let me go, hold me close

His first clue, in hindsight, should have been that harmless joke Jack had made as Harry was walking out of the locker rooms to floo back to Hogwarts months ago. 

"Back home to your boyfriend already, huh. Have a goodnight Harry"

A pity he had only laughed with him, issued a scoffed at denial and abandoned any further thought at such a ridiculous proposition. 

Tom was almost his kid, even though truly he felt to Harry as any other friend he'd had before, sans Tom's special brand of viciousness ofcourse. That was singular.

After all, even Harry had heard the whispers, and if any of them were true, and they were most likely all true, then Tom's usage of Magic was much more than a mere child's.

Accepting that side of Tom had been a gradual process over the years as the boy had pushed and Harry had given in to his own boundaries. Right and wrong didn't seem to matter in the face of family. 

And yet. 

Some things were crystal clear in their rightness and their wrongness. 

And this, what had just happened, was completely wrong. 

It didn't matter that Tom was already seventeen as of an hour and a half. 

Harry was almost forty. Tom was a child. He could be Harry's child, that's how old Harry was. He cannot. 

Tom is still looking at him and Harry is unsure of what displays on his own face. Tom is not looking too great either, since even though he has that mask on now, Harry can feel his Magic as he dwells on Harry's silence. 

Harry knows and yet he doesn't. He knows rejection would change things in a way that would ultimately hurt Harry very much. And yet, he cannot give Tom this! Doesn't know how to break this immutable truth. The boy doesn't know what he's asking!

The boy is still looking at him. 

Words....there aren't any. 

There are no thoughts, or not real ones anyway, just a spiral. 

What could he say in response to the lips that had been pressed against his for just half a second before Tom had pulled back and just stared.

And hadn't stopped yet. 

Waiting for a response—

"Tom"

The only word, the only thought, the only problem Harry had chosen for himself. 

He feels himself begin to shut down slowly, he feels overwhelmed. 

The beginnings of a panic attack, his lungs cannot breathe in enough air. 

He watches Tom's face change, that mask dropping as Harry's breaths come louder and wheezing, quickly turning to pants as his brain spins out of control. 

He can feel his Magic rise up in response around them, the room turning unbearably warm, a humid, cloying feeling surrounds them on the bed. 

Tom reaches out with one hand, hesitant. He rests it gently on Harry's shoulder. 

Harry is.....quite lost.

What on Earth was he supposed to do now? The impending conversation was unavoidable. A response....is impossible. And yet he must!

The spiral is unforgiving and Tom's hand on him was even more unhelpful, the obvious result, as the source of his distress was also the one attempting to console him.

It takes—

A long time. 

"Tom", unnecessary, the boy's gaze had hardly moved. "I'm okay", he slips that hand off his shoulder and into both of his own. 

(The hand is almost as soft as those lips had been, pressed up against his own)

Perish the thought! 

(It had been decades since he had been kissed after all. Cho didn't count, and Ginny....sweet sweet Ginny had kissed him a goodbye Harry would never forget, but that had been a good twenty two years ago now.)

Harry had given up on finding a partner at all until he was a fully grown man in this body. Anything else felt icky, and he really wasn't a person that could share such intimacy without emotion, so other venues were out too. And also, any grown adults willing to fuck teenage him would be a very different problem entirely. 

So here he is, an almost forty year old virgin, about to reject his first kiss in twenty two years. Hadn't he secretly watched parts of a muggle movie with a similar name on the telly in Privet Drive?

"Are you?" Back to the terrible, terrible present. He squeezes the hand slightly. 

"Tom, I love you. I just—" what words could he use?

The truth? Now? 

It is a possibility, Tom is an adult now. 

Hadn't that always been his resolution anyway?

"I....there are things you don't know about me Tom." He decides instead. 

"Do you love someone else?" The sudden bluntness is astounding. "No, that's not why."

"Am I so impossible to love, you wouldn't consider it even for a second?" And Wow, that hits deep. He almost cannot believe Tom had said it aloud. 

"No" the word forceful, his arm coming to wrap around Tom, an instinctual act, a habit formed over years of providing reassurance.

A mistake. 

The face he has to answer to is closer than ever, mere inches between them. 

He chooses to create some distance so he pulls Tom in even closer, chin resting on his head. Atleast he doesn't have to look at him during. 

