Before the Storm

Chapter 14

Those chill December days were the best of Tom's life. They answered to know one, and nothing. They lounged in one another's company and basked in the glow of new and passionate love, and though he had not found the words to say it, Tom was more hopeful for the future than he had ever been before.

But there were still paths he needed to cross before things were set. He had made plans, and plans were meant to be kept. It had taken exacting and careful thought, but when he woke on the morning of the 30th he was ready for what was to come.

Assuming that mixed within his lessons of pure-blood courting etiquette, Alphard had also let slip when Tom's birthday was, he had planned accordingly. Where he had once thought to set out on the 31, celebrate the day of his birth by meeting his father and creating yet another link to immortality, it was far to risky now. If Harry had anything planned for that day he could not simply get out of it. They had no deadlines, nothing hanging over their heads that he could use to slip away.

And the thought of lying to his beloved left a rather unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Instead he had devised a brilliant solution. Sometime after dinner the night before Tom had received a missive from his summertime employer, Mr Borgin, asking for Tom's urgent help the next day. If he could possibly pop into the shop for an hour or two in the morning Mr Borgin would be in his debt.

Harry had wanted to come with him. Of course. They could not stay outside of the castle, but little day trips, for Tom, at least, were permitted. Harry wasn't yet seventeen and could not go off on his own. But Tom managed to talk him into staying and working on essay he had yet finish for potions.

It had all fallen perfectly into plan, and so, with careful attention to his appearance, which would not be out of place if he were gong to work, Tom prepared himself for what he must do.

~~~

Harry cursed under his breath as he slid, once again on the stairs. Someone had left the windows leading up from dungeons to the library open, and thus creating perfect patches of ice hidden for unsuspecting feet.

This wouldn't be a problem except that he had left his notes in Tom's room the night before. He could probably push through without them, but he'd had a great line in there about nightshade that had made Tom roll his eyes, and Gemma laugh, and he just knew that Slughorn would love it...yet he couldn't quite remember the specifics.

And so, Harry trudged his way back through the halls, cold and miserable, and trying to not think of Tom. Which just made him feel colder and more miserable. It was only for the morning. He could be alone for a few hours. It wasn't but a few months ago that all he wanted was to be alone. He had pined for some quite, to have no one watching him, nothing to do, no demands on his head.

Now he wanted Tom. He's arms, his warms, his company. He was sweet in a way that Harry had never though possible. For anyone, let alone someone who had once grown up to be the worst dark lord of all time.

He didn't want to pat himself on the back when things were still so fresh between them, but Harry was pretty sure he had already set in motion a time where hundreds of people didn't end up dying because of Lord Voldemort.

He was, perhaps, just a bit proud of himself.

Tom's room opened for him instantly, though the lock was still in place. He hadn't asked, yet he was rather certain that Tom had keyed Harry's magical signature into the rooms locks while he was sleeping one morning. Either way, he no longer needed Tom there to access the room.

They had grown comfortable in the last few weeks. Harry's things were now scattered about Tom's once perfect space. Here and there were one of his stockings or a discarded robe that he had yet to be placed back in the wardrobe or left in the hamper for the house elves to wash. Harry's comb rested on the table near fireplace, where he liked to sit in the evenings getting ready for bed. Harry's school books were neatly lined up next to Tom's on a shelf, and Harry's homework and notes were sat in a messy heap on the desk. In his haste to get the notes and be back in the library, Harry accidentally knocked several other stacks of paper off the desk to sweep across the floor.