#the day harry is orphaned

[siredtodeadgaywizards]

happy halloween my little depressed sad and crying right now co-stans

[mrtequilasunset]

I actually got the opposite impression. I thought Kim would be a very picky eater but would not admit that to save his life. Like the kinda guy who’ll eat anything if he has to but there’s very little he actually enjoys and so he grew up thinking that food sucks and rarely tastes good cause children tend not to have the autonomy to eat things they actually like or even figure out what they like unless they have incredibly patient and understanding caregivers

Okay but I actually love this interpretation too your brain is so massive and meaty

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

james and lily obviously had tragically little time with harry. but the fact that they had any time at all is somehow so much more heartbreaking to me??

like it would be one thing if they died immediately after he was born. still beyond tragic obviously. but no no. harry has 457 days with james and lily that he just doesn't have the option to remember. 457 mornings at godric's hollow with lily as a mother and james as a father. 457 nighttime routines. did lily sing lullabies? did james keep a transistor radio of quidditch commentary going throughout their time in hiding? how often did the marauders actually stop by? how many times was harry danced around and doted on during those 457 days? i just think the most heartbreaking part of james and lily's death is that it wasn't immediate. harry wasn't always an orphan, but he still never consciously knew anything but.

[ninibeingdelulu]

A sweet future ✧

Plot: You share a romantic moment with your boyfriend.

The soft strains of jazz misted through the living room like a hushed reverie as you laxly awaited your boyfriend's return.

With Emi - the impossibly huge yet sweet-natured kaiju you'd taken under your wings - finally settled down for the night in her reinforced basement enclosure, you eagerly anticipated reuniting with Kenji again alone.

These quiet reprieves had proven increasingly scarce over the harried past few weeks since welcoming the orphaned, radioactive creature into your lives.

Between your demanding day jobs and the round-the-clock regimen of feeding, cleaning up after, and just generally caring for your colossal new "baby," alone time had dwindled to precious few stolen moments like these.

You perked up instantly at the telltale thud of Kenji's footfalls padding up the stairwell, a contented smile brightening your features at his familiar silhouette emerging from the shadows.

Without hesitation, he crossed the distance separating you in a few easy strides - his arms encircling your smaller frame in a snug, demonstrative embrace.

"Hey..."

Kenji exhaled the hushed greeting against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his solid warmth enveloping you like a calming salve after the chaos of recent days.

Instinctively nuzzling into the comforting expanse of his chest, you wound your own arms around his waist to tether him even closer.

"These last few weeks..." His lush baritone reverberated through your skin, laden with a weary sort of fondness.

"I feel like we haven't had any time just for us anymore."

A sympathetic chuckle bubbled up unbidden from the very core of your being.

Tilting your head back, you peered up at his striking visage awash in the amber glow of the flickering firelight - admiring the austere cut of those steely features you'd come to love so fiercely.

"Well, we do have a baby to care for now," you teased lightly, tender smile never faltering as you laced your fingers through the dark silk of his tousled locks.

"Even if she's not exactly a normal child...and not our own flesh and blood, I suppose little Emi has been rather excellent practice, hasn't she?"

Kenji absorbed your whimsical riposte in contemplative silence for a lingering beat as a pensive furrow cinched his brow.

You felt him subtly shift closer, scarcely a hairsbreadth of space remaining between your molded silhouettes now while his eyes smoldered with an intensity you couldn't quite parse.

"You..." he rumbled at last in little more than a gravelly murmur thickened with naked emotion.

"You really want kids one day? A family of our own...?"

The fragility of hope bleeding into his beloved baritone caressed something profoundly elemental in your very essence.

Without hesitation, you nodded - tongue darting out to wet your lips in a reflexively unconscious gesture.

"Of course I do, Kenji," you hushed back with a roll of your eyes, though the indulgent teasing underlying your tone was achingly tender and sincere.

Winding your arms around the strong column of his neck, you pulled him instinctively closer with a near-desperate sort of adoration.

"I want to raise our babies - happy, healthy children with a mom and dad that will always be there for them. As many wonderful little ones as we can handle...but only with you, baby."

Kenji let out a shuddering, nearly imperceptible breath at your passionate declaration, eyes falling briefly shut as the profound emotion streaked across those chiseled features in vivid strokes.

For several weighted heartbeats, the only sounds were your mingled pulses thundering in tandem as the revelations of your entwined future dreams sunk in.

Then, there was the first gentlest swell of sultry jazz piped through the living room speakers - the rich, soulful brass curving into existence by some ambient hand like a spirit invocation.

An unexpected accompaniment, but the melancholy melody undulated through the aura surrounding you and Kenji like the physical manifestation of your commingled desires.

As if inexplicably magnetized, you instinctively relaxed further into his solid anchoring - forehead pillowing against his sternum while his chin tucked atop the crown of your head.

One of his palms settled warm and broad against the lower curve of your spine to steady you closer still.

The two of you gradually swaying in unhurried tandem to the sensual pulse of the music safeguarding your profound quiet.

"I want that too, beautiful," your beloved confided reverently amidst the downy swirl of your hair - the words blooming to life like a flower unfurling before the first warming rays of daybreak.

"A real family...happy, healthy babies with your beaming smile to wake up to everyday..."

You felt the tender press of his lips mapping an achingly tender imprint to your crown.

"God, you have no idea how often I've dreamed of that blessed future with you."

Cradling his jaw to guide his features back into your sightline, you simply basked in the naked sincerity swimming in those amber-flecked depths.

No more profound oaths were required in that suspended instance.

Just the seamless glide of your interwoven forms locked in a silent avowal.

Just the lush rhythm of the mournful melody igniting the very air around you like a physically manifested miasma of your eternal and unbreakable devotion.

Gazes smoldering with infinite reverence, you molded your lips to Kenji's in a searing, unhurried sacrament sealing your unified dreams of a lifetime overflowing with life, laughter, and wondrous hope...

[deadsetobsessions]

This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

[lacrise666]

From the back they could almost be mistaken for siblings. Maybe if Harry smoothed his hair down a little or if Tom mussed his own a bit.

But from far away, no matter how much the Slytherin towered over the Griffyndor, it was easy to notice the similarities: the pale skin of summers spent indoors at the orphanage, the inky hair of different genetics, the gangly, malnourished bodies of being under fed for eleven years.

It also didn't help their case that they acted so similar. Granted, Harry had a more natural chaos about him and Tom a certain superiority in his voice. But the hand gestures they made, the cool, calm voices, the straight backs and raised noses. They played off of one another in every scenario whether it be a duel or a potion, a praise or an insult, they complemented each other beautifully.

After all, they had spent years together, just the two of them, stuck in a small building with heathens, Tom's only handle to sanity being Harry and Harry's only source of happiness being Tom.

There had been periods of time when they would only talk to each other and play the game where they pretend no one else existed.

The longest they had ever gone playing that game was 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days. They had only stopped because Mrs. Cole had threatened a beating for them each.

For all the similarities, they did have their differences: Tom was covered in moles, not too many but enough, Harry had a dark scar above his eye that resembled a lightning bolt, Tom's nose was slightly crooked no matter how much he glamoured it, Harry's chin was pointer and so were his elbows.

Then, of course, there was their eyes. Emerald green and scarlet red. A daring combination.

They were inseparable even in different houses. They just gravitated towards the other without meaning or hesitation.

They were Tom and Harry, the orphans.

[forestdeath1]

Regulus wasn't forced by his parents to join the Death Eaters

What do we know about the Black family? I'll write a post about this because there's quite a bit we know if we read the canon in depth.

But the main point for this post is that for the Blacks, the survival and prosperity of their lineage were critically important.

