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Tom angrily slams his book onto the library table, ignoring the startled looks and glares his action gets.  He thought Hogwarts was going to be different, but unfortunately, he gets sorted into the one house that's supposedly not very nice. 

"Hey," whispers the boy who had been sitting at the table Tom's just slammed his book onto. 

"What do you want?" he snaps out after a moment of recognition because he knows who this boy is.  Son of James and Lily Potter who has just been sorted into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.  It had caused quite a ruckus, but the boy hadn't seemed to have cared.  Tom would have cared, because while his House was evil, at least it wasn't the most looked down on in Hogwarts.  No one ever expects anything of Hufflepuffs.

Potter blinks wide green eyes at him, obviously shocked at how rude he's being.  "I'm Harry Potter," he says.  "First year, like you."

"I know," he says, frowning, because all he wants to do is read this book on magic and now he has to actually make conversation.  It's not like he doesn't want friends, but he doesn't want a Hufflepuff as a friend.

"Oh," says Potter.  He still looks puzzled, but he powers on after a few seconds.  "What's your name?"

"Tom Riddle," he answers curtly, annoyance filling his little body, and he tries his best to end the conversation by opening up his book.  He's not rude enough to just get up and leave, but he hopes Potter will take the hint and leave him alone.

"How are you liking Slytherin so far?" chatters on Potter, oblivious.  "I thought I would only like Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff's not so bad.  I mean, honestly, I think I'm scared of heights, so I'm glad our common room is in the basement instead of the tower."

"I see," he gets out, his red eyes scanning the text instead of looking at Potter.

"We're pretty close then," continues Potter.  "Slytherin's in the dungeons, right?  Slytherins and Hufflepuffs should get along, then, since we're right next to each other."

That's what sets him off for some reason because he's never heard such flawed thinking because Slytherin and Hufflepuff getting along?  Merlin, the boy is irritating.  He closes his book, turning his glare to the bespectacled boy.  "Are you not getting along with your friends?  Why do you insist on bothering me?  Also, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs do not get along, as I will show you if you continue talking at me."

Harry blinks big, green eyes at him as if he’s utterly confused on why Tom is being so acerbic, and somehow that just makes him angrier.  He picks up his book, sends one withering last glare at the Hufflepuff, before leaving the library in a huff.

It’s obvious that he was wrong about Potter.  Potter doesn’t have any trouble getting along with his classmates.  He’s always surrounded by people whenever Tom sees him, and Tom can’t help sneering at Potter whenever they meet eyes.  Potter just sends him this confused smile whenever he does and Tom always turns away in a huff.

It’s nearing Christmas when he chances upon Potter again.  Except this time, there’s no confused smiles and bright green eyes and instead there’s split lips and bruised cheeks.  He’s utterly surprised at the anger that surges up at him and he’s even more surprised that he kneels down and helps the Hufflepuff up.

Potter takes his hand in his own shaking one, and Tom asks in a low voice, “Who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing,” says Potter.  “I shouldn’t have been out here anyway.”

He stares at Potter and even though he’s curious, he knows that Harry wouldn’t want him to know.  “Why are you out here?” he asks instead.

Potter brightens up, and the grip he has on Tom’s hand tightens.  He’s smiling again, the blood standing out stark against his pale lips, but he looks happy enough that it’s easy to ignore.  Tom’s utterly baffled on why he seems to care so much, though he suspects that it may be because Tom hates bullies and even if Potter is annoying, he doesn’t deserve this.

“It’s a Hufflepuff secret,” says Potter, “but the kitchen is just around the corner.  Want to come?”

He looks hopeful, and he’s still bleeding, so Tom just shrugs and follows Potter.

Potter makes him cover his eyes when they reach a painting of a bowl of fruit, and when Potter nudges him to open his eyes again, he’s treated to the sight of the Kitchens.  The house-elves are all aflutter when they notice Potter’s appearance, and one of them snaps and then there’s a plate of cookies right in front of them.

They split it, and even though Tom goes to back to his bed without finding out who bullied Harry Potter, his stomach’s full and his heart’s lighter.

Potter seems to think that his kindness means that they’re friends now, and Tom lets Potter suffer his own delusion.  Harry sends him chocolate frogs for Christmas, and although he knows it’s just a throwaway gift considering Potter’s wealth, he’s still somewhat touched because no one’s gotten him a gift before. 

They don’t meet up again for the rest of the year, which Tom is secretly thankful for because it means he’s not running into Potter bleeding again.  He only spares a few thoughts on who exactly is bullying the Hufflepuff, because after all, it’s really not any of his business and he has more troubling things to worry about.  Such as increasing his standing in the Slytherin House.  It’s rather annoying, but as long as he continues to best his classmates in Slytherin, he thinks he’s relatively safe. 

When he comes back for his second year, he runs into Potter on the train.  Potter tilts his head at him before calling a greeting, and before Tom can protest, Potter drags him into an empty compartment.  Tom sneers, but Potter just brightly asks him how his summer went and Tom just stares at him without responding until Potter continues to chatter on. 

He’s utterly oblivious to how on edge Tom is, and when another second year Hufflepuff pokes her head in, Harry invites her in without even asking if Tom’s alright with it. Tom knows her, and Pomona Sprout doesn’t ask for permission either, just barges right in and starts to talk to Harry about how her summer went, and absolutely ignores Tom sulking in the corner.  Two more Hufflepuffs come in, both of them Harry’s roommates, and they introduce themselves to Tom before talking amongst themselves.

Tom’s about to stalk away after twenty minutes of the absolute torture that are Hufflepuffs when the lady with the trolley comes knocking.  Potter buys them all sandwiches and treats without a second thought, and doesn’t say a thing when Tom reaches for one.  He just pushes more of the treats toward Tom, and while Tom would normally rankle at someone giving him things for free, for some reason, he doesn’t mind when it comes from Potter, because he knows Potter probably doesn’t even expect any payment back.

He thinks that’s the last he’s going to see of Potter, but Potter finds him in the library the next day.  He just looks at Tom, and then starts to unpack his stuff on Tom’s table.  Tom only nods his head at Potter, because Potter fed him sandwiches and treats yesterday, and they work in silence together.  When they leave, Potter asks quietly if he’ll like to follow him to the kitchens before bed, and against Tom’s better judgement, he does.

They start to settle into a routine, meeting up once a week or so in the library and then the kitchens afterward, and apparently Potter gets too used to it, because the girl Hufflepuff from earlier joins them.  She’s obviously a talkative one, with no sense of self-preservation, because she starts to chatter on to Tom, of all people.  Tom stares at her in plain horror, and Potter starts snickering quietly at him when the girl gets up to head to the restroom. 

