let me go, hold me close

Flying has cleared space actually, but lunch? Go back to what he faced through dinner? To sit beside those who sneer at him, who whisper under their breath? 

That word.

Mudblood.

It grates Tom to even think it, even as he cannot stop. It reverberates through his skull. Loud. Unflinching. 

Mudblood. Mudbloo...mudblo...mudbl..

That's who Tom is. 

He's from them, those filthy creatures Tom has been forced to spend his existence with. Or had, until literally yesterday afternoon. 

Yesterday's lunch had been that slimy disgusting porridge, but atleast Tom was King of the table at Wools. 

None dared to even look at him unless it was through covert glances and hastily shifted eyes. 

But now, now they looked at him like dirt beneath those stupid dragon-hide shoes Tom had been unable to afford. (And would be unable to for the conceivable future sadly infact)

Like Tom was beneath them? Really? Tom? Him? HIM? Beneath THEM? Impossible. They were cockroaches that Tom would take inconceivable pleasure crushing beneath him.

BENEATH Him. As they belonged. 

But now, now he could do nothing. He knew nothing. Any retribution at such a scale would have to be a planned effort, Tom couldn't merely just kill them en masse at the Great Hall one by one, each slight deserving a response after all. 

Well...he could, but Harry would be at lunch too, and now he knew Tom, and would probably notice and with his damnable intuition, would correctly identify Tom as the incendiary.

And yet, he couldn't go to the kitchens either, Harry wanted to accompany him on the journey, and how would he explain his actions as he parted and disappeared without cause. 

"What's wrong? With going to lunch?"

What's wrong with going to lunch, he repeats to himself hysterically. 

What do you think is wrong he wants to scream in response but that would be a foolish move. 

Harry is the only person who didn't grate on Tom and wanted to be around Tom too. 

It'sthem, he wants to scream simultaneously, but that...that would be foolish. That would be showing weakness. Impossible. 

Yet, even as he knows. Even as he knows, he has to confirm. That word again. It still rings in some distant part of him. It has rang since that time in the compartment, when he saw that nasty unpleasant rude little boy.

Mudblood.

Again.

He has to confirm that it is indeed what he thinks from atleast one person. One person who would tell him the truth without becoming aware of the true weakness of his ignorance. 

About the way he had hesitated to himself that first time...the way he had thought...surely not me? Even as he didn't understand the meaning of the term, he still understood instantly that he was being insulted. The look on the boy's face said it all. 

Mudblood.

He needs a confirmation. 

In words he could see and hear in front of him. He's knows he's right even as he asks, rather redundant, "Can I ask you a question?"

Harry face changes into a new look even as he nods. One Tom can recognize even through his unfamiliarity with Harry's Faces. Or Masks. He is still unsure, yet his thoughts keep leading him one place, away from the other.

Hesitation warring with acceptance at Tom's curiosity. 

He almost commends Harry on his vigilance, Tom's curiosity is a dangerous thing after all. Even if this one...this one will not be dangerous for many more years to come. 

Until Tom himself is dangerous. Until his curiosity only brings more of the same. Until they pay for the word that still rings. 

Mudblood...

"I..."

He cannot.

He has to.

But he cannot.

What if?

Even if Harry knows he's from the Muggles, he still could harbour unseen prejudices. 

And what if? What if Harry finds out that it means something to Tom.

That it makes him rage and burn with fury and indignation and shame.

There's that word again. 

No, he is not shameful.

He is ashamed of none of himself. Everything he is he has carefully built up. Studied. Refined. 

Even this. 

This word. 

He makes his decision. He will overcome. 

He came, he saw and soon, soon he would conquer. 

"What does it mean?" even as he knows.

That word.

"Mudblood."

"Muggleborns" Harry starts and Tom almost laughs.....euphemisms he thinks.

"Muggleborns are magical children born from Muggles. Some pureblooded wizards—which obviously means what you think it means, use a little slur to refer to them as Mudbloods."

And there it is. 