The survival of their surname was in a precarious state at that time because women did not keep their surname nor pass it on to their children. Only two people could continue the line – Sirius and Regulus.

Preserving their lineage was so crucial for the Blacks that they didn't officially disown Sirius after his escape, or they reinstated him after Regulus's death. Because Sirius was the last Black. The last one who could carry on their line. Even if he was a rebellious Gryffindor who liked "mudbloods," he was still a Black.

When Sirius died, even the portrait was upset, although it's not alive. It's simply a reflection of the Blacks' attitude towards the survival of their lineage.

Am I to understand,’ said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry’s left, ‘that my great-great-grandson – the last of the Blacks – is dead?’

‘Yes, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Phineas brusquely.
Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...

By the time Regulus was 16, Sirius had already run away from home.

Now, explain to me, all you fans of the "Regulus was forced" idea, what would be going through Orion and Walburga's heads to make them push their last hope for the continuation of their lineage into joining a combat organization where people are constantly being killed?

Considering they didn't join themselves because they disliked the methods and probably understood Tom's real goals.

Walburga was in school with Tom Riddle and was two years older than him. Orion Black was also in school with Tom, but he was two years younger. By that time, Tom Riddle aka Voldemort, hadn't yet changed his appearance to the point of being unrecognizable. They all knew who Voldemort was. Tom Riddle. An orphan boy. Likely, they knew he was the heir of Slytherin, which was important for the Blacks because, for them, it wasn't about money but about blood. True nobility and dignity are in the blood, not wealth. The Blacks aren't the Malfoys. And as Sirius said, at some point, they were inspired by Tom's ambition to change the situation in their country, although Sirius obviously knew very little about Voldemort, as he was hardly discussed in front of the children. But initially, the Blacks were inspired because he was worthy, the heir of Slytherin, right?

Probably Orion, Arcturus/Pollux realized that Tom didn't care about blood purity. He cared about his own power. By the time they understood this, Tom's power was already too strong, and he had won much support among the pure-blood society, who believed he genuinely cared about pure-blood wizards.

Why did Sirius say he was sure their parents were proud of Regulus?

Because most likely, not both parents were proud, as Sirius doesn't mention the father at all, and Walburga had an irrational desire to see her son as a hero. Sirius – the lineage's continuer, and Regulus – a brave and courageous warrior for blood purity. Because being a Death Eater was seen as brave and cool. They were revolutionaries. Chosen warriors.

Moreover, Bella was already in the organization and could influence Walburga's opinion against Orion and Arcturus's wishes. Playing on Walburga's emotional irrationality wasn't very hard, especially for Bella and Rodolphus.

Bella was in love with Voldemort. Rodolphus was devoted to Voldemort from the start, as Lestrange Sr. had been a supporter of Tom since their school days. The Rosiers fall into the same group. Surprise, surprise, Bella's mother – Druella Rosier, was likely the sister of that very Rosier who was with Tom from the start and who was Evan Rosier's father. Cygnus Black is open for interpretation, but my headcanon is that from a young age, he was a bit more aggressive than the others and didn't quite fit into the family dynamics and control (and Bella took after him in part).

Who convinced Regulus to join the organization, even knowing Orion and the Blacks were against it?

From the little we know about Regulus, it's clear he was a maximalist inclined to broad "heroic" actions, with his own understanding of honor. He had been committed to the idea of blood purity from childhood, believing it to be truly noble and important. He wanted to be a hero and admired Voldemort. Also, always being second to Sirius, he wanted to prove his worth. That he too was strong and brave and capable of significant, but correct actions. And, our beloved Bella was there. She helped him join the organization at 16.

If you want tragedy in Regulus Black's story, here it is:

Regulus Black went to his death knowing he was the last of the Blacks. He destroyed his family. His lineage. Put an end to it. Even for Sirius, running away was easier because Regulus was still there. When Regulus went to his death, Sirius had already run away from home.

There's much more interesting stuff here than "Regulus was forced." But who cares, right? Fuck canon, live fanon.

[awyeahitssam]

Time travel AU; Tomarry

Harry was seven the first time he appeared.

Tom arrived to him small and trembling, with bare blue fingers and toes. His teeth chattered noisily while hands worked insistently up and down his arms to generate some illusion of heat. It was a rather odd sight, considering it was thirty seven degrees outside and Harry was sweating a bit, himself. Not to mention the boy had just materialized in his supposedly secure hiding spot, without so much as a sound of warning or shimmer about the air. 

Or, you know, walking or running, because that’s how any other child got around.

Harry shook away the thought, pushing himself off the tree stump and letting shredded leaves fall from his grasp. 

The child was looking up, now, glancing around like a frightened rabbit, silver-grey eyes wide and wild. He couldn’t have been more than four years old, which wasn’t that much younger than Harry, but he wasn’t used to being around toddlers. In fact he had never been around anyone smaller than him for more than a few minutes - their parents always rushed them away, thanks to his reputation as the Dursleys' troubled nephew.  

Harry wouldn't let the boy freeze because his parents would be mad they'd spoken. Not that they would be angry at the boy, mind: it was Harry that always got into trouble for such things. He would be fine.

(And no, Harry wasn’t at all resentful. Really.)

Dilemma solved, Harry stepped forward resolutely and wrapped his arms around the trembling child. The boy stood stiff and unresponsive, tremors still wracking his form. Harry was a whole head taller than him; from this close he could see what appeared to be snow melting atop night-dark curls.

Harry blinked in surprise. He had thought the boy had been locked in a freezer, with how cold he was, but snow in July? 

Where was it cold this time of year? 

Sweden? 

Antarctica? 

Iceland? 

Did the boy even speak English? 

Harry knew that if you wished hard enough you could escape a place: after all, he had ended up across the schoolyard four days ago, on the school roof of all places! But maybe this boy had gone further? 

“All right?" Harry asked, going to pull away, but the boy suddenly began clinging to him, head pressing forward into his chest.

What did parents call their kids to comfort them? Aunt Petunia always said “Duddums,” or “Dudders,” but those were just nicknames. Maybe… 

“Uh, it’s okay, d-darling?”

The boy stilled again, sniffling once and looking up with narrowed eyes, as if he thought Harry was making fun of him. Maybe only adults called people that? Oh God, Harry had no idea what he was doing. This was his first hug, after all… 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he tried again. “We’ll get you home, so you’ll be all right. With your, uh, parents and stuff. Don’t cry, please.”

Well, that was more begging than reassuring, probably, but Harry had no clue what he was doing here. He’d never had to comfort anyone a day in his life!

“I wasn’t crying!” The boy denied, shoving himself away from Harry fiercely even though he was still quivering and unnaturally pale. “And I don’t have any parents.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry raised his hands defensively, ready to spring back if the boy lashed out again. When people got angry with him it rarely went well. “Um, I don’t either. Have parents, that is. And I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

Harry wasn’t going to apologize for it. He had to do enough of that at the Dursley’s, and he had only been trying to help, besides. Still, he knew how frustrating it was when parents got brought up. The reminder that he was an orphan, trapped with the Dursley’s for a very long time to come, was far from comforting. 

“Just another orphan, then,” the boy said dismissively. Harry didn’t bother being offended, as it was the truth, though that tone was a bit... 

“I suppose,” Harry said. “You’re still cold, aren’t you? Let’s move out of the shade.” 

The boy squinted at him suspiciously, but nonetheless followed when Harry led the way to a nearby rock and gently pressed him to sit on it. He kneeled on the dead, brown grass and eyed blue fingers and bare toes worriedly.

“That’s not good,” he whispered. Harry reached out to the other boy slowly, as though he were a wild animal, and the child jerked away.

“What are you doing?”