“This is your fault,” he says quietly, and Potter just dissolves into laughter.

“She’s nice,” says Potter, when he gets his breath back.  “It’s good for you to be surrounded by nice people.”

He glares at Potter, but he can’t retort, because the girl’s back and she’s asking for help on the Potions homework and he can’t actually say no with Potter staring at him with his big, green eyes. 

He thinks the Slytherins would mind that he’s surrounding himself by Hufflepuffs, but they don’t .  He thinks it’s because they’re not Gryffindors and they’re not know-it-all Ravenclaws, and the general consensus around school is to leave the Hufflepuffs alone.  They’re already not causing trouble, so to pick a bone with them seems pointless.  (And although people don’t like to admit it, Hufflepuffs are scary .  They’re all kind and nice, but they’re loyal foremost, so the whole House sticks together when one of their own are getting picked on.)

And somehow, beyond all common sense, the Hufflepuffs adopt Tom as one of their own.  He doesn’t like to think about it too much, because if he does, he’ll be more annoyed than grateful, so he just puts it out of his mind, and when Potter calls him over, he goes beyond his better judgment.  It’s not like he’s getting any flak for it from the Slytherins, and the Hufflepuffs ply him with food from the kitchens and even share their family’s books with him without asking for a single thing back.

When his second year comes to an end, Tom’s rather surprised that he’s dreading his return to the Orphanage for more reasons than simply hating the place.  Potter picks up on it because he’s being more acerbic than usual, and although Potter tries to get the reason out of him before they all head back for the summer, Tom keeps his mouth shut and instead distracts Potter by quizzing him about their end-of-the-year exams.

The Orphanage is just as awful as he remembers, but it’s made even worse because of the war that’s fast approaching with Germany.  He spends most of his summer ducking away in fear every single time something loud happens outside. 

When he runs into Potter on the train heading back to Hogwarts, Potter immediately knows something’s up when Tom flinches when the train starts to move.  He doesn’t ask, but he frowns and his thinking expression is on, so Tom think he’s found out.

Potter doesn’t bring it up though, and the third year passes just like his second year did.  Tom’s obsession of finding out his lineage is slowly dying out simply because he doesn’t have time anymore to research it because the Hufflepuffs keep on coming to him to ask him for help on homework.  He’s surprised he doesn’t find it annoying, and secretly thinks he might want to be a teacher after school ends.

He hasn’t been bullied in so long that he’s utterly baffled when a group of Slytherins start to taunt him about how his friends are all Hufflepuffs.  He’s not really offended though, because out of all of them, Potter is the only one he would consider an actual friend, so the insults just roll right off of him.  He’s fine as long as the bullying’s only words, and so he ignores it for the better part of the year.

He’s rather used to it by the time the Slytherins get cocky and call him Mudblood when he’s with the Hufflepuffs.  He simply ignores them as he always does and continues walking toward the kitchens.  He’s utterly surprised when he glances up and finds that all the Hufflepuffs have stopped walking.

Potter’s voice is dangerously low and his wand’s in his hand.  “Tom,” says Potter, “Have they called you that word before?”

Tom stares at him, briefly embarrassed because it’s him they’re bullying, and doesn’t know how to reply. 

Sprout growls, “They have, haven’t they?  Haven’t we told you that we’ve got your back?”  And without waiting for a response from Tom, she rounds on the nearest Slytherin, shooting out a nasty jinx without a second thought. 

Hufflepuffs are fierce when they’re angry and it descends into an all out brawl.  Tom doesn’t know what to do even though he probably knows the most jinxs and curses out of all of them, and when one of the Slytherins aim at him, Potter’s there in all his fury, casting a strong shield charm and retaliating with one of the nastier jinxs they’ve been taught.

They all get in trouble when the caretaker rounds the corner, and although they get assigned detention, the Hufflepuffs are more cheerful than they should be.  Sprout’s whistling as they scrub the cauldrons, and when Tom looks at her, she shoots him a toothy grin.  “Won’t be bothering you again, will they?” she says, and that’s when Tom wonders if he wrote her off too early as a harmless Hufflepuff and maybe he can consider more of them his friends rather than just Potter.

Sprout’s right, and the Slytherins don’t even look in his direction again.  He knows he should be more embarrassed than proud, but he’s not embarrassed because the Hufflepuffs don’t give him time to be.  They distract him with more priceless books and Tom thinks that maybe it’s alright that he isn’t a ‘real’ Slytherin.

When he comes back from his third summer away from Hogwarts, he’s pale and withdrawn and Potter is more righteously angry than he should be.  He’s even more angry when he finds out Tom asked to stay at Hogwarts and was promptly denied, and Tom catches Potter slashing angry bold words in a letter to his parents. 

“Don’t worry about this summer,” says Potter, “I’ll take care of it.”

Tom wonders only briefly why his response is to be grateful rather than to sneer at Potter’s generosity, because Potter immediately switches gears to chatter on about their summer homework, and Tom is startled enough that he just goes along with it.

The Hufflepuffs drag him to Quidditch tryouts and although Tom protests, he still sits and watches because Potter’s the one trying out and an opportunity to tease Potter is one that Tom won’t ever pass up.  Potter’s really only brilliant at defense, and rather abysmal at Potions, so Tom watches open-mouthed as Potter weaves circles around the other fliers.  He’s so talented that Tom can only watch in wide-eyed amazement and can’t help but to wonder why Potter hasn’t tried out before. 

Potter gets chosen as the Hufflepuff Seeker, and they celebrate by plying him with butterbeer and compliments. 

Potter’s green eyes are glowing when he glances up at Tom, his smile borderline cocky.  “Bet you thought I was only good at defense.”

Tom flounders as he thinks up of a response, because watching Potter up there had only made him realize just how mesmerizing the Potter Heir is.  And for the first time in his life, he actually feels flustered as Potter stares up at him. 

“Tom?” asks Potter, his smile slowly fading as he blinks confused eyes up at him. “Are you okay?”

His heart’s still beating fast, but he forces himself to just roll his eyes, “You say that like you’re actually good at Quidditch.”

Potter just laughs, because he’s used to Tom and Tom freezes because it’s an awful time to realize he’s attracted to the one friend he has in Hogwarts.

It’s not like he stops spending time with Potter, but Potter has Quidditch practice now, and there’s only so many times Tom can get dragged to the Quidditch pitch before getting annoyed.  The Hufflepuffs all go to cheer Potter on most of the time, so Tom finds himself with a lot of free time. Which he promptly decides to spend in the library even if Potter’s not there to keep him company anymore.