After, he doesn't know about. 

"It's not you Tom. I do love you, you deserve to be loved, we all love you Tom, but I—"

Again, he is unable. 

"You what?" Tom is back to staring right through him. 

"I—" Nope. "There are too many things you don't know about me. And you're so young, you—"

"Only three and a half years", he is interrupted. 

"You should be out there exploring the world Tom, please."

"Please what, Harry?" Oh!

Please what he has no idea either. 

Unsure of what he wants in this moment himself. 

Well, he was sure of what he wanted, just unsure where that would take him. Them. Unsure what rejection would do to Tom. 

"Why now?" He asks instead, he is still partly in shock after all. 

And he feels Tom close off at that question, once more that blank mask it had been. While Harry's Magic is back in control, his earlier panic fully gone, a new growing worry takes its place. Tom has understood implicitly what Harry hasn't said out loud. 

That Tom's actions were unwelcome.

The air that surrounds them is frost now.

Tom's voice is too, when he speaks.

"Thank you for my present Harry", he slips out from under the covers, gives Harry what is an approximation of a smile and turns to the door. "Goodnight", it is uttered as he is almost past the threshold. 

"Goodnight Tom, Happy Birthday" 

The words are barely audible as a new feeling sets in. He knows he has hurt Tom with this, and there's nothing he can do about it. 

He wants to run to the boy but what can he say. I'm sorry? No, it's impossible? You don't understand? 

Tom wasn't a person who cared for explanations, or excuses as he called them. Whatever. 

It was all unimportant in the face of what had happened, and then, what would happen. After. 

This uncertainty about them coupled with his inability to even go talk to Tom further— because what would he even say, more of the same?— results in him staring at the ceiling all night as scenarios play through him.

Would Tom even talk to him anymore? Would he confront Harry about it again? Would he show no indication that it had even happened? Or maybe things would magically remain the same? 

Would there be an attempt to satisfy himself against Harry's rejection? 

That would be a first. 

Harry didn't know what emotion he felt at such a thought. That he and Tom might not speak again. Ever.  How would that feel, to lose his first friend after eleven years of being alone, after six and a half years of friendship. 

How maddening it is that even now, even with this Tom, Harry couldn't tell what would happen next. 

(Never once does he think what it would be like if he had said yes)

The night is spent in this, these worrying musings, they spin even as Harry sees the sky lighten slowly behind the lace of his curtains. 

When his alarm finally goes off he decides to get on with the day, and a shower would hopefully help. 

He is first at the table downstairs and takes his usual seat, a steaming hot pot of tea appearing as he does. He pours himself a cup and reaches over for the Prophet that must have been delivered just minutes ago. 

It is full of it's usual bullshit, but it is at least a nice distraction from the thoughts that cage him. 

The source of their origin appears. "Tom"

"Good morning, Harry" 

"Good morning"

He doesn't know what to say. 

Tom doesn't say anything either. 

He turns to pour himself tea as two perfect plates appear, full of their favourites. 

"Thank you", he mutters as he digs in, pulling out a book that had been one of his presents last night, an ancient text in Parselscript from India. 

Harry cannot pay attention to his newspaper anymore. 

Should he try to talk to Tom?

About what though!

Words spoken would echo unspoken ones more. 

He had already made quite a few mistakes last night. 

Tom says not one word to him, only speaking up to greet Lily and James as they walk in finally, a good hour or so later. 

Infact, unsurprisingly, Tom didnt talk to Harry outside of a most basic greeting for the rest of their days away from Hogwarts. 

They sat in quiet silence in the compartment, and Harry walked Tom to now his Head Boy suite in the same silence. 

"Would you", he cannot stop himself, the words are uttered quick, a damnable reflex. 

"Would I?" Tom turns to him as his wrist turns the handle, the door splitting ajar.

"Like me to read to you?" He continues as he had originally started to. 

"Maybe not tonight", Tom looks away from him into the room, and Merlin, Harry can take such an obvious hint. 

"Some other time then", he agrees, even as his chest hurts. "Goodnight Tom"

He barely hears it back in response as the door closes right in front of him. 

And what an analogy. A closed door. Shut. Sealed. 

He and Tom would never be the same again, he has his answer. And with only five more months at Hogwarts before Tom graduated in June, the extent to which things would change is still unknown.