“They’re blue,” Harry frowned. “Just - let me -” 

Harry took the boy's hands in his own and brought them to his mouth, breathing hot air onto them. The boy made a mildly disgusted sound and made to move back, but Harry held tight, rubbing to create heat through friction. 

He felt gross and sweaty, and frankly the cool of the boy’s hands was a relief on such a day, but mostly he was worried. He knew, vaguely, of hypothermia, and he didn't want the boy’s fingers to fall off.  

The boy glared at Harry, but didn't try to pull away again, though he watched his every movement rather suspiciously. That wasn't anything new to Harry, of course. Everybody found him suspicious. 

“Where am I?” The child demanded, after a long period of silence in which they were essentially holding hands. 

“We’re at a park in Little Whinging, Surrey.” 

“Surrey? I was just in London…”

Harry frowned back. “Are you sure? It's not snowing in London.”

“It was five minutes ago,” the boy said firmly, crossing his arms. 

“In July?” Harry murmured, incredulous. 

“I'm not lying,” the boy said coolly, though the effect of his glare was somewhat ruined by the shivers still wracking his body. “And it's February, besides.”

“I didn't say you were lying,” Harry huffed. “Just that you’re wrong. It's July 30th.”

The boy frowned, glancing from the sun high in the sky to the brown grass. He seemed at a loss, eyes flitting around as if trying to find something to refute Harry’s claim.

Harry watched him, considering. 

“My name is Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?”

The boy blinked at him. “Tom,” he said. “Tom Riddle.”

...

Harry was in the astronomy tower, legs dangling over the edge, eyes looking towards the ground. His companion arrived as suddenly as always, the only announcement of his presence the prickling at Harry’s neck.

“...Harry?” 

He turned with a tired smile, faltering only slightly when he noted what Tom was wearing. A slightly oversized version of the Hogwarts uniform hung over his small frame, a silver and green tie smoothed on his neck. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked, falling to his knees beside the bright-eyed boy. Tom wasn’t crying, but his eyes were burning with something like anger and loneliness and despair. It took Harry a moment, but when he caught sight of the bruise marring Tom’s face he felt his breath catch in his chest.

“You—who—how dare—!” Harry couldn’t seem to bring himself to coherence, so instead he shut his mouth and carefully tilted Tom’s chin to get a better look at the mark. It was large, spanning from his right cheekbone to eyebrow: a mottled, puce discoloration that never should have touched on Tom’s strong features. 

Tom allowed Harry to maneuver him without complaint, eyes wide and hungry as they took him in.

“Even at Hogwarts,” the younger boy murmured, smaller hand reaching out, brushing against Harry’s cheek. 

Harry couldn’t help the soft look that overcame him, despite the anger boiling, wrathful, in his gut at the sight of Tom’s injury. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’d rather not go ten months without seeing you, Tom.” 

Though truly it hadn’t been so long for Harry. After all, hadn’t he seen Lord Voldemort rise only a few months ago?

But no. This was Tom, his first friend, the first person he’d thought to protect, not a single trace of serpent in his visage.

This was Tom, with one of his eyes half swollen shut.

Harry didn’t know any healing charms, but he had taken to carrying around the salve Hermione made for his hand. He unscrewed the lid and gathered more than was probably necessary, the goop thick on his fingers. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” 

Tom tilted his head, not wary but measuring, and Harry held his gaze until the boy’s shoulders loosened and he nodded.

Once upon a time, Lord Voldemort had been capable of trust. Theoretically it was a hard thing to grasp, but in practice it just made something in Harry’s chest melt.

Harry massaged the salve in gently, careful not to get too close to Tom’s eye. He was nearly done by the time Tom gasped, jerking away.

It must have started tingling.

“That’s…” 

“Strange?” Harry smiled at him. “Yeah. Hold still, you’ll need a bit more to help with the swelling.” 

“Why do you have this?” Tom asked, even as he obediently shut his eyes and swayed forward. “Have you been getting into fights, Harry?” 

How strange, the way Tom said his name now, compared to the way he would one day, in a dark, dreary graveyard.

Harry laughed off the comparison, laughed so he didn’t retreat back to misery, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tom’s forehead. To the place that he would one day mark Harry.

“Always,” he smirked, pulling back to catch sight of Tom’s wide-eyed look. He screwed the lid back on the salve, wiping his fingers on his robe and slipping it back into his pocket. “Now, are you just going to sit there gaping all night, or would you like to learn how to defend yourself with magic?” 

Tom opened his mouth, probably in protest against that gaping remark, but closed it before saying anything and nodding his assent.

Harry drew his wand, a wand Tom had only seen a handful of times, and he couldn’t help the way his muscles tensed. Harry didn’t mention it.

“Protego,” he enunciated, making the motion with his wand a bit slower than he might otherwise.

“That’s a fifth year spell,” Tom pointed out.

“One that you’ll master,” Harry agreed cheerily. “Unless you want to be tickled to death.” 

It would have been more logical to use some sort of pain as motivation - such as a stinging hex - but Harry, Tom knew, did not want to hurt him. Still, he could deal with pain. Given his age, Harry was expected to be stronger than him, to be able to harm him. And to Tom, it would be far more humiliating to be reduced to helpless giggles.

Harry knew him too well, to play on his pride like this.

Tom found he didn’t mind

It took time, but Tom did manage to conjure the shield charm. 

Only when Harry flicked his wand the spell broke through, and Tom fell to the ground in peels of laughter. Harry held the enchantment for a long moment, watching grey eyes come alive with mirth, small body wriggling, before he waved his wand in a silent counter.

“Don’t rely on your shield alone,” Harry instructed. “You may be strong, but you’re still a first year, which means somebody else is stronger.” 

As if he needed the reminder, Tom mused bitterly, hand jerking a bit as he fought the urge to prod at his tingling bruise. Harry didn’t mention his short, derisive laugh. 

“What did you do when somebody tried to hit you at the orphanage? Dodged. It doesn’t matter that you have a wand, and spells; those aren’t the only tools available to you. You have a body - use it!”

In a way Tom appreciated the way Harry never sugarcoated anything. On the other hand, mere mention of the orphanage infuriated him. If not for the fact that Harry had been bullied himself, Tom might have held a grudge. As it was he knew Harry understood him, and what he went through. Knew that he was only mentioning that rotten place to draw a comparison and not degrade him. 

He didn’t get impatient when Tom’s second attempt failed, or his third and fourth, nor did he relent in his assault. He was strangely inspirational, Tom thought. He was encouraging, but had high expectations, and he seemed used to teaching. His patience went far further than Tom’s own extended, and he had no trouble explaining things a different way when his words didn’t click for Tom. 

But then, Tom almost instinctively knew what Harry meant. They were connected, in some odd, impossible way. 

Tom’s cheeks had burned in embarrassment when he discovered that there was no such thing as soulmates, even in the magical world. He had been so sure.

…

“You’ve gone pale.”

Tom looked down to his fading fingers with a scowl. 

“I want to spend more than a measly two hours with you,” he said, gripping the front of Harry’s robes as though it would prevent their time from coming to an end. 

“I know, darling,” Harry murmured, running a hand through his night-dark curls. “Just remember that I'm very proud of you, all right? I care for you, and that accounts for the decades we have to spend apart.”

“Harry, have I found you yet?” Tom whispers. The question hangs in the darkness, but before Harry can formulate a response Tom vanishes from his arms. 

…

“Hello darling,” Harry smiles, rather taken with the blush that lights Tom’s nose and the tips of his ears. “When are we?”

“31st of December, 1940.”

“Happy birthday, then. How does it feel to be fourteen?”

“No different than thirteen, I’d imagine,” Tom replies. 

“No?” Harry’s eyes glint wickedly. “Let’s see if we can’t brighten your day. Have you ever been ice skating, Tom?”

