The downpour had receded shortly after sunset and had washed the entire sky in a blue which almost looked like black, devoid of the stars or her brethren. It had been raining the entire day, ceaselessly but people wormed their way through the pavements despite the condition of the weather. The descent of cold after the rain was almost inevitable but business had continued like always, albeit with reduced enthusiasm because of the obvious lethargy which the weather possessed. Despite that, the bells chimed warmly as another customer slipped into the forbidden shop.
Borgin & Burke was shady. Even by Knockturn's standards. Although it could hardly be debated that they did carry quite an impressive collection of things. The books, antique pieces, vintage jewellery everything had an air of charm to it, of course some of them could kill you but that was just besides the point.
On that very day, there were enough people in the shop, browsing through Knockturn's finest. Knockturn did not discriminate the way Diagon did, they welcomed everyone which was why seeing silk green robes, expensive enough to buy the entire establishment, raised a subtle eyebrow from the owner. But Mister Burke did not deign to comment instead he sent the boy he had hired a few days ago in his direction after the said customer remained mum for a total sum of fifteen minutes.
When the designated salesman's deep voice greeted the customer, his viridian eyes turned dreamily towards the man. As he whispered a greeting back, his gaze lavisciously licked the salesman's features. A sharp jawline, prominent cheekbones, pale alabaster skin with bright blue eyes and carefully tousled hair. Clearly misplaced in the shop.
"Is there something specific you are searching for, sir?" The salesman questioned, his eyes dressing the man before him down.
"Yes," the man smiled, his messy hair pulled back as he ran his hands through them. "Something pretty, something which would look stunning around my neck."
The salesman acknowledged the request and ushered him towards the other side of the shop. Moving slowly and carefully through the crowd which was receding gently. They paused before a set of bronze and glass cases. The salesman's long fingers reached to the glass case and pulled it open to reveal a plethora of jewellery pieces. The man picked up a choker laid with amethyst stones in plain silver.
"Lovely choice," The salesman smiled, teeth evident.
"My boyfriend would think so too," He replied, unaffected.
The man raised an eyebrow and grinned, "Then I presume you know that your boyfriend would recommend you to beware of which robes to wear with it."
"I am not too concerned about the robes," he replied off handedly and scrutinised another pearl necklace which attacked any person who touched the wearer, turning towards the salesman with a grin as he whispered, "after all I won't be wearing any."
His fingers latched onto the customer's wrist as he wrapped an oxidised bracelet around it.
The customer did not bat an eyelash, his eyes fixing upon the salesman's, "Hold everyone's wrist for the sake of demonstrations, do you?"
His lips thinned and twitched into a smirk, "Only the pretty ones."
"Anything else?" The salesman questioned, his fingers tracing his wrist easily.
The boy hummed and traced the back of his hand, "Something cursed, preferably life threatening."
"And why would a pretty thing like you want something cursed?"
"For my boyfriend," He replied, his smile shark-like, "he needs a reminder of who his boyfriend is."
The salesman raised an eyebrow before being hounded by a girl who wanted help with retrieving something from the topmost shelf which she could clearly reach. She batted her eyes and pouted, “Please, Tom?”
Tom gave her a charming smile and easily assisted her but as her back turned to the other customer, a wandless hex petrified her immediately.
Tom turned to the evidently polyjuiced boy who was responsible but he remained in a conversation with the owner. “Customers never really do take care of the hazards in your shop, do they?”
Burke’s scepticism was evident on his face but he questioned him, "Anything else?"
Ennervating the girl, Tom convinced her effortlessly that it was in her best interests to apparate to Saint Mungo’s once for a checkup. Dusting his hands off the girl, he went to meet the customer he was with as they billed things. Burke daringly gestured Tom to pack the things quickly which brought a twitch from the customer. Handing the package to him, the messy haired boy pushed his hand before him and the salesman curled around his hand and kissed the air above his hand.
"Thank you, Mister Burke," The customer smiled and slid out, eyes lingering on Tom as he left.