He thinks back to that boy who made him remain close when it had been Harry's turn to part. 

And now, after everything, after he had forced his mother to amend her profession to include teaching, after he had himself remained here as her apprentice, all for Tom, now, Tom would go away from him. 

He would leave Harry. 

And he wouldn't even leave like Harry would have. He would leave permanently. It is—

Unfathomable. 

That Tom would leave as suddenly as he'd arrived in Harry's life is a loathsome thought.

And since the only possibility at resolving this was impossible, Harry hasn't gotten much sleep over the last week. 

Even today, he lies in bed alone, once more studying the paint as his restless thoughts zoom by. 

He wonders if his mother had noticed. 

It was still a secret between them so far, it's not like Harry had changed at all, and Tom usually spoke little and usually preferred to read.

Every attempt at resolving the issue ends in failure because Harry has no idea what to say to him. Without making things worse. 

And since it has already been over a month, too long has passed without a serious acknowledgement, which made it a much bigger issue than it had first been. 

And it had been a gigantic issue from the very first second. 

Lily does notice, he doesn't know why he ever doubted her. 

"What's going on with you and Tom?", she says as she looks up from grading appointments. 

"Nothing", he hopes his voice is steady as he curses himself for deciding to tie up his laces in the sitting room. 

"Hmm." Not a good sound. Actually a terrible sound. 

"There's nothing mum"

She is obviously not falling for it. 

"You can tell me when you're ready sweetheart. Now off you go, don't be late for your training."

He nods and reaches for the floo powder. 

Thank Merlin!

(Not really)

"What's with you, Harry?", Jack asks him after practice. "Yeah, you good mate?" Phil adds. 

"I'm fine, just a bit tired, yknow", an excuse that usually works. And it does not disappoint.

"Better rest up before the next match, mate", they pat him on the back as they head off.

It's not like Tom was waiting for him back at the castle or anything, not anymore, so he decides to go for a drink. 

Changes into casual clothes before apparating back to Hogsmeade, a short walk away from the Hog's Head.

He makes his way to Aberforth, "A double shot of your finest Odgen's please", he throws down two galleons. That should more than cover it. 

He is served the finest swill and he takes a seat at one of the back tables, eyes split between the door and his own fingers as they twist in a mimicry of his still agitated thoughts. 

It is gone, soon. So is another. So are two more. Another. Another another anoth—

Finally, it feels like there has been some space cleared in his head. A mockery of real Occlumency, his brain too frazzled for any remaining thoughts, thank Merlin. 

And yet, even now when his eyes shut, an imprint of the boy stands behind them. 

Tom.

He doesn't understand!

If only he understood things would be fine. 

Harry just needs to explain. 

A newfound plan, a confidence only alcohol could give, and a resolve to amends things with Tom fully. His mind is made up. 

He puts his outer robe back on and stands up, the trek to the castle clear in his mind, even inebriated. He mutters a goodnight and steps out into the cold evening breeze. 

Snow crunches beneath him, although he is nice and toasty the whole way back, unable to pick how he wanted to start. 

Maybe he would just start at the beginning and hope Tom would understand?

He isn't one bit less drunk than when he started his walk, he realises, as he stands in front of Tom's door. He knocks before he can change his mind again. 

The door opens, "Harry?"

"Tom, hello." 

"Hello? Are you alright Harry, it's late?"

"I'm fine Tom. Totally alright. Could we talk?" He gestures towards Tom. 

The boy studies him for a second before he lets him through. Abraxas and Euphemina sit on his couch. They start gathering up their things as they see Harry enter. 

"Let's finish this up tomorrow, goodnight Tom", she greets Harry as well before leaving, her brother following.

He takes his seat diagonally to Tom's chair as the boy turns to him. "What would you like to talk about?" A neutral tone, so unlike the frigid winter he had been echoing lately. 

"I think you've misunderstood me, Tom. Maybe if you let me explain.."

"Please explain", Tom looks at him in all seriousness, intent and rapt attention.

And now choosing words is hard again. The firewhisky is not helping in the least. 

"It's not that I don't love you Tom, it's just that,  I am a lot older than you and there's so much you don't know about me" the same words from earlier, ugh.

They do about as much this time too. 

