Chapter Text
Hari startled, waking up in Tom Riddle’s arms. At first, it was a warm and gentle feeling. Like the lethargic sensation of opening your eyes in a comfortable bed, not quite ready to face the outside world. But after she had passed a certain threshold, and her mind snapped awake and she knew what was happening, it was as if all the good feelings were sucked out of her.
Because she remembered who he was. And she remembered who she was. And the slap back into reality made her feel sick.
She hated every moment of it.
She hated how comfortable it was. She hated how nice it felt to have Tom’s arms wrapped around her waist (having moved in their sleep, unconsciously moving closer together), his chest to her back as if protecting her, allowing her to simply drift off without consequence from the outside world. She hated how feeling his breath against her ear shot electricity up her spine and made her blush. She hated it all.
Because this teenager would grow up to murder her parents, among countless others. He would terrorize a nation until an entire people feared him too greatly to even utter his name. He would try to kill her multiple times.
Laying down with him, like this, felt perverse. She felt her breath hitch as his hand (large enough to nearly span her entire hip) grabbed her, fingers sliding underneath her shirt and over her bare skin like a brand.
Jolting, she gently slapped his hand away and shot up from the bed, red-faced in embarrassment and frustration and rising panic. Slipping on her jacket, with slippers in hand, she snuck out of the room.
It was only years of experience sneaking around the Dursley household that allowed Hari to go, undetected, through the rickety orphanage.
Once outside, the cold air bit at her face in a nearly painful way, and the sky was no longer starry, but Hari relished in it all. Short of harming herself, it was the only grounding thing she’s had in a while. (She resolutely took the voice telling her that Tom had been grounding as well, and put it in a box to be locked up in the bare corners of her subconsciousness.)
Slowly, she made her way to the tree where she and Anne would sit together, braiding each other’s hair.
Hari slid down on wobbly knees, leaning against the large trunk, letting out a strangled cry.
Merlin and Morgana, she wondered how disgusted her parent’s were, watching their daughter act like some type of needy whore for the man who will grow up to kill them. How disgusted would Ron be? Or Hermione? Or Ginny?! And if she manages to make it back to her time, she will never again be able to look Amos Diggory in the eyes again.
And Professor Dumbledore… how disappointed he would become if he ever learned the truth!
Hari wondered if Rita Skeeter and the majority of Hufflepuffs were correct—if she was just some tart who didn’t care who she was with. Because even now, she could feel the phantom sensation of his fingers on her hips, and found that she missed the way his touch made her feel.
Hari turned around and threw up in the nearby bushes.
Tom Riddle woke up in the middle of the night to a cold bed.
The sensation was nothing new to him. Cold winter nights at the orphanage left children to huddle together with their teeth chattering and their fingers numb. Of course, even when he was a small child, no one was willing to share body warmth with him.
It was why he was so tactile towards Hari. She was just so warm, and her skin so soft. It was almost fascinating to touch, like how the little girls at the orphanage ran their fingers through the fleece of Mrs. Cole’s personal blanket. Even the simple sight of laying beside someone was a novel one.
She was so small; he could feel her hummingbird heartbeat through her ribcage. He wanted her as close to him as possible, and then he wanted her even closer.
So, it was beyond irritating for him to realize that she was no where to be found in the room. After all, it was one thing to simply slip out of the bed they shared and into his, so they wouldn’t be sleeping together. It was another thing entirely if Hari slipped out of the room to share warmth and comfort with someone else.
Tom resolutely did not think about the pang of hurt that shot through him at the idea that even Hari couldn’t bear to share comfort with him, even when she reached out to him first.
Jealousy stirred up inside his gut as possessiveness pricked at his mind.
He tried to imagine who Hari would turn to. Anne or Mary were viable options. Keith or Jacob would probably be with Anne since the three children were nigh inseparable.
Surprisingly, beyond the pinpricks of hurt and annoyance, Tom didn’t really care that much. Hari was borderline maternal with the three children, and it wouldn’t surprise him if she went to make sure they were all right. Or perhaps, she was sharing a bed with Mary because she was too embarrassed at the idea of sharing a bed with a boy.
Tom could understand this.
But if was something about Tom that caused Hari to leave—if Hari tried to take comfort from another orphan boy—he felt as if he would go feral. The mere idea that some irritating bastard got to see Hari when she was soft and vulnerable caused him to clench his fists until his nails drew blood.
He was the one to take care of Hari when she was dissociating. He was the one who grounded her until she gathered herself together. He was the one who she clung onto; the one to hold her into the night.
If Tom found out that anyone else decided to take advantage of her emotional state in order to get close, to witness Hari with her defenses unwillingly down, he’d rip out their eyes for their impertinence.