Tom blinked at him, eyebrows pulling together. “No,” he responds. “Have you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Something in Tom thrills at the reckless grin Harry levels him with. “We can try together, yeah? The Black Lake should be frozen over, and I know a few spells if not. The grounds should be abandoned at this time, especially considering it’s break.”

Tom stares incredulously for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “It’s past curfew, Harry. Even if it’s a holiday, I can’t be caught outside and still be chosen as a prefect next year.”

“Let’s not get caught, then,” Harry says softly, eyes sparking. 

Tom takes him in for a moment, and lets out a long sigh - mostly for show, mind you. Being cooped up in the Common Room, staring out at the Black Lake was hardly what Tom wished to be doing, regardless of the days. “Only you, Harry Potter, could talk me into doing such a thing. You’d better be practised with cushioning charms.”

A warm hand comes to grip Tom’s, pulling him towards the door. “We won’t need them,” Harry says, sounding rather assured. “You’re ridiculously graceful, so I expect you to catch me if I start to fall.” 

Harry, it turns out, is far better at keeping his balance on the slick surface. But the older boy takes both of his hands, slowly skidding backwards, balancing him so he won’t fall. And Tom is sure that when he does, he takes Harry with him.

…

Tom is standing on the balcony. Harry looks him over, absently checking for injuries. 

“You look posh,” he says, surprised. The last time he had seen Tom, he was still in second hand robes, though judging by his appearance it had been nearly a year - or an abrupt growth spurt. 

“Harry,” Tom breathes out, and all of the irritation in his posture and face smooth out as he turns and catches sight of him. Something like excitement brightens the air around him, and he reaches out, catching Harry’s sleeve and drawing him close. “You’re really here.”

“I am,” Harry smiles. “Have I kept you waiting?”

“Rather,” Tom sniffs. “It’s been nearly a year. You’ve chosen a rather poor venu, though; the Malfoy’s annual Yule Ball.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. “I suppose you’ll need to get inside and schmooze with the purebloods.” 

“That is the point in me attending,” Tom agreed lightly. “But the ball is already halfway over, and I’ve met plenty of important people already. You could join me for a dance…” 

“Inside?” Harry asked, surprised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom… if anybody but you sees me, I’m afraid of what’ll happen.”

“The music’s loud enough,” Tom offers. There’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, Harry notes. A very rare thing, for Tom is most always sure of himself. “We can dance here.” 

Harry smiles, drawing Tom’s hand into his own. “All right, but don’t be mad if I step on your toes. You’ve asked for it.”

Tom’s eyes glint. A smirk curls his lips. “Oh my,” he says, stepping close as one hand finds Harry’s waist and the other intertwines their fingers. “Have we found something I’m better at?” 

Harry snorted. “You’re better at loads,” he said, stumbling a step back when Tom begins their dance. “I’ve got nearly three years on you at the moment, and I’m positive your spell knowledge well exceeds mine.”

Tom quirks a brow. “Perhaps if you studied more?”

Harry smiled. “I started studying seriously in my Fourth year. You, however, have been at it from your First.”

“Shall we duel?”

“I’d rather we never cross wands,” Harry says lightly, but his eyes have gone dark. He grips Tom a bit tighter, posture straightening. Tom’s nearly a head shorter, like this. “This is hard to do backwards.”

“Then lead.”

Tom’s words had been half-teasing, but when Harry takes control of the dance things smooth out rather quickly. He’s clearly at least practiced in this part, and twirls Tom around the balcony without much trouble.

“There you are,” Tom says into his neck, “No more stepping on me.” 

Harry huffs a laugh, one hand rising from Tom’s waist to brush through his hair. The motion is soothing, half-remembered from the last time Tom had a fever. He leans deeper into Harry. He would join them together if he could; make them intrinsic, never able to be torn apart, not even by time. 

“I miss you,” Tom admits, like it’s a dark secret. “When you’re gone, I miss you, Harry. I’ve never missed anybody else.” 

Harry’s throat tightens. His hand continues its careful strokes, and they’ve stilled in their dancing. They sway in place.

“I wish we could be like this forever,” Harry says in turn, secret traded for secret. 

Tom makes a noise in his throat, something almost needy, and clings harder, nails digging into Harry’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he demands. “Stop leaving me.” 

Harry sighs. “I can’t,” he says. “You know I can’t, Tom.”

Tom pulls back, meeting his eyes. His face is flushed from the cold, eyes gleaming with a fierce longing. Something in Harry aches in answer.

“Let’s sit,” Harry says softly. “The sky is beautiful here.”

Tom nods, but hardly lets them pull apart. They sit, limbs tangling, but instead of staring at the stars Tom stares at Harry. Harry pretends not to notice.

An hour later, only the lingering warmth of Tom’s palm proves he was ever there at all.

…

The next time Tom appears it’s in Harry’s time. The situation is less than ideal; it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and there's an attack.

But Tom does not know the context. All he knows when he appears is that Harry is flushed, breathing hard, back pressed against a building. And Tom does not freeze like Harry sometimes does at the abrupt displacement, but strides towards Harry with a familiar determination.

It’s the look Lord Voldemort gets when he’s decided to kill Harry.

But instead, Tom presses him tighter against the building. Searches his face. And then he pushes their mouths together, lips moving insistently against Harry’s own, almost desperate to provoke a reaction. 

Apparently deciding to kiss and kill Harry inspires the same look.

There’s a moment when Harry wants, but then he pulls away, the rejection gentled by the way he cradles Tom’s cheek. 

“Tom, I -”

Harry's eyes flick up from Tom’s, catching a movement,  and his hands drop as though burned. He’s quick to grab Tom by the hips and switch their positions, putting his body between Tom and Voldemort as he took in the tall, serpentine Lord. 

Voldemort’s smile was a cruel, mirthless thing. “Playing house with one of my horcruxes, Harry? How… unexpected.”

Harry swallowed. So Voldemort didn’t know, then -  he didn’t remember, though Harry had figured as much. 

“Tom, stay behind me and avoid his eyes.” 

“Harry, who—”

“Please, Tom!”

Tom stepped back, but he didn’t move quickly enough to avoid a bolt of purple light.

‘Bugger,’ Harry thought, body jerking in front of Tom instinctively, taking the hit. 

The spell has no evident effect beyond freezing him in place, and a strongly thought Finite Incantatum saw him free. Still, Harry did not shift; he would use any advantage he could get, and Voldemort thinking him helpless was certainly an advantage.

“What shall I do with you now, Harry?” Voldemort hissed, a demented smile pulling his lips up. 

“Avada Ked—“

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried. Tom’s wand flew from his hand, smacking Harry’s palm. Well, so much for that plan. “Expelliarmus!”

“Crucio.”

The spells slammed together and the magic splintered, the wand's magic dying as it recognized it was being turned against itself. 

Voldemort’s eyes burned. “How do you have that wand?”

Harry watched him carefully, backing up until his hip pressed against Tom. He pressed the yew wand into warm hands, not daring to take his eyes off Voldemort to see his expression. 

Tom inhaled sharply, and he was too clever to not connect the dots. When he spoke his voice was torn between horror and fury. “There’s no way.”

“You need to go,” Harry hissed back. “Now.” 

“We haven’t exactly figured out how to control it—”

“Tom,” Harry snapped. The other teen quieted, and Harry heard fabric shift. “Repeat after me: lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

“Harry—”

“Do you want to die?” 

There was a long pause. A hand pressed over Harry’s spine, almost too hard to be a comfort. 

“Lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

The air shifted, and the warm pressure of spindly fingers against Harry’s back melted away. 

Harry and Voldemort stared each other down from across a field.

“It seems,” Voldemort hissed, “we have much to discuss, Harry.”

