing from her eyes. Harry had always thought her an unusually perceptive girl, but she was dead wrong. He’d been fighting with the wobbly greys of Tom’s morality since they first met. At Harry’s furrowed brows, Levira laughed louder. “I think I know what he sees in you. You’re not a bad sort, Harry.”
Despite himself, Harry grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
Levira released the charm on the room, looking much more herself. As they opened the door, a group of students suddenly backed away from the door, trying very hard to look like they weren’t trying to eavesdrop. None of that nonsense. Harry grabbed Levira’s elbow and smirked cheekily at her.
“Want to go to the Yule Ball with me, Greengrass?” He asked.
Before she could respond, a voice boomed through the halls, magically enhanced. It was Headmaster Dippet, requiring all students to return immediately to their rooms and cancelling all classes for the day. Available teachers were to come to the Hospital Wing immediately. Potter and Greengrass widened their eyes at each other.
“Don’t you dare, Potter,” Greengrass warned. “Tom will kill you if you…”
Harry dashed down the hall towards the Hospital Wing.
“...eavesdrop.”
---
“We’ll have to alert the parents, Headmaster,” Nurse Pillfoy was whispering. Harry couldn’t see past the tall backs of his teachers, but they were all surrounding a bed. The ward had been completely emptied of students and the candlelight dimmed so that all that were visible were shadows. The head Nurse’s posture was helpless, defeated. She waved her wand over the bed and a clean white sheet settled over it.
Professor Dumbledore spoke next. “This is not an accident, Headmaster. If a student in the school-”
“St-st-student?” Headmaster Dippet’s voice quivered. “No. This was the treacherous Grindlewald’s attack on the school. Through and through. You all know how powerful he is, how inescapable. This was a message.”
Dumbledore’s expression was obscured, but his voice became a little sharper. “I beg you, Headmaster, not to let your fears cloud your judgement. Grindlewald would never attack a young wizard whom he still had the chance to bring to his side - especially within the halls of Hogwarts. This attack was clearly made by dark magic, raised by an unsure hand. Almost random.”
“I must concur with the Professor,” Professor Merrythought of Defense of the Dark Arts murmured. “This kind of death was instantaneous, and the magic comes from a beast without a real mind. A beast barely controlled. It is more than likely a student loosed one by accident - in which case, this school must be searched and closed.”
Headmaster Dippet dropped his head into his hands and breathed through his nose quietly for some time. When he spoke again, it was muted, calmed. “We will close the school. But the messaging to the families is that this was a targeted attack by Grindlewald, and we are closing the school to better improve our defenses. In the meantime, we will search the school for the beast you speak of, Professor Merrythought, if such one exists. But not a word of this will escape this room. Is that clear?”
Harry slipped away from the room as the teachers murmured their assent, his head spinning. Someone had… Died? At Hogwarts? But why? And who?
And where was Tom?
Suddenly fearful, Harry began running full-speed towards the Slytherin dormitories. “Please be okay, please be okay,” Harry begged the air as he ran. He was so preoccupied he ran right through Nearly Headless Nick. A horrible cold washed through his bones as he paused to apologize. The ghost furrowed his brows at the scrambling 4th year. “Why are you heading there?” Nick asked. “If you’re looking for Tom, the last place I saw him was around the second-floor lavatory.”
Harry barely had breath to thank him as he raced down the stairs to the second floor. He couldn’t think, couldn’t stop. Just the image of Tom lying still in the Hospital Ward under a cool, white sheet… Please be okay.
“Harry.”
Harry stopped short. This wasn’t the boy’s lavatory, it was the girl’s. And yet, there was Tom, plain as day, standing in the doorway.
“Tom, what are you…”
Tom grabbed his friend by the hand and pulled him into the girl’s lavatory. Something about him felt terribly wrong. Dark and heavy. Tom was smiling, but it wasn’t the good smile he gave when he beat Harry at Wizard’s chess or lay next to Harry in bed. It was cruel. Predatory. Determined.
“You came at just the right time, Harry. I’m going to save your life.”
Tom’s grip was crushing Harry’s bones, but a fear that Potter had never felt kept him from voicing his concern. Instead, Harry allowed the older student to lead him further inside. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Abandoned, obviously, and needlessly damp like something had splashed toilet water all over the floors. One of the bathroom sinks seemed nonfunctional, with weird stone snakes winding around the tap. For a moment, the boys stared at the sink, hand in hand. Then Tom hissed at it and there was a hollow clunking sound. A huge stone doorway opened.
Harry paled. “You found it. The Chamber of Secrets.”