Now, to find out where his skittish girl had gone.
First, he checked the boy’s room. He knew that if he found Hari there, his control of his magic would snap in an instant. He’d probably strangle whoever was sleeping in the same bed as her (as well as Billy Stubbs, the fucking disgrace of a human being, even by muggle standards).
He’s…not sure how he would handle Hari. Frighten her a bit, certainly. Physically punish her (a well-deserved hex to whatever body part was touching a male that wasn’t him), undecided. Permanent harm, never.
It was as if all of the tension left his body when he found no trace of Hari amongst the boys.
That tension came back when he also failed to find hide or hair of her in the girl’s room as well. Because he knew that she would never try to join Mrs. Cole, for as positive as the batty woman viewed her. A crazy thought passed through his head and he glanced out of the window, cursing under his breath as he saw a foggy silhouette by the tree.
Jogging outside, he glanced at the shivering lump crouched by the large oak.
“Merlin, it’s cold out.”
Hari flinched, but kept her head tucked between her knees. And that wouldn’t do, because she wasn’t paying attention to him. Gently, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, jerking his hand back as his knuckles brushed against her icy skin.
“Are you a fucking idiot?”
Hari finally set a glare at him, and he absentmindedly took the hanky he knew was in her left breast pocket and began to wipe her face of the leftover soot, tears, and snot. “Why are you such a mess?”
Ugh, disgusting.
“Why are you here?” She shot back, leaving his questions unanswered.
“I felt lonely without you in the bed with me,” he deadpanned, “If you wanted to kill yourself via the cold, why didn’t you simply stay behind during the air raid.”
Hari let out an imperious sniff, but her runny nose and red-rimmed eyes ruined the image. “I couldn’t even if I tried—you wouldn’t have let me.”
He gave her a feral smirk. “I wouldn’t have, would I?” And he scooped her up, hissing to himself as he realized just how cold her body was. “Morgana’s saggy tits, how long have you been outside?”
Hari growled, weakly hitting him oh his arm and shoulder. “Let me down. I’m not a child for you to carry.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t sit outside in the cold like you’re suicidal. You do realize you only have yourself to blame for how weak you currently are.”
“For someone with such a pretty face, you have a foul mouth.” Hari grouched, wrapping her arms around his neck in a way that led Tom to believe that she would try to strangle him had she the strength.
“The people here aren’t important enough for me to keep my image intact. Also, darling, you should probably keep track of who’s around you if you want to pass as a muggle. Your Mary or Anne or Keith would have found it weird had they heard me say ‘dear Merlin’ or ‘Morgana’s tits’.”
Hari let out a long series of expletives, burying her face against his chest and subsequently wiping her nose on his shirt. Which again.
Disgusting.
Tom vowed to get back at her. Perhaps with a stinging hex to her arse during Sunday mass. It would be well worth it to see her embarrassment as she tries to hide her fidgeting. If he was lucky, she would yelp or otherwise make a noise loud enough to draw attention. It would be even more entertaining to see what sort of stories she would come up with when someone inevitably asked her if she was okay.
He wondered if she would glare at him, or if her embarrassment would be too great to pay him any mind.
“That’s how you find out that I’m a witch?! After months of carefully keeping my magic still around you, a fucking curse word is all it takes to throw all my effort down the drain?!”
“Quiet!” he whispered harshly, “We’re outside but that won’t matter when you’re screaming like a banshee trying to wake up the entire neighborhood.” He blinked, then glared at her. “And what do you mean, witch? I thought you were a squib because you never showed any magic. And you never told me; I just thought that you were afraid that I would harass you for not having magic.”
Hari let out a hysterical giggle, looking to be moments away from bursting into tears. “Believe it or not, Tom, but you’re not always correct. I kept my magic hidden because having magic in a place like this is a social death trap. And knowing you, you’d somehow find a way to wind me up and manipulate me in a way that I’d lose control of my magic and out myself as a ‘freak’.”
Tom sneered. “Well then, Miss Potter. What’s a pureblood princess like you doing here in some rat-infested orphanage?”
Still in his arms, Hari glared back at him. Green eyes were filled with venom. “My reason for being at the orphanage is the same as everyone else, I’d reckon. Also, you utter tosser, I’m a half-blood.”
“Did the family abandon you because daddy fucked a muggle?”
Hari’s magic sparked off her like an electric current, setting him ablaze. Tom shivered at how tantalizing her pure, raw magic was. His head felt dizzy. He was hyperaware of everything: the blood rushing through his body, the warmth from where their bodies touched, how soft her skin was and—
No.
Not happening.
But Hari was just so pretty in her anger. It made Tom want to rile her up more.
