Lovely
Every eye in the stadium was on him as he mounted his broom, gripping it tightly despite the tremors in his hands. He couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or exhaustion, but he refused to let it stop him. Across the pitch, Malfoy was glaring at him, his usual arrogance dampened by the blood still trickling from his nose.
He scanned the sky, searching desperately for a glint of gold. His head throbbed with each beat of his heart, but he pushed the pain aside.
Then he saw it.
The Golden Snitch hovered near the Slytherin goalposts, darting erratically like a firefly. Malfoy spotted it too. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second, and then they both shot forward, brooms cutting through the air like knives.
Harry leaned low, urging his broom faster. The wind whipped against his face, but the Snitch was getting closer. Malfoy was neck and neck with him, his own broom vibrating with the strain of speed. For a fleeting moment, their hands brushed as they both reached out—
And then, inexplicably, Malfoy pulled back. Scared.
....Scared?
Harry barely registered it, his fingers closing around the Snitch just as the crowd erupted into a deafening cheer. He held it aloft, heart pounding, and turned to see Malfoy hovering a few feet away, looking oddly composed for someone who had just lost. His gray eyes locked with Harry’s, unreadable, before he simply turned and flew off.
The Gryffindor stands exploded with chants of victory. Harry descended slowly, the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving him utterly drained. He barely had time to touch the ground before his knees gave out, and once again, he felt himself falling.
But this time, he wasn’t caught by Snape.
A pair of arms caught him instead, and Harry’s blurry vision registered dark hair and pale skin. Seductive magic.
“Well done,” the voice drawled, smooth and low. “You look like hell.”
“Wha—how—?” Harry stammered, his body too weak to pull away.
Tom chuckled. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” His tone was almost fond, though his eyes glinted with something sharper. “Lucky for you, I’m here.”
Harry’s vision blurred again, but before the darkness consumed him, he whispered hoarsely, “Lets get the hell out of here”
Tom’s smirk widened. "As you wish."
He fainted.
[...]
Harry's consciousness flickered. He felt the air shift around him. The roar of the stadium faded, replaced by a deafening silence. When he finally opened his eyes, the blinding sunlight was replaced by a soft, golden glow.
He blinked and realized he was no longer on the field. Instead, he was standing on a quiet hill overlooking a valley, the grass swaying gently in the breeze. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, a perfect sunset stretching endlessly above them.
"Tom?” Harry muttered, turning his head.
Tom stood beside him. He looked entirely at ease. His wand was in his hand, spinning lazily between his fingers.
“Welcome back, Harry” Tom said “You looked like you needed some fresh air.”
“Yes... ” He staggered slightly and Tom stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder to steady him. "Where are we?"
“You don't have to worry. I’m not going to drop you in the middle of nowhere. Not yet, at least."
"But what about...Snape? Malfoy? They saw us... The Golden Sni..."
Tom waved a hand dismissively, as if the answers to those questions were irrelevant. “You ask too many questions. I thought you’d enjoy the view.”
Harry glanced around, his frustration momentarily eclipsed by the sheer beauty of their surroundings. The valley stretched endlessly below them, dotted with sparkling lakes and patches of vibrant flowers. It was peaceful, almost magical in a way that didn’t require wands or spells.
"This is... beautiful."
“But we’re not staying. There’s more to see.”
Tom grabbed his wrist. And then the world shifted again.
They landed on the edge of a vast, crystalline lake, surrounded by towering snow-capped mountains. The water sparkled under the pale light of a full moon. Harry stumbled, the sensation of Apparition still disorienting, but Tom was already walking toward the water’s edge, his footsteps disturbingly graceful.
“Tom... Do you ever stop to think about what you’re doing with me?"
Tom turned, his expression unreadable. “Do you?”
Harry sighed. “That’s not an answer!”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting,” Tom said smoothly, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He gestured to the lake. “Look around. How often do you let yourself stop and breathe?”
"I..."
“You’ve spent your whole life fighting, Harry. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
"I don't give a shit about that" Harry stared at him. “Why do you care?”
Tom’s smirk returned, though it was gentler this time. “Maybe I care too much”
And with another lovely smile, they vanished again.
This time, they appeared in a lush jungle. Thick vines hung from towering trees, birds chirping, insects buzzing, and the distant sound of rushing water. Harry stumbled again, and this time Tom caught him by the arm.
