let me go, hold me close

As they enter together, he realizes an error he hadn't considered. He doesn't know what he was thinking honestly, except he knows he wasn't really thinking at all. 

Until this point, he has only been worried about how their newfound friendship will affect Tom in terms of physical retaliation from the other students. 

He has been focusing so much on preparing to protect Tom from hexes and curses that he had forgotten about other, more emotional protections he should that thought of providing as well.

How can he protect Tom from the gossip mill, the rumors sure to spread like Fiendfyre through the castle, from words that cannot be defended against with a magical shield. 

He can always teach Tom Occlumency to strengthen him emotionally, but that is a culmination of years of effort. The students are staring at them in open curiosity. 

Unable to help himself, he steps closer to Tom as his eyes seek out the members at the snakes table. Almost as if in response to the silent challenge, Cynus meets his eyes with a knowing grin, his eyes alight with cruelty.

Ofcourse, that makes sense too.

If, and it was very unlikely, but if it hadn't been Cygnus personally calling Tom a Mudblood, it was still most likely to be a member of his stupid little posse. Which was fine, Harry could take Cygnus in his sleep, he had taken them all on and won as a little first year Lion. He had really been twenty eighth when he started at Hogwarts again after all.

But Tom. Tom was different. He couldn't afford any missteps, any mistakes, any miscalculations in this delicate dance with Tom. And yes, fine he thinks, it is a dance so I can call it such. Merlin.

Game on, he thinks instead, returning Cygnus' smile with one of his own. A promise, full of meaning. He's sure Cygnus will understand the implications, he's seventeen now after all. An adult, what a joke Harry thinks.

But he knows Harry. Personally. Familiarly.

His attention turns back to Tom, who has slightly withdrawn to himself as they make the trek to Harry's usual seat at Gryffindor table. Smack dab in the middle of the Hall, the Gryffs and Ravens tables occupy the middle of the hall, the Snakes and Puffs against the wall to the side.

Lowering his voice to reach only the two of them, he whispers to Tom, "Trust me, Tom. Don't worry, 'like you've done this everyday' remember." He feels Tom loosen up at his words just a little as they reach the 4 feet of space that has always been Harry's spot. For 10 years in total now, he recalls, even in his past life these 3 seats had been his. 

Theirs, he remembers, fond and sad, then—

Almost instinctively he moves to grab Tom's bag off his shoulder, brushing against his shoulder with his fingers as he does. 

He stiffens for a few seconds, but Harry is only paying attention to his robes again. They are rough compared to Harry's Actomantula silk ones, tiny balls of fiber that cover the full expanse of them, obviouly thoroughly used robes. Dudleys clothes had felt much the same, he remembers.

He updates his to-do list again, rearranging the order to refocus on the most important parts.

Tom's bag lies to his left, Tom to his right, and they take a seat at the unsurprisingly quiet Gryffindor table.

About as expected, since Harry has technically been the best student this Hogwarts has ever seen, even if he doesn't talk to anyone outside of Quidditch. They all know him for his Magic at Hogwarts, since he stepped foot in when he was eleven, or twenty-eight, if one wanted to do that math.

They study the both of them, such apparent surprise Harry has to stupidly reassure himself that he sat at the right table. No one says anything, and he realizes they won't, so Harry turns to Tom again.

In a mimicry of his earlier actions, this time he grabs Tom's plate first. Scooping on an assortment of meats, carbs(no beans ofcourse) and dessert on a second plate, he sets them down in front of Tom, who, he notices, hasn't stopped looking at Harry since Harry turned away from meeting Cygnus' gaze.

There is a question burning in his gaze, but he only nods, reaching for a fork and his plate, and Harry reaches for his own plate, filling his up much the same.

Gryffindor table around them is still almost deathly silent, but he's starting to pick up on the whispers now. Inquiries regarding his companion evidently the obvious cause. He sits back, ignoring the voices rising slowly as they settle in.

He turns to Tom as he thinks of the remainder of the day, watching him restart the process of cutting away delicate and precise bites, his mouth chewing slowly.