[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Small Spaces series by @bixgirl1 (E, 8.5k)

Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart, orphaned (NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

This Unexpected Windfall by mindabbles (E, 11k)

Harry doesn’t like it when Draco is called in to work one of his cases. No. He doesn’t like it at all — at least that’s what he tells himself.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites (E, 11k)

Harry James Potter, Member of the Wizengamot for Godric’s Hollow, Secretary for Transport is ill-suited for the world of wizarding politics. Enter Draco Malfoy, Director of Communications for the Minister for Magic to moonlight as his press secretary. It should solve all of Harry’s issues with the press and Draco’s issues with over-work. Theoretically.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking. This year, Potter’s posing as his pretend boyfriend.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose (E, 15k)

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by @wellhalesbells (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, 17k)

“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.” “How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

Common and Cliché by bryoneybrynn (E, 17k)

Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry was never really Dumbledore's man

So, in HBP Harry says himself:

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” “Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

(HBP, 348)

But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.

(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)

I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.

“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?” “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.” “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”

(PS, 217)

This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.

Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.

Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).

Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.

Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak. “You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. “Not what?” snapped Riddle. “Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(CoS, 282)

This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.

The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

(GoF, 310)

This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.

As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:

“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .” Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. [...] As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write? Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.

(GoF, 21)

Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.

Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” “Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” “Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -” Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him. “Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” “He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” “Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”

(OotP, 63)

Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.

And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .” There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron. “I told Sirius last time.” “Well, tell him about this time!” “Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?” “Well then, Dumbledore —” “I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.” Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said. Harry shrugged. “C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”

(OotP, 382)

Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.

“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —” “That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.” “I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!” “Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly. “Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly. “Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly. “What do you mean?” said Hermione. “Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .” Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other. “Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —” “Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.” “He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .” “Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

(OotP, 554)

Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.

(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)

“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

(HBP, 552)

Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).

Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.

So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.

“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside. “And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry [...] Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!” “What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry. [...] Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?

(DH, 135-137)

And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:

“Harry—” But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—” “Yeah, you could say that—” “—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.” “You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?” “Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.

(DH, 311)

Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.

Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.

Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.

“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it. “Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice. “Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”

(DH, 478)

More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.

Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.

And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...

TL;DR

Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.

[thusspoketrish]

Hiya, I'm Trish! Below you'll find a list of my completed Drarry fics + a gist of the story + a handful of tags. All of my stories are postwar, EWE, and rated E or M. I will update this list as I complete more stories! Wooo!!!

MOST RECENT FIC:

The Art of Getting By | E | 149K Recovery fic set in a psychiatric hospital. Mental health Issues. Trauma/Traumatic Experiences. Heavy Angst. Harry and Draco admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Therapy. Fastburn. Co-dependency. Falling in love. Draco's + Harry's POV. Please read warnings. Dead Dove.

Summary: This is a story about love. Draco is on a desperate mission to escape the devastating voice controlling his life, taunting him about his past, and cursing his future. As he reaches his breaking point, he’s sent to a psychiatric hospital, rendered mute, and struggles to find meaning in moving forward. Harry, grappling with his own demons, has been spiralling out of control with an unchecked temper. Unable to escape the anger that has consumed him, he finds himself involuntarily committed, believing that there’s little hope in achieving the semblance of normalcy he craves post-war.

Their paths collide, and fate proves how beautiful and cruel it can be.

This Year's Love| E | 84K. A Drarry slowburn inspired by When Harry Met Sally! Humor. Light Angst. Draco in the Muggle world. Lovable Disaster!Harry. Enemies to Best Friends. Modern Dating. Layabout!Harry. Medical Student!Draco. Draco Dates Zaddies. Harry Is Living His Best Heaux Life. Sex (or no sex!) Positivity. Idiots In Love. So Much Pining. Harry's POV.

Everything That Happens Is From Now On | E | 42K. A sensitive story that explores the aftermath and recovery from a stranger SA. Established relationship. Secrets. Supportive/Loving Partner. RTS. Living Together. Body Positivity. Enthusiastic Consent. Hope. Draco's POV. Please read warnings.

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow | E | 67K. A love story that takes place over a series of unfortunate nights at the Leaky Cauldron. Enemies to Lovers. Falling in Love. Auror!Harry. Potion Master!Draco. Secret Relationship. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Possessive Harry. Flangst. Beer Gardens. The Leaky Cauldron. The Slytherin Trio. Bullying/Violence. Spoilers Left Untagged.

Super Rich Kids | E | 81K. True crime meets wild government conspiracies when Draco becomes a twisted sort-of Robin Hood, robbing the badly behaving rich to give to...well...you'll have to read the story to find out! Angst. Murders. Coverups. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Bisexual Draco. Lush descriptions of glamour. Humor. The ULTIMATE Slytherin ensemble. Mental Health Issues. Drug Usage/Addiction. Pureblood Elitism. Social Season. Angst with a Happy Ending. Draco's POV.

On The Last Day | E | 53K. Draco's role as an Unspeakable, Harry's untimely death and ghostly return, and conspiracies bind them in a quest for truth and redemption. Mystery. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Grief/Mourning. Horror Elements. Science. Neurology/Neuroscience. Slowburn. Memory Loss. Draco's POV.

My Best Friend, the Serial Killer | E | 37K. Ride or Die BFFL Draco finds he's tired of moonlighting as a serial killer's accomplice. No matter how much he loves Pansy, he draws the line at helping her dispose of a sexy, flirty Harry Potter. Dark Humor. Campy/Kitsch Elements. Serial Killer!Pansy. Healer!Draco. Femme Fatale Trope. Falling in Love. Self-Love. Jealousy. Everyone is seriously morally grey. Draco's POV.

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, & a Baby | E | 91K. The ultimate bromance takes centre stage (alongside a sweet and tender Drarry romance) in this Three Men & a Baby inspired story! BAMF Auror Draco. Protective Draco. Healer Harry. Capable and Emotionally Intelligent Ron. Illegal Potions Ring. Orphaned Baby. Roommates. Nothing to Something to Everything. Draco's POV.

Seven Days | E | 8K. It takes seven days for the Malfoy-Potter family to unravel. Grief/Mourning. Child Abduction. Death of a Child. Implied Mpreg. Alcohol Relapse. Coming to Terms. Harry's POV. Please Read the Warnings.

Portrait of a Young Girl | M | 8K. Navigating the complexities of love, marriage, and child-rearing, Harry and Draco face a new challenge when they suspect that four-year-old Teddy might be transgender. Married Drarry. Young Couple. Inexperienced Parents. Marital Problems/Disagreements. Stay-at-Home Dad Draco. Fluff. Acceptance. Love. Family. Happy Ending. Harry's POV.

A Day at the Park | M | 6K. Draco discovers that love has its own timing, and sometimes, that means returning to the place where he once lost it all. Estranged couple. Flashbacks. Pining. Postman's Park. Exiled Draco. Draco's POV.

Long for Bliss! | E | 9K. A random night out takes a dark and thrilling turn when Harry, after taking MDMA, encounters Draco Malfoy, looking like something straight out of his wildest dreams – or nightmares. First Time Drug Use. Nightclubs. The Perils of Ennui. Mildly Dubious Consent. Rooftop Sex. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Harry's POV.

Idiot Boys In Love & More | Various Ratings | 18K. Here you'll find a collection of one-shots, drabbles, and poems about Harry and Draco that are all standalone pieces! Each story is centered on a prompt provided by @drarrymicrofic and said prompt will be listed in the summary of each story (Series I completed). Harry + Draco's POV.