He gets used to the solitude and enjoys it even, so he’s somewhat annoyed when Abraxus Malfoy sits at his table one winter afternoon.  They’ve never got along, even after the Hufflepuffs claimed him as one of their own, so he doesn’t even try to hide his sneer when Malfoy coughs to announce his presence.

“Did you need something, Malfoy?” he asks, his tone polite.  “Or did you come here to beg me to check over your Potions essay?”

Malfoy flushes, because although Malfoy gets high marks in Potions, it’s a poorly kept secret in Slytherin that the pure-blood has to spend hours to reach an acceptable level.  When Tom just raises his eyebrow, Malfoy composes himself, placing two well-kept hands in front of him.

“Have you put in any thought to your heritage, Riddle?”

“And what’s it to you?” asks Tom, and then he gets it.  He can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, “Is it getting to you, Malfoy?  That I may not be a pureblood and still outperform the rest of you snakes.”

“You’re a Slytherin, too!” hisses Malfoy, color blooming across his cheeks.  “I don’t know how the Hufflepuffs don’t see it, though I guess it makes sense considering you’re the bloody epitome of a Slytherin.”

Tom pauses, because he really didn’t expect Malfoy to get so worked up over this. Malfoy presses on, obviously having a lot to say after keeping it in for four years.

“You can’t be a Mudblood,” sneers Malfoy.  “There’s no way a Mudblood can just get it without even trying!”  Malfoy pauses, his nostrils flaring, and then he heaves a sigh.  “You came from an orphanage, didn’t you?  For a fee, Gringotts can outline your lineage for you.  I’ll pay it; I just need a drop of your blood.”

“You’re more idiotic than I thought you were, if you actually think I’ll give you my blood,” says Tom after a moment of silence, and Malfoy rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I’ve just met you,” scoffs Malfoy.  “Everyone knows you’re a right paranoid bastard.  Here’s the form,” he places it onto the table in front of them.  Tom glances at it, and Malfoy moves to stand.  “Just think about it, alright?”

“Wait,” says Tom, just as Malfoy’s about to move away.  “What’s in it for you?  Just peace of mind?”

Malfoy pauses, looking as if he’s debating over what to say, and Tom waits patiently.  After a moment, Malfoy sighs and then nods.  “Look, you were sorted into the Slytherin house for a reason, and it’s just so bloody irritating that you rather spend your time with them than us.  And I’m only going to say this once, but Riddle, you’ve got potential.  And I’ll hate to see you waste it since you’re too busy spending time with Hufflepuffs.  Just take the bloody test, Riddle.”

He leaves without another word, and Tom only spends a minute being annoyed at the way Malfoy was so bloody nosy before glancing over the form.

He ends up sending it because Malfoy’s paying for it and it’s not like he hasn’t been curious ever since he’s come to Hogwarts.  It had just stopped mattering as much since the Hufflepuffs never talked about blood status and the younger Slytherins hardly dared to breathe a harsh word to him after the first brutal beating they had gotten from the Hufflepuffs.  The older year Slytherins simply didn’t care enough about him to make a fuss, so in the end Tom just accepted it.

When the form comes back, his heart nearly stops.  Because the Gringotts’ letter is straightforward in the results and it’s clear who his parents were.  He debates on what to actually do with this information for a few hours or so when Malfoy comes to him on his own.  Tom is only annoyed briefly at the fact that Malfoy had bribed the goblins to tell him Tom’s results because Malfoy hands him a series of books on his lineage.  Tom sighs as he takes the books, wondering just how he had become so predictable that all someone has to do to get on his good side is to offer him knowledge.

And even if Tom is the Heir of Slytherin, he doesn’t quite know how to go about announcing the knowledge to the rest of the school.  It’s not like he wants to go ahead and claim the last name because that would paint a target on his back and he’s not quite ready for the chaos that it would throw in his life.  Because he already has the most powerful member of the Slytherin House on his side (because Malfoy’s gloated a bit but he’s mostly settled down now and is actually quite … nice) and there’s no reason to tell the world.  He can get enough allies just by utilizing Malfoy’s connections.  So he decides to wait on the knowledge for a bit and instead spends his fourth year a lot like his third.

His crush on Harry doesn’t fade the whole while.  He’s rather thrown by it all, because in all his years of living, he never even suspected that he could ever have romantic feelings for anyone.  He’s always been bored of people, only ever seeing them for their worth and value rather than their effect on him, so to be so anxious over anything Potter even says to him is draining. 

And the most embarrassing thing is that Tom actually doesn’t mind crushing on the Hufflepuff.  He likes craving Potter’s attention and he likes making Potter laugh.  And he doesn’t even mind that him crushing on Potter means he likes guys because having magic was weird enough that being queer doesn’t even faze him.  After all, he doesn’t like Potter just because he’s physically attractive, but because Potter’s kind, stupidly generous, and mind-boggling oblivious.  And most of all, just bloody persistent.  Because Potter’s never given up on Tom and he’s so idealistic, that Tom just isn’t sure how to respond to Potter sometimes.

He thinks he’s hidden his little crush rather well, so when Potter drags him into an empty classroom, he doesn’t think anything of it. 

Potter looks nervous, flushed cheeks and bitten lips, and when Tom raises an eyebrow, Potter starts to visibly bounce on the heels of his feet. 

“What’s the matter with you?” asks Tom eventually, and Potter actually shrugs, the motion loose and distinctly relaxed.

“Tom,” says Potter, “you’ve been proper weird this whole year.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed what with you spending so much time with that Malfoy git and those bloody strange textbooks you try to hide from me.”

He flushes, embarrassed at being caught out, and Potter’s grin grows wider.

“Anyway, I don’t care because it’s probably good for you to find some friends in the Slytherin house, even if it is bloody Malfoy.  Come home with me this summer?”

And he does.  Because Potter’s insistent and Tom’s never been good at ever telling Potter no.  And it doesn’t help that saying yes means that he gets to spend time with Potter all summer and escape the Orphanage.

Summer passes by quickly what with Tom being allowed into the Potter library and Harry disappearing every now and then with his parents.  He never gets an explanation, but he doesn’t really need one because the eight hours are convenient enough for him to get some alone time.  Harry’s parents are quite welcoming to him, fed on details of his sad past from Harry since their first year, and they love their son enough that whatever makes him happy made them happy.

Harry begs Tom to sit with the Hufflepuffs during the Welcoming Feast and Tom just goes along with it because it’s easier to listen than to say no to Harry.  They’re halfway done when Headmaster Dippet interrupts them with a speech, and the whole of their friends are patting Harry on the back in sympathy when the wizard announces that Quidditch is canceled.  Tom’s not very bothered by it all because he still thinks the sport is more dangerous than interesting, so he’s pretty surprised when Harry suddenly stiffens up next to him since Tom’s tuned out half of the speech already.

