AGAIN NOTE:

This is NOT a time travel fic. Harry is not from the future!

And I also said there wasn’t going to be a boatload of angst, not that there wasn’t going to be any. :)

Chapter Twelve: My Screaming has gone Unheard

The boy was learning Dark Arts faster than Tom thought possible. And as much as he wouldn’t admit it, to anyone, even himself, he was envious… and proud at the same time. He didn’t know why he needed to carry such envy over the son of the most powerful Dark Lord learning Dark Arts so easily. The boy was born into Dark, he should be learning so easily. And it was a direct reflection of how decent of a teacher Tom was.

Nonetheless, he realized that making Horcruxes were a high priority.

A few days ago, he had created his first Horcrux. The diary. It had been both physically and magically tiring, but it had been worth it. He felt indestructible, more… powerful. Granted, he grew more irritable around the students and that may cost him a few followers, but that meant he would just have to work harder at constructing a mask and hiding his true intentions until he had a solid grip on his rise to power.

But Altair was a whole different story. He found himself obsessing over the boy more and more… he understood that Altair was the only one he saw as an equal before making a Horcrux and he suspected it would stay the same even after completing seven. Perhaps he wouldn’t see the boy very affectionately, but he would still fixate over him, wanting the boy on his side permanently.

However, he felt…threatened by Afton. The boy had a powerful mind and he was very powerful in both Light and Dark magic. It just fueled Tom to create another Horcrux. The winter holiday was coming up and he had plans to visit his muggle father. Then he would make his second Horcrux, perhaps a third.

“You’re late,” Tom murmured, opening the door to his quarters. Afton swaggered inside, his fingers playing with a burning cigarette.

“I apologize,” Afton drawled, looking down on the floor and away from Tom. He inhaled the muggle stick, appearing indecisive. “I’m not in the mood for Dark Arts, tonight, Tom.” He turned his shoulder on Tom, his posture stiff and uncomfortable.

Through lowered lids, Tom assessed the small body in front of him. His fingers twitched at his sides at their distance.

“What is a…Horcrux, Tom?” Afton whispered in question. Tom stiffened himself, narrowing his eyes into slits.

“You said you would stay out of my mind, Afton. And I’m more than sure my thoughts were safely behind an Occlumency shield.” How did the boy find out? If Afton wanted Tom to help him create his own Horcrux, Tom wouldn’t know how to approach the subject. He refused to have Altair create a Horcrux… Tom would be the more powerful one. Not Altair.

Altair whirled around, his eyes oddly bright and emotional. “Slughorn.” He frowned, shaking his head. “His thoughts are scaring even me, Tom. A Horcrux… it rips apart your soul.” Afton lunged forward, grasping Tom’s face with his hands. The boy had to stand on his tiptoes as their height difference made it difficult.

Tom found himself falling within the stare and yet, the boy didn’t force his way inside Tom’s head. In fact, Altair hadn’t even considered entering his mind. “Please,” the boy began. “Promise me you won’t consider creating a Horcrux.”

Tom had never seen Altair so desperate, so…vulnerable. “I won’t consider it,” Tom began hesitantly. The way Altair worded his question meant he could easily sidestep the truth and avoid a lie. He wouldn’t consider making a Horcrux, simply because there was no considering. He had already made a Horcrux and decided to make six more. He didn’t understand why creating Horcruxes were a big issue with the boy. “You’re oddly sentimental tonight,” Tom drawled, well aware of their proximity.

“I’m just…” Altair hesitated, his breath smelling of cigarettes. “If you ever made a Horcrux, Tom, I wouldn’t even bat an eye at leaving you and your side. Because that, Tom, would be the Dark controlling you. And you promised me you wouldn’t let the Dark control you. Do you remember that promise?”

“I do,” Tom admitted; his jaw clenched. Altair would never find out.

“You would turn out insane, you know that, right? You wouldn’t be human.” Altair licked his lips and Tom followed the movement, an excuse to take his eyes of the boy’s passionate gaze. “And when that happens, I will be more than just your enemy.”

Tom grew angry at that whispered promise. He threw off the small wizard, hissing angrily. “Why are you so damned sentimental now?”

“Because I fucking care what happens to you, alright, Riddle?” Afton seemed disgusted by his own confession.

“And why is that?” he should stop speaking, but his mouth kept going. He really was touched that the boy cared for him… so why did he say what he was about to? “Because you broke up with Cohr and now you’re dependant on me now? Because you’d be lost without me to guide you?”