[animusrox]

LETTERBOXD

1.   The Batman 2.   Everything Everywhere All at Once 3.   Prey 4.   Triangle of Sadness 5.   Barbarian 6.  The Northman 7.   Bodies Bodies Bodies 8.   The Banshees of Inisherin 9.   Bones and All 10.   Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11.   Turning Red 12.   The Menu 13.   Babylon 14.   Hit the Road 15.   Cow 16.   Watcher 17.   Funny Pages 18.   Mad God 19.   On the Count of Three 20.   Armageddon Time 21.   Terrifier 2 22.   Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23.   Smile 24.   Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25.   Holy Spider 26.   Aftersun 27.   The Fabelmans 28.   Breaking 29.   Decision to Leave 30.   The Whale 31.   All Quiet on the Western Front 32.   Brian and Charles 33.   Piggy 34.   Saint Omer 35.   Thirteen Lives 36.   Men 37.   The Fallout 38.   Resurrection 39.   Causeway 40.  The Black Phone 41.   Official Competition 42.   Nope 43.  Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44.   Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45.   Till 46.   TÁR 47.   Happening 48.   A Love Song 49.   The Outfit 50.   The Innocents 51.   Jackass Forever 52.   BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53.   Montana Story 54.   Three Thousand Years of Longing 55.   You Won’t Be Alone 56.   The Sadness 57.   Halloween Ends 58.   Pearl 59.   X 60.   Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61.   This Place Rules 62.   Fresh 63.   Windfall 64.   Kimi 65.   No Exit 66.   Top Gun: Maverick 67.   “Sr.” 68.   Farha 69.   The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70.   Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71.   Nitram 72.   Speak No Evil 73.   Run Sweetheart Run 74.   She Said 75.   White Noise 76.   Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77.   V/H/S/99 78.   The Wonder 79.   Women Talking 80.   Hatching 81.   Soft & Quiet 82.   Scream 83.   To Leslie 84.   Hustle 85.   Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86.   Dual 87.   God’s Country 88.   Emancipation 89.   Vengeance 90.   Fire of Love 91.   Bullet Train 92.   Incantation 93.   The Valet 94.   Hellraiser 95.   Christmas Bloody Christmas 96.   Significant Other 97.   Cha Cha Real Smooth 98.   Lucy and Desi 99.   Not Okay 100.   A Christmas Story Christmas 101.   Blonde 102.   Deadstream 103.   Sissy

Grade C

104.   The Bad Guys 105.   The Cursed 106.   Empire of Light 107.   A Man Called Otto 108.   Broker 109.   Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110.   The Princess 111.   Beast 112.   After Yang 113.   RRR 114.   Fall 115.   Jackass 4.5 116.   Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117.   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118.   Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119.   Lightyear 120.   The Pale Blue Eye 121.   The Woman King 122.   Violent Night 123.   God’s Creatures 124.   Ambulance 125.   Elvis 126.   You Are Not My Mother 127.   Emily the Criminal 128.   Crimes of the Future 129.   The Apology 130.   The Lost City 131.   Wendell & Wild 132.   Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133.   The Found Footage Phenomenon 134.   See How They Run 135.   Spiderhead 136.   Studio 666 137.   Bros 138.   Spin Me Round 139.   We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140.   Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141.   Honor Society

Grade D

142.   Thor: Love and Thunder 143.   Summering 144.   Strange World 145.   Glorious 146.   The Gray Man 147.   Devotion 148.   Clerks III 149.   The Forgiven 150.   Enola Holmes 2 151.   Father Stu 152.   Jurassic World Dominion 153.   DC League of Super-Pets 154.   She Will 155.   The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156.   Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157.   Hellbender 158.   Samaritan 159.   Day Shift 160.   Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161.   Prey for the Devil 162.   Troll 163.   Uncharted 164.  Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165.   Dashcam 166.   Firestarter 167.   Do Revenge 168.   Catwoman: Hunted 169.   The Munsters 170.   Amsterdam 171.   Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173.   The Bubble 174.   Dead for a Dollar 175.   Jerry & Marge Go Large 176.   Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177.   Infinite Storm 178.   Marry Me 179.   Don’t Worry Darling 180.   Spirited 181.   Disney's Pinocchio 182.   Alice 183.   Black Adam 184.   Orphan: First Kill 185.   The Adam Project 186.   The Invitation 187.   Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188.   Ticket to Paradise 189.   The 355 190.   Umma

Bottom 10

191.   Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192.   Deep Water 193.   Where the Crawdads Sing 194.   Blacklight 195.   Mack & Rita 196.   Memory 197.   Me Time 198.   Death on the Nile 199.   Morbius 200.   Moonfall

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry AU where Harry knows everything but it's not because he is a time traveller, neither because he is a seer —

Pages and words have always been Harry's best friend. Living inside a cupboard did not help with his obsession. Rather, it was due to those pages that he survived. (He was 14 when he got his room instead of a bloody cupboard to sleep in.). The library was the only place Harry was able to hide from Dudley before they were sent to different schools.

When he was fourteen, and hiding from Dudley in the public library (he was mad that his gaming room was given to him.) he ends up reading a book he came to like very much.

It was a book about an orphan boy (like him.) who ends up going to this magic world (oh, how Harry wished) but sadly Tom ended up being hated there as well. Harry was awed by Tom's strength, but also angry (at the world how they let Tom down.) and angry at Tom for destroying himself to destroy what hurt him (or maybe he was angry at himself for not being able to do the same, maybe he was angry that he couldn't save Tom —) Harry was fourteen and it would seem he was angry at a lot of things.

(—that day Harry punched Dudley back after Dudley hit him. He didn't get to eat for a week straight.)

Jealousy is something he never let himself feel, because it wasn't a privilege he was given — not really. But one thing he was jealous of was the fact that Tom got to fly. (Harry wondered some nights — hungry and unable to sleep — what would he do if he got a magic letter? Would he have friends? How nice it would be to get to eat 3 times a day — how nice it would be to just fly away.).

Harry Potter loved Tom Riddle. Harry Potter also loved Lord Voldemort. The boy who died to be born as a monster. The boy who swallowed all the hatred so that he could hate the world in return (oh, how Harry wish he could burn down the world too sometimes — how he wish he could just hate hate hate and not care care care; maybe then he would finally stop trying look for approval in his aunt's eyes). Harry knew when started reading the book Tom was as cruel as he was strong. And he knew as he read the text, there would come a day Tom would burn the world like he was also burned. Even though he didn't agree with Tom's decisions most of the time he knew Tom. So yes, Harry Potter might not agree with Voldemort but he still loved him. And he wished that he could tell him that. Wished he could tell the man who was still a boy that wanted a family so bad that he stayed up for hours at night searching, hungry to find any living family there was, hungry for a belonging that he wasn't even deigned in the magic world. He wished he could tell Voldemort that no matter what he became, Harry would love him.

So imagine his surprise when he wakes up in a moving train — right after going to bed (instead of a cake he got a can of soup) the night he turned sixteen. Imagine how surprised as he sat there, in robes that he doesn't remember he ever owned. Imagine him freaking out that he got kidnapped as the door of his train compartment opened, and in came Tom Riddle.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It’s become their tradition: when Hogwarts empties of most students for the Christmas break, Harry and Tom spend the quiet, sleepy days of the winter holiday together.

Initially, it was out of lonely, unwanted orphan camaraderie. They had nowhere else to go, no one who wanted to see them – but that was frankly fine by both of them. Tom would rather never see the inside of Wool’s again, and Harry had long given up on figuring out how to make the Dursleys love him. They had both found their first real home at Hogwarts. So, while the buzzing energy of the holidays and discussions of their peers reminded them of the things they did not have, those wounds had scarred over enough by that point that it was more of a dull ache than a sharp, bleeding pain. 

From sharing silent moments as they read or ate together to discovering they had more in common than simply their circumstances, their wary friendship grew over the course of that first holiday break at Hogwarts. When the other students returned, there was a bit of awkwardness of finding how this new connection fit into their respective social landscapes – Tom has never been all that fond of Granger or Weasley, and Harry thinks the social politics of Slytherin are ridiculous, not to mention the typical Gryffindor-Slytherin hostility. 

