Arcana

Harry let the British air cool him down as the Thestrals flew him and the others to the Ministry of Magic. He tried to ignore how dry his eyes were becoming, and the fact that his he couldn’t feel his hands.

He knew what was going to happen when he got to the Ministry. The letter he had gotten the night previously from Voldemort explicitly stated what would be done and how it would be done. But there was a multitude of ways that this could go wrong.

As it was the dead of night, the ministry workers weren't there and they could easily slip in undetected using the visitor's entrance— the red phone booth Mr. Weasley used to take Harry to his hearing last summer.

Everyone stepped out at the same time. It was eerie being in a huge, ornate place with no one else in it. Harry didn't have much time to think about it, though, because he immediately started running to the elevator with the others in tow. As soon as they all entered the elevator, Harry pressed on the button that said '9' and they were sent on their way.

"Mate," Ron panted, "are you sure Sirius is in there? I mean, this could be something You-Know-Who wanted you to see—"

"Just like the snake attack during Christmas was?" Harry interrupted coldly. "You seemed all for listening to me when your dad was in trouble. How come when it's my own guardian you're so indecisive?"

Ron stayed silent. Hermione let out a gasp.

Harry knew he was right. And he didn’t need them to tell him whether he was or not.

Usually Ron would fire back with some retort— it had happened many, many times during fourth year— but he probably couldn't think of anything good enough to say, so he said nothing.

When the doors opened on level nine, the group of six exited the elevator. At the end of the hallway, the door Harry recognized from Tom's extensive explanations in his letters stood in all its glory.

They made their way quickly and opened the door to reveal thousands upon thousands of glass orbs. The large room was quiet, save for the echoing footsteps of the six teens as they made their way to the place where Voldemort was supposedly torturing Sirius.

No one was there.

Before Harry got to expressively act out his charade of being confused, the group heard footsteps approaching them. They all tensed, but Harry tensed for a different reason— this was when everything got messy.

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled. A man with a Death Eater mask stepped out of the shadows. It would have done well to mask his identity, but his long platinum hair showed it's Lucius Malfoy. "Look who decided to show?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "Where's Sirius?! What did you do to him?!"

Lucius chuckled. Not in a warm kind of way, but in a cold, taunting way. It reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia when he asked her for a snack over the summer. "You must learn the difference between dreams and reality, Harry Potter."

"What do you want from us?" Ginny shouted, her wand raised at Malfoy, as if they stood a chance. "You're all alone, and there's six of us. You think you can win?"

"Alone?" He laughed. "I must say, the Sorting Hat did place you in the right house. But no, I am not alone. And even if I were, six children couldn't possibly outdo an adult."

Frantic footsteps sounded from behind Lucius and a female figure emerged. She didn't have a mask on, and Harry recognized her portrait on the Black family tree— Bellatrix LeStrange. By the look on Neville's face, he recognized her too.

Harry frowned. Isn't she insane? She could botch this entire operation. She doesn't know Harry's Dark. What is Voldemort doing?

"Look at who it is!" She exclaimed. Her smile was wide and Harry could see her rotted teeth. "Wittle baby Hawy Pottah! Do what we want and we'll let you go back to your mummy and daddy." She paused. "Oh wait. Your mummy and daddy are dead!"

Rage coursed through Harry's veins. He didn't like being humiliated. Lucius must have noticed this, because his eyes opened wide and terror flashed through them. He must have been told that Harry was not to be harmed— physically or mentally.

"Now, how about we all play nice here?" Lucius asked, spreading his arms wide. "No need for violence. What we need doesn't concern you, really."

"Then why didn't you get it yourselves?" Hermione spat. "Waiting for a bunch of fifteen year olds to do your work for you? Pathetic."

Lucius crossed his arms. "What we need is a prophecy. Since it is about our Lord, we cannot retrieve it on our own. We are in the Prophecy hall, after all, that much should have been apparent."

Ron shot out a laugh. "What? You-Know-Who's too weak to get a snow globe for himself?"

"What?" Bellatrix gasped. "The Dark Lord waltz into the Ministry of Magic when they are so blissfully ignoring his return? Do not make a fool of yourself, Weasley."

"A prophecy can only be retrieved by the person or people whom the prophecy is about," Hermione stated, exactly as if she had read it directly out of a textbook. "But that would mean one of us is another member of the prophecy. That could only be..." she trailed off and looked at Harry. "Harry?"