"You've said that already, Harry", he is closed off again. 

Harry doesn't know what to say. He has not told a single person about his experience. And to tell Tom. To tell Lord Voldemort about himself. To tell Tom of the way his past self had hurt him, and to use that as a reason to reject Tom did not sit right with him.

Even if it was.....true. 

Tom was a child and he was also an iteration of the man who had sworn Harry as an enemy, and tried to kill him multiple times. 

And Harry's sure that's exactly how Tom would take it. As Harry holding him responsible for acts he didn't commit. He's sure the rest would just be accepted as part of Harry. And yet, that's not it, even if it is also slightly it. 

Its just, Tom is not someone he saw romantically at all. Not even in his wildest imagination would he have considered Tom. Not that the boy wasn't beautiful, he had been as a child, and he was extremely handsome as an adult, gaining the adoration of every student, professor, and ghost that resided within the castle. 

But No, Not Tom. Never Tom. That kiss that had left him reeling still comes back him even as he attempts to suppress the memory behind walls. 

It had barely even been that.

And yet. 

It had been more than Harry had ever prepared himself for with Tom. 

A declaration. 

From Tom. 

The— "Harry"

"Sorry"

It gets him a smile. 

One he hasn't seen in weeks. 

He feels something else for the first time since that day.

"It's okay Harry, I just—"

Tom gets out of his seat and he is kneeling in front of Harry, his hand coming up to cup Harry's jaw, his face pleading. 

"Why won't you give me a chance?"

It's the sweetest, most tender thing, and really, Tom would make someone very happy one day, but it wouldn't be Harry. Couldn't be Harry!

"Because I am almost forty", and wow, that was certainly a way to introduce the truth. 

Tom's hand, still at his face, tightens just a bit, fingers dipping into the indents of his cheekbones. His eyes still onto Harry. 

"What do you mean by that?"

"The secret Tom, that's the secret."

"How much firewhisky did you drink tonight?" He asks and Harry laughs. He feels more sober now than ever. 

"Not enough, Tom. But yes, I am almost forty." 

"What do you mean, Harry, that makes no sense. You graduated Hogwarts in my third year, I was there."

"I was born into this world as a seventeen year old from another world."

"Is this a prank?" Tom's voice is disbelief.

"I am telling you the truth Tom. The reason I have to say no. You're a child and I am an adult. It's impossible, even though I love you very much." He reaches out with his own hand, holding Tom's face in turn.

Those brown eyes study him, not a single blink, and his knees must surely hurt from how long they'd been sitting there talking.

"Is that the only reason?" Tom confirms. 

Hmm. 

A difficult question. 

Voldemort was obviously the other reason, but—

That was so totally unfair to Tom. To have to answer for crimes he was innocent for? When did Harry turn so unjust?

"Yes Tom, that's all. I'm from a different world, I am twenty two years older than you and so it is impossible." He takes Tom's hand away from his face and into his hands, willing the boy to understand. 

"Harry", he begins instead, sitting further down, his chin resting on Harry's knee, his hands still holding Harry's. "I don't care. I don't care about that. I already know you. I love you."

He pleads with every part of him, his eyes, his hands, his tone, his Magic even, it is—

An impossible feeling. To have Lord Voldemort Tom kneel before him for a chance to love Harry more than he already did. He wanted Harry more than Harry could give of himself. 

It is both an achievement and a burden. (Is it?)

"I love you, Tom, I just" He just what!

"Let me think about it, please Tom, but I miss you. Can we just, stop this?" 

It is all he wants, Merlin. For things to go back to normal. 

"One date" comes the reply. 

"Huh"

"Go on one date with me and things can go back to normal after, if you want. Just one chance Harry, please. It doesn't matter how old I am." It matters SO much!!

"Tom" "Don't think about it too much. It's just me, we've gone out like a million times already at this point." Valid. 

"Yes, but I"

"No buts please", he comes to grab Harry by the elbows, closing the distance between them. "Just say yes! I know now, and I don't care about any truth. I love you, Harry. I can make you happy. I do make you happy. You make me happy, very happy. I want to keep you forever. Does it not make sense for us to be together, please." His face is all seriousness now, he really is begging. 

What can he say?

"Just one, Tom" Ugh.

What else did he expect. 

Honestly.