“The Triwizard Tournament,” whispers Sprout, her brown eyes wide, “They haven’t had one in ages!  And to have the age limit low enough so we can compete!”

“Don’t bother,” snaps Harry, surprising half the table because Harry’s never this short, and they all watch in silence as Harry angrily starts to saw at the steak on his plate.  “It’s a dangerous idea,” he continues, “and it shouldn’t even be allowed.”

“Dangerous?” repeats Sprout.  “Harry, you love danger!”

“But I’m not a bloody Gryffindor, am I?” explodes Harry, dropping the knife so it clatters loudly against the dinner plate.  “That’s all they ever wanted and instead they have me.”  He’s breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring, and Tom so badly wants to ask Harry what’s wrong, when Harry stands, nearly stumbling in his haste to get away.

Tom steadies him, and although Harry sends him a grateful look, he storms away a second later, obviously determined to stew on his own. 

Sprout doesn’t let Tom follow him, so Tom is only able to leave after everyone’s done with the Feast.  He leaves the Hufflepuffs because they’re heading back to the Common Room and something in Tom’s gut tells him that he won’t be finding Harry there.

Dumbledore’s towering over Harry when Tom rounds another corner for the hundredth time.  In all the time Tom’s known the Hufflepuff, he’s only ever seen fear in Harry’s eyes once and that was when Tom had found him beat up in an empty hallway in their first year.  Even though Dumbledore’s a professor, something reminds him of that last time, and he frowns, unsure if he should call out or wait to understand the situation better.

He’s close enough that he’s able to hear only parts of Dumbledore’s impassioned speech.  Things like “The Chosen One,” and “The Prophecy states,” and “You’re not really meant to be a Hufflepuff,” all go together to paint a not very clear picture.  But still, Tom’s about to charge in and save Harry from the professor when Harry shifts a bit and catches sight of Tom.  His eyes widen and even this far away, Tom is able to see Harry’s very subtle shake of the head.  Harry doesn’t want him to save him and Tom isn’t about to disrespect Harry’s wishes.

Harry comes to find him when Dumbledore leaves, and he’s still shaking.  His green eyes are bright with unshed tears and Tom wants nothing more than to make Harry feel better.  He frowns, and Harry’s voice is trembling when he tells Tom everything. 

“They think me the savior of the wizarding world,” says Harry, his voice barely loud enough to reach Tom’s ears.  “There’s a prophecy that I’m going to defeat Grindelwald and they really believe it.  They force me to train and even though Dumbledore should be the one fighting him, it’s going to be me.  It’s a death sentence.”

“There’s where you went during the summer,” says Tom, and Harry nods, looking miserable.

“I just know Dumbledore suggested this tournament in order to test me,” says Harry. 

He’s not wrong.  Tom’s heart clenches at the sight of complete despair clouding Harry’s face when his name is called as a champion of Hogwarts and he promises himself that he’ll protect Harry.

The beginning of their fifth year passes by quickly.  Harry’s a nervous wreck more often than not and Tom is worried about the Tournament, but beyond that, he’s worried about Dumbledore sending Harry out to fight the only Dark Lord of their generation.  Because he knows Harry’s going to win the Tournament with little problems.

He’s with Malfoy when he’s going through one of the thick tomes the Heir’s given him and he can’t help gasping in surprise.

The Chamber of Secrets has a basilisk trained to follow Slytherin’s descendants.  Tom can’t think of a better way to fight Grindelwald. 

Since Malfoy’s still staring at him, Tom enlists the pureblood to help him in his search.  Tom blows Harry off a few times to go searching for the Chamber and he just knows Harry’s not very happy that he’s choosing Malfoy over him.  Still, Harry’s caught up in training and with his fellow Hufflepuffs, and Malfoy’s there and willing to roam the halls with him in search of it.  When they do, in a girl’s bathroom of all places, Tom’s overjoyed at the amount of books he finds in the damp chamber about a plethora of topics.  They’re all useless to Malfoy, who watches Tom exclaim over the books with the ‘squiggly lines’ with a bemused smirk, and when they finally exit, Malfoy promises to send him more books with risky topics if he really wants better reading material.  He only hesitates a split second before agreeing because the basilisk is missing and Dark Magic would be the perfect alternative to its absence.

Harry pulls him aside the morning after he finds the Chamber, pulling him into an empty classroom before they have to leave for morning classes.  He’s biting his lip and acting uncharacteristically so Harry that Tom just stares blankly at him for a moment.

“Are you okay?” he asks when Harry takes a shuddering breath and Harry shakes his head.

“No.  Tom, it’s awful.  We’re going to go against dragons for the first Task.”

He feels worried for only a split second before he forces himself to act casual.  He shrugs, “Just dragons?  Don’t tell me you’re afraid of those overgrown lizards.”

Harry pouts at him, “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” he says instead. “I’ll come up with a way.”

The corners of Harry’s eyes soften at that, and his worry seems to melt away.  “Yeah,” says Harry.  “I know you will.”

He does. 

It’s not his fault that his way is verging on the borderline of being Dark.  It’s just Dark spells are so much easier than normal spells.  It takes less energy and just makes so much more sense.  It only takes him a few minutes to master Dark spells, while other spells take hours.  And they’re always way less effective.

Harry’s frowning when he tells him about the curse he’s found in the Chamber of Dragons and how it would make the dragon essentially powerless.  It’s not unsurprising, considering Harry’s stance on Dark magic, but Tom had thought he could have gotten away with it.

“Tom,” says Harry, a little hesitantly, “That spell’s rather Dark, isn’t it?”

“So?” says Tom, frowning.  “It’s a dragon, Harry.  Surely, you understand just how dangerous it is.”

Harry scowls before shaking his head.  “I’m not going to use a spell like that.”

Tom’s irritated now and it shows in his tone, “Don’t be an idiot.  Just use the spell.”

Harry takes a deep breath, “Okay, I know I might have freaked you out a bit what with the prophecy and all, but we’re not going to stoop down to that level.”

“I’m not freaked out,” retorts Tom, immediately.  “You’re assuming that I’m actually worried about you.”

Harry looks amused now, probably used to his prickly attitude, “And you aren’t?’

“No!” says Tom, bristling.  “Fine, don’t use the bloody spell and find a way to fight the damn beast yourself.” 

He slams the door on his way out and he only has to wait a few seconds before Harry’s jogging after him.  He doesn’t say anything when Harry catches up to him, just scowls as Harry catches his breath.