Green eyes, previously warm, had hardened, cooled with anger. Almost as if he were waiting for Tom’s answer, the boy nodded, turning to leave.

Tom gave a growl, lunging and grabbing Afton harshly across the elbow. “You’re not leaving.”

“Fuck off, Riddle,” Afton snarled, trying to pull his arm out of Tom’s hold. It was a pity Tom physically dominant over him. “We’ll see whose dependant.”

“I apologize,” Tom murmured, trying to control the rage that spiked through his body when he saw Altair trying to leave him. “I didn’t mean that. I was… just taken aback by your confession.” He swallowed, tugging Altair closer. “You know that I have trouble seeing anyone close to me… I just…”

Bloody hell, he sounded pathetic.

His hands tightened on Afton’s thin arms, shaking the boy. “I care for you as well,” Tom admitted, his mouth burning at his confession. He tried to swallow his words, but as much as he tried, he realized he had meant them. Afton still looked livid, but at least the boy wasn’t struggling out of his hold anymore. “You are a very independent wizard, Altair. And you most certainly were never dependant on Cohr.”

“You’re getting close to using my personal history against me, Riddle.” Afton barked. “And you gave me your word you wouldn’t do that.”

“You have many expectations of me,” Tom admitted gently, his tone attempting to soften.

“Many?” Altair repeated, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “You have two expectations, Riddle. Not to make a Horcrux and never use my past against me. It’s simple, really.” The boy was still angry.

“I said I was sorry,” Tom let go of Afton’s shoulders. “I’m not repeating my apology.”

“Because we both know how hard it would be,” Altair replied snidely. “Don’t worry; I don’t want to hear you apologize again.” He looked down at his abandoned cigarette, not bothering to extinguish the burning at the end. He was content watching it burn a small hole in Tom’s carpet. “I’m heading off to bed.”

In short, he was going back to the Gryffindor tower where his ex lover resided. Cohr seemed oddly distant of Altair, respecting his distance like a good little boy. Of course, the bloody blonde never looked at another female and male, he just… respected Altair’s wishes. And Tom was suspicious over that. It was if he were waiting, biding his time. As if he was a bloody Seer and could predict Tom’s fall out with Altair.

But it wouldn’t happen. Because now that Tom had Altair in his possession, he would never let go.

His body moved, grabbing the Gryffindor and pushing him against the wall. His lips descended hungrily over Altair’s shocked ones. He molded the lips onto his own, becoming even more intoxicated with the very presence of Altair. His hands shakily and hesitantly moved up to cup Afton’s jaw, tilting the boy’s head back to gain more access.

Tom hadn’t attempted to kiss the boy since the day Afton pulled away. It had been the night of his break up with Cohr. And Tom, reluctantly understanding Afton’s distance, could no longer grant him any more. He needed to taste his Gryffindor; he needed to possess the boy. “Merlin,” Tom breathed huskily, pushing his body against the boy. He was inexperienced, yet his body was demanding him to move and dominate.

Afton grasped Tom’s face and brought him down for another kiss. The boy, this time, took the lead. “I don’t think so,” Tom grumbled into the kiss, against the boy’s lips. “I’m the dominant.”

They pulled away, glowering at one another. “You’re a bloody virgin,” Afton snipped. “I have more experience.”

Refusing to balk at the word ‘virgin’, Tom all but chuckled. “Just because you’ve been with Cohr, doesn’t mean you’re an expert. He’s a bloody pansy, a weak idiot. I, on the other hand, am aggressive. I will overpower you.”

As Tom leaned closer, Altair abruptly turned the other cheek, causing his lips to crash near his ear. “I don’t think this will work out… Tom.” Afton confessed. “Romantically… you and I.”

Tom’s fists clenched on Altair’s sides. “You do realize that it’s dangerous to tease too much.” He allowed the boy to leave the enclosure of his arms. “Isn’t that why you broke things off with Cohr? So you could be with me…romantically?”

“No, I parted ways with Brendan because I saw where you were coming from. I was using him for safety. That’s all… I never really… loved Brendan.” The boy looked down, his messy locks covering his facial expression. “I guess you could say I used him.” He whispered. The boy looked back up at him. “I’m not ready yet, to be with you, to give you everything.” Afton frowned. “I can’t have sex with you until…”

The boy trailed off, shaking his head ironically. “Until what?” Tom asked despite his inner voice telling him not to pursue the subject.

