HP/LV One Shot

The Moon and the Star 1

"Oh, yes. Far better than any friend you would find here on this earth."

"Really?" Harry sniffles a bit more, snotty, then resumes his attempt at stoicism. "You don't really have to," he adds quickly. "I told you it's okay."

Voldemort suppresses an odd impulse to grin, instead choosing to stretch his lips over his facade of human teeth in a different way, showing the boy his muddled frown.

"I see, Harry," he says, affecting great sadness. "You don't wish to know what present I have secured for you?"

Harry scrambles forward to reassure, little hands gripping on the sleeve of Voldemort’s jacket. "No! I want to know. I want you to tell me."

Voldemort pats the child on the head, noticing how Harry goes still at the touch. "I have decided," says Voldemort, "that I will be your new friend. Would you like that, small one?"

Those green eyes widen almost comically. "You want to be my friend?"

This time, Voldemort does allow his impulse to reign free—he smiles down at the child clinging to his arm. Such a lovely soul, pure and innocent. It would be useless to spoil such a treasure now, not when the years lay ahead of them, years and years for this child to grow and mature into a harvest worth reaping.

"I assure you I do," Voldemort promises, stroking the youngling's dark curls with a gentle touch. "And no other friend would be as wonderful to you as I, don't you agree?"

Harry shuffles under Mr. Tom's hand. He's never had someone pat his head before. Not the Dursleys, not his teachers at school, not Mrs. Figg. Not anyone.

Mr. Tom is special, though. Mr. Tom is nice and wants to be his friend. This is the luckiest day that Harry has ever had.

"Okay," Harry whispers. "If—if you want to be my friend, then I want to be friends with you."

Maybe Dudley is right. Maybe he is a freak, and that's why none of the other kids at school want to be his friend, and that’s why he’s standing here right now, piece of chalk in hand, next to a strange man who only appears when called upon.

But now, Harry thinks, cheering at the thought, now he does have a friend, a really cool one. And Dudley won't be able to make fun of him anymore for being too freakish to have friends, because it won't be true.

"Wonderful," says Mr. Tom

his hand back on Harry's shoulder, pinning him in place, preventing him from moving away.

"I have an idea that will solve your problem," Mr. Tom says eventually.

And then he reaches up for Harry's glasses.

Harry recoils without thinking, calmed only by the shushing noise Mr. Tom makes as he slowly removes the spectacles from Harry's face.

"I'm going to put a magic spell on your glasses," Mr. Tom says seriously. "And then no one will be able to see my present except for you."

"Oh," Harry says. Then he adds, "Really? That will work?"

Mr. Tom hums in response, lifting the necklace from Harry's body. Harry feels sad as the weight is taken away, but the necklace is quickly returned to him after Mr. Tom finishes with his magic.

Harry rubs his hand over the empty space of his shirt. He can feel the ring is there, but he can't see it.

Then Mr. Tom holds out his glasses. Harry takes them, noticing that the spell-o-tape on the middle is now gone, and puts them on. The lenses are clearer, too, and when Harry glances down at his chest he can see the ribbon and the ring.