“You’re scaring me,” says Harry, his lower lip being worried by his upper teeth, “You’ve been avoiding me and spending time with that Malfoy git and with the Dark magic…”

“Just because I’m a Slytherin doesn’t mean I’m going to turn evil,” says Tom, even though Harry’s right with the amount of Dark magic Tom’s using.  “Dark magic isn’t completely bad.  You can’t just listen to Dumbledore…” he trails off, because Harry’s shaking his head already.

“You can’t say things like that, Tom,” says Harry.  “People might think you really use Dark magic.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” asks Tom, his voice calm even if he is anything but.  “Dark Magic is easy.  It’s strong and Grindelwald won’t be able to do a thing against the Killing Curse.”

“Tom!” says Harry, sharply.  “If you ever use Dark magic, then we can’t – “

“You won’t be my friend?” interrupts Tom.  “Well, I guess that settles it, then.” 

This time, Harry doesn’t chase him.

He throws himself into the books found in the Chamber.  They’re Dark, but they’re mostly parselmagic, and all of it just fascinates him.  He and Harry don’t talk besides searching glances whenever Harry thinks Tom isn’t looking and all of it is fine, really.  It’s not like Harry would have understood him anyway.

He goes to the First Task though, because even if Harry and him aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter because Harry’s fighting a dragon.  And some part of him is curious to see just how Harry deals with it without Tom’s spell.

He’s so angry after the Task that he actually goes to confront the Hufflepuff, cornering him in the hallway where it’s just the two of them.  “You summoned a broom?” he bites out.  “Of all things!”

Harry stares at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open and then he narrows his eyes.  “Now you’re talking to me,” he all but growls, and Tom has to step in Harry’s way to stop him.

“You’re the one who won’t talk to me,” he points out, and Harry throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Because you’re doing Dark magic, Tom!  There’s a reason it’s illegal!”

“But it’s the only thing that can save you from Grindelwald.”

Harry glares at him, “Don’t you dare pin this on me, Tom.  You’re not doing this for anyone but yourself.  Do you know what Dark Magic does to you?  It messes with your very soul!”

“You can’t possibly know that,” he starts, and Harry cuts him off.

“I lived my whole life knowing I would have to take down a Dark Lord, a man that idolizes Dark Magic.  And you think that doesn’t make him evil?  There’s a prophecy about me taking him down.  And you…you want to use it?  It makes me bloody infuriated that you’re doing this to me,” snarls Harry, his nostrils flaring, and for the first time in his life, Tom feels dumbstruck as he stares into Harry’s angry, green eyes.

“Why?” he gets out after a long moment and Harry blinks at him, his anger seeming to drain away.  “Why do you care so much about me?”

“Because,” says Harry, almost immediately, “You’re not some slimy Slytherin, Tom.  You’re not like that git, Malfoy, you’re…snarky, but you’re not evil.  Not like Grindelwald.  You’re my friend, Tom.  My best friend.  It doesn’t matter to me if you’re just Tom,” continues Harry, his voice becoming soft.  “Because you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not using Dark magic to prove anything,” says Tom, “I’m using it to protect you!”

“And who says I need protection?” argues Harry, his eyes wild.  “When it’s you trying out magic that can damage you forever?  Why would I ever want that?”  

Tom’s lost for words as he stares at Harry, and he’s just about to stammer out something when there’s footsteps nearby and Sprout’s suddenly there, her eyes wide as she realizes what she’s stumbled into. 

“Uh,” she starts hesitantly, but Harry cuts her off.

“Just think on it, okay?” says Harry, his anger gone and only his gentle tone remaining.  “You know if anything goes wrong, I’m here,” he says, the words only meant for him, and then he’s stalking away, grabbing Sprout’s hand and leading them away.  The witch sends worried looks over her shoulder at Tom, but Harry’s grip is insistent and his pace doesn’t slow.

Tom takes a deep breath after they’re both gone from his sight in order to calm his wild emotions.  It’s not like he’s not used to Harry challenging everything he’s known, but to see Harry so passionate about his use of Dark magic makes him pause.  He still thinks Harry’s rather prejudiced on the subject, but he’ll have to research more to be sure.  And it hurts him to be the cause of so much of Harry’s pain.

He misses the announcement of the Yule Ball because he’s so enraptured with practicing Dark Magic down in the chamber, but one of the pureblood girls clues him in when she basically orders him to accompany her.  He sees no reason to refuse and only has to spend the last three weeks leading up to it in intense jealousy once he figures out that Harry’s asked Sprout.  He’s always thought they made a fine couple considering how close the two of them were (his mind refuses to admit that the three of them used to be quite the formidable trio) so for Harry to ask Sprout makes him quite annoyed.

He doesn’t confront Harry though, because of how the last confrontation went, so he sits and stews and even Malfoy can’t put up with him.  So he holes himself up even more in the Chamber of Secrets, reading about spell after spell and trying them all out enough that it becomes all he remembers.  Class is easy enough, and the Slytherins all respect him now ever since Malfoy’s outed him as the descendant of Slytherin that he feels…empty in some way.  Having the respect of his peers had been all he ever wanted, but now that he’s got it, he realizes that their respect meant nothing compared to what he had felt for Harry.  So he fills up that hole with more and more Dark spells and it slowly starts to become an obsession.  It gets harder to actually stop himself from using Dark magic during classes and he wonders just when his hand started to shake from the exertion of simply holding his wand.  He knows something’s wrong, but he can’t go to the nurse about it, and he definitely doesn’t trust any of the Slytherins enough to tell them just how weak he’s feeling, so he keeps it bottled up inside and continues on with what he’s doing.  It always gets worse before it gets better after all.

The Yule Ball is as boring as he thought it’ll be, only spiced up by Harry’s puzzled looks whenever he catches one of Tom’s death glares.  Harry doesn’t spend much time pondering over him though, because he continues to twirl Sprout around and look at her with affection in his eyes.  He’s smiling and something in him is just so angry at the fact that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.  He misses Harry, and right now, he just doesn’t know what to do with that revelation.  Of just how empty his life was now with just Dark magic and Slytherins that won’t hesitate to stab him in the back if they could.

He goes out for some fresh air after the festivities end, his date already gone an hour prior, and he’s only a tad surprised when Harry steps out after him.  He looks even more handsome than Tom’s used to, what with the moonlight shining down on him and his green eyes even more mesmerizing after being so far away from them for so long.  Tom frowns at him and Harry stops in his tracks, looking frozen in fear as Tom stares at him.

“Harry,” he says, and Harry shakes out of his stupor and steps even closer.

“Tom,” says Harry, “You look awful.”

Tom flinches at the words, and Harry backpedals, his eyes wide.  “Not that you don’t look handsome in your dress robes, it’s just, there’s dark circles under your eyes and even now, your skin has this paleness to it that just isn’t normal.”