* * *
The silence on the stairwell was something which did not bother Tom much. It was something he readily welcomed but on that very day, he was mildly concerned. His spitfire hadn't ambushed him, yet. He knew Harry's temper was something which could rival his own although he hadn't faced the full brunt of it but it was worrisome, thoroughly. Not like he would ever admit it. Most people were too enamoured with his kindness, his playful demeanour and mischievous smiles to ever face it. But Tom was not most people, he caught the restrained responses and the forced politeness quicker than the hat called out Houses. Harry Potter was the devil draped in silk and people were too blind to see it.
Heir Apparent they had called him before the boy even turned eleven. And he was certainly Heir Apparent. The only son to the most prolific and ancient lines of Potter and Peverell, the only son of James and Lily Potter. The same James Potter who had become the youngest Head Auror in the department's existence while his wife had dominated the wizengamot despite the question of her birth. They scrutinised James too closely and initially had forgotten about Lady Potter who had taken her husband's responsibility in the House of Lords.
What could a mudblood do?
Apparently hella lot of things.
The Light faction had been in majority for fourteen consistent years.
Lily Potter was as much of a force as James was. And the two of them had one beautiful baby boy, Harry. Inheriting every good quality of both his parents and coddled by every person around him.
Tom could go as far to say that he and Harry Potter were born on two extreme ends of the spectrum. And in no universe could the two of them be friends nevermind what they are currently. But then again, Tom seriously did not expect what Harry truly was under that facade of Heir Apparent which he carefully maintained, exactly why he was mildly concerned with how Harry would react.
On opening the door to his flat, he noticed the presence of another wixen and allowed his hand to caress the wood of his wand. Flicking the lighting on, he saw his boyfriend seated comfortably on a wooden chair.
"Come to finish me off?" Tom questioned lethargically, placing his coat on the stand.
Harry's eyes were scrutinising him, evaluating, assessing, very very carefully. These were the few moments he felt the Draco Malfoy in Harry being projected, the Gryffindor was certainly unlike Draco but he did have a very suppressed layer of condescension in him which thoroughly endeared Tom.
"I should," he allowed, his gaze hardened on Tom, "it has been a month since graduation, less than two months since I killed my fiance and you are already making me feel like all of it was for nought."
"Nought? My, my, your deplorable vocabulary is finally renovating itself," Tom drawled and paced to his wardrobe to hang his cloak and drift into his kitchen.
"Tom Riddle, if you fucking deflect, I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."
"Of course, we have established you are already quite proficient at that."
A stinging hex was thrown his way which he dodged effortlessly and retrieved the carrots and a chopping board along with a knife.
"What were you doing at Borgin and Burke's?" Harry questioned more explicitly this time.
"Did you miss all the flirting you did with me or do you keep forgetting things periodically?" Tom questioned, removing a pan from the cabinet and then began to line all the ingredients.
Another stinging hex was sent his way, slightly more lethal but he was weirdly turned on by that.
"Harry, we have already established your hexes are amiss today," Tom responded and continued to cut everything accordingly, "and to answer your question, I was working."
"At Borgin and Burke's?" He repeated and Tom knew he was giving him an incredulous look, "why the fuck?"
Tom rolled his eyes and tossed the garlic into the pan, "You would not understand."
The temperature in his vicinity momentarily dropped and Tom felt dread approaching him very slowly. He had made a massive mistake and he realised this after Harry had sent a cutting hex.
"I don't understand?" He questioned the maniacal undertone of his voice forcing Tom to place a stasis on his cooking and turned to this boy who almost made him crazy, literally and metaphorically. "I killed my fiance, my best friend's sister for you, I let out a bloody baslisk for you, I got you out of that godforsaken orphanage and made my fucking elf get you a motherfucking house."
"And I am willing to do all this fuck all rubbish again for you!" Harry's voice reminded him eerily of Ara Lestrange, Bellatrix's daughter, "And you have the audacity to tell me I would not fucking understand?!"
Tom didn't really have an opportunity to respond because it was clearly not it and Harry went on, "You know what? You don't understand, you don't fucking understand that if I can kill people for you I would do any fucking thing for you. Screw you, Tom!"