“Until I can trust you completely.”

Tom remained silent, his mind racing. He wanted to scoff at the boy and tell him he was being too sappy, too… foolish. But then he understood what it might do to the boy. Push him away. “I understand,” he admitted, “If you have forgotten, I told you I would only sleep with an equal.” Altair’s eyes widened a fraction and then returned to their normal size. “I see you had forgotten.” Tom drawled.

“You think of me as your equal?” It was a question that Tom wouldn’t answer because the answer was obvious enough. Altair grinned lightly, approaching Tom. “I’m flattered, Tom.” He whispered seductively, reaching out to caressing Tom’s jaw. “Perhaps… we can trade off who leads and-,”

“I’m the dominant,” Tom interrupted.

“I meant for kissing,” Altair snapped, irritated. His fingers curled around Tom’s tie and tugged the man forward. He kissed him lightly on the lips and Tom all but purred. He was pathetic.

“And here I thought you didn’t want to be with me romantically,” Tom murmured into the kiss. The boy was too confusing, far too… mystifying. Everything about the boy was a mystery to Tom. All he wanted to do was split the boy open and learn every little detail about him and his past. About his quirks and habits. But Tom knew it was just as satisfying finding out those things himself.

“Hush,” Altair kissed him again.

As much as Tom wanted to argue and force the topic of not waiting for sex, he knew he wasn’t ready himself. Although… Tom knew the shocking chemistry between them would no doubt be an issue on both ends. Tom didn’t know if he could hold out as long as Altair wanted him to. Merlin… he wanted the boy.

He deepened the kiss; embracing the boy around the waist and pulling him flush against his chest. Although shorter, Afton fit him perfectly.

Did he sound like a bloody sap?

It was simply because he was sap when it came to the petite wizard in his arms.

“I really do need to get going,” Altair pulled away, a pleased grin on his face. The boy attempted to hide it, but Tom spotted it as soon as he pulled away. “I promised Hermione and Luna I’d study Transfiguration with them at the library.” Tom smirked, watching the Gryffindor escape his rooms in a hurry.

He snorted, shaking his head and turning back into his bedroom.

--GIL--

“Afton,” a voice called from behind.

Altair turned, casting a dark look at Rosier. The students were between periods and lunch was starting within three minutes. Altair slowed to a leisurely walk, allowing the Slytherin seventh year to catch up to him. “Altair?” Hermione murmured softly, flashing Rosier’s advancing form a suspicious look. “What does he want?”

Altair shrugged indifferently. How would he know what Blake Rosier wanted with him, especially when it didn’t involve Tom hovering over his shoulder? “Go on to lunch, Hermione,” Altair replied softly. “I’ll tell you what he wanted later.”

Telling her what Rosier would say was highly improbable. Hermione and he had distanced since the start of their seventh year. Altair had a feeling it had to do with his current… infatuation with Riddle. With learning the Dark Arts and spending as much time as he could in Tom’s quarters, Altair had distanced himself from Luna and Hermione. Brendan was another story. His ex-lover seemed oddly indifferent about their parting. And as much as Altair would like to admit otherwise, he knew Brendan was lying down low, just waiting for him to return.

Nonetheless, Altair was happy to know Brendan was making a name for himself. From what Altair heard, Brendan was a decent fighter in the Order.

After Tom had confronted Altair about his relationship with Brendan, Altair had dwelled on it for a good week. When he realized he was using Brendan for a safety, he grew disgusted with himself. A part of him loved Brendan, but he could never have that passionate chemistry he shared with…Tom.

Hermione threw him a look. Altair avoided. He knew she and Luna had been discussing him behind his back. They noticed he had been distant. And the fact that he hadn’t called a meeting to discuss their juvenile plan to take down Grindelwald was also noted. But the more he was in Tom’s presence; the more Altair realized that taking down Grindelwald with just three students wouldn’t pass.

It was time they let go of their childish dream to destroy the Dark Lord.

Hermione gave a curt nod, branching off into the Great Hall. Perhaps she knew as well. They were all maturing.

“What is it, Rosier?” Altair whispered softly, his eyes avoiding the other boy. Whenever he looked at Rosier, he was reminded of Arietta and the summer before fourth year. It was pathetically weak of him to think of Rosier as a reminder of his dark summer, but he was, nonetheless, reminded vividly.