Tom just kept smiling his strange, horrible smile. He pulled his friend towards the entrance. Tom had spoken to Harry a few times about the chamber - only to be opened by a parseltongue, the heir of Slytherin. It was said to contain a beast, a monster that only the Heir could control. Clenching his hands until they turned white, Harry took a few shaky steps back away from Tom and the gaping shadows of the wall.
“T-Tom, what did you do?”
Very briefly, the older boy’s weird expression creased. Tom’s voice was stilted. “Come with me, Harry. We must act quickly for the magic to work.”
“What did you DO?” What had Merrythought said? This kind of death was instantaneous, and the magic comes from a beast without a real mind. A beast barely controlled. “Oh Tom, please tell me you didn’t. Did you- Someone d-died, bloody hell.” Bile swooped up, unbidden, and then Harry was leaning against one of the old, damp sinks.
“You don’t understand. Of course you don’t. Your parents died protecting you - loving you. But me…” Riddle laughed mirthlessly. “I discovered a charming witch who was willing to exchange letters with me. We had it wrong, see. It was my father who was the muggle. My mother was a powerful witch, and a carrier of pure blood. She gave it all up for a magic-less fool who never loved her, and then died trying to rid the world of me. I would have grown up with nothing but my despicable mother’s bloodline, were it not for you. You are all I have.” Riddle took a step towards Harry, and Harry stepped back again, leaving a larger distance between them.
“You are everything. ”
That was the last straw. In a quarter of a blink, Harry had his wand and held up right at Riddle’s calm, dark eyes. It was strange to be in this position - as if they were playing a weird game of killer chicken. First one to give in dies. Expelliarmus, Harry thought, the spell at the tip of his tongue. God, why couldn’t any of his professors teach him a spell for knocking good sense back into someone?
“Tom,” Harry’s traitorous voice cracked. “Did you kill someone?”
The loudest silences are the ones where you know the answer, but you don’t want to believe it. They’re the silences where you can hear the drip, drip, drip echoing against the walls. You can hear your own blood rushing up to your ears, to your throat, against the base of your skull. Harry could see Tom’s lips move a split second before he heard the words, because truly, the silence was that loud.
“It was an accident.”
The two wizards had their wands up against each other, but one was just behind the other, and the incantation was barely out before the elder one finished his spell first.
“Petrificus Totalus,” Tom said. Suddenly, Harry was completely frozen in place. Every muscle locked into place, from his feet to his head. Unable to stop himself, gravity pulled his body to the ground like a statue knocked too far forward. Tom caught him as he fell and gently placed his body on the ground, his head and neck supported in his lap. Although he couldn’t move, the petrified wizard could still feel everything. The stones were cold from the winter chill, and just as damp as the rest of this horrible lavatory. The familiar weight of a wand left his tightly clenched fist.
“She wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t know who she was. It was just the basilisk and I, preparing for something truly great, really wonderful. And then, she just wouldn’t stop screaming. I only meant to keep her quiet - for just a second… but I guess the Basilisk reacts to my emotions more quickly than my words…”
Tom never mutters like this. Garbled, uncertain, senseless. And yet…
“But even so, it should still work. Her life will matter, you see. I’ll make it matter. I’ll make her eternal.”
And then there was a ring in Riddle’s hands. It had old, brassy metal and an engraved black stone. “This belonged to my grandfather. A Gaunt ring. I want to give it to you, Harry. We just have to finish a little spell on it first.”
Tom brushed a black curl away from the younger boy’s forehead and tapped the tip of his wand against his lips. He whispered a release spell - just enough for Harry to gasp brokenly. Hushing Harry gently, Tom leaned in and tenderly pressed the ring against Harry’s mouth. For a breath, Tom and Harry stared at each other, close enough to kiss. “Blood would be better, but your saliva should work fine.” Tom whispered.
“Why?” Harry breathed out, barely able to move his lips. They tasted coppery where the metal pressed against them.
“I needed a death to complete the Horcrux. Well, that, and a little piece of your soul. Just a sliver of it. You won’t even know it’s gone, Harry. We’ll put it in my ring and enchant it, and I can carry it with me. If something should ever happen to you, then you’ll simply come back.”
His soul. Harry struggled for real then, slamming his magic against the spell again and again. The air sparked with tension. The boy could feel magic pulsing into the ring - death magic. It tasted old and evil. For all of his strain, the wizard could only just push his head against the magic hold. Enough to glare and move his mouth to whisper, “I’ll never forgive you.”
“We’ll see,” Tom replied simply. “Never is a long time.”
Every fiber of Harry’s body screamed in terror as Tom pulled out his wand and pointed it at the ring and started to chant, building power and strength into the spell.
All at once, Harry was perfectly calm. Tom paused, allowing himself a hopeful glance into Harry’s eyes for just a second. Harry smiled. Then he opened his mouth, pushed his head forward, and swallowed the ring.