He considers his next words slowly, making sure to start with the most important thing, a privacy ward around them.

"Do you remember that word from earlier?" even as he's sure Tom does. A nod. "Well, while there's nothing wrong with having Muggle parents ofcourse, its pretty much impossible for a Muggleborn to gain gifts of Magic, especially familial gifts." 

Tom says nothing, seemingly focused on his lunch. Harry continues, "My Godfather, Sirius Black, is the Lord of a family with a Magical gift. While rare, if manifested, we call the wizard with the gift a Metamorphmagus. They can basically control and change the way they look."

He knows he has Tom's full attention now, even as the boy continues to eat slowly. " I know of a wizard with a different rare familial gift. Do you know who?", he gently and humourously asks Tom, who is now attentive and confused.

A frown, before a whispered "No" passes his lips. Harry nods and grins, turning to pour both of them a cup of tea, before he turns back to Tom.

"The gift of speaking to snakes", he watches Tom's eyes widen in disbelief. "So, I am definitely from a magical family then?" The question is asked in a dejected tone, which is quite a surprise. 

"Yes", Harry answers, unable to decide which parts of knowledge he wanted to share and which he had to keep secret for now.

"Do you remember when I mentioned the name Gaunt?"

"Yes"

"That is most likely your family then, they are the only Wizarding family in Britain that can speak parseltongue."

Tom has stopped eating now, a clear frown on his face. "Gaunt", he repeats slowly. "How did I come to be named Riddle then?" Frustration evident in his tone.

Harry shrugs, weaving his words, "It was probably your fathers name. I know old man Gaunt had a son and daughter, perhaps you mother was the daughter?"

There's no question, ofcourse Merope was Tom's mother.

"How", Tom stops. A look that Harry cannot read, it feels pleading and unsure, "How could my mother have been a witch? They told me she died giving birth to me. It's impossible!" He decides, echoing another Tom Riddle.

Harry wants to smile, so he hides his face in his tea cup as he thinks of his response.

"She could have been weak at Magic. Or perhaps things didn't go how she planned."

Perhaps she was a near squib who couldn't handle reality without Amortentia and decided living was much harder, the words on the tip of his tongue, yet they don't leave.

Tom gains a curious look. "I thought it was impossible to gain familial gifts of Magic" he says. Harry nods, not following.

"Then how come you can speak to them too?" And is that not the million dollar question, Harry rages in his head, totally out of depth at a worthy response.

If he lies to Tom outright, regaining that trust will be hard if, when, he finds out later. And he's doing so well, he decides, he may as well continue.

"I told you my mother had me tested in various ways, yes?" Tom nods, "Well, the Goblins have their own test with Goblin magic and even they didn't have a satisfactory answer. We think they came closest though", his tale solidifying, "They said that my soul knew how to speak parseltongue. They dont know how either, but it's not my blood, my mother had that confirmed various times."

Tom does not lose his curiosity fully, Harry can tell, yet he says nothing, finishing up the last of the food. Harry follows his lead, still partly full from breakfast. 

The plates vanish as they finish, and Harry grasps his bag again quickly, not wanting Tom to carry anything, as skinny as he is, sliding the strap on his shoulder as they stand. Tom seems a bit wide eyed at the gesture, and Harry once is more reminded of just how absolutely adorable this Tom is.

Just as Harry is about to direct them back to the library, intent to solidify the route in the boys head to prevent Tom accidentally getting lost, he sees Cygnus maybe a few feet away, the other boy still grinning yet his eyes show the caution Harry is sure he feels. They are not friends after all.

He cannot believe he missed Cygnus' entire walk around and up to the center of the Great Hall, but then again, he had been distracted by Tom looking all cute.

"Heir Potter and" an insulting pause, "companion" the word is spat out, grin slipping off his face for a second as he says it without having looked at Tom at all.

He regains it as he looks at Harry, who greets him with a curt "Black." trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

What could the boy possibly want from him? 