From flesh and blood, to his ears and present mind. 

Pureblood....and is that not indeed a good wordplay on the part of these otherwise shortsighted imbeciles who cannot tell of Tom's Greatness from just a single glance. 

Unlike Harry who had. 

Harry, who is still going, to Tom growing pleasure, as he sees a new Face.

Anger.

"Muddying magical blood with their Muggle ways" and Harry's face is hard. His voice mocking, his eyes hard.

His next words shock and surprise Tom to the core.

Really, this is becoming a pattern.

Does Harry spend time outside of conversing with Tom to think of new ways to surprise him?

His mother?

Is like Tom?

From the same filth?

Well, maybe perhaps not exactly as, but yet. From the Muggles. Just like Tom. 

That....was unexpected. Harry reminds him so intensely of theboy, from his manners to his clothes to his books. 

All screaming elite and riches and 'come rob me' if you were from the gutters of London. 

And yet. Yet, Harry is half like him. Half like his mom.

And yes, Tom remembers her Doe to match Harry's. Remembers that feeling he had with the Stag very much intensity. Intensity he was only planning to revisit tonight in bed alone. 

And Potions? His mother an inventor of Potions? Perhaps he will be great in atleast one subject if he does ask Harry enough questions, at 'our' table later.

And then. Harry, sweet sweet wonderful bleeding heart Harry manages to completely envelop Tom in his words and the feelings they cause.

He echoes every one of Tom's thoughts about himself with ringing clarity. With words that replaces the earlier ringing with new words that now echo.

Magic.

Skills.

Actions.

Knowledge.

Curiosity. 

And Tom agrees. Wholly. 

He has never ever felt validated, ever. 

So new is the feeling, so lightening, so freeing, he fully gives in to the tug at his cheeks. 

Shows Harry the Face his words have caused. 

Validates Harry in turn.

"I agree" and he does, "I'm sure your mother is a great witch, even if her parents are Muggles."

"She is." And Harry smiles again, his expression turning warm, then mischievous, his tone humourous, "And way smarter and better at Magic than my dad, who is a pureblood, even though you never heard me say that."

And there is that feeling again in succession.

That will be Tom too. Tom IS better than any pureblood. One day, he will be better than even Harry. He will show even Harry. Who Tom really IS!

He is the best. All that's left is to show them. He cannot change who he is after all. 

"So, lunch?" And the words are easier on his ears this time. After all, Harry's words now ring, replacing that one. 

Maybe if he only focuses on replaying that moment with perfect clarity in his minds eye, he won't even notice what surrounds him.

Harry grabs his still floating broom and walks them back over to that red door.

And then, as he hands Tom his robes back, his robes that are exactly as they were when hung some 30 minutes ago, Harry bewilders him.

"Oh" he says, and then Tom is being hit with his Magic for the very first time.

Well. Not exactly.

Harry says he's cleaning his robes (which don't need cleaning, they were that dull in the shop), but Tom knows that's not all he's done.

Tom feels his robes get both tighter and looser at the same time. Comfortable. They transform into comfort. 

But that's not the cause of this feeling in Tom, no.

Tom is jolted by the feel of that Magic so close to him again. He has a thought that even for his curiosity, is a bit morbid. And especially in the wrong direction. He thinks of himself getting hurt and Harry's Magic actually entering his body when he heals Tom. 

What would that feel like? To feel the ocean under his skin? 

Why on Earth would he ever put himself into any amount of danger or even discomfort, even momentary? Even to feel that ocean?

He feels out of sorts, that thought freshly echoing now, even as he tries to quash it as they walk back to the Great Hall. 

And Tom feels himself warring, expectations of this upcoming mealtimes a tumultuous storm again. 

Now mixed with a sort of determination and yet resignment. 

They are only a few steps away from the entrance when, "I..."

He turns to Harry, expectant. Unsure.

When Harry does not continue, new thoughts do, new worries that would have made no difference only yesterday. 