Rosier reached out and guided Altair’s elbow toward the far wall. Not many students were in the halls, their bellies needing to be filled before the second half of the school day. Which reminded him, he was hungry.

Sighing softly, he leaned against the wall, unwillingly staring at Rosier. The young man’s face was grim, almost haunted. “Usually I wouldn’t ask you for help with anything, but… with Tom, it’s different. He listens to you and only you.”

“And here I thought you were his right hand man,” Altair drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “You always speak your mind to him, don’t you? You spoke your mind against him pursuing me, that’s for sure.”

Rosier gave an irritated sigh. “Altair,” he spoke darkly, reaching out to grasp the smaller boy’s arms. “Please, you owe me.”

Altair sucked in an angry breath and let it out in a hiss. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing, Blake.” He shook the hold off him, angry the boy brought up that summer. He attempted to calm himself when he realized Rosier wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “What about Tom?”

Rosier didn’t argue with Altair about his debt, instead he glanced around the corridor before leaning closer. “He’s been acting…different for a good few weeks now. Have you noticed a change in character?”

Altair slumped against the wall, his mind elsewhere. Tom and he had grown considerably closer the past few weeks, that was for sure. But… his character…Altair hadn’t noticed anything unordinary. Save for a sharp temper at times. And there were times in which Tom would speak scathingly, almost viciously to Altair and then the next moment, when Tom realized what he said, he seemed to regret ever snapping at him. “He does have a bit of a temper,” Altair concluded, frowning at the Slytherin in front of him. “But that’s to be expected. He’s a rising Dark Lord.”

Rosier shook his head. “I should have known. Our Lord wouldn’t be as cruel to you as he is with his mere followers.” The dark haired boy made a move to leave but Altair shot out a hand, holding him back.

“Tell me.” Altair demanded quietly. As much as he’d like to deny it, he was concerned if there was something wrong with Tom.

Rosier seemed to weigh his options before his body slumped toward Altair. The boy’s black eyes studied Altair. “He’s become harsher to his close followers. Like you said, he has grown a temper.” Altair held his tongue. Again, he believed it was to be suspected. Tom Riddle was a Dark Lord; wouldn’t he have a right to punish his followers? Of course Altair wasn’t very supportive of a Lord torturing his followers but he would refrain from mentioning it to Tom until they grew closer. “Before, he used to torture us on our mistakes. But now… he seems to enjoy doing it at any time he can. He gets this… maniacal grin on his face…” Rosier paused. “He just enjoys it entirely too much.”

Altair remained silent. The thought of a Horcrux ran through his mind. But he dismissed it. Tom had vowed… still… Altair had his suspicions.

“There is something else,” Rosier continued, seemingly anxious. “Yesterday, our Lord expressed an interest in taking up the position of Burke’s personal assistant at his shop. A dark artifact shop, Altair.”

A heavy frown creased Altair’s mouth. “But… he expressed his interests in-,”

“Politics,” Rosier gave a sharp nod. “When he announced to me that he had changed his goal, that he no longer wanted to destroy the muggle world, but control it, I had been silently pleased. I assumed you had something to do with it.” Without waiting for Altair’s nod, he continued. “He seemed to change for the better since he met you. I admit that I had been critical of your presence in our Lord’s life, but you proved me wrong. He seemed to grow more logical, more rational. His idea at destroying the Ministry from the inside out and taking control was brilliant…”

Altair was fuming inside. Tom and he had discussed entering the Ministry after they graduated from Hogwarts. Together, they would make their way and gather allies within the Ministry. Until they grew larger, more popular, they would take over both the wizarding government and muggle.

“I did not know he had plans to…become a bloody shopkeeper,” Altair whispered, his eyes all but glowing. Being a shopkeeper… they had access to dark artifacts, artifacts that could, in turn, be useful for one thing on Tom’s mind.

Horcruxes.

“Issac Malfoy does not notice a change, save for the harsher punishments. Issac will follow our Lord no matter his path just because of his lust of our Lord’s appearance and power. But I had a vision… a vision of a fanatical Lord who was bent on destruction and not cunning manipulation.” Rosier gripped Altair’s shoulders. “I don’t want that to happen. And I know he…has set his sights on you as a partner. He will only listen to you.”