Then, wishing to vanish that grin and remind the boy of who he was actually dealing with, indignation over the purposeful snub at Tom growing, he continues, "And its Heir Potter-Black, is it not, dear cousin", his mouth having gained the grin Cygnus has now lost.

"Cousin Heir Potter-Black", he amends, and that grin has now turned to pursed lips, much to Harry's satisfaction, "I trust you had a pleasant summer?", and there's the Cygnus he knows, he laughs to himself.

Ignoring Cygnus completely he turns to Tom. "This is my cousin, a nephew of my Godfather. Cygnus Black. Head boy, if you haven't met already", he adds, looking at Cygnus pointedly, trying to ascertain the reason for this visit.

"We have", Tom's voice is ice cold again, and ofcourse, Harry thinks. Ofcourse it was Cygnus.

"Oh?", he turns to Tom. "In the Common rooms last night?" 

It's not like he's expecting Tom to just spill all the beans, but when Tom says, "No, on the train at Kings Cross, but not properly. I was looking for a compartment", Harry's heart breaks a little bit. 

He had thought Dinner or Dorms or Breakfast the next day. He hadn't, and he should have in retrospect, but he hadn't expected that Tom would be insulted and treated as inferior during his very first introduction to the other students. In the train? Looking for a seat? Really? These seventeen year olds just absolutely had to bully an actual eleven year old looking for seat? Ridiculous.

(He wishes now he had left his own compartment unwarded, and perhaps he could have met Tom earlier he laments, but oh well. Spilt milk and all that.)

"Hmm", an uncertain sound.

Then to Cygnus he says firmly, "This is Tom Riddle, a friend of the family." He wants to impress upon Cygnus the importance of keeping Tom safe in Slytherin. For now, Cygnus' word as law is enough and the snakes would never dare cross him as King.

(He cannot wait for Tom to be King, honestly. Wants to see how his presence creates changes from what he remembers of Diary Tom. Would he be just as charming if he didn't have to be the genius-prodigy-Mudblood of Slyherin, attempting to appease everyone? How much more could he be with Harry's support? Would he invent new Magic still at Hogwarts? Would he create any lasting positive change? Will he hurt Harry by remaining unchanged despite Harry's best effort? Either way, he think, as long as Harry felt something other than numb and longing for what he lost.)

In retrospect, he's glad Cygnus came to him for whatever reason. That's another one off the list, although there's still minor details to worry about. He will get to that soon enough, for now, this should be a good start.

"Your friend is my friend, Tom Riddle", Cygnus amends, as expected. "I am happy to make your acquaintance again." Tom looks sharply at Cygnus and back at Harry, wide eyed again. 

"Cygnus Black", he murmurs, seemingly at a loss of words at Cygnus' rapid change in personality. 

Well, atleast that surprised look on Tom's face is still as endearing as it was the first time. Harry now knows that it it will most likely definitely be endearing every single time. 

And he has many manymany surprises for Tom after all. 

He's still looking at Harry through the greeting and Harry chuckles at Tom mirroring Cygnus' earlier snub. "Did you need something from me, cousin?". He's tired of the other boy already.

"Just came to remind you of the Prefects meeting at seven today." It's not just that, Harry's not an idiot, but since he already fixed the underlying issue, he just nods. 

"I will be there. Was that all?", he cannot hide the eagerness in his tone, really, can the boy not take a hint?

Apparently he can, as he nods and begins his walk back to his buddies still at the head of the Slytherin table. He hopes Cygnus let's them know exactly what Tom's position is at the moment.

He doesnt want to get his hands dirty, but he definitely will. Their bullshit bigotry could be an open secret amongst themselves, but Tom wouldn't be involved. If there's even a hint of rebellion to his demands, Harry resolves to take no chances to rectify their understanding of the situation. 

"I thought we could walk back to the library from here so you can familiarize yourself with the way a bit." He says and Tom nods, quiet as they start walking to the door. 