Harry could feel a smirk coming on but repressed it. Yes, Voldemort had told him all about the prophecy. That was why he had killed Harry's parents. It made him very curious.

"Come on," Bellatrix whined. "This is boring! Yes, it's about Potter and our Lord. Just retrieve it for us!"

Harry sneered. "Never! You're just going to have to go through us first!"

The crazy witch cackled. "He knows how to play! Tell me, Potter, would you like to see your parents again?"

"No, but I'm sure they'd love to meet you. They’d have quite a lot to tell you."

"Enough!" Lucius exclaimed. He placed a hand on Bellatrix's shoulder. "Now, we mustn't be violent. Our lord ordered us to get the prophecy in one piece, and the only way to do that is through the boy." He turned to Harry. "Just get us the prophecy, boy, and we'll leave you alone."

Harry sneered. "And then what? Send your master after us? I don't think so." He turned to his friends. "Scatter."

Immediately, they ran into different rows of prophecies. Four other Death Eaters emerged from the darkness and followed them, throwing spells at each other. Harry looked back and saw Lucius was the one following him, so he stopped and waited for Lucius to catch up to him. "Well?" He asked. "We haven't all day. Show me where the prophecy is so we can leave before they know where we are."

Lucius nodded and quickly lead Harry to where he knew the prophecy was. Quite reasonably, it was noticeable the man was terrified. Harry wondered what Voldemort had threatened him with to get a Malfoy to help Harry Potter.

Harry was lead to a prophecy on the edge of a row, near where himself and Voldemort had planned the confrontation. The plaque in front of it read; Harry James Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle. Creative. Couldn't it be called 'the future doomsday' or 'the magical apocalypse'?

He quickly and elegantly picked up the prophecy. It was small enough to fit easily in his hand. "Well?" He asked Lucius. "Come on. I'll start running and you'll pretend to fire spells at me to keep up the charade." Harry's glare suddenly turned very cold. "And you better not hit me. Even if it's only a mere tickling hex."

The satisfaction of Lucius Malfoy becoming scared was good enough for Harry as he started running down the main corridor. He saw flashes of light from different spots around the hall, but none were close to him. That's good. Even Lucius was too scared to get too close to him.

Soon enough, Harry reached the door. He opened it quickly and kept running until he got in the elevator. Lucius was only three meters behind him and thankfully he had closed the hall's door, meaning no one could see them.

Harry looked closer at the orb as Lucius pressed the button that would send them to the main part of the Ministry. It was mainly translucide white with some light blue clouds. Words started playing themselves into Harry's mind, so he quickly pocketed the orb into his robe. He had promised Voldemort they'd listen to it for the first time together.

"So... how's your day been?" Harry asked.

Lucius looked at him with an air of confusion. "Good?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, same. Kinda strange.

"Once we get out of this elevator we will go to Voldemort using Apparation. Looks like we're here!"

The doors swung open, so Harry and Lucius began running towards the nearest exit. When they had been planning, Voldemort told Harry that the only way to Apparate would be if you were close to an exit, so they ran as fast as they could to a floo. Lucius grabbed Harry's shoulder, and in an instant, they were in front of a...field?

"It's Riddle Manor," Lucius informed. "We put it under the Fidelius Charm to make sure no one could see it other than a Dark witch or wizard. I am the secret keeper."

Harry thought about the words Riddle Manor, and soon a mansion seemed to erect from the ground. Without waiting, Harry pushed through the gates and walked down the pathway. He opened the large doors and smiled. "Honey, I'm home!"

A deep chuckle echoed through the room. "That you are. Lucius, you are dismissed. You will be rewarded for your work later."

Lucius, who must have entered only slightly after Harry had, bowed. "Yes, my Lord, thank you," he said, before he Disapparated.

A shadow appeared at the top of the grand staircase. It was quite clearly over a head taller than Harry was and had robes billowing out from it's body. Harry knew it was Voldemort.

When the figure emerged, Harry was beyond surprised. When Voldemort had been resurrected in the graveyard, he looked like a pale humanoid serpent. Now, however, he looked more like his diary horcrux, except older and sexier. Damn, Harry thought.

Voldemort made a show of curling his finger towards himself. "Come. I will show you to your room after we listen to the prophecy."