“Why do you care,” he bites out, just like he had all those months ago, and Harry sighs, sounding exasperated.

“Perhaps it didn’t get through your thick skull the first time,” says Harry, “But I care for your bloody arse even if you’re not making it particularly easy.”

“I’m fine,” he says, “Nothing to be worried about.”

“Nothing?” repeats Harry, his voice going an octave higher.  “Tom, if you don’t stop practicing, I’m going to have to tell someone.”

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses out, his eyes narrowed, and Harry doesn’t back down, shaking his head defiantly and meeting Tom’s stare head on.

“You’ll kill yourself, Tom.  And I won’t ever let that happen.”

There’s a fog over his mind, and Harry, who he hasn’t spoken to in months is standing in front of him and he can’t help the intense anger that surges through him.  He doesn’t realize that his frequent mood swings aren’t normal.  “And so what if I do?” he asks, his voice low.  “I shouldn’t mean anything to you,” he continues, “You’ve made that clear what with you choosing Sprout and the Tournament over me.”

“You’re not even listening to me,” says Harry.

“You’re not listening to me,” he retorts, and Harry makes a weird sound between a groan and a huff before stepping closer forward.

“Okay,” says Harry, “I’ll make it extremely clear why I care.”  And then he’s kissing Tom, his right hand gently tilting Tom’s head the right angle and Tom’s so startled that he doesn’t move for a long second.  He gives in, enjoying the feel of Harry’s lips against his, that he doesn’t shake out of it until Harry’s pulling away. 

“Harry,” Tom breathes, and Harry tries to kiss him again and Tom pulls away.  Even though he’s overjoyed at the fact that Harry returns his feelings, this isn’t how he wanted it to happen.  “You can’t use this to make me stop.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” asks Harry, askance.  He stares at Tom, his eyes watering, and he clenches his eyes shut, obviously hurt by what Tom’s saying.  “You think I’ll use the feelings I’ve had for you since forever to manipulate you?”

“It’s part of me,” says Tom, and Harry opens his eyes, fixing Tom with a disappointed stare.  “You wouldn’t understand until you’ve tried it.”

“Fine,” says Harry, his voice hard.  “You go off and practice your Dark Magic.  I see now that I’ve been trying for no reason.” 

He stomps away before Tom can call him back, and the only thing that stops Tom from chasing after the wizard is the soft sob he hears before Harry’s completely gone.

He wonders if practicing Dark Magic is really worth it the next two weeks.  It seems silly, but Tom has a sense of pride, and his pride won’t let him apologize to Harry.  Harry doesn’t even look at him, and Tom starts to realize that the Dark Magic may really be detrimental to him.  His mood swings are steadily getting worse and his grasp on Light magic is slowly fading.  It’s ridiculously easy for him to get angry now, and the only reason he doesn’t stop is that he fears that he’s already ruined everything with Harry.  To stop now would be to admit he’s been wrong all along and Tom doesn’t want to admit that maybe there was a reason why Dark Magic was so abhorred.

“How intriguing,” says Professor Dumbledore on the morning of the Second Task.  Tom’s been called into the Headmaster’s office and he stares worriedly back up at Dumbledore, wondering if this is the day he’s called out for abusing Dark Magic.

But Dumbledore just smiles and he wouldn’t be smiling if Tom’s truly been caught out.  He’s still a little afraid though, because Dumbledore’s always been suspicious of him, but Dumbledore doesn’t seem to notice his apprehension.  “It’s a pleasure to know that you’ve been watching Harry all this time,” says the professor.  “You should feel honored that Harry considers you his most treasured friend.”

Tom goes pink even though he’s never blushed before in his life, and he’s intensely aware of Headmaster Dippet watching with interest.  And before he can retort and gain some composure back, he’s falling unconscious into Dumbledore’s arms.

The next time he wakes, he’s cold and wet and disorientated, but Harry’s got one arm tucked securely around his waist.  He’s decidedly not looking at Tom, and Tom stares at the side of Harry’s face before flickering his eyes up to the loudly cheering crowd around them.  “You saved me,” he says, already putting it all together and knowing the second Task was to save him, and Harry has to turn back to look at him now, his cheeks pink with exertion.

“Well,” says Harry, “couldn’t just leave you down there, could I?”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he says, “I know what the riddle said.”

He rolls his eyes when Harry can’t help quirking his lips at him saying riddle, before he continues with a voice barely above a whisper.  He can’t help it, what with his heart currently bursting at the fact that Harry still considers him the most important in a school full of people who adore Harry so much.  He won’t say I love you, not like this, in churning water, surrounded by everyone and Tom still has a reputation to maintain despite being obviously besotted with the Hufflepuff still holding him up against the waves.  “I’m going to stop using that kind of magic,” he says, because that’s good enough of a confession anyway, and Harry stops avoiding his eyes and looks him straight on, his eyes wide.

“And I’ll like to kiss you,” he says, before he can chicken out because he’s not one for romantic actions but he’s hurt Harry so much that he just wants to make things right again.  “Because I regret not kissing you that night more than anything.”

Harry’s eyes soften at that, but before Tom can do anything, they’re being hoisted out of the water and onto the platform.  Harry seems to hesitate, but Tom’s pushing forward and although he’s still shivering quite violently from the chill of the air on his damp clothes, he presses his lips against Harry’s.

There’s dead silence amongst the crowd for only a few seconds, before he hears Sprout yell, “Finally!”

Harry laughs into the kiss before pulling away and making a rude gesture at Sprout. 

Tom stops using Dark Magic.  The withdrawals are easy to deal with, because Harry’s there every step of the way, holding onto his hand and making sure he can’t make his way to the Chamber of Secrets.  Their relationship is received rather well considering the fact that they’re both from different Houses.  When he asks Malfoy if being so disgustingly Hufflepuff during the end of the Second Task would lower his reputation with the Slytherins, Malfoy just stares at him in obvious amusement.

“The whole school’s known the two of you had feelings for each other since second year,” he says.  “Being obvious about it doesn’t really change anything.”

He’s appalled he’s been so obvious and so oblivious, but Malfoy just pats him on the back and then directs him into helping him with Potions.

He wonders if he should be offended that people now treat him so casually.  Before Harry, he’s sure he would have bristled at the way he’s sure Malfoy’s making fun of him.  But now, he sees it more as a friendly thing, and he muses on that thought the whole time the two of them spend in the library.

Tom doesn’t take Harry to see the Chamber of Secrets out of embarrassment, but he does start to train Harry in an abandoned classroom.  They’re the same year, but Tom’s been reading ahead since his first year, so he teaches Harry the most defensive spells he knows.  Dumbledore’s already hinted to them that the last quest was going to be an obstacle course, so Harry doesn’t protest being put under a harsh training regime. 

