Hello, people! I'm writing this piece for "A Very Slashy Valentine Competition" by flutter of angel wings.
In this competition, we were to choose a slash or femmslash pairing, and she would provide us with a scenario to base our story upon.
My scenario was, unfortunately, very cannon which made me not be very inspired. As such, I postponed writing this and edited AMVs, but alas, the deadline caught up with me and I can hide no longer: this must be written.
I have no idea what I'm going to write – I'll start chaotically and end up somewhere, and I hope you can bear with me, cause I don't have any beta either. Well…on with the molestation!...I mean the typing.
Today is 13.02.2012. The deadline is tomorrow, darn it, so you get a small fic:((
My scenario: "Harry becomes fixated on Tom Riddle the longer he keeps the diary, and Tom is just as intrigued, pulling the boy into the pages so they can properly meet."
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or Tom Riddle. Even if I want to own them so much…slashslashslash…ehe…
Lalala – writing
Lalala – speaking
Don't Trust Me
- oneshot -
"Can you tell me anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
"But I can show you"
I could still replay his words and the memory he showed me, as I stood on that chair, panting in anger. I still can't believe it was Hagrid who opened it. Perhaps Tom was wrong. He caught the wrong person, without knowing it. And the Heir got scared and never opened the Chamber again. I needed to know. I took out my quill and dipped it into the inkwell.
"I don't think it was Hagrid. What made you think it was Hagrid?"
"Harry, I knew from some time that Hagrid was hiding something. He was always sneaking out and even broke curfew sometimes. I saw him tending to the acromantula a few times, and I knew I had to report him, but I took pity on him, as the acromantula hadn't done a thing. However, after that girl died, it was obvious that Hagrid could no longer control it. I wanted the beast gone. I just wanted the school to be safe again"
Safe. That, I could rely to. He wanted the school safe from the Heir's attacks, too. So Tom didn't really think Hagrid had opened the Chamber. He just wanted to protect the students.
"Thank you for the explanation, Tom"
"You're welcome, Harry"
"Tom, I confess I hated you a little bit when you showed me Hagrid, but now that I think about this, I would have done the same. I also want these attacks to stop. I want it so much that I would search for the culprit myself."
"Harry, it seems we are quite alike"
"I wish I was, Tom. You were a prefect, and all. I'm just not the kind that studies hard and achieves such honors. I'm not like Percy."
"Percy Weasley. He's my best mate, Ron's older brother"
"Oh, I take it you are not so fond of this Percy Weasley?"
"A shame. Studying is very important. Good grades will get you a high position in the Ministry or wherever you want to work after Hogwarts"
"I'm not thinking about my future career right now. Who knows, I might not even get to have one"
"Why would you say that, Harry?"
"It's…it's not something you need to worry about. You are nice, Tom, but there are some things I would rather forget about"
"Tell me, Harry. I am here for you. I am your friend"
"It's just…there is this dark wizard that's been after me since I was born. Right, I should tell you from the beginning. When I was young, a dark wizard called Voldemort tried to kill me. This Voldemort is someone so scary, that people are afraid to even speak his name. They call him You-Know-Who"
Harry stopped with his quill in the air, watching the words get absorbed by the diary. Why was he telling Tom this anyway?
"Continue your story", Tom's elegant handwriting said.
"Right. That night, he killed my parents, but he failed to kill me"
"Why is that?" Tom wrote quickly, his writing somewhat messier now.
"Headmaster Dumbledore said it was love. My mother gave her life to save me. He said, it created strong magic that saved me from death. The curse turned against Voldemort, and he died, instead. Everyone thought he was dead. They celebrated their freedom"
"But he was not dead"
"No. I don't know how he did it, but he returned. He possessed one of my teachers, professor Quirrel, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts last year."
