Fall from Grace

Deathly Hollows

Chapter 19

Deathly Hollows

"I want to tell you everything, Tom."

The two were back in the Slytherin common room, Harry sitting on Tom's lap as the older Slytherin had his arms wrapped around him. It was only an hour after their encounter with the Minister and Dippet. "Everything Dippet and the Minister want to know, I want to tell you."

"So tell me, pet," Tom said softly. "Tell me all I need to know, my dear." His hand moved down to pet Harry's thighs. Harry moaned at his touch and wished for a moment that they were naked instead of fully clothed, or that he at least changed into his skirt so Harry could feel Tom's fingers on his flesh. "Go on, pet, whisper to your master. Tell me what you refuse to tell those old fools."

"I was born in 1980," Harry panted as Tom's sinful fingers continued to touch him through his clothes. "My dad was a pureblood, my mom a muggleborn. When I was only one, they were killed by Lord Voldemort. After that, I was raised by my muggle aunt and uncle. They hated me and magic." Tom's hand stopped and he returned to just cradling Harry on his lap. "You tried to kill me because there's a prophecy connecting us. But when you used the killing curse, the spell bounced back and destroyed your body instead. No one is sure why, but knowing Dumbledore, he knows. Anyway, I was raised by my aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, they... did not raise me well.

"For the first eleven years, I slept in a cupboard under the stairs. I don't even know how I survived that. The Dursleys made me do all of the chores, even cooking, since I was a little kid. It was actually how I learned how to cook. If I didn't do it right, I would get hit. Sometimes by a slap, other times something harder. One time, I burned the bacon so badly that in a fit of rage, Uncle Vernon hit me with the frying pan while it was still hot. I feel if I wasn't magic, I would be horribly scarred."

Tom held Harry tighter, kissing and nuzzling his neck softly, inhaling his scent. "I'm so happy you're far away from them," he murmured.

"Me too," Harry sighed. "When I was eleven, I got my Hogwarts letter like everyone else. I got into Gryffindor, actually, because I heard of horrible things about Slytherin... there was this boy named Ron Weasley. He was my first friend and..." Harry shuddered, shocked that he was getting a little teary-eyed. "he was the one who convinced me that Slytherin is evil. Anyway, well, every year I was at Hogwarts had something wrong going on with my life. In first year, Voldemort tried to resurrect himself with the Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore hid in the castle. He was possessing a teacher. Ron, another friend named Hermione, and I were forced to go and get the Stone ourselves, facing against many life-threatening challenges and it ended with me killing Quirrell because whenever he tried to touch me, he would burn. I held his face and he turned to dust. I guess he's my first kill."

"First? Not only?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head, "No, not only," he said. "I killed one more, and I wanted to kill another."

"Tell me, my prince," Tom whispered softly.

"Second year, I killed the Basilisk. And it was the first time I met you," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Tom demanded.

"I'm not sure but you were in a diary," Harry started and Tom gasped. Harry looked up at him, frowning. "Do you keep a diary?" he asked.

"I—I do. Wait right here, love," Tom said and he moved Harry softly off his lap before standing up. He walked with urgency to the stairs and came back holding a diary. "Look at this, is this it, Harry? Try to remember!" Tom said with a sense of urgency.

Harry took the diary and stared at it for a moment, his eyes widening. It was exactly like the diary he destroyed three years ago. He stared at it, bewildered. It felt warm, almost invitingly so. He opened it and found that it was empty. "Quill?" he whispered, and Tom provided.