Harry's legs moved on their own and soon he was over the stairs and next to Voldemort. With careful intentions, Harry fished out the small orb from his pocket. "Here it is," he breathed. "You tried killing me over a snowball?"

As he was expecting a scolding, Harry was surprised when he only received a hum. It was a very strange day, wasn't it? Before he could think too much, the words started spewing out of the orb like a waterfall.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

The boys were silent.

"Well, that's eerie. Is there a happier version?"

"What did you think it would sound like? Prophecies are never sunflowers and daisies." Tom deadpanned. "I shall show you to your room and we will discuss this further there."

Harry could feel his face heat up at the comment and followed closely behind Voldemort so the other couldn't see. They'd both be in his room discussing their future? Harry only realized he's bi last year, so this thought made him very nervous. It didn't help that Voldemort was sizzling hot— like, hellfire hot.

Voldemort lead him to a room near the end of a hallway. He opened it for Harry to enter first.

Stepping inside, Harry first realized that his new room must have been bigger than the entirety of the Dursley household and backyard. The room was a Slytherin green with four windows on the farthest wall away from the door. A bed was pushed up against that same wall with dark green covers and sheer silver curtains. There was a diamond chandelier on the roof that shone brilliantly, and a desk on the left side with what looked to be a very comfy chair. On the right side was a large wardrobe with a body length silver mirror, and a door was closed next to it. Harry turned around in wonder to see Voldemort looking at him in amusement.

"This is for me?" He asked. Voldemort nodded his head. "Are you sure? It looks like it's built for royalty!"

"Of course I'm sure," he said.

"And what's that door for?"

"It's a door to my own room."

Harry felt all the air get drained out of him, and he almost dropped the prophecy that he still had in his hand. What. The. Hell. A hot Dark Lord (who has tried to kill him in the past, mind you) is letting him stay in his home, in a grand room, adjoined to his own? It suddenly got really hot.

Voldemort stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

'Merlin. He's in a bedroom alone with me!'

"Now, come sit. We have things to discuss."

'Hell yeah we do. How come you're attractive as fuck? It's not fair.'

Harry watched as Tom moved farther into the room and... sat down on his bed? When Harry stayed frozen on the same spot, he patted the bed. "Come. The bed won't bite."

'But I want you to.'

The thought made Harry's face light up red and he nervously walked to his new bed, where he sat down and leaned up against the headboard, as opposed to Voldemort, who had opted to sit nearer the end of the bed.

"I hope the bed is comfortable enough?"

Harry blinked. He'd never been asked if anything had been comfortable before. Hell, he'd lived in a cupboard under the stairs for the majority of his life. Compared to that, this felt like heaven. "Of course it's comfortable," he opted towards saying. "Thank you so much."

"It's my pleasure."

'Not yet it's not.'

Harry bit his lip hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to draw blood. Curse his pubescent hormones.

Voldemort noticed this and his eyes furrowed. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes!" Harry responded, probably way too quickly, while nodding his head. Realizing how strange that must look, he coughed and righted himself. "I mean, of course. Now, we wanted to talk about the prophecy..?"

The other man hummed. "Yes. I would assume you know what the prophecy is indicating?" He wrapped a hand around Harry's bare ankle. He has really long fingers.

'Perfect to finger you with.'

"Y-yes, its stating how we have to kill each other," Harry stuttered. "But I'm terrible at Divination. Are you sure that's what it means?"

Voldemort chuckled— the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, the evil being who killed his parents, laughed warmly. "So am I. And yes, you are correct— with both statements. There are many loopholes that we could follow without killing each other."

Harry was finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the hand that was making a warm trail from his ankle to his shin slowly but steadily. He took a deep breath to sooth his area downstairs before it was too late. "And they are..?"

"Well, for one we should look at what cannot be changed," he said. "The most obvious is the first part. I could have chosen either you or Neville Longbottom that fateful night, as you were both born at the end of July and both of your parents have defied me thrice, but I chose you because you're a half-blood, like myself. You remember me telling you this, correct?"

Harry nodded. Yes, he remembered. He couldn't look at Neville the same afterwards. He had always respected the lad, especially after he found out what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. To think their positions could have been switched... not only was Harry glad Voldemort picked him because that way he figured out he was Dark, but he was also glad because he'd rather his parents dead than insane. Also, Neville was too pure to be a martyr for the light. Well, technically a pure kid would be good as a martyr, but not morally.