They weren’t the type of friends to spend every moment together, constantly at each other’s elbow, but they found a way that worked for them. Partnering up in class, sitting quietly at the same table in the library, meeting up for a pre-curfew snack in the kitchens – and spending each winter break in each other’s company, even if they both received invitations to spend the holiday elsewhere. Christmas at Hogwarts was their time.

And so it is that they’re sitting on the windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, staring out at the freshly fallen snow, glittering under the light of a waxing gibbous moon, when Harry breaks the silence. 

“D’you want to come to bed with me?”

The question causes Tom to still. 

“There’s no one else who stayed behind, as usual, so the dorm is empty,” Harry continues on, oblivious. “Don’t have to worry about anyone being weird about your being there.”

Tom had felt it, how things were changing between them. How, this year, their shared glances had a different energy. Like everything was building to something. And he knew that they’d be able to spend long, uninterrupted days together over the holidays, without their respective groups to give them grief about spending time with someone from the enemy House.

He’d known there was a chance this was where that change might lead them. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

But Tom has a reputation, and certainly Harry knows it. So of course Harry would expect that from him – expect Tom to want it – if Tom has done that with other people.

And Harry is the only person Tom has ever wanted to keep. Harry understands him in ways no one else has ever bothered to try. (He had hoped Harry would understand this implicitly, but that was perhaps too much to ask.) There is little he wouldn’t do to tie Harry to him, to ensure Harry never leaves – never wants to leave, never even considers it. If this is the cost, he can bear it.

In comparison to the other things he’s gained through his looks and his body, Harry is much more precious, infinitely more dear. Power at the whims of another is what he can barter for now, but it won’t always be that way. Soon, he will hold his own power, an endless amount of it, and he will make others regret treating him as lesser than.

Giving this to Harry– no. Doing this with Harry is nothing like his previous sexual experiences. It’s not a degradation.

(But it does appear to be a necessity.)

His mind has been running as they walk back to the empty Gryffindor sixth year boys’ dorm together. He sees the coy, nervous smile Harry gives him over his shoulder as they reach the dorm door; he returns it with a confident one that he doesn’t quite feel.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks as he leads Tom through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

Perhaps his lacking bravado is more apparent than he’d hoped. Before Tom can decide whether or not to push Harry against the closed door and kiss him, the other boy is walking over to the bed Tom knows is Harry’s and pulling the curtains open.

As he climbs onto the bed, Harry begins shucking his clothes in a flurry. He’s now down to his shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, staring up at Tom curiously. “Planning to wear all that?” Harry asks. 

This isn’t how he usually does things. His rhythm’s all thrown off, though he should’ve expected Harry would act differently than his other partners. So Tom removes his shoes, socks, trousers, and jumper as quickly as he can without appearing to rush. Harry doesn’t seem to want a show, thankfully. Tom’s not sure whether he could manage much in the way of seduction at the moment.

Tom gets on the bed and sits next to Harry, who’s reclining against a pillow tilted up against the headboard.

And now that he’s here, he’s freezing up. He can’t afford to ruin this, he can’t lose Harry. So he pushes through his hesitation and leans down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss that has melted the minds (and inhibitions) of several other students. He’s putting his all into this, trying to focus on the fact that this is Harry, he wants Harry, this is okay. He never has to persuade himself with the others, it’s so unfair he has to work so hard to do this for Harry.

“–Tom?” Harry asks a bit breathlessly as he pulls his mouth away with a soft ‘pop.’ “What are you doing?”

Fuck, fuck, this is not happening. “I thought it was rather obvious,” he husks, trying to sound as seductive and interested as possible.

“Not the– I know you were kissing me, you berk.” Harry huffs a laugh. “I was asking why you were kissing me.”

Oh. Oh, this is all going wrong in a different way, and in addition to that he’s confused, and he hates being confused. “Typically people enjoy a bit of foreplay before they have sex,” he says, and he can’t entirely keep his defensive anger from leaking into his tone.

“Sex?!” Harry yelps, then covers his mouth with his hands despite them being the only people in the dorm. He whisper-shouts, “Sex? Who said anything about sex?”

Tom’s brow furrows in irritation. “You asked me to come to bed–”

“To sleep!” Harry barely keeps from shouting once again. “Just to sleep.”

He blinks. “Sleep,” he repeats, feeling wrong-footed.

“Uh, yeah, though now that I think about it, I guess I can see where you misunderstood…”

“You ‘guess’?” Tom hisses, incensed. “I misunderstood? Harry, that’s what people say when they intend to have sex!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You never seemed interested in that sort of thing, I didn’t think I had to specify–”

Tom wonders, not for the first time, how someone can be both so observant and painfully oblivious.

“Harry,” he says, a little frustrated with how this entire evening has gone. “You do realise I’ve had sex before, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I have eyes.” As if to demonstrate this, he rolls them hard enough that Tom can barely see their bright green irises.

Cheeky little shit. “Then, why–”

“I’m not completely daft, Tom. I’ve seen how you look at the people you’ve slept with,” Harry says, sounding almost offended. “It’s the same way Ron looks at chess pieces – like they serve a particular purpose and you're thinking of the best way to move them around to get what you want.” 

That was concerningly accurate. He’d never thought of Harry as unintelligent, but perhaps he’d underestimated how sharp he could be.

“When you look at me, it's different. At least, that’s what I think.”

Tom huffs. “I should never have doubted you, darling.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t,” Harry says. “So don’t doubt me now. Tell me: what do you want?”

“I– it’s not as simple as that,” he insists, because it isn’t. Harry doesn’t understand, and it rankles, because why is this where his understanding fails?

“I never thought I’d see the day I have to demand to know what you want,” Harry says, a bit amused and a little disbelieving. 

Because it’s you, he thinks. It matters – I’m trying to compromise – because it’s you.

“Come on, Tom, just tell me,” Harry wheedles.

Here goes nothing. He’s already holding his breath when he says, hoarsely, “I don’t want to have sex.”

“With me?” Harry asks evenly, unreadably.

“With anyone,” he clarifies.

Harry’s eyes almost glow in anger as he leans up on his elbow, and Tom slips his wand into his hand just in case. “Have people been forcing you–” 

“No, no, nothing like that. As if they could,” Tom says, releasing some of the tension in his body, amused by Harry’s willingness to play knight in shining armour for him. “Sex is a tool to use when it’s the most expedient way to get what I want. It’s not something to which I attach emotions or any real pleasure, nor is it something I want to have purely for the sake of it.”

He’s known this for himself for quite some time, but this is the first time he’s said it aloud for someone else. Someone whose opinion matters. He finds himself wincing a bit at the clinical tone, even though it is accurate to how he feels. Harry is a creature of emotion far more than Tom is, and he doesn’t always agree with Tom’s way of seeing things.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Okay.”

Tom watches Harry warily. He doesn’t sound upset, but… “Okay…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me,” Harry says easily. “If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t have sex.”

That is far too calm a reaction, unless Harry likes him less than he’d previously thought. “Not just tonight – I don’t want to have sex ever, probably.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Harry says with a grin. “S’fine.”

“But. This,” Tom says quietly, indicating the bed between them. “This can’t be enough for you.”

Harry sets his jaw mulishly. “I can decide for myself what’s enough for me and what I want. And I’m trusting you to do the same. So don’t ever force yourself to do something because you think I want it,” he adds, voice tapering off towards the end into something a little desperate-sounding. “I want you, Tom. Not whatever you think I should want.”

Tom swallows hard. “What if you change your mind?”