Does Harry not want to walk in with Tom? Was their time up? Is he ashamed of being seen with Tom in such a large crowd? Much more comfortable in library corners and secret kitchens and grass pitches? 

What Harry says next though. How dare he, thinks Tom as the syllables process. The absolute presumption!

"Do you trust me, Tom?"

What.

Trust?

Tom? Trust?

Is this a joke, he genuinely wants to ask.

Surely Harry knows the answer, intuitive as he is.

Tom trusts, yes.

Himself.

Only.

He has trusted others before, before he had known of trust. Of betrayal. Of revenge. Of the stab of that surprise. Of the quench of the resulting thirst. His thirst. For blood. For his pound of flesh. 

No, he wants to laugh in Harry's face. 

No I don't trust you, you sweet stupid gullible thing. I'm using you!! Do you trust me? You've only known me a few hours?

And yet, that internal question gives him pause too. DoesHarry trusthim? He thinks back to his(their) new table, to the kitchens, to the amazing feeling of wind against him. 

Perhaps, Harry does.

It doesn't mean Tom has to return it in kind. 

Harry seemingly understands his place by giving Tom what he deserves after all. There is no need for trust between them.

Harry breaks the growing silence, "I don't mind giving you some time to come to a decision" and thank God. Because Harry's about to be waiting. A. Long. Time. 

His entire life, actually!

Tom trusts only what he knows fully, what he can control innately. What has always been there for him. His self. He trusts his will and his actions. He trust his motivations. 

Unless they tomorrow wake up as one conjoined individual self, Tom cannot trust him. Ever. 

Never again. Ever.

"But perhaps you can give me a chance to influence you, one way or the other?"

Quite a bargain, seeing as Tom's trust is an impossible thing. There's nothing to influence, he is carved in stone. 

No matter how gullible and sweet and kind and surprising and.....no matter what. No matter, there wouldn't be any convincing Tom. 

And then, a challenge. "I know you're in Slytherin house, and I am in a different house as you can tell by the red. Come sit with me for breakfast, lunch and dinner anyway. Don't worry about anybody's reaction, especially the Slytherins. Act as if you have done this everyday. Trust me."

What on Earth does Harry mean by asking him such a thing. It is an insane request.

Especially as far as a first trust kind of situation, this is like asking Tom to step into the fire. Willingly. 

Dare he be foolish enough to agree to this unfathomable request? 

Why this? Why? It makes no sense.

Even if the Lions don't care about Tom joining them, this will only make matters worse in the Slytherin, and they are already at an abysmal place. 

Why would Harry ask this of him? Does he understand the way things are? The way things could get at Tom's acquiescence to his request. Does he understand the others at Hogwarts at all? 

What if that boy decided to go further? To involve Harry with Tom?

In the face of such a possibility, he thinks just facing the regular treatment of the Slytherins' bigotry is almost welcome. 

And yet, Harry insists.

He is firm. Unyielding. 

Waiting for Tom to respond.

Don't worry he says. Tom is.

Act as if this is regular. Tom hasn't even had lunch once at Hogwarts. 

Trust me he says. Tom doesn't.

And yet.

Yet.

In the face of all Harry has done for him, can he not give him this? 

One semblance of trust, even if it doesn't seem like a semblance in all its intensity. In all that Harry is asking of Tom.

But maybe, maybe a voice whispers. Maybe he will live up to that non-trust. 

Maybe he will always live up to his word even if Tom expects disappointment every time. 

Maybe, he will even surpass my expectations. He always aims to surprise it seems. 

And yet, if he does end up disappointing Tom, even if things go the way Tom knows they will, Tom still has the kitchens after all. 

An suitable alternative in the face of definite disappointment, and yet, since it was Harry who gave him the possibility of such a reprive, then perhaps Harry can close a door to replace the door he opened. 

And "Okay" he says. Just this one time. 

He cannot deny his curiosity after all. 

And he wants to see what Harry thinks will happen as the consequence of his request. 

What does Harry have in mind for him, what surprise awaits them as they step in.