"He tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore hid inside the school. But Hermione, Ron and I went after him, passed the trials set by the school's professors and eventually stopped him. It seems Voldemort couldn't bear to touch my skin, because as soon as he did, he caught on fire. Quirrel died, and the stone was destroyed by Dumbledore"
"That was quite an extraordinary story, Harry. You must have been so scared"
"Yes, but, he had to be stopped"
"Had to be?"
"If people fear speaking his name, they do it for a reason. I don't want to see him return to power"
"I wish Dumbledore wouldn't make three first years go after such a dangerous dark wizard in order to protect something as desirable as the Philosopher's Stone. You could have died so easily, Harry. Any of your friends could have dies with such ease"
Harry shuddered and stopped writing. He hadn't…he'd never thought about that. He'd never seriously considered dying. They were eleven. Sure, death didn't exist for eleven-year-olds! And yet Tom, Tom was perfectly right.
"Harry? Are you still there?
"Tom, you are right. I never"
"I know. You never considered death a possibility. You trusted Dumbledore, and Hogwarts with your safety. Just like we did"
"It's almost scary, how well you understand me"
"I used to be a student just like you, Harry. If I don't understand you, who will?"
Tom is so kind. Tom understands, and he gives me good advice. My grades started to improve, and Hermione congratulated me a few times this week only!
Learning is easier when I have Tom to explain what I didn't understand, Tom to guide me, Tom telling me what to read and what to do to save time and become more efficient. Even if we can never agree when it comes to Quiddich, he doesn't complain. He is so much older and so much smarter than me, but he…he respects me.
In the mean time, I tell Tom things I keep hidden from others, even from my Gryffindor friends.
I don't understand how, but I feel like I can tell him anything. And he didn't laugh at me. He told me he was raised by Muggles too, and that they were mean to him. It seems we're both orphans, and I think we resemble physically a bit as well. He must have had it tough, though. In Gryffindor, these things don't matter, but when I think about Malfoy, and what he would do to a no-name orphan in Slytherin, I shudder.
I really respect Tom. He found refuge in studying and earned that Award fully.
I've been talking to this supposed demise of mine, Harry Potter for a month now, making him pour his heart literally to me. Unlike little sniveling Ginny Weasley, always complaining about her hand-me-down robes and second hand books, and drooling after that incompetent teacher of Defense, this boy had lived through real tragedies.
During our conversations, I couldn't help but notice certain similarities. We were both orphans, both mistreated by inferior Muggles, both powerful, and we even resembled one another. And he had saved himself. Granted, friendship and acceptance came easy in Gryffindor, but as a first year, despite being brilliant and way ahead of my classmates, I would have never embarked on such a dangerous task. I begrudgingly respected him for that, respected him enough to overlook how he talked way too much about Quiddich.
Also, for some reason, unlike Ginny whose energy I siphoned easily with each conversation, Harry was blissfully unaffected. Was this a side effect of his mother's protection? I asked myself. Just another mystery to uncover.
It was like looking in a mirror. Like choosing another path for myself. And suddenly, talking to him through the diary was not enough anymore. I had to see him. I had to see him soon. The urgency and the despair in my mind should have scared me, but they didn't. I don't know why this little Gryffindor made me feel this way. Made me so interested in him, more so than I had been in anyone during my Hogwarts days (except for professor Dumbledore).
But I needed him to accept my invitation, otherwise I could not absorb him.
When Tom told me he'd rather talk to me face to face, I didn't hesitate to agree to meet him. He was my best friend, after Ron, and I could trust him with everything.
I waited until all my roommates fell asleep, and then I opened the diary and wrote inside it.
Dear Merlin, the boy has no idea what he's doing to me with those words. He is just so innocent. He doesn't know what I've been planning to do with him, how my dreams are suddenly filled with wide greed eyes and black tousled hair, and small pink lips panting under me in pleasure. How did I go from weaseling information out of him and a drive finish him off to…this?
I'm leaning against one of the walls of the castle, waiting for him to get to me, arms crossed over my chest, one finger tapping my elbow lightly. Finally, it's going to happen. Tonight, I will see Harry, and I will make him mine.