“Alright, I’m done,” Harry said, pulling away. “I asked for it but you can’t just drag me around like this”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you haven’t stopped me.”
Harry glared at him.
“Fine,” Harry muttered. “But you owe me a kiss.”
Tom laughed. “Not now.”
The way the moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above seemed to catch in his dark hair, giving him an ethereal glow that felt completely at odds with the Tom Riddle Harry had always known. The confidence in Tom’s stride, the casual tilt of his head when he glanced back—it was infuriating how effortless he made everything seem. Urgh, Harry was so in love. If they were caught using magic outside...
“Were you always this reckless?” Harry asked, shoving aside a low-hanging branch as he caught up to him.
Tom smirked, turning to face him fully. “Only when I’m with you, Harry.”
He was supposed to be worried, not… not whatever this was.
“You’re quiet,” Tom whispered. “That’s not like you.”
"I am just... enjoying...The view. Yes. The view."
"I am glad to hear that. Anyway, I wanted to give you something else.” Tom smiled. "I will give you Draco's head."
Harry’s heart was pounding in his ears.
"Tom...After all you've done—"
“Everything he’s done,” Tom interrupted, his voice low but firm. “I’m not him, Harry. Not yet. And maybe I don’t have to be.”
Harry froze. There was a vulnerability in Tom’s eyes, a crack in the carefully constructed mask he always wore. It was disarming in a way that left Harry feeling exposed.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Tom stepped closer, until there was barely a breath of space between them. “Because you make me think there’s a choice,” he said, his tone so quiet it felt like a confession. “And that terrifies me.”
Before Harry could respond, before he could even process the weight of Tom’s words, Tom’s hand cupped his jaw, tilting his face up. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Harry saw something in Tom he’d never say to him, to Harry —desire, yes, but also something deeper, something raw and uncertain. Darkness.
Tom leaned in, and Harry didn’t pull away.
The kiss was soft at first. But then it deepened. Tom’s hand slid to the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him closer, while Harry’s fingers curled into Tom’s robes, holding on as if he might disappear.
They finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, their foreheads resting together.
“Merlin,” Harry whispered, his voice shaky. “What the hell are we doing?”
What the hell am I doing?
“Changing the rules.” Tom said. "My rules."
...
[...]
The pounding in his head had dulled to a low ache, but his limbs felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish.
He blinked a few times, trying to piece together how he’d gotten here. The Quidditch match, the fight, the strange whirlwind of moments after… and then Tom.
Tom.
Harry’s heart leapt when he turned his head, and there he was, sitting in a chair beside the bed. Tom was leaning back with an air of casual confidence, his Slytherin tie slightly askew.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Harry groaned, forcing himself to sit up despite the way his body protested. “What… what happened?”
“You passed out,” Tom replied smoothly, leaning forward slightly. “After our kiss. Rather dramatically, if you ask me. It seems that it was too much for you...”
Harry looked at him, red. “You know that’s not what I mean. The magic—what we did, where we went. How are we not already being dragged to McGonagall’s office or worse - Dumbledore - for using magic like that?”
Tom sighed, tilting his head. “Ah, you mean the little field trip. Don’t worry. No one saw a thing. No one knows.”
Harry frowned. “How is that possible? Someone must have noticed”
“Someone might have,” Tom said with a casual shrug. “If it had been you using magic.”
Harry froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tom’s expression didn’t change, but there was a glint in his eyes, something that made Harry’s stomach twist. “It means, Harry, that sometimes it’s better to let others assume what they want to.”
“You’re not making any sense..."
“It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that no one knows. You’re safe—for now.”
Tom’s hand rested gently on his cheek, the touch startling him into silence.
“Stop overthinking,” Tom murmured. “You’ll only hurt yourself more.”
Harry didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the lingering magic in the air, or something deeper, but he didn’t pull away when Tom’s lips brushed his.
The kiss was slower. Harry’s heart raced, one hand hesitantly reaching up to grip the front of Tom’s robes.
When they finally broke apart, Tom’s face was inches from Harry’s.
“Rest,” Tom said quietly, his thumb brushing against Harry’s jaw. “We’ll talk more soon.”
Tom turned and walked out of there, leaving Harry.