Tom's fingers grasped his wrist and cornered him to the nearest wall and looked down at the pissed off pygmy puff. Jesus, did he love this boy, utterly, madly, wholly, fucking loved him and Tom had no idea when this development had even occurred. The flush of anger of his face, the bright rage in his eyes, his hair all messy, fuck the fact he was the Potter Heir, he was his, his only. And a very innate desire in Tom purred at it.
"You are a bitchass cuntfaced motherfucker," Harry spat, the anger very evident in his intonation and Tom had to physically, mentally, emotionally and magically restrain himself to smile at his vulgarity. He failed.
"Don't fucking give me that look!"
Tom raised an eyebrow as Harry's gaze was turned away, "What look?"
"The one you are giving right now."
Tom held his chin and pivoted him towards his person as he leaned further onto the boy whose rage was still simmering hot. His finger gently grazed the expanse of his cheek and he was surprised Harry had still not bitten him off.
"May I?" He questioned, longingly gazing at his lips.
"Fuck you."
"That's exactly what I am propositioning."
Harry gave him a very disappointed look and turned away, "I hate you."
Tom quickly kissed his forehead and picked him up easily. Much to Harry's dismay, he instinctively layered his legs around Tom's waist, "Help me cook then we can talk."
Placing him on the Kitchen platform, Tom prepared to lean out but Harry's legs refused. His eyes peered at him, upset, "I'll finish your laundry, I had already started on it."
"You don't need to, I am capable of-"
"-shut up, unless you want me to withhold sex."
Tom rolled his eyes and let him hop off the kitchen platform as he made a beeline to the bedroom.
It took forty minutes for Tom to prepare a portion of rice and chicken gravy and Harry had taken an additional twenty minutes for finishing his laundry. He transfigured a discarded chair into a table and placed the food on top of it. His boyfriend easily slid beside him.
"Thank you for doing my laundry," Tom told him, genuinely.
Harry's eyes grazed him and then turned away, there was something upsetting about them. But Tom wisely kept his mouth shut. Harry began eating, very slowly.
"How have you been?"
"All right," Harry responded and then looked at Tom with big eyes, "this tastes great."
"Thank you."
"I have locked myself in my room, it's easier to not deal with people who think I am mourning," Harry rolled his eyes and continued eating, "there is only so much pity I can handle and Sirius in his fit of brilliance recommended a mind healer."
Tom let out a chuckle, biting into the chicken, "So you are seeing a mind healer now?"
"Yes, ugh," Harry groaned, "Alyssa is an all right sort of woman and I know I could benefit from therapy but not when I have to pretend like I am traumatised or upset."
"Are you upset?"
"A little bit," Harry admitted, looking up at him, "Ginny was a fun person to be with and of course, occasionally I may miss her but you do what you need to get what you want."
Tom hummed because he certainly did not want to intervene.
Harry continued, "I'm not going to the Weasley's for a while, it's too fucking loud and sad there."
"How affected are you by her on a scale of one to five? One being the lowest, five being the highest."
"If I say I am completely unaffected does that make me a bad person?"
"There is barely any good or bad in the world, heart," Tom replied callously, "Just power and people who-"
"-are too weak to seek it."
Tom gave him a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling with pride.
"Dad is slightly suspicious though," Harry said quietly, "he believes I used Ginny for the ritual."
"And how is he reacting to that?"
"Pleasantly complacent," Harry informed him and then looked at him with a more serious disposition. "Why did you not tell me about Borgin and Burke?"
"I knew you would not be approving of it," Tom very quietly murmured.
Harry's face was akin to that of a puppy, "Tom, you can't hide things from me because I would disapprove. If we keep hiding things we are going to fall apart."
Tom sighed in exasperation as he took another bite of his food, "I know but I have never found it a need to tell anyone of my intentions, I find it useless."
"Why do you find it useless?"
"Nobody cared when I was younger, I did not bother when I grew up," Tom responded and then hastily added, "and if you give me those pitying looks, I'll hex you."
Harry sighed and shook his head. "I want to know, I desire to be involved in your life regardless of how against I may be."
Tom nodded. He obviously expected this but it did make his heart warm by a little.
"Now tell me, why Borgin and Burke?" Harry asked, his attention focussing on Tom, completely.