And he lands on the floor below mine, I guess I didn't have full control over his travel, but then again, I never brought another person here before.
Well, my delicious Harry, let the hunt begin.
I have a sense of foreboding I never associated with Tom before. The corridor where I landed is deserted, for once, and even as I call for Tom, I get no answer. The corridor is simply lit and on the opposite wall, menacing shadows dance.
I shudder. Why, oh why did I come here only in my pajamas? It seems that I even left my slippers behind. Talk about horrible luck.
I hear a noise behind me, and instincts developed over so many years of "Harry Hunting" take over my body. I start running for dear life, occasionally calling for Tom. But Tom doesn't answer, not even once. Something went wrong. I am sure of it now.
There is no way Tom would have done this to me.
I see him running towards me. Perfect.
His face is flushed from the effort, adrenaline pumping in his veins, heart beating faster, panting, green wide eyes looking around, dark hair flowing, despite the lack of wind. He comes like a storm, disturbing the peace and quiet I've had for fifty years, and Merlin, he is so beautiful in his innocence.
And as he turns the corner, I grab him in my arms to make him stop running, and before he can scream, I rip those damn glasses off his face and cover his mouth with mine. And time stops.
I cannot think anymore. My eyes are opened wide in fear, and I know it's Tom doing this to me, Tom kissing me the way I've never been kissed before, Tom starting this nervous fluttering in my stomach, Tom lighting my face on fire.
I can't even breathe anymore, and even if my arms are placed on his chest, in the perfect position to push him off, I can't.
Tom is holding me in place, one arm circling my nape, another squeezing my shoulder.
My knees buckle when I feel him lick my bottom lip and nibble it. I gasp and he slips his tongue in. Focusing too much on his tongue, I never felt him lower me to the ground, but now as I came to my senses a bit, I feel the cold floor under me.
My vision is blurring, and I think I'm going to die.
I only wanted a taste, to kiss him once and then be rid of my obsession, but when the little one stopped struggling in my arms I knew I was doomed.
He was such sweet nectar, eyes wide and pleading, little arms pushing weakly at my chest, brushing my sides. Ah, little Harry, the things you do to me.
He lets me have my way with him, and I feel his resolve weakening under my ministrations. I have never been more proud of my skills, as I am now, making him submit to me. I feel so powerful, I feel like I could do anything. Right now, I feel like I could kiss him forever.
As I open his mouth, I feel his knees giving in, and decide to use this weakness to lower him to the floor, where he will have a harder time pushing me off, that is, if he even manages to regain his senses.
I feel him go strangely limp in my arms, and stop my kiss, because I don't want to suffocate my little treasure.
He is panting heavily, eyes shining, pupils dilated, breath hitting my lips, face flushed and dark tousled hair. He is the picture of temptation, and tempted I feel. As I lower myself again, he breathes one question in a small voice:
"Because", I tell him, uncaring how my voice breaks despite my attempts to remain in control of myself "you told me to take you".
With that, I lowered my lips onto his, and never lifted them again, for the rest of out time together. I was strangely content with just kissing him, and I felt my heart beat for the first time in fifty years, when he timidly started kissing me back. Oh Harry, the things I would do to you…
And the world dissolves cruelly around us.
I came to my senses in my own bed. Still panting heavily, I took one look at the diary and slammed it under a pile of books. I didn't want to think about what just happened in his diary.
The next day, when Neville came to me, telling me that someone had tuned the room upside down, I just knew I had lost Tom forever.
After Harry's departure, I simply lied on the floor, where he had been, and I went to sleep there, surrounded by his warmth, still feeling his scent, basking in the pleasure he had given me.
"Till next time, little Harry…" I promised myself.
And Tom Riddle always gets what he wants.
Here's my inspiration picture for the last part of the fan fic, it's made by hinakickweb (Flayu on deviantart):
Replace the "(dot)" with ".".
Please review to feed the muse!