Chapter 6
There was no mistaking it: the flicker of jealousy in Tom’s eyes had evolved into something more dangerous. It wasn’t just about Draco anymore—it was about Tom’s struggle to keep his instincts in check.
And the realization sent a strange, thrilling spark through Harry.
There was something undeniably powerful in the way Tom was barely restraining himself, the intensity of his possessive nature both terrifying and exciting. Harry’s heart raced, not out of fear, but from the overwhelming pull of desire, an unspoken need to ground Tom before he lost control.
“Tom,” he cupped Tom’s face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together.
Harry could see it— threatening to consume him. And instead of backing away, Harry leaned into it, pressing his lips to Tom’s in a kiss that was tender yet grounding, a reminder that he was here, with him, and not anyone else.
The kiss was slow at first, gentle, but Harry deepened it, pouring all his feelings into it. When they finally broke apart, Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, and Tom’s eyes were locked onto him, still filled with that red, hungry intensity.
Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Tom, pressing his body against him. “Don’t let it take over.”
“You don’t know what it’s like. Every part of me wants to… to take what’s mine, to keep you all to myself.”
"Believe me, I do." Harry pulled back just enough to look into Tom’s eyes, fingers brushing through his dark hair. “I’m already yours,”
"You don't understand..."
Taking a deep breath, Harry’s voice softened even further, his lips brushing against Tom’s ear in the second he whispered those words for the first time. “I love you.”
.... Tom Riddle froze, his eyes widening in shock, his body going still as if Harry’s words had struck him like a spell. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Harry’s gaze, searching his eyes trying to understand what he had just heard.
“What did you say?” Tom asked, his voice barely above a whisper
“I love you, Tom.”
For a moment, Tom didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at Harry, the weight of those words had momentarily stolen his ability to react. And then, slowly, a flicker of something vulnerable, appeared in Tom’s red eyes. It all seemed to melt away.
Tom’s hand came up to cradle the side of Harry’s face, his thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “You… what?” Tom’s tone was quiet, almost disbelieving
Harry nodded. “I love you, Tom. All of you.”
And then Tom kissed him—this time not with possessiveness or jealousy, but with a deep, profound emotion that made Harry’s knees weak. Tom’s lips moved against his with a tenderness that was almost surprising, his hands holding Harry close, but no longer out of a need to control, only to keep him close.
“I’ve never heard......,” Tom whispered.
Harry smiled, brushing a soft kiss against Tom’s lips once more. “Get used to it. Because I’ll keep saying it, over and over.”
Tom’s arms tightened around him, holding him as though he couldn’t bear to let go.
...
Harry scanned the stands, his eyes darting from one side to the other. The crowd was loud, buzzing with excitement, but he barely heard them. He was looking for one person. His chest tightened when he couldn’t find Tom anywhere. He’d hoped for that reassuring look, something to ground him before the game, but Tom wasn’t there.
Pushing the disappointment aside, Harry mounted his broom and rose into the sky. He was about to face Slytherin, and he knew it would be a tough match. Draco Malfoy was already eyeing him, that familiar sneer plastered on his face.
The whistle blew, and the game began. Harry immediately flew higher, searching for the Golden Snitch. His eyes flickered across the field, trying to focus, but it didn’t take long for Draco to get in his way. The Slytherin Seeker was relentless, hovering too close to Harry, always blocking him whenever he got near the Snitch.
They flew neck and neck. Malfoy kept shoving him, cutting him off at every turn, and Harry had to swerve repeatedly to avoid a collision. The frustration built inside him, but he pressed on, his gaze set on the glimmer of gold dancing just out of reach.
"Careful, Potter!"
Then, in a split second, everything went wrong.
Draco came at him hard, and before Harry could react, there was a heavy impact. His body lurched violently, and he lost his grip on the broom. He was falling—fast.
Harry barely registered the sound of Malfoy’s mocking laughter above him. His head spun, and then there was a sharp, jarring pain in ghe moment he hit the ground. He tried to move, but everything felt wrong. Warm blood trickled down his forehead, his vision blurring.
The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Draco smirking down at him, victorious.