And honestly, how exactly did one go around telling your highly capable of murder boyfriend that you wanted to be a Dark Lord and succeed in World Domination while throwing off any person who was lesser than a halfblood out of the Wizarding World? It's not like there was an instruction manual for it. Merlin forbid, Harry would dismiss his plans and Tom might go completely psycho on him.
They both were quite crazy, weren't they?
"Begin at the beginning, generally a good place to start," Harry prodded, as if he read his mind and Tom looked at him funny but refused to start and cleared the dinner table. Harry's look of disapproval pierced through effortlessly.
"Is it because of the proximity towards the Dark Arts?" Harry asked which made Tom shake his head in assent.
"A little bit."
"It is a massive waste of your talent, Tom," He informed him, his face strained, "anything short of Minister is a waste of your talents."
"You think I can become Minister?" Tom challenged.
Harry shrugged, "I know you can become Minister."
The conviction in his voice made Tom feel a surge of pride and arrogance.
"What if being Minister is not enough?"
Harry stopped on his way to the kitchen, very briefly and then turned to look at him, "What do you want then?"
Tom placed the food in storage and was stopped in between when Harry cornered him which lasted for less than two seconds as he moved away from his hold to charm the unclean plates into cleaning, "You might find it silly."
And suddenly there was silence but Tom felt a looming presence around him. Harry's fingers layered in between Tom's own as he forced him to pay attention to his beautiful form.
"The last time we were talking in the astronomy tower you told me that you thought it was silly that you wished to take Ginny's place," Harry explained to him, kissing his fingers gently, "I made that happen, did I not?"
"Harry, you murdered her," Tom deadpanned.
"Semantics, my heart," Harry shrugged in response and pulled him closer, "I did, right?"
Tom shouldn't be the one chiding Harry for murder. Tom was the homicidal one not his 'I wanna braid flowers into your hair' partner.
"You're crazy," Tom muttered.
"But you like that, don't you?" Harry questioned, the mischief in his voice too evident as he kissed the back of his hand, "I will do anything for you regardless of how silly it is."
Tom felt that he was ensnared, once again. The long eyelashes, the glint of maniacal gold in serene green eyes, the perfect pout of his pink lips. Harry knew he was made by the gods, perfected at every curve, every inch but Tom? He acknowledged that. He acknowledged that Harry was perfection in its purest form, raw and unadulterated, everything he ever wanted neatly wrapped into a wixen. And as ironic as this sounded, he was thoroughly magical.
"I want the entire world, not just magical Britain."
Harry cocked his head to the side, completely unsurprised, "And I am presuming you want to take the Dark Lord route?"
Tom did not want to freeze the way he just did but Harry did catch him off guard. "If I say yes?"
"It's not a bad idea-"
What the absolute fuck?
"-but it could become violent," Harry completed and raised his eyebrow contemplatively, "and I do not want the father of my future children incarcerated."
"I won't get caught, I am cleverer than my predecessors, you know that," Tom snarled, annoyance evident.
"I'm sure that's exactly what Grindelwald said as well," Harry informed him, which did nothing but bring him Tom's ire.
"I am-"
"-better than them?" Harry questioned, amused, "then prove it."
His tone seemed demanding almost, "Stop being a Gryffindor in your approach and do it the Slytherin way," he continued, "become Minister and continue the Knights Of Walpurgis, be the shadow they can never catch, the threat they can never prove and simultaneously push your agenda before Britain."
Tom considered this, very seriously.
"You have the Traditionalists dancing to your whims anyway," Harry listed firmly, "in another five to eight years push your philanthropic ideas forward, charm the Moderates then marry me, publicly, you'll become the favourite of the common folk if you already aren't."
"You will become the youngest Minister in history if you set your mind to it," Harry informed him, firmly.
He had a few very good counter arguments. Tom had to give his boyfriend that.
"Come on, think it over while I suck you off," He whispered into his ear and placed a kiss over his jaw, leading him back to the bed.
"What about world domination?" Tom questioned, reluctantly being led by Harry.