Harry decides to let him open up again naturally and instead focuses on their walk. He talks to Tom about the way the library is sorted by subject matter. Explains the moving stairs and cautions him about the trip step.

He refines his newest 'dance step', he thinks mockingly, thinking through how he would go about it exactly. When he had thought about the Map hours ago an idea had blossomed, and now, it was solidifying.

He had had ten years in Hogwarts with the Map and the cloak after all. And while he wasn't planning on gifting his family heirloom from the Peverells to Tom for Merlins sake, he doesn't hold any reservations about sharing the Marauders (and Lily) creation. 

It had been shared by the three (and Lily) of them after all. In fact, it had been shared by the Weasley twins with Harry himself. If it wasn't for sharing, Harry wouldn't even know the Map. Well, you know, maybe in the currentafterlife.

Yet, he still knows Tom has to learn his way physically through the castle for a bit to really be comfortable moving around the place. Luckily, Harry is perhaps the only person who could solve this problem in a completely unique way.

He absent-mindedly greets the librarian as he and Tom walk to their table again. He knows the first thing he wants to do and sits down at one end of the U shaped bench. Tom sits at the other opposite end, looking up at him, expectant. 

Well, Harry does look like he's about to do something after all. He reaches for his own bag that he had forgotten under the table last night, too tired to care once he had realized in the dorms. He had been up reading until 2 am after all, ugh. 

He ruffles through his things, unzipping the side pocket that he had had created for his Map specifically pulling it out to the table. And, he thinks, while flaky it is certainly an excuse to get Tom a new bookbag. A new, dragon leather, magically expanded and pre lightened one, just like he had. He hopes he gets a reason to replace those robes too, but if he goes too fast he knows Tom will react badly, even if he's unsure what exactly the reaction would be. Affront and indignation at the 'charity acts' he would consider Harry's actions probably.

Deliberate dance he thinks again.

Tom looks at the empty sheaf of parchment with mild curiosity, and Harry spares him any further wait, sliding it towards him. 

"I'm trusting you just as you trusted me at lunch today Tom", his words a promise. "This is the Marauders Map. An enchanted piece of parchment created by my parents and their two best friends while they were still at Hogwarts. It's a pretty detailed Map and required a few complicated types of Magic to work together, something I have been told a million times by now. They do love to complain about how complicated the things they do are. Especially things they like and do willingly", he can't help his humourous but slightly indignant tone.

They do love to complain to him, treating him more as their parent than a child when it really came down to it. And he had never really attempted to hide his intelligence ever since he had redeveloped the required motor skills for speech. At five he had been helping his mother extensively with potions after all, and he could talk everything, from ingredient theory to reactions. Being around her taught him so so so much, and he hated how he thought of potions before he knew them with the warmth of his mother this time around.

Tom smiles at his words, bright in the indirect sunlight from the window to their left. He feels an answering tug at his own lips. He takes a risk, standing and moving over to Tom, the other boy starting to move further in automatically in tandem with Harry's movement. The excuse falls out anyway as he starts to slide in beside Tom.

"The sun's pretty directly in my face, thank you. So, the Map, yes" he turns in his seat to look at Tom, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." 

Ink blooms in the parchment between them and Tom looks on curiously. 

"Messers Moony, Padfoot and Prongs (and Lily, a different familiar handwriting)
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP"

Tom's face is alight as he comes to the realization, "Is it? The whole school?" Harry laughs, yes, Tom Riddle was a genius indeed. 

"It also shows the location of every single person in the school." He adds, really wanting to impress Tom and he is not disappointed. 

Tom laughs, a quiet melodic sound, and recreating that sound moves directly to the top of the ever evolving to-do list. 

"This is amazing, Harry. And they made it in school? Is it common? Why didn't the school provide a copy for the new students?" And Harry laughs in return as he answers. 

"It is amazing and it is not very common at all. They are amazing people Tom, and they did make this at school. They liked to create elaborate displays of Magic in their free time to very midly affect their class time, calling them pranks. Their professors both loved and hated them. Well, my dad and Godfather. My mother and Remus were the sweethearts who could do no wrong supposedly", he says, recalling his parents stories they loved to repeat.

