let me go, hold me close

"I'm trusting you just as you trusted me at lunch today Tom."

What.

With what? He finds out.

"This is the Marauders Map." A map of?

"An enchanted piece of parchment." Magical map, interesting. Of what?

"...created by my parents" ofcourse, Harry's mom(with her own Doe) had done that. And his dad. Created a map of what?

" and their two best friends" Sirius Black, his Godfather? Moony? Or were they the same and there existed another person he was unknowing of.

"while they were still at Hogwarts." Made a map of some unknown location as teenagers. Interesting. Map of what though?

"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." Map of what?, he wants to scream.

They do love to complain about how complicated the things they do are. Especially things they like and do willingly" Aspects of Harry's personal life fall into respective boxes even as he burns with curiosity. Harry's parents spent time with Harry discussing details of their inventions. They spent a lot of time with Harry if that tone, a mask of exasperation that hid real affection, was any indication. 

Another thought he pushes back into the deepest recesses of his mind, from whence it came......what would it have been like to grow up with parents?.....and he can't, he can't. He can't. He can't go back down that rabbit hole, can't reopen the door he shut down long ago. He can't. 

He won't. 

He looks at Harry's face and forces his cheeks to tug upwards for the first time since he's met Harry, a facsimile of the Face he had shown Harry earlier. It is no one's business but Tom's, these now unrelenting wants he has buried many years ago. 

Harry smiles back, unknowing, and rises.

Tom is still deep in pushing back down what has taken hold of him.

He moves automatically, his brain interpreting Harry's wishes just as he commences with the act.

Harry slides next to him, his Magic sings to Tom, the sound of waves hitting coast in the dead of night. Of ocean breeze.

It brings him out of his reverie. That and Harry's words. "The sun's pretty directly in my face, thank you."

"So, the Map, yes" and finally, finally he thinks. A MAP OF WHAT!!!!

He is focused, he is present, he is observant. Unwilling to miss a single detail as Harry turns to him and starts, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The then-empty parchment darkens suddenly, as if being drawn on by extremely quick invisible hands. 

He recognizes the motifs as those that had adorned Hogwarts' front entrance. He remembers every single pattern he has seen in life after all. Can recreate them with crystal clarity. 

"Is it?" He says in the same breath as thought. Is it?

The whole school?

"The whole school?" He has to ask.

This is amazing.

This will help Tom so much. 

This will enable him to never miss a class.

To be unburdened by the unwelcome behavior of the Slytherins. He can look and memorize and find his way anywhere in just about fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on the square foot coverage. 

Hopefully they provide scale as well.

And really, it is such an inconsequential thought in the face of what Harry tells him next. 

"It also shows the location of every single person in the school." And that.

That. Is insane. That's crazy.

That's some amazing Magic.

Harry is extremely lucky, huh.

The thought forces sound out his lungs in a whoosh, a sound he has never felt the urge to make before. 

Oh, he thinks. This boy, who had everything. Everything. He had things Tom dreamed of and things Tom didn't know he could dream of, until he knew. 

This boy. 

Who had picked Tom. 

Who had been rude to his mother for Tom.

So she wouldn't ask questions. 

So Tom wouldn't have to wait to fly. Fly!

Who had shown Tom secrets, and shared without hesitation, and introduced Tom to feelings of freedom and joy. 

This boy who has accepted Tom and befriended Tom and welcomed Tom to his family. His family!

Who had made the ringing stop. With glee!

Harry. Is amazing.

This map is amazing.

He can only admit one out loud.

"This is amazing, Harry." Even as he wants to say, you are amazing Harry.

He continues with questions before he can jinx himself with an uncalculated response. 

"And they made it in school? Is it common? Why didn't the school provide a copy for the new students?" The questions in the order of least importance.

He needs a map like this. Himself.

Needs it!

To keep track of everyone's comings and goings?

And if he could keep a log?

If he could review the activity later?

If he could improve upon it so?

This is the most important thing right now after school work. He will memorize the routes, then recreate his own in ink if needed, and ask Harry for the enchantments. 

Harry's answer is both disappointing and reassuring!

He's sad he can't just get his own copy without working on it a while, even as he's glad at it's rarity. As this proof of Harry's prowess. That Harry's family is capable of great feats of Magic. 

And the son they raised has only had one friend.

Tom.

It's quite the impossible idea, but he remembers the words from the Doe.

"Thank you for letting me study it."

Gratitude wrapped in a question.

Can he study it?

Will Harry let him study it for a while?

He doesn't want to reach over and take it.

Harry needs to give it to him. In either words or actions. 

And then.

Harry.

Harry hurts him.

Harry dashes his hopes.

Harry disappoints for the first time.

Harry makes his chest wrap up around itself in a way unlike he has ever felt.

Harry makes him want to scream and rage and yet also to curl up into a ball and bury himself under that one blanket he had stolen from the washing line of one of the neighbors, Tom's favourite possession until its softness eroded to tatters. 

Harry makes him feel.

Tom is unsure.

And then.

Harry.

Harry lifts him back up.

Harry makes him feel again, but.

This time. This time it is welcome.

This time it overtakes everything. All of it.

His brain is not still now...now it runs. It speeds. It spins in all directions.

What.

What is happening?

Why.

Why would he?

Harry.

Harry who breaks his mind fully, as Tom cannot understand.

He cannot. 

No.

Why?

He spins. The words spin, distorting in his brian-voice like radio hosts blending back and forth between channels.

I showed you this to give it to you.

Give it to you.To him. To me.

To Tom.

Why.

What does he want?

What does he want from Tom?

What can Tom give the boy who had everything?

When Tom had nothing?