"Secondly, it is quite obvious that I have marked you as my equal."

Harry watched as Voldemort scooted up closer to him. The Dark Lord leaned up against the headboard, only centimetres away from Harry, and reached a hand up to stroke Harry's scar. Unlike the graveyard, where his scar felt like it was killing him painfully, it felt as though his scar was purring. Harry couldn't help but notice how close Voldemort was, and how he could easily lean in and kiss his lips— they were so nice, and red, and...

Voldemort interrupted his thoughts by retreating his hand. He stayed leaned up against the headboard. "It would only make sense that the other member of the prophecy is you," he said. "Now, we move on to the information we don't know.

"For one, we do not know what power you have that I don't. Do you have any ideas?"

Harry thought as hard as he could with his new found crush literally three centimetres away from him. "Um... maybe it has something to do with how I survived the Killing Curse?"

Voldemort hummed. He seemed pleased.

'I bet I could please him better.'

"Of course that's it. At the time I had no idea what love is, so the love shield that Lily put around you must be what it is hinting at... very good, Harry.

"Now, I have a theory for the last bit. I think there are many different ways this could be interpreted. The easiest way is to say that we are only surviving now, and when one kills the other he will finally live. We could also stay like this forever. However, this would also, logically, tell us that both of us could live at the same time."

Harry blinked. This hurt his brain, and Voldemort must have noticed because he let out a tiny chuckle.

"What I mean is that the prophecy says 'neither can live while the other survives'. Good fun. But what if this means that we need each other to live? This sentence means we stay surviving or living together— unless either of us kill each other, I mean. So if we were just surviving at the same time, wouldn't that mean we can live at the same time as well? One of us can only live while the other is either dead or living as well, since purely surviving is out of the question."

Harry nodded his head. Now that Voldemort said that, it made perfect sense. "That's perfect," he said. "But I only have one question."

"You know you can ask me anything," Voldemort said. Was it just in Harry's brain, or was his voice...huskier than before?

"Well," Harry cleared his throat, "it says one must die at the hand of the other. So, if neither of us kill each other, wouldn't that mean that we'll stay living forever?"

Voldemort was silent. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes, of course. Wonderful idea, Harry. Just in case we should make you a horcrux or two. We needn't think of that now. Now, we must celebrate."

"What do you mean cele-oomph!" Harry started, but was interrupted by Voldemort's lips meeting his. They were so soft, and plush, and cool against his warm skin...Harry kissed back with the same amount of passion.

Voldemort pulled away first, both of them panting and staring at the other in longing. He leaned in close enough that Harry thought they were going to kiss again, but instead he whispered in his ear. "I must ask you to call me Tom now," he whispered, "I would imagine Voldemort is too long to moan."

Before Harry could say anything, Tom leaned in and caught his lips in another deep kiss. Tom leaned over Harry slightly while Harry started to slide down the headboard so that he could be lying down on the comfortable bed. Tom's hand migrated to Harry's hip, and Harry could feel its warmth radiating, even through his robes. Harry pulled back.

"I've never done anything like this before," Harry admitted softly. Tom leaned his forehead onto Harry's. "The most I've ever done is kiss."

"I haven't either, Harry," Tom said. He gave the other a reassuring kiss to his cheek.

Harry smiled as he felt the hand on his hip start to caress his side. Instead of saying anything, he leaned up and kissed the other. Almost immediately, he felt the other's tongue prod against his lips, asking for entrance, so he opened his mouth. Their tongues danced together in a sensual way and Harry's hands found their way to Tom's stomach, where they started trailing upwards.

The body above him suddenly moved as Tom swung himself right above Harry, in between his legs, and both arms went on the bed around Harry's head to support himself. Harry didn't know why he had done that until he felt Tom grind against him.

Merlin, that felt good. He had to pull back from the kiss to let out a moan, and his hands quickly went from Tom's torso to his biceps, gripping them tightly. Instead of restarting the kiss, Tom leaned down and pressed his body into Harry's, starting to suck Harry's neck while he grinded.

It was heaven. Harry couldn't control his moans as Tom played him like a violin. It was hard to believe Tom was a virgin because he was so experienced. It felt so good to have Tom's body against his, moving in a way that only he could feel. Hopefully Harry felt as good to Tom as Tom felt to Harry.

