#teentom

[cringefail-bbg]

more toms!!

having fun with this honestly

[0maune]

HIGH SCHOOL TOM. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAAA 😭😭💙

[being-luminous]

Prompt! Harry lives a long life, like two hundred years, and when he dies he goes back to 1930, where he goes to Hogwarts again. The thing is that Harry is very grandfatherly, the kid that gift chocolates and groom others kids hair and such, and teenTom is kind of in love with him because Harry shoo a bully from Tom, saying 'kids this day's and that 'the apple don't fall far from the tree' and then told him a tale about a seagull and a cat and Tom didn't understand but it was very heartwarming.

okay so the ending is very abrupt, and i didn’t hit all the points of the prompt, but this is such a beautiful idea thank you 😭 

ft. pining!tom and decidedly-not-pining!harry

– – – –

The first time Tom meets Harry Walker, he’s on the floor, his palms stinging as he stares up at the third year boys who’ve cornered him near the library—the same group that’s been harassing him since he showed them up in front of the charms professor last week. His wand is somewhere down the hall, kicked out of his hand by the same boy who tripped him, and he can’t recall ever feeling so angry.

One of the boys moves to kick him again, and he flinches away before he can stop himself. 

It only makes them laugh.

Magic sparks at his fingertips, and he’s only moments from setting someone on fire when he hears a new voice call, “HEY!” 

The third years turn as one at the sound, and Tom takes advantage of their distraction to push himself to his feet. He considers setting them on fire anyway, regardless of the sudden interruption, before deciding to pursue a more subtle revenge later, when there are no witnesses. 

“Get lost, kid,” one of the third years says as his friends jeer.

When Tom turns to look at his apparent rescuer, he can understand their amusement. The boy who interrupted them is another Slytherin first year, one of the quiet ones, and he doesn’t make a very intimidating sight.  

“I won’t,” he says, squaring his shoulders as he lifts his chin, and Tom is almost impressed by his bravado. “Leave him alone.”

The third years laugh before the tallest of the three steps forward, towering over the other boy—Harry Walker, if Tom recalls correctly, and he always does. He bends down, getting right in Walker’s face as he says, “Make me.”

Walker’s eyes narrow. 

Almost too quick to see, he draws his wand and sends the third years flying, blasting them down the hall where they land in a tangled heap. They pick themselves up quickly, hurrying to leave, shaken by Walker’s power and desperate not to show it. “Freak!” one of them calls as they disappear around the corner, but Walker doesn’t react beyond a disapproving frown and a muttered, “Kids these days.”

Walker turns to him, then, and Tom realizes he’s staring. 

He looks away immediately, busying himself with straightening his robes and hair. Then he collects his wand from the floor, feeling much better as soon as it’s in his hand again. Only then does he turn to his rescuer and say, “I didn’t need your help.”

Walker raises one brow. “So?”

Tom opens his mouth then closes it again, unsure how to respond. “So… so that was unnecessary.” 

Walker looks as though he wants to laugh, and Tom bristles. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Well, alright.” He strides closer and offers one hand to shake. “My name’s Harry.” 

Tom accepts it reluctantly, and he’s surprised to note how firm the other boy’s grip is. “I know,” he drawls, peering disdainfully down his nose at the shorter boy. Walker looks blankly back at him, so Tom gestures to his crest. “We’re in the same house.” 

“Oh.” Walker releases his hand and squints at him from behind his ridiculous glasses. “Who’re you?”

Tom very carefully doesn’t clench his fists or glare the way he wants to. “Tom Riddle.”

“Are you really?” Walker asks.

Again, Tom is struck by the uncommon feeling of having no idea how to respond. “Well, yes,” he says slowly, “I believe so.”

Walker only keeps looking at him. When Tom clears his throat, he shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s just. I’d forgotten…”

Tom huffs. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“What?” Walker frowns, then his eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant, I swear. It’s just—” He stops, and Tom feels as though Walker is looking through him, suddenly. “You’re so young.”

Tom forces himself to stand taller, glaring as his cheeks heat. He snaps, “You’re so young.” 

“Oh, Merlin,” Walker says as though he didn’t hear, his voice faint. He presses his hands to his cheeks, looking at Tom as though he’s some small, fluffy creature. “You’re an infant.” 

“I am not—” 

But Walker isn’t listening. Before Tom can even finish his protest, he turns and speedwalks down the corridor away from him, and Tom is left to stare after him, feeling confused and insulted and… intrigued.  

.

The years pass, and Tom’s fascination with the puzzling creature named Harry Walker only grows. 

He’s impossibly skilled with magic, picking up spells even faster than Tom, but he drifts through his classes as though they don’t matter at all. Whenever Tom—overcome with exasperation—asks why, he only shakes his head with an enigmatic little grin, as though he knows something Tom doesn’t, and says there are more important things. And then he goes and outperforms them all.

It’s infuriating. 

It’s… exhilarating. 

He gets this look on his face sometimes, like he sees things and people that aren’t there. The number of times he’s started telling a story, only to stop himself with a look of resigned sorrow that offers no explanation, is too high to count. 

He always has chocolate on him, somehow, and he’s always willing to share it. The only explanation he’ll give is that it’s good for the soul, Tom. Maybe you should have some more.

As he said. Infuriating. 

Almost six years have passed since Tom declared them friends, and he still knows barely anything about him. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue. Tom cares little for the affairs of those who are beneath him, after all.

But Harry is different. When it comes to Harry, he finds he wants to know everything.

And he will. 

.

“We should go to Hogsmeade together,” Tom says one day as they’re studying by the lake.

He’s long since abandoned his book, choosing instead to watch as Harry makes a valiant attempt to not fall asleep on his transfiguration notes. It’s a startlingly endearing sight. At his pronouncement, Harry squints up at him, looking confused. “What?”

“Hogsmeade,” Tom says, and he doesn’t even mind having to repeat himself. “We should go next weekend.”

“Okay,” Harry says, frowning. “I’d assumed we would, seeing as we’ve been doing that for years.”

Tom sighs. “I meant we should go as a date.”

“We—” Harry looks startled, now. “What?” 

“We should go on a date,” Tom says slowly, not sure which part of the idea Harry’s isn’t understanding. “Together.”

“Um.” Harry clears his throat, looking away. “No, thank you.”

Tom stills. 

Of all the things Harry could have said, he hadn’t expected—“No?”

Harry shakes his head, gathering his things and shoving them into his bag. Before he can stand, Tom grabs him by the wrist, holding him in place. “Tom—”

“Why not?” he demands.

“I—” Harry tries to pull away, but Tom doesn’t let him. “I just—”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“I know, but—”

“There’s no one who knows me like you do.”

“Tom, I—”

“If you’re going to tell me you aren’t attracted to me—”

“I’m too old for you!” Harry exclaims, all but shouting at him.

Tom is surprised enough that his hold on Harry’s wrist falters, and Harry takes advantage, rising to his feet. He clutches at the strap of his bag, his knuckles white, looking as though he wants to say more. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns on his heel and strides back toward the castle.

For a moment, Tom only watches him go. 

Then what Harry said registers, and he frowns. “Too old...” he says to himself, incredulous and almost insulted that Harry would choose such a poor excuse. Louder, then, “But, Harry—” He scrambles to his feet, calling after him, “Harry, I’m seven months older than you!”

[thestreetcatthomas]

Não, não estou comprando a sua história...

Você pelas minhas bandas não é nada normal.