But Tom was stubborn and rather quiet on his feelings and thoughts. “I cannot guarantee I can stop his ideals…whatever they are, Rosier.” He said it lazily, yet inside, he felt… miserable. No matter how much Tom claimed Altair as his equal, the man wouldn’t allow his ambitions to be interrupted, no matter how corrupt they were. Altair could only try. He couldn’t promise to succeed.

“Altair,” Rosier reached out and grasped his chin. “If you do not succeed, I want you to know I will be following you.”

Altair shook his head, tearing his chin from the boy’s grasp. “I don’t want to become a Dark Lord.”

“That’s bullocks,” Rosier whispered heatedly. “You’re his equal; you have the power to stand against him. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but I know that if he continues on this path of rage and anger he won’t be able to stop. I don’t know about Issac, but I can’t handle much more torture. He’s going to lose followers like this. Either that, or he’ll draw insane servants to his services, not smart, but insane. They will join him because he’s just as mad.”

“Stop,” Altair whispered, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and giving Rosier an intense stare. “That will not happen.” But he knew Rosier was correct. For being a follower, the boy was smart and independent. Rosier knew logic, he knew power, and he knew the Dark. He had an eye that saw and was not blinded.

Rosier was all common sense.

And Altair would do well not to become blinded with his… growing attachment to Tom. Rosier’s beliefs sounded logical enough if Tom chose the path he was on. If Tom chose Horcruxes, Altair knew, just as much as Rosier, how torn Tom would become. His soul would forever be shattered, no longer human but creature.

“He’s getting too deep into the Dark Arts, isn’t he?” Rosier guessed. “It’s turning him. He’s allowing the Dark to control him.”

“Hush,” Altair hissed, his mind spinning.

Dumbledore had warned him of this. When they had spoken, Dumbledore told him Tom would turn out like Gellert. He would become too consumed in the Dark. But Altair had denied Dumbledore when the man had asked him to stay away from Tom. Altair hadn’t taken his suggestion. Instead, Altair had foolishly gotten so close to Tom that he had believed the rising Dark Lord’s promise not to dabble too deep into the Dark. A mere promise. And Altair had fallen for it because he… he was smitten with Tom.

Now he had to stand up against Tom. And because he didn’t stay away from Tom when he had a chance, Altair admitted it would hurt to oppose Tom. He had gotten too close.

But he wouldn’t allow his opinion of Tom to cloud his judgment. Rosier was right. As much as Altair preferred the shadows, he would need to stop Tom before he got too far. But how far was he willing to go in stopping Tom?

“What is this?” A cold voice announced his presence.

Altair’s eyes rose to Tom’s cold, dark stare. The Slytherin Head Boy was picture perfect, looking coldly handsome as ever. His high cheekbones stood out against his pale skin, drawing attention to his sharp features. His black hair, always perfect, was parted. Altair marveled at the man in front of him. How could a handsome man like Tom be so corrupted?

“Rosier approached me,” Altair drew Tom’s attention on him. The Slytherin had been eyeing Rosier with distrust. “He wanted to know if I was considering joining you. In your ranks,” Altair lied smoothly. No matter how many strides Tom made in Legilimency, the Slytherin could never detect a lie from Altair. A Natural Legilimens lied smoothly, without a hint of mind hesitation.

Tom raised an eyebrow, his thin mouth twitching upward in a smirk.

Standing across from the Slytherin Heir, Altair couldn’t see anything that proved Tom’s growing rage and corruption. But now that Rosier drew Altair’s attention to it, he could see almost a waxy sheen to the boy’s skin.

Altair narrowed his eyes, studying the boy. The facial changes were barely noticeable, yet Altair cold see the way his cheeks were faintly sunken and the white’s of his eyes were slightly pink. They were changes that wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone.

Merlin. He had been blind the last few weeks. Learning Dark Arts from Tom had been going so smoothly. Tom was a natural instructor, one that coached Altair through his weak spots and encouraged him…

“He did?” Tom questioned, his smirk turning into a sneer when he moved his eyes away from Altair and on to Rosier. Altair pondered on why Tom seemed more normal around him compared to his close followers. “And what did he say?” Tom was asking Rosier simply because Tom could sense lies from Rosier. The boy was a cunning bastard, Altair would admit that.

“I said he shouldn’t get his hopes up,” Altair gave Tom a pointed look, mentally telling the boy to look at him and address him. Not Rosier. Altair could simply request that using his Legilimency, but he wasn’t favorable to using such mind manipulation against those who he was close to.