He tells Harry his heritage one afternoon, and Harry blinks before murmuring quietly, “Tom Slytherin…it has quite the nice ring to it.”

“That’s what you say to me telling you I’m descended from one of the Founders of Hogwarts?”

Harry laughs, “I’m sorry!  I’ve always seen you for you, that knowing you’re actually desencended from Slytherin himself doesn’t change anything for me.  Though we can go to Gringrotts over the summer if you want to claim Heirship.”

Harry decimates the competition in the last Task.  With both Dumbledore’s and Tom’s coaching, Harry excels against the magical creatures and easily weaves his way around his opponents.  Tom feels quite smug when his love pulls him into a tight hug in front of everyone after he wins because Tom never even had a doubt that Harry would be the winner.

Tom goes home with Harry for the summer.  Surprisingly, Harry’s parents are more than okay with their new relationship.  Harry’s mother pulls him aside one day to tease him about their budding relationship, revealing the information that Harry’s been pining after him for years now. 

Tom continues to tutor Harry, and when Dumbledore comes by to teach Harry, he lets Tom sit in on their lessons.  Tom rather suspects that Dumbledore likes him quite a deal more now that he’s dating Harry.  Halfway through the summer, the Potters take him to Gringotts and he claims the Slytherin Heirship.

Their summer and sixth year pass in a similar fashion, both focused completely on training Harry to be ready for his duel with the Dark Lord.  Grindelwald hasn’t set sights on Hogwarts yet since he’s still busy with international matters, so they have quite a bit of time to research a way to take him down.  They’re lucky that the prophecy had been kept a secret from the Dark Lord, or else Tom’s sure Harry would’ve been attacked already.

Tom spends his sixth year cultivating his relationships with the Slytherins, hoping that he could enlist them in the fight against Grindelwald.  It works because his relationship with Malfoy has steadily grown since their fourth year, and what with his claiming of the Slytherin line, it becomes ridiculously easy to get on the Slytherin’s good side.  They start to see his word as gospel, which is sorta creepy, but Tom puts up with it because it gets him where he wants to be.

In their seventh year, Dumbledore sits them down and tells them that he suspects Grindelwald is in possession of the Elder Wand.  Tom scoffs at it at first, because everyone knows that the Deathly Hallows is merely a children’s book, but when Harry shows him the invisibility cloak, his interest is piqued.  They find the second Deathly Hallows with Tom’s relatives, and he’s grateful that’s Harry’s with him when they go confront Morfin Gaunt.  It’s one thing to suspect that Tom’s father wants nothing to do with him, and another to actually know.  They don’t visit him, but Harry sweet talks Morfin into selling the ring to them, and when they get back Tom’s withdrawn and quiet.  Harry helps him through it though, and in the end they have both the Stone and the Cloak.

It all comes to a head before their Graduation day.  Grindelwald, cocky with his recent successes, comes to Hogwarts to taunt Dumbledore, believing him to be the one thing stopping him from conquering Britain.  Harry’s shaking when he realizes who’s out there, but when Tom takes his hand, Harry musters up his confidence and sends a wavering smile to his lover. 

They’ve been training for this, and even though two Deathly Hallows should be able to beat one, it’s still risky because the wand is the strongest of the triad. 

Grindelwald has no clue who Harry is.  He squints at the wizard, completely baffled on why Harry wants to face off against him, and Harry’s still shaking, and Tom realizes that he isn’t going to be able to just sit and watch as Harry duels Grindelwald.  It’s prophesized that Harry’s going to be the one to take down Grindelwald, but to hell with prophecies.  Tom’s never believed in them anyway.

So he shoves Harry behind him to the ire of Dumbledore and raises his wand against Grindelwald. 

The Dark Lord looks amused and exasperated all at once.  He’s obviously come to face off against Dumbledore and doesn’t quite know what to do with the two of them.

“Is Albus too afraid to fight his own battles now?  Sending out two of his students,” scoffs the Dark Lord.

They don’t defend Dumbledore’s reputation because it’s quite obvious to the two of them Dumbledore is a coward, but Tom doesn’t like being underestimated.  Sure, Grindelwald may have years of experience on him, but he knows the ins and outs of Dark Magic and the effects it costs its user.  And beyond that, Harry has his back and the two of them can’t possibly lose to someone who has to rely on the Elder Wand.

Gridelwald doesn’t expect the attack that Tom unleashes on him and he has to scramble to put up a hasty Shield Charm.  The Dark Lord scowls, and Tom beats a hasty retreat when Grindelwald sends a nasty looking hex toward them.

The battlefield is full of a myriad of spells, and the long hours they spent together training has allowed them to learn each others’ fighting style intimately.  Harry prefers protective magic, while Tom likes weaving between his opponent’s spells and sending his own offensive spells back.  They work extremely well together, and between the shield charms and Tom’s quick feetwork, Harry fades into the background and Grindelwald starts to focus his attention solely on Tom.

 “Why don’t the two of you join me?” asks Grindelwald in the lull of battle and his wand raised toward Tom.  “How can you follow a man who has thrown you out to die?”

“It’s not for him I’m fighting,” says Tom. 

Grindelwald frowns, “Then why else would you fight in a duel you can never hope to win?”

“For Harry,” he says, his voice sappy even as he readies another spell, and Grindelwald scoffs.

“Love is worthless,” says Grindelwald.  “It’ll only hold you back,” he continues and doesn’t give off any warning as he casts a nasty hex toward Tom. 

Tom isn’t sure how long they fight or how the sounds of Hogwarts students fade into the background.  His sole focus is on both Harry and Grindelwald, and even though he’s tiring, he’s starting to notice some things.  Such as the fact that Grindelwald’s Dark Magic was obliterating theirs.  Dark Magic will always be more offensive and it’s that fact that cements him.

He doesn’t care if this means he’ll be carted off to Azkaban, because Harry will be alive and Grindelwald would be dead.  So he takes a deep breath and raises his wand to cast the first Unforgiveable he had learned all those years ago.

But he can’t do it.  He thinks about the wand flicks and the incantation and knows it just as intimately as he had all those years ago, but just the same, the hatred required for the spell just isn’t there for him anymore.  It’s been blasted away by Harry and even if it would end the fight, he just can’t go back to Dark Magic.  It isn’t for him anymore.

Grindelwald doesn’t have the same problem though, and he lifts his wand, a cocky smirk on his face as he sends the dreaded green toward Tom.