“What if I don't?” Harry says pointedly, before exhaling loudly and adding, “Sorry, I don't mean to be dismissive. If this was the first time I was finding out you didn’t want to have sex with me, yeah, I’d probably be pretty torn up,” he allows with a shrug. “But I’ve had time to think about it, and what I want, and I decided a while back that I wouldn’t mind never having sex, if it meant I could be with you.” 

Tom stares. He can’t help it. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore.

“But that’s enough about that.” Harry asks, again, “What do you want?”

After a moment, Tom says, hushed, “I want to sleep in this bed with you.” Honesty is easier when spoken softly in the dark. He braces himself for mockery, for disappointment, because, no matter what he says, surely Harry expects more than this. Tom has a reputation, after all.

But Harry only asks, voice warm, “Anything else?”

“I…” This leaves him feeling a little too vulnerable, but he pushes through. “I want to hold your hand.”

After a moment, Harry rests his hand on the bed halfway between them and wiggles his fingers. Slowly, Tom reaches out and rests the palm of his hand against the palm of Harry’s, carefully intertwining their fingers. Harry hums contentedly and squeezes their joined fingers gently. 

When Tom looks back at Harry’s face, he is smiling with a light flush of colour in his cheeks. “Good?” he asks.

Tom tries to say ‘yes’ but it feels like there’s something blocking his throat, so he nods instead.

Harry nods once in return before he takes off his glasses awkwardly with his left hand and sets them on the headboard shelf. He looks over, eyes just a bit out of focus, and says, “G’night, Tom.”

Tom squeezes Harry’s hand a good deal harder, prompting Harry to tighten his hold in turn. “Good night, Harry.” If his voice shakes a little, Harry doesn’t mention it.

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet for 'It runs in the bood'

I was so moved by all the lovely comments I got, that it made me want to work on the new chapter immediately, even if I probably should rest, instead.

Anyway, here is a little taste of Sirius being his horrible self.

-----

He finds Snape crowding Quirrell against a wall, acting all intimidating.

However, he’s a fucking looser that can only intimidate little children; it’s only when Sirius shows up that Quirrell bolts, making himself scarce so quickly, Sirius could swear he more flew away that walked-

I must be tired. Sirius must be seeing things that aren’t there. He had a very rough Samhain night, like all Samhain nights are for him, and after that, he had to open a letter to read Harry fought a fucking troll.

“That’s how you do it, Snivellus,” Sirius barks at him. “See, I just have to show up and people flee from me.”

Now it’s Sirius that crowds the miserable twat against the wall. “I hear you’re trying your hand at bullying, Snivellus. The problem is you’re trying it with my boy. I thought I should remind you why that is a terrible idea, the worst you’ve had in ten years.”

Snape glares at Sirius, with those black holes he has instead of eyes.

“How is it possible you got even uglier?” Sirius asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Snape pulls out his wand, face twisting with hate.

Sirius laughs. “Really? You want to curse a Hogwarts Governor? Not only you got uglier, but stupider, too. Truly, life doesn’t seem to agree with you. Shut up!” he growls, when Snape opens his mouth. “I don’t care to hear what you have to say; I never did.” He steps closer, towers over Snape, who still holds his wand firmly, but hesitates to do more with it.

“You know what I think, Snape? I think you should have another moonlight encounter with a four legged, furry animal. I think the first one wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson. You know why it wasn’t enough? Because James saved you. But you got him killed, you sniveling worm. You got him and Lily killed, and now there’s no one to save you when I send Greyback after you. And I will, if I hear a single complaint against you from Harry. You know I will.”

“You-” Snape hisses, going red and deathly pale at the same time. It’s a funny combination. “That’s all you do these days, threaten to set the werewolf on people? Brave Gryffindors should fight their own battles-”

“You’re unworthy of my wand. Curses are wasted on you. I even feel sorry for Greyback, to stain his fangs with your disgusting body…a pity. Alas, that’s why I have minions, to spare me of such undignified tasks. You’d like to have minions, too, no doubt. You’d love to have the means to set a werewolf on someone; that’s why you’re on a power trip with the children, you fucking arsehole, because they’re the only ones powerless enough to listen to you. But you don’t have anything, that’s the truth. Remember, I used to tell you, when we were kids ourselves? That you’ll die alone and unwanted? Seems I was right. No doubt you’re still sleeping with Lily’s picture on your pillow, since the poor photograph can’t exactly protest to your pathetic presence. At least have the decency not to antagonise her son- the one that you orphaned.”

“Sirius,” a firm voice calls from the end of the hallway.

It’s Dumbledore’s no nonsense voice, very different from how he sounded half an hour ago.

“Oh, sorry,” Sirius hisses at Snape. “I forgot you do have someone. A master to serve. A new one, that is. You’ve forsaken the first one, after all-”

“Sirius!” Dumbledore’s voice gets even steelier, and it’s coming closer.

“Stay away from Harry, you greasy pice of shit!” Sirius warns, and then turns and storms away.

And if that weird Quirrell stalks after him again, he’s going to meet the bad end of Sirius’ wand. He’s reached the limit of his patience for the night.

For the entire fucking year, actually.

[childotkw]

I’d love to read a dark Harry fic (but like a good one). Would you ever consider writing a dark Harry? Like riddle persuades Harry to join his dark side? Maybe they went to school together or something… or just any other hp/tr fics tbh I love your work sm xx

I might pinch the beginning of Dig Two Graves for this one, but I was thinking -

Harry and Tom attended Hogwarts together, and their rivalry was the stuff of legends. They pushed each other to new heights, nipping at the other’s heels in each class, and the teachers despaired as much as they celebrated the wonders it did for the boys’ grades.

Both mistreated orphans, both from old, respected families (though it takes time for Tom to find his), both powerful halfbloods.

Their differences only just outshone their similarities.

Everyone agreed - quietly, of course, because heaven forbid one of them hears - that if fate had been kinder, Harry Potter and Tom Riddle would have been the best of friends.

And the funny thing? They actually were.

In between their sniping and duels and mean smiles, these two boys succumbed to the draw they felt to each other. Orbiting, never quite colliding but still basking in the presence of the only other one in the world that seemed to see them.

They kept it hidden. Something special, private. A friendship they treasured but were unwilling to share with the world because it was theirs.

Late nights studying in the library turned to idle plans of their future. The places they would travel to, the magics they would learn.

Harry doodled maps and routes they would follow on the backs of his parchment. Tom daydreamed of the power he would wield and the Harry-shaped shadow that was forever at his side.

But they were young, and stupid, and good things never lasted for people like them.

Myrtle Warren died in an accident, and Tom panicked.

He then made a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Harry was sent to Azkaban for murder, and Tom was the one who put him there.

Across the channel, Gellert Grindelwald awakened from the most vivid prophetic dream he had ever experienced. He’d laid there gasping, still blinking away the spots in his vision from the duel with Albus that he lost -

And filled with the bone-deep certainty that he needed to find a boy called Harry Potter.

With the future still ringing in his ears, with the whispers and warnings from Death - not the concept, not the idea, but the being itself - coiling through his mind, Gellert accepted what he must do.

At the very least, he mused, dropping back into his bed and waiting for the pounding of his heart to settle, Albus would never anticipate this.

-

Three months later, Harry Potter vanished from his cell in Azkaban.

Two years later, Gellert Grindelwald was defeated in battle, clutching his first, original wand.

Ten years later, Tom Riddle returned to Britain, ready to seize the power he had always dreamed of.

And two days after that, the remnants of Grindelwald’s Acolytes, long thought to be disbanded and destroyed, launched an attack on the British Ministry of Magic.

Led by Grindelwald’s apprentice.

And he had waited over a decade to submit his complaint to the Wizengamot.