But isn’t Tom your enemy now? After he made a Horcrux against your wishes?

Altair shook off the mental voice and patted his stomach. “I’m famished,” he swallowed. “Are you coming in with me?” He addressed Tom, completely ignoring Rosier.

Tom, doubtless, looked suspicious. He approached Altair, dwarfing him with his overwhelming height and presence. “You go on without me.”

“Then Rosier?” Altair asked, turning to finally look at the boy. Despite the threat of Tom’s anger and the possibility of being punished, Rosier looked calm and collected. Mentally, Altair could hear his slight fear.

He reached for the boy, intent to take him by the sleeve, but Tom’s long fingered hand closed over his wrist. The movement was so abrupt, Altair flinched away. Tom’s cool hand held on tight though, bringing Altair’s hand to his lips. With a smoldering gaze, Tom caressed his lips to Altair’s knuckles. “Rosier will stay with me,” pressing a kiss to Altair’s fingers, Tom finally dropped his hand.

Altair cleared his throat, nodding, before turning and making his way down the corridor. He tried to block out Rosier’s mental anguish.

--GIL--

Tom peered around the corner, making sure Afton had left before turning slowly around to face Rosier. “What were you doing with him, Rosier?” With his Gryffindor. When Tom had seen the two in the dark corner, simply gazing at each other, Tom had felt a fury like he had never felt before. It spread hotly through his chest, burning the back of his eyes.

“Just what Afton said, My Lord,” Rosier skillfully sidestepped answering the question.

Slitting his eyes, Tom felt the rage return. It had dulled, when Altair was present, but with the Gryffindor’s absence, he felt his fury come back with a force. He tried to control it, yet… the magic that was brought with such a strong emotion was…pleasing. “How do you know Altair?” Tom hissed, grinning slowly. “You know him, from the past, don’t you? How?”

Rosier shook his head. He lied.

Acting out on his rage, Tom used the Legilimency Altair taught him and surged forth in the boy’s unprotected mind. He ripped through uncaringly, ignoring the loud pitched scream coming from Rosier’s lips. He cast a silencing charm around them, continuing on his search through the boy’s mind.

And then he found it. Just what he had suspected.

Lips brushing, hands wandering, the two boys clumsily experimented with one another. A young Rosier and an equally young Altair. They were in a familiar manor, the Rosier manor.

Tom pulled out, unable to control himself to dig for more. This… servant at his feet had experienced Tom’s lover before he, himself, had? It was an insult, pathetic.

Continuing to tear through the mind, he faltered when Rosier stopped screaming. Instead, of screaming, the boy gave a relieved sigh, his eyes focusing behind Tom. Whirling around, Tom felt a heavy weight of forbidding drop to the pit of his stomach when he met eyes with Altair. The boy was standing directly behind Tom, his green eyes looking shockingly bright.

“We need to talk. Now.” Altair whispered lethally. The boy looked dangerous and oddly arousing.

Tom smirked, his eyes assessing the boy. “I’m punishing my follower,” Tom whispered right back. “You have no say in this matter.”

“I said now,” Altair hissed, his teeth snapping together. Tom gave a sigh, throwing the fallen Rosier a disgusted glance. He felt no guilt over what he had done. No matter what Altair would say, he wouldn’t feel any different.

Tucking his wand in his pocket, Tom followed at the heels of an angry Afton.

A reader pointed out that Afton is giving into Tom too easily. They said Afton shouldn’t have shared with Tom about his mother.

Well, he didn’t. If you read carefully, Afton skimmed through what happened. He never said what she made him do besides ‘kill’. He mostly told Tom about Gellert/Arietta’s background and that she used him during his stay.

As for what Tom’s offering Harry? The reader claimed Tom isn’t giving anything back to Altair…

But he is. He sees Altair as his equal and he doesn’t have his mask on with Afton. And that is a VERY large sacrifice on Tom’s part. He isn’t used to showing his vulnerabilities to anybody, yet he is with Afton. PLUS Tom doesn’t have all the baggage Harry has. Altair already knows Tom’s father abandoned him and his mother and he already knows Tom suffered at the hands of the orphanage. There isn’t much more baggage with Tom. Well… besides the Horcruxes.

AND as much as I’d love Afton playing hard to get, he needs to give in eventually. It took twelve chapters to do so. I think that’s fair enough.