No.

He doesn't have nothing.

He has himself. He is the best.

He can give Harry himself. He can give Harry the best.

He cannot trust Harry, but he can trust himself. 

—To protect Harry. To keep Harry. To treat him the best. 

As Tom had been treated in turn.

And yet.

Yet.

A gift demanded a return in kind.

And he still has nothing concrete. Just vows.

Then, an image.

Of Martha.

Martha receiving that soldier boys gift of a hairband with a wrapping of her arms around him.

And perhaps.

Perhaps that may stand in place until Tom finds a worthy gift to return.

Perhaps.

He makes a decision.

He knows his face has been showing Harry just exactly how he has made Tom feel, but at this point, it matters not.

He will keep Harry close and protect him and keep him Tom's. To be treated with the best treatment, as Tom only provided the best for what was his.

He makes his decision.

His arms don't reach around Harry, stopping on his back and shoulder.

A very hard back and shoulder. 

It feels like Harry is made of stone under Tom, until he moves.

And when he presses Tom up against him in turn, Tom hears another person's heartbeat for the first time.

So close, so vulnerable, so trusting.

So new.

So exciting.

He stays there, unable to move.

Unable to will himself to, and he doesn't even find the loss of control as a negative.

He wants new things which are possible.

He wants more gifts.

So he can hug again.

Excuses.

A hug he cannot leave until the words force himself from deep within, in this space where he feels nothing but joy and gratitude and a feeling of finally!

"Thank you" and he means it.

Truly.

Harry is beyond compare.

"You are very very welcome Tom"

He feels it.

Feels welcome.

Feels seen and heard and understood.

Again.

Harry.

Harry doesn't let go until Tom is back in the pilot seat, and does so himself. 

Tom is disappointed by the present, even as his own actions are the cause.

Even as he is eager for the next time. For the next hug.

It doesn't take long as he finds out.

"Why?" The earlier question now coming back.

This feeling of not knowing.

He does hate not knowing. With a passion. 

Harry's words explain exactly as much as they don't.

"Because Tom" he says, "I have never wanted to make a friend before you popped up at 'my' library table."

And Tom.

Gets it.

Even if he doesn't understand.

Even if Harry's reasons for his want make no sense to him.

Tom is beneath Harry as far as Harry should be able to tell. The others had felt as such.

Why did Harry differ so? Why did Tom differ for Harry so? Your first friend, he remembers the Doe.

It makes no sense.

Even as it does. 

Even as Tom understands.

He wants in turn, he longs in turn.

His want to be around Harry. His joy at being around Harry. Harry's surprises. Harry's gifts. Harry's knowledge. Harry.

Tom wants. He has wanted.

He just didn't realize until the thought was put into words by another consciousness.

He wants to be this Harry's friend, he finds.

Wants to know more. Wants to learn every facet. To unravel every thread.

But not to exploit this time. To keep. To know. To find. To discover. To protect.

To keep.

He answers in kind. Honest. Unflinching.

He already knows he is returned in kind after all.

"I have never wanted to make a friend before you either", and it is the most vulnerable and truthful he has been, ever.

Harry possibly doesn't realise.

He will. Maybe.

He—

Surprises Tom such that this time he cannot stop himself from giving in.

Harry. Sweet precious bleeding heart Harry has some Tom in him after all.

That is such sweet delight. 

Harry. He is a wrapped up box of a million layers. 

Tom unravels one surprise to find another.

A gift in a gift in a gift in a....it goes on.

"You can't ever stop being friends with me if you start Tom."

And so sweet are the words, Tom will write them down in perfect calligraphy in his diary tonight. 

Mere memory is not enough.

Just a voice is not enough.

Just looking at that face is not enough.

He needs to immortalize Harry's words somewhere.

"And here I thought we were already friends" he says, looking directly at Harry as he does. Unwilling to miss even a single movement. He wants to commit the movement of every line on that face to permanent remembrance.

Wants to recall clearly, with exquisite detail, his first attempt at some humour with Harry. At a glimpse of the real Tom underneath. 

"My broken heart", he brings up the hand to his chest. He flashes back to the minutes ago he had felt another heart against him.

And Harry.

Replaces the mere memory with the real thing.

In flesh and blood.

Harry wraps around Tom this time.

His words wrap around Tom.

Tom has never ever felt so.

A flesh suit of surprise indeed.

Is Harry some kind of Magical species of Surprise, a creature that looks very much like a human, except it just shocks you with things to where your heart finally gives out?

—It is certainly a good strategy on Harry's part if so. Tom is willing prey.

This hug.

Tom could feel it forever and it wouldnt be enough.

It makes him feel safe. Like nothing could happen to him. That he is covered. He is protected. He will be defended. He is not alone. 

And his words. They envelop Tom in another way.

We are, Tom, it sounds like a promise.

Best friends even, it is a promise.

Since you are the only. A confirmation.

Tom is speechless.

Harry helps by letting go.

Tom is coming back to his head.

Harry helps further. 

He lightens Tom.

He echoes Tom's teasing from earlier.

He holds his closed fist to Tom's lips.

"However, by that virtue you are also my worst friend. How does it feel, to be so terrible at friendship?"

And Tom.

Tom is willing.

To be the best.

To be the best and the worst. 

To be the only.

He doesn't mind at all.

He wants to be Harry's friend and he will be. 

And should things need to change, Tom would reevaluate.

For now, he turns to Harry.

"I feel the same as you, worst friend of mine."

And there's that honesty again.

Well. 

Maybe it would be fine.

This was Harry after all.

For all of Harry's secrets, he could have some of Tom's too. 

(Harry would be his first, last and only friend!)