She let out a squeak of surprise when he began to walk back inside, her still in his arms. “Are you going to just bloody carry me to bed?”
“And if I am?”
“I’ll make it as unenjoyable for you as possible.”
“Well, you better do it quietly if you don’t want everyone to wake up and witness you being princess carried.”
Hari clamped her mouth shut and glared bloody murder at him. Merlin, it was just too easy.
Resting her head against his shoulder, she hissed in his ear. “I’ll destroy what little you have here if you don’t put me down. Right. Fucking. Now.”
Tom felt a curl of anger and dark amusement swirling around in his chest. She could damn well try. His grip on her turned harsh, causing her to flinch. He could already imagine the types of bruises she’d have, come midday. “I implore you to try, darling.”
By now, they were in the main hallway, connecting the rooms for the girls and boys. Both of them stayed silent as Tom crept over the floorboards like an apparition.
From within the room adjacent to where he stood, Tom could hear Billy Stubbs snoring like an ingrate again. His fingers twitched—he could still strangle the idiot after he put Hari to bed. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d manage to contribute something back to society had he lived long enough to become an adult.
(And Tom wouldn’t feel like grinding his teeth to powder every time he saw William Edward Stubbs place his hands on Hari as if he had the right to touch her.)
But Hari would immediately know that it was him. And as it turned out, she was a wild card: her power levels were unknown, as were her skills. It was too risky to chance it.
“Wha-? Why are you bringing me to the girl’s dorm?”
“Because something happened within the last four hours to cause you to have a minor mental breakdown. I thought that if your motherly instincts kicked in at the sight of your children, it would help distract you until you were in a better mental state.”
“Anne, Keith, and Jacob are not my kids.”
“Interesting that you already knew who I was talking about without me even naming names.”
Hari flushed again. But this time, instead of anger, she looked pleased at the assessment. Tom didn’t understand the happiness stupid people felt when being tied down by someone. It wasn’t as if mothers automatically loved their children, or there wouldn’t even be half as many in the orphanage. And Hari wasn’t their mother, wasn’t even related distantly.
But her feelings helped him out, so in the end, he couldn’t complain.
As expected, Anne, Keith, and Jacob were huddled up into a single puppy pile, like the gerbils that Miss Suzie had to show the class during his primary schooling.
Hari cooed at the sight, and Tom refrained from rolling his eyes. Yes, they were cute when asleep. But children were loud and obnoxious every other moment of their life, so they ruined any appeal they might have had for him.
Gently, he set Hari down on the bed beside them, tucking all four of them in. Anne let out a sleepy whine at being moved, and Tom hushed her before she could wake up the others.
“Hari was feeling sad and scared after the air raids. So, I need you guys to help protect her against her nightmares.” The sugary-sweetness in his voice made him want to vomit, but charming people was what he had been doing since age eleven. A muggle girl who hadn’t even started primary yet was a piece of cake.
Hari also looked surprised at how gentle he was being. “Tom…”
He kissed her on the forehead and stood back up. “Hush, darling, I’ll see you later today.”
Her face scrunched up and she frowned with growing frustration. “Tom, you can’t just—” But he was already walking away.
Tom frustrated her. And made her want to cry all over again.
There was a disconnect between the boy living with her, and the monster who tortured her for pleasure. And sometimes, Hari wished that he would act like a true monster, if only to make it easy to hate him.
Because she found that she couldn’t, not truly, and that was the most terrifying revelation of all.
How could she? When he was so gentle, and his touch so electric.
She had no doubts that his tone and behavior was insincere, but Hari had always been weak to gentleness, never having experienced it before.
The Dursleys obviously didn’t count. The Weasleys, as much as Hari loved them and could be considered and honorary Weasley, herself, were too loud and bright and bold for that sweet gentleness that Hari craved. Sirius looked at her, and saw her father, who had never needed such a thing. And Hermione, her platonic soulmate and love of her life, was too harsh. She was I’ll-set-you-on-fire-for-hurting-the-ones-I-care-about and hugs so tight, Hari felt like she could pop. And while Hermione’s nearly insane amount of protectiveness warmed her to her toes, it still wasn’t quite what she was looking for.
And like all her weaknesses, she succumbed to it.
After all, she refused to kill him unless he was irrevocably Voldemort, from within nothing could change him from that path. And she had gained his interest, so it was impossible to fly by under the radar. So there really wasn’t much else she could do but to play along.
Besides, no one from her timeline had to know what happened here, and she doubt that Voldemort would care to remember a silly, little girl from his teenaged years who would (hopefully) end up disappearing without a trace back to her own timeline.
Her forehead burned from where he had placed a kiss on it.