let me go, hold me close

Feb 1940 (Tom's third year, Harry's last year)

Something was wrong. 

He had been trying to clamp down on this specific worry for a while, yet it seemed clearer with each passing day. 

Although many things had changed through the years he had spent with the boy, he had thought their companionship was steadfast, a given. But now, it seemed even that was changing. 

He had gotten into a habit of keeping his curiosities to himself, however, even though he knew Tom was King of Slytherin already at thirteen, a title held by none since Cynus' departure. And it didn't seem to be the cause, as far as Harry could tell. 

And he kinda knew anyway, this was Tom after all. He didn't need to know the gory details. As long as no muggle-borns were being killed in bathrooms, he was happy. 

Expecting more from Lord Voldemort would only end in disappointment. And if Tom managed to surprise him, it would only be that much sweeter. Either way, he knows his direction. This was a curiosity he needed to sate fully after all. 

They reach their table at the library, bringing his spiraling thoughts to a halt. "Tom", it is out before he has paid much thought to his next words. A big mistake, but aren't they all— in hindsight. 

A hum to indicate he has the boy's attention even as Tom continues on his essay's introductory paragraph. Harry is a bit jealous of his multitasking, but if Harry had to be jealous of Tom, he would have to be jealous of everything, so he'd rather just celebrate the boy instead. His best friend. 

"What's wrong?" That head turns up to study him instead. "What's wrong with what?"

"With you", Harry has to insist, he needs to know, even as this feels like a stupider idea by the second. What if it was nothing, or not nothing but nothing to Harry, really? What if the boy just had a crush on someone, and thus he had grown what it seemed like a bit distant from Harry. It could be any number of things. And yet. 

Tom says nothing, he just looks at Harry.

That feeling only grows stronger, his stomach turning like he'd taken a rather nasty potion, his chest tight like he can't breathe. He feels uncomfortable, and he needs it resolved. Only communication would help. He had to. 

"You can tell me anything. Don't you know that." It is required. Tom needs to know this. Or to freshen his memory, since he should already know. Harry would try his best, as he'd decided years ago at this point, and he had meant that declaration. 

This was the only meaningful action he could commit in this world, and damned if he wasn't in all the fucking way. He would try his best with Tom. "Please."

Still nothing. 

He studies the boy in turn, he has nothing else to do as the silence stretches. Tom was no longer a baby. Thank Merlin. He was almost an adolescent now, coming up to Harry's shoulder. Harry hoped he would grow up to be tall and healthy, Quidditch practice and Harry's careful steering of his food intake had helped a lot. 

There is still nothing. 

He slides out of his seat, moving around the table to Tom, knees on the carpet, their faces level. "I love you Tom. You are my family. You can tell me anything. Tell me. Please Tom." 

His worries only grow, the longer Tom hides. Now he can't help but think once again of Horcruxes. Had Tom somehow discovered that knowledge with the obvious intention? Had he committed to such a course of action already? 

"Harry, I", he stops. Harry needs him to continue this instant!

When he does, it really isn't what Harry wants to hear, but he understands anyway. "Can we go down to the Chamber before?"

"You'll tell me what's wrong when we do?" He has to! He better! He only gets a nod in response, but that's good enough. He gestures to Tom as he collects their things. They take the quick walk to the girls floor bathroom, and Harry conjures the usual floating disk to get them to the bottom of the pipes. 

They make their way into the cavern, the basilisk asleep once more after Tom had woken it from its sleep for a quick chat at the start of the year, when Harry had finally shown him the Chamber as he'd resolved to initially. 

He was a bit miffed, he could have shown it to Tom at the start if he had known the boy wouldn't find it in two years. Then again, Harry had kept him busy exploring things other than the secrets of the castle. 

He sets their things down and sits diagonally from Tom's favorite chair in here, waiting for the other boy to begin, fingers twisting between themselves in the wait for words. Decades couldn't fix his impatience, it wasn't such a big deal. 

Tom smiles as he sits, then he seems to recall his own position, and it fades as he seems to ready himself for words. 

"You", a long pause. I, You and Harry, what an explanation! Merlin! 

He mimics his earlier actions as he slides in front of Tom again, even holding on to one of Tom's hands in both of his. "Just tell me, Tom. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me turn you away." Ummm, there are, but he's sure Tom's not there yet. Hopefully. Merlin!

(What comes is not much better)

"You said I am your family", he starts and Harry feels the first twinge of dread churn within him. Where in Morgana's name was this going?