"And I have never thought about creating copies for first years, but I imagine it would be difficult." He answers Tom's other question. "Even with proof of process, the enchantments are not easy to cast perfectly and Hogwarts is a Magic castle that sometimes likes to move rooms around. The Map follows all that Magic. Thats advanced Magic." He concludes and Tom smiles and nods again. 

"Thank you for letting me study it." Tom's voice is so soft and grateful Harry suddenly feels a little tiny himself. This little boy, he thinks, who no one had ever showed any kindness to. His chest clenches at the thought but he braves on.

"I did not show you this to let you study it Tom" he says and before he can continue sees Tom's face fall just a tad before that unreadable expression crosses his face, all earlier joy and amusement vanished. 

He rushes on, unwilling to really think on the unsavoury implications his stupidly worded sentence has caused Tom. "I showed you this to give it to you. A little —welcome to Hogwarts, don't get lost visiting— gift" he finishes almost breathlessly, hoping to regain favor. 

He is rewarded by pure shock this time, Tom's mouth falls open and he stares at Harry. A breath. Another.

One more.

Many more.

Tom says nothing. 

He stares at Harry for what is quite a while, the cogs seemingly spinning out of control. Harry waits for him to regain his composure, once more utterly pleased at having caused such a reaction. 

Oh if only Lord Voldemort could see him now, he thinks. The silver tongued serpent without anything to hiss, physically, viscerally affected by Harry's actions in the most un-Lord Voldemort way. This revenge is truly the sweetest.

He misses Tom move in his reverie, and then, tiny elbows enclose his upper arms, or attempt to. Tom's left palm rests on his right shoulder and a tiny fragile warm chest covers his left side and arm, one tiny hand resting gently on his back. 

Tom is hugging him.

Or hugging as much as he is able while they are both seated.

His face rests on Harry's chest, his hair tickling the curve of his neck and collarbone. Harry feels every beat of his heart as it slows down in the feeling of Tom against him.

Trust, Harry thinks as he savours the moment, is a wonderful thing. 

He reaches out slowly with his left hand to prevent startling Tom incase his action was unwelcome, but Tom doesn't change at all as Harry wraps one arm around his small frame, holding him back in turn.

"Thank you", it is the sweetest expression of gratitude Harry has ever heard, the honesty in Tom's words palpable in the way they are whispered muffled into his chest. 

"You are very very welcome Tom" he whispers in turn, it is all he can say, unwilling to lose this moment between them.

It is maybe a minute, maybe even more, before Tom's left hand leaves its place at Harry's right arm and Harry removes his own in turn, facing Tom as they part. 

He can still see echoes of joy on Tom's face, but the boy is pretty serious as he asks, "Why?" A demand.

"Because Tom" he says, stalling to find the right words. "I have never wanted to make a friend before you popped up at 'my' library table" he gestures with a laugh in his voice at the word. And that is one thousand percent the truth he thinks.

Tom's face goes through another complicated change Harry cannot attempt at understanding, but he's back to that beautiful genuine shy smile. 

"I have never wanted to make a friend before you either", and is that not just the sweetest admission Harry has ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"You can't ever stop being friends with me if you start Tom", he says instead, and Tom surprises him by laughing again. Louder this time, filling up the quietness of the library.

"And here I thought we were already friends", Tom says instead, with a surprisingly teasing tone to his words. "My broken heart" he continues, and this time Harry is the one affected.

He moves quick and deliberate, wrapping his arms around Tom, almost smothering the boy he is sure. "We are, Tom. Best friends even, since you have to be the best, since you are the only." He lets go, echoing Tom's teasing earlier. "However, by that virtue you are also my worst friend. How does it feel, to be so terrible at friendship?" He mimics a mike at Tom's lips, who smiles wide at him, eyes sparkling.

"I feel the same as you, worst friend of mine", he says and Harry is sure his answering smile is blinding.