"One step at a time, sweetheart," Harry reminded him, "we could always terrify the hell out of them or we could by proxy start a war. A few well placed sacrifices here and there and we'll get it."
How did he bag such an attractive boyfriend? How was the said attractive boyfriend so cutthroat? It went straight to his cock.
Tom picked him from where he stood and tossed him on the bed and lowered his person on top of a flushing Harry. The next hour Tom spent in worshipping his boyfriend, caressing his skin, kissing the expanse of it. His fingers felt the thrumming of Harry's blood while he devoured his lips thoroughly leaving them pink. They could barely realise the clothes which had shed themselves while focussing themselves on the electrifying touch of the other. Just a little spark and there were flames bursting all around them and Tom wanted that fire to consume him completely. The lingering touch, the helpless moans, the firm grip and the force of their tantalising magic pushing them to the apex of pleasure.
When they let go of each other the only thing they felt was thoroughness, completeness and Harry's green eyes assessing if Tom was satiated.
"You are completely barmy, you know that?" Tom told him, casting multiple cleaning charms on their person.
"For you? Obviously, have you met yourself?" Harry questioned, sitting up and lighting a cigarette, "Who wouldn't be?"
"Flattery won't get you anywhere with me," Tom muttered and retrieved a cigarette for himself.
"It's not flattery if it's the truth," Harry shrugged and let out a mouthful of smoke and then leaned forward almost as if he was challenging him, "and you know what Tom Marvolo Riddle? You are equally crazy about me, absolutely bonkers, it's just that you are subtle about it."
Tom grunted and laid against the headboard while Harry snuggled into his side and kissed his cheek, "You still didn't tell me why Borgin and Burke, you know?"
"You are an annoying little shit."
"Your annoying little shit, darling," he winked but the stare remained persistent.
Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he rolled his eyes, "When my mum was pregnant with me, she gave away Slytherin's locket for some money in Borgin and Burke, it was eventually bought by Hepzibah Smith."
"Zacharias Smith's grandmother?"
Tom nodded reluctantly.
It was comical how Harry turned to glare at him, amusement rippling through his face, "How exactly did you intend to retrieve this heirloom?"
"She already likes me, so flirt a bit with her and eventually murder her taking both the hufflepuff cup and the slytherin locket."
"And I am proficient in murder, eh?" Harry grinned, throwing his leg over his naked torso.
"Shut up, unless you want me to tie you up and spank you," Tom grumbled and for a very brief moment he saw Harry's eyes sparkle before receding. He looked down at Harry and let out an expression of disbelief, "Of course, you are fucking into that."
"What's wrong with being into it?" He giggled and kissed the underside of Tom's jaw, "I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem with tying me up, My Lord."
Tom's eyes grew red at the addressing. He wanted to hurl him underneath his body and pound into Harry while he writhed in pleasure. Again.
"Thomassss," Harry whined, closing his eyes, "I have mentioned that your red eyes get me all hot and bothered, we need to have a serious conversation before I start thinking from my dick again."
"My name is not Thomas."
"Yeah, your name is let's get Harry all hot and bothered."
Tom snorted derisively.
"Let's refocus on sparing Zach's poor grandmother first," Harry derailed the topic and brought a frown on Tom's face but Harry was quick to lay a kiss on top of it as he withdrew from his embrace.
Tom did not find Harry's naked arse distracting; his focus was completely on what his partner retrieved from his robes or cloak or shirt or whatever else he was rummaging through.
He returned with a black case and Tom's tolerance only extended till there. He pulled Harry back to his bed but before he could begin mauling him, his partner stopped him and handed the case.
Tom let out an annoyed sigh and opened the case only to widen his eyes dramatically, shedding his cloak of pureblood perfection.
"How did you-"
"-I'm crazy, remember? Completely bonkers for you," he reminded and straddled him slowly, peppering kisses on his neck as he layered the chain around Tom's neck.
Tom twisted the pair of them, a feat not easily achievable. The newly installed locket hanging from his neck as he locked the boy into his arms, "You are going to marry me and we are going to rule this entire world."
"Sounds good to me," Harry chirped with a smile and added thoughtfully, "but could you please fucking quit that creepy job, now?"