"You are my family Tom", he agrees. He is, Merlin knows how that has happened. (Harry knows)

"Well", another pause as he studies Harry once more, his gaze intense. "I found some others who could claim to be my family too, but they didn't want the honor." An rigid tone, the words forcefully even. "And?"

"And what Harry?" He is asked in turn. And yet, that dread has only strengthened into an intuitive foreknowledge and foresight. Low expectations indeed.

Tom had done something. What, Harry didn't know. But it was Something! Which family though? Both didn't want him equally after all. 

"And what did the Gaunts say?", atleast he hopes it was that side. Tom, young as he still was, probably couldn't kill Morfin, hopefully. Wouldn't. Hadn't killed Morfin. The Riddles, he has no idea about. Tom could have done anything there, Harry had even removed the trace from his wand. 

"I will see my uncle only as a corpse, I assure you. And I am sure it will be soon. And then, I will claim the name and lordship as Lily and I talked about" he smiles, Harry is not diverted so easy. Even if such open honesty about Tom's feelings was a rare treat. Especially then. This was most likely even purposeful!

"So, the Riddles, then?" And Tom nods, somber once more. "And what happened when you met? When did you even meet?" The last one is a curiosity he absolutely cannot understand, he has spent everyday with Tom after all. For over two years now. 

"They", a hesitation before it turns into steely resolve, the next words even-toned and without inflection. "They called me 'Her Demon Offspring' at first sight. My father knew about me and left me to rot in the gutters of London on purpose. " 

Another pause. 

"He said she was ugly inside and out, and that even if I had inherited his looks, my insides were still just as ugly as hers." These words are said in a lower volume, as if Tom was unwilling to continue and yet, he had even more words. 

"I had no choice", this Harry can barely hear, even in the quiet. "They made me. You have to believe me, Harry." 

Yes. It is as he feared and thought and knew. This was always a very likely possibility, as he has known from the start. He would just have to try harder. And yet, even then, he understands, just a bit. This was the family that abandoned Tom with the full knowledge of their actions, even as Harry knew Tom's father wasn't totally in the wrong for his abandonment either. 

"What happened?", he chooses to ask instead. No one made Tom do anything, the boy had his free will. He just wants to know what happened. So he can protect Tom if it was required.

"I created a multi use portkey", he starts, impressing Harry a bit, even as he forces himself away from distraction and praise. "To get to Muggle London near Kings Cross. I snuck out for a couple hours to a telephone booth after curfew, calling every house and resident under Riddle in the yellow books, to try to find one with all three names. It took a while before I reached Little Hangleton."

He looks at Harry, Harry says nothing, just strokes Tom's hand in his own gently with his fingers. A calming reassurance, or so he hoped. Tom continues, a bit more hesitant. 

"I took a train there the next night, the same butler I talked to on the phone let me in to their living room."

Tom pauses as he recalls the experience inwardly, his face growing cold. "They were vile human beings who got what they deserved. A curse I created especially for this, a plan, if things went the way they did. The way I thought they would go. Not the only curse I wanted to use either, but they deserved this one fully."

"And I wanted them to live with what they'd done." And then he locks onto their hands in his lap and says nothing once more. 

"The bone sharpening curse?", Tom had created that with his help a few months ago, his runework and arithmancy already better than Harry's. Tom shakes his head, still not meeting Harry's gaze. 

"You created a curse without telling me? How did I not see you work on it?" The latter is mostly for himself. "What kind of curse, Tom?" He asks instead. 

"A Nightmare curse. I personalized it to my self, they will feel exactly as I felt for those eleven years when they're asleep every night, and yet they will forget when their awake. It should slowly drive them crazy." His tone vindictive, a seeming triumph of justice. Harry doesn't know how to feel. 

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He cannot help his words, even as that shouldn't be his first question, for the love of Merlin. 

Tom hasn't looked up even once. 

"I didn't know what you'd say."

"Why would you think you'd find anything but acceptance, Tom. Aren't we best friends? Family?", he needs to know much sooner the next time. So he can mitigate any arising circumstances. So Tom doesn't get into any real trouble. 

At this Tom looks at him for just a second before he looks away again. "What is it Tom? What are you not saying? Please."

Silence.

"Tom" a plead. 

"Its irrelevant", he starts, "and you'll be gone soon." At this, Harry doesn't know what to say.

An addition, "So I'll be doing many more things by myself. Why does it matter? And they deserved it, Harry. Trust me."