He doesn’t have time to move, and if he can’t get out of the way, then he’ll at least be able to die looking at Harry.  Harry’s eyes are wide and horrified and Tom knows he only has a second to mouth ‘I love you’ to Harry (because they haven’t said it yet even if Tom’s been thinking it since his fourth year). 

A guttural cry of pure desperation is ripped from Harry’s throat and then pure magic is blasted out of the seventh-year and there’s a wall of magic in front of Tom.  Tom stares at it in pure shock as the Avada Kedavara does the unthinkable and rebounds off of Harry’s Light magic. 

It blasts easily through Grindelwald’s shield, hitting him square in the chest. 

Harry’s there a second later, not a single glance over at Grindelwald’s crumpled body, his cheeks wet with tears and his hands running all over Tom as if to reaffirm that he’s still there and alive.  “He was going to kill you,” whispers Harry, his body racked with emotion, and Tom’s heart is full to the brim of affection for his little lover. 

“But he didn’t,” he says, “because you saved me.  With accidental magic of all things.”

Harry frowns, his stare accusing as he stares up at Tom.  “Because you weren’t moving.  Of all times to get choked up!”

“I wasn’t – there was no time, Harry!”

Harry just dissolves into laughter of pure elation, his tears forgotten as he lay giggling in his love’s lap.  “So,” says Harry, after he’s calmed down, “you love me, huh?”

“Is that really a surprise?” he deflects, even though he’s sure his cheeks are probably flushed red out of embarrassment and Harry hums.

“Nope,” says Harry, brightly, “Because I love you, too.”  And then they’re finally kissing.

The aftermath is long and grueling to say the least.  Without their leader, Grindelwald’s followers disperse, and the reporters refuse to leave Harry and him alone.  Dumbledore’s smug because it did end up thanks to Harry that the Dark Lord had been vanquished, proving that the prophecy had been correct.  The Professor doesn’t hesitate to tell the public all about the prophecy now that it’s been fulfilled.  It’s annoying, but Tom grits his teeth and puts up with it, because causing a scene would only prolong the torture that is the media. 

After the media is their friends, and while Harry’s being congratulated by the Hufflepuffs, the Slytherin have their own way of showing their pride in Tom.  (There’s a lot of teasing comments about how Tom’s basically a Hufflepuff born from a snake, but Tom knows they all know he’s still more Slytherin than the lot of them).

Tom steals away with Harry after all of its done, his nose pressed into Harry’s curly black locks as they cuddle in one of the isolated niches they had found so long ago. 

“It’s over, then,” says Tom, and Harry sighs in relief, nodding happily as he turns to glance up at Tom.

“Yeah,” says Harry, “it’s all over.”

And when Harry kisses him, Tom thinks that he’s come a long way from the little boy who had thought Hufflepuffs and Slytherins weren’t meant to get along.

Epilogue

“And that is exactly why I didn’t want you to visit me in class,” says Tom.

Harry grins at that, taking off the guards of his Quidditch uniform with ease.  “But they were so excited, love!  Don’t you want them to be happy?”

“There’s happy,” says Tom, “and then there’s insanity.  The witches in my class…”

Harry’s grinning when he saunters up to Tom, the rest of his uniform discarded so he’s in a simple shirt and trousers, showcasing his lithe and athletic body toned from hours of Quidditch practice.  He wraps his arms around Tom’s waist, resting his chin on Tom’s chest and blinking innocent, green eyes up at Tom.

“Don’t you start,” says Tom.  “You can’t play the innocent Hufflepuff with me.”

Harry pouts, “But I’m just a Hufflepuff, Tom.  You’re the evil Slytherin.”

“I can see how you think so,” agrees Tom amicably.  “What with Slytherins known for their ambition and Hufflepuff for their kindness.  And yet, people don’t understand just how manipulative these little puffs are.”

“Hey,” says Harry, a little offended, and Tom just laughs, his husky chuckle filling the Headmaster’s Office.

“Are you going to say you aren’t?”

“I didn’t make you do a bloody thing, you prat,” says Harry, “And I’m not little!” and Tom snorts in disbelief.

“Right,” says Tom.  “Like how you didn’t make me fall in love with you.”

“You did that all on your own,” argues Harry, his cheeks pink, and Tom smiles and continues in a wry tone.

“And how you didn’t make me help take down the Dark Lord that you were prophesized to defeat.”

"Again,” says Harry, deadpan, “all you.”

“And…” continues Tom, “how you’ve basically strongarmed me into running for Minister.”

“All you again!” says Harry, indignant.

Tom grins, “You know I can’t resist you in this outfit.”  He pauses to adjust his grip more firmly on Harry’s hips and smirks when Harry yelps in surprise as his hands dip a bit lower to rest just above his bum.  “Putting this on and basically assaulting me with an hour long lecture complete with notes on how running for Minister was something I wanted to do…it was basically extortion, love.”

Harry sighs, “All that came from Pomona, you know.  And you can’t say anything, you’re the one with all those extensive Slytherin ties that you’re just itching to use.  I swear, some of your “friends” creep me out!  The other day, Lucretia bowed to me and called me her Lord’s Consort.”

Tom can’t help the snort, and he runs his hand up and down Harry’s back to soothe the agitated wizard.  “Yeah, she’s got a screw loose in her head.”

“Most of your friends do,” says Harry, but he’s smiling.  “Maybe that’s why they get along so well with you.”

“And,” drawls Tom, “what exactly does that say about you?”

Harry pauses, and Tom laughs, pressing a kiss against his love’s forehead.  “It’s alright, love,” Tom says, “I’ve known you were crazy ever since I sat at your library table.  Only you would try to befriend a Slytherin the very first night at Hogwarts.”

“Hey,” says Harry, offended, and Tom grins.

“It worked, didn’t it?” says Tom. “And all because Hufflepuffs aren’t as innocent as they’re made out to be.”

“Nope,” agrees Harry, easily.  “Definitely not innocent,” he says, his voice an octave lower, and then he’s on his toes to press a firm kiss against Tom’s mouth.  Tom melts immediately, opening his mouth and letting his little lover ravish him.

When Harry pulls away, his eyes slightly glazed, Tom smiles and leans down to press a light kiss against his love’s nose.

“I like your crazy,” he says, honestly, and watches as Harry’s cheeks turn pink.  “After all, maybe I was saved from turning into a Dark Lord by Hufflepuff friendship.”

“Hufflepuff friendship,” repeats Harry, wryly, the corners of his lips upturned.  “Is that even a thing, Tom?”

“Of course,” he says, “You gave it to me,” and Harry laughs.

“Alright,” Harry concedes, “I’ll take credit on this one then.  So, Mr. Dark Lord, are you going to finally take me to bed?”

“Little minx,” Tom says fondly, and apparates them directly to their bedroom.