Desperate for more touch, Harry started to move his hips along with Tom's rythme. Tom, who had been previously quiet, started to moan— a deep, rich sound that made Harry's insides tingle. "You feel so good," Tom murmured into his neck. "I can't wait to be in you."

With that, Tom reached up and grabbed the collar of Harry's robes. He started to pull down and, with a little help, Harry was stripped of his robes, leaving him in only his trousers and a black shirt. The kisses and grinding resumed, but this time, Tom's hands wandered down Harry's sides more feverishly than before.

Harry moved his hands from Tom's biceps (where he totally wasn't groping at the muscles, pfft) to his robes, and soon Tom was also stripped of the piece of the clothing. Underneath, he was wearing a tight black tank top and trousers. Oh, Merlin, he's hot. Harry immediately placed his hands underneath Tom's tank top so that he could take it off quickly.

Before their kissing resumed, Tom took off Harry's black shirt. Compared to Tom, Harry was underwhelming. What if Tom didn't want him anymore, seeing him like this?

Tom must have seen the hurt in Harry's eyes, because he placed tiny kisses on his neck, chest, then all the way to his tummy. Harry giggled at the butterfly kisses from his new lover. "You have no reason to feel self-conscious, Harry," he said against the soft skin. "You're absolutely adorable, and I want you so much."

While he was down there, Tom slid down even more to fiddle with the waistband of Harry's pants with his teeth. He moved down and slid Harry's pants down to his ankles then off his feet with only his mouth and, choosing his right leg, Tom placed wet kisses all the way up to where his pants began. Harry was glad his legs were hairless.

Tom quickly took off his own trousers before he focused on Harry once more. Slowly, as if he were unboxing a delicate gift, he pulled down Harry's boxers to reveal a lightly haired cock. Harry wasn't embarrassed of his size, he was about average, and because he has had a boner for a while now, his cock came right up and slapped his stomach.

"You're beautiful," Tom breathed, pressing light feathery kisses to Harry's hipbone. He was so close to Harry's boner that it made Harry tremble in want. It was like this man was a sex god.

Harry saw Tom lean down and take off his own boxers, revealing his own boner.

'Is that legal?' Harry wondered, looking at his lover's boner. 'It has to be above average!'

Tom, who must have sensed Harry's gaze, eased off in the slightest and moved up to face Harry. "I-I know it's pretty big, and if you don't feel comfortable that's fine, we'll stop and I'll take a long shower, it's totally up to you." He rambled on, while stroking Harry's hair off his forehead.

How could he say no?

Harry leaned up to give Tom a small but passionate kiss. "Just prepare me, yeah?"

"Yes, of course," Tom rushed out, placing a warm kiss on Harry's lips. "Accio lube!"

Some lube came flying out of the wardrobe. Harry giggled and pressed a kiss to Tom's cheek. "You bought lube for me before I even came here? How sweet."

"I just wanted you to feel comfortable," Tom replied, twisting off the cap and flinging it behind him and off the bed. "And you're an 18 year old boy, Harry. You're full of hormones. I'm not going to pretend this whole thing may not be only because of your hormones."

There was a hint of sadness to his voice that made Harry frown. Is that what Tom thought this was? Harry's hormones getting the best of him?

Before Tom could even squirt some lube anywhere, Harry grabbed his cheeks and forced him to make eye contact with the other. It made Tom's cheeks squish together and Harry thought it was awfully cute. "Listen. This is not some hormonal reaction. If I'm having sex with you, I want there to be a relationship outside of just sex— I want to hold your hand, I want domestic kisses, I want to wake up in the morning with your arms around me, I want to eat breakfast with you, I want to hold you when you're sad— I just want you. If you'd want me too, that is."

Emerald green met scarlet red as they grew fonder of each other. They blinked as one. "How did I get so lucky?" Tom wondered out loud, leaning in to kiss Harry. There was something about that kiss, something behind it, hidden in the cracks, that made Harry feel warm and fuzzy inside. He sighed into it, letting himself relax into the hold of the other.

Sometime during the kiss, Tom reached down to grab at Harry's thighs. He caressed and squeezed them for a moment before he hitched his legs up onto his shoulders, pressing his body onto Harry's again. As he fiddled with the lube in his hands, he leaned down and started suckling on Harry's nipple.

Harry threw his head back and let himself succumb to the ecstasy. If he was reacting this way to foreplay, how would he react to the real thing? Tom's tongue was somehow very experienced— every lick and swirl made Harry harder and harder.