Has Tom ever said those words to him? 

"Is that why?" An unveiling, a hunch that Harry has. "Is that why you've been distant? Because I'm leaving soon?" He doesn't know what to think. 

"It doesn't matter", and yet, it does. 

A new plan takes hold, a complicated plan that hinged on a lot of moving parts, and yet Harry was nothing if not dedicated to Tom. 

"Do you trust me, Tom?" He asks instead, the boy looking up at him in curiosity once more. "Yes." 

"Then don't worry about me leaving at the end of the year. Pretend I'm going to be there next year. Trust me." 

"How? Will you fail your NEWTS on purpose?" 

"Trust me, Tom?" "Yes"

"Then don't worry about it." A nod. 

"Is there anything else?" He needs to ask. 

"Any what?" And what else could he expect. 

"Anything else you haven't told me? Like this whole sneaking out and cursing your family thing?" An explicitly request.

"They aren't my family!" The words are uttered quick, with conviction. And then a shake of his head as a response.

Harry just smiles up at him, and reaches over to brush his hair back. "I agree, because that is me." Tom smiles back at him before he turns to restart on his homework. 

They spend the rest of the evening in a dead silence in the Chamber before Tom speaks up again. "Harry?" 

"Yes", he replies. Hopefully not more of the same, please Merlin. 

"Can I stay with you tonight?" His tone full of hesitation.

And this, Harry doesn't know how to answer. They haven't ever done this at Hogwarts, but he is Head Boy with his own full suite. It should be okay. 

"If you want to, Tom" he agrees. "Would you like me to read to you?", one of Tom's favorite things Harry did. He probably read the boy to sleep every night they'd spent in Potter Manor so far, since that first summer. Tom nods. "Let's go? It's also getting a bit close to curfew." "Let's go."

He leads them to his rooms, a spacious bedroom and a bathroom that echoed a miniature Prefects bathroom, in one corner, a small kitchenette to make tea or breakfast. Sometimes Harry (and Tom) liked the taste of his own eggs, after all. 

"You can shower first. I'll get you a shirt." He digs through to find a soft muggle t-shirt in Gryffindor red. Hopefully Tom didn't mind not having his own pajamas, this was at his request.

He hands him a charmed-to-remain-warm towel and the shirt, gesturing to the door left ajar. Tom follows and Harry sets about the next day's needs before bed. He cleans up his area, repacks his bag with tomorrow's books and hangs up his uniform by the door, before he picks out his own pajamas for the night. 

The door opens to a cloud of steam and Harry smiles at this certainty about most of Tom's actions, which usually happened in a predictable manner. He loved his showers Scalding. An unfathomable thought, Harry preferred to enjoy his showers!

He enters quickly after Tom, falling into his routine before bed. When he gets out, Tom is already in bed, blankets up to his chest as he plays against himself on a conjured up holographic chess set, floating in the air above him. "Who's winning?" A classic, yet Tom doesn't reply.

He goes to pick up his latest read when Tom interrupts him. "You could read what I'm reading, a friend let me borrow it. You probably haven't read it before either. A Treatise on the Blackest and Most Foul."

"Dark Magic?" 

"Of all kinds", Tom answers. Harry is once again both cautious and curious, as he so often is with Tom. "Sounds interesting, and no I haven't read it." Harry agrees. 

"From the beginning", an order much cuter than any of Lord Voldemort's had every been. A recognition of an absurd thought as he goes to sit beside Tom, and a forceful continuation of his actions as he flips through the pages. "Beware Reader", it starts, and Merlin, what an opening. He continues. 

"If you are of a weak stomach, reading these contents further will only lead....."

The author starts off with just theory of pure Magic, slowly delving deep into the foul things claimed on the cover, mild compulsion spells turn into a decent lesson on the Imperio curse, before really going into further details as the pages turn. Rituals and Potions. 

Towards the start of the fifth chapter, Tom falls asleep. Harry wants to read it further, wants Tom to stop reading, and doesn't know what to do about either. 

He sets the book back on the table beside him and slips under the sheets himself. He reaches over to ensure Tom is fully covered before he lets himself finally feel that joy at having solved whatever was bothering Tom. 

Harry was here to fix his problems, he just had to tell Harry. He cannot read minds after all. And if Harry leaving was such a problem, then he would try his best to stay. 

With that new certain course of action set, he feels himself sink into the mattress, and then, nothingness.