After he had lost track of time, Harry felt a cold finger tap at his arsehole. He forced himself to lift his head, only to see Tom staring at him with wide eyes. "May I?" He asked kindly. Harry could only bring himself to nod once and, in a matter of seconds, the finger was slowly pushing into his hole.

It was a strange sensation at first. Harry wouldn't lie and say he was about to cum from only one finger. Tom, who was looking very worried that he was hurting Harry, used his other hand to fondle Harry's balls, probably hoping distract him from any pain he may be feeling.

That was when Harry started clawing at the sheets. It felt so good to have someone look after him so intensely, to care about his needs, and to pleasure him. And it really did feel like heaven on earth, especially when Tom started curling his finger inside of Harry.

Soon, Tom spoke up again. "Are you ready for another finger?" He asked. Receiving only a nod, he carefully and slowly inserted another finger.

Harry adjusted to the second finger much faster than he had the first. The stretch wasn't painfully at all, and now that he felt the fingers rubbing against his slick walls, it was feeling more pleasurable. When Tom curled his fingers it made him moan three octaves higher than normal.

"I-I'm ready for ano-ther," Harry moaned out, almost not able to say anything coherent as the pleasure took hold of his body. Tom slowly slipped another finger in, and his pleasure increased once more. He started rocking against the fingers, looking for more movement, when Tom's fingers hit something magical.

"Tom!" Harry moaned, shaking slightly as he felt tingled race up his spine. "What was that?" He asked, panting softly.

"Your prostate," Tom informed, turning his head to give a small peck to Harry's shin. "You're doing so well for me. May I spread you out?"

Harry nodded and settled back into the bed. If Tom could make him feel like that again, he'd let him do anything.

The three fingers in his arsehole started to spread out, working his hole to accommodate Tom's cock much easier. Whenever Tom's fingers brushed against his prostate, Harry wouldn't even try to hold back his moans and whimpers— there was no point. They'd just come out anyway.

Tom leaned down to press a kiss to Harry's lips, who happily returned it with fervour. "Are you ready?" He asked. "You tell me when."

Harry nodded. "I think I'm ready. Just go slow?" He asked.

"Of course I will," Tom reassured. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube he had laid on the other side of the bed. "I won't move until you tell me to."

Harry watched as Tom placed a generous amount of lube onto his cock, and then some more onto his hole. It was obvious Tom didn't want to harm Harry at all. Carefully, Tom placed the head of his dick onto Harry's bum. "May I?" He asked again.

With a nod of his head, Harry watched as Tom's cock slid inside his hole slowly. The stretch was, somehow, the most pleasurable thing Harry had felt yet. He closed his eyes and grabbed the green sheets. Tom knew what he was doing.

Tom's dick slid in little by little, and soon, it was all in Harry. Tom stayed still as Harry got used to the feeling. It was long. And thick. Harry uttered a go, and Tom started moving slowly.

Merlin, Harry felt as if he had died and gone to heaven. It felt so good. Harry grasped at the sheets even tighter, and moaned as he was penetrated. His eyes opened slightly to see Tom, who was biting his lip and moaning softly to himself, his head slightly tilted back. What a catch.

In time, Tom got faster and faster. Harry's prostate was hit repeatedly and Harry felt like he was going to pass out from the pleasure at any moment. Tom collapsed on his body and kissed him sloppily, showing how into the lovemaking he was, and Harry moved his hands from the sheets to wrap them underneath Tom's arms to grasp the back of his strong shoulders. He could feel the muscles moving, which made him inexplicably happy.

The soft pants and moans drove him to the edge. The feeling of Tom's balls slapping against his arse and the wet kisses on his neck and lips made him want to come. He could feel it coming.

"Tom, I'm g-gonna come," he moaned into Tom's ear, biting at the cartilage gently. Tom grunted.

"I'm about to too, Harry," he said. "Whenever you feel ready, come for me."

The thrusts became faster and faster, and Harry couldn't hold on any longer. With a cry he came all over Tom, who in turn filled Harry with his essence. With no energy left, Tom collapsed into Harry's arms.

They stayed like that for a while— Harry on his back, his head propped on a pillow, and Tom lying on his stomach, his head resting on his chest and his body in between Harry's legs. Harry lazily played with Tom's hair as they slowly drifted asleep.

Their own arcana.