Tomarry One Shots

Murder Games

Summary: Tom and Harry love playing 'who can kill the most people' during some of their lives, especially the ones that are fairly boring. Only...sometimes they take it too far.

Ship: HarryPotterxTomRiddle

All credit goes to forgettheplotbunniesplotpangunsinstead on Ao3

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"I'm winning," Harry bragged as he strutted into the apartment he shared with his soulmate. Tom was sitting in his usual chair by the fire, reading one of his hundreds of books, and looking for all the world like he wasn't paying any attention to Harry. "Did you hear me? I'm. Winning ."

Reddish-brown eyes flickered up to his face and then back down to the book as Tom carefully turned the page. "You always say that and you're always wrong. So I highly doubt that you are actually in the lead." He flipped another page, knowing that it would piss Harry Potter off to be ignored like this.

And he was correct.

His book was suddenly smacked from his hands, landing on the floor with a soft 'blooph', and his lap was filled with the just turned eighteen year old. Sighing at the interruption, but not actually caring since he'd read the book like ten times, he let his arms wrap around his soulmate's waist to keep him from falling.

"I. Am. Winning. Don't you even want to know how I know?"

Tom decided that it should be illegal for his soulmate to pout like that. Grumbling at his own thoughts Tom gave another irritated sigh. "Fine. How do you know you're winning?"

"Death told me, obviously." The response was said with so much cheekiness that it made the older teen contemplate just shoving the other off his lap instead. There was no way that Harry was in the lead. He'd been behind by at least a hundred and fifty earlier today . It was imposs-wait, no, this was Harry Potter. He made impossible things possible. Instead of reacting like he assumed Harry would want, Tom just rolled his eyes.

"That means nothing. Death likes me better. He would tell you anything to make sure I win." A complete lie, but Harry didn't know that. Death actually wasn't fond of Tom at all and would go out of his way to help Harry win just to spite Tom. But the teen was already plotting ways to get back ahead because he refused to lose this time. Harry had won three lives because Death favoured him so much.

The squawk Harry let out at his words and the flailing and falling off Tom's lap was completely worth the displeasure he was going to receive from Death for telling such a lie.

One Week Later...

It was ridiculous how far ahead Harry had been able to get in a simple day. That didn't include the following week. Death was, apparently, unhappy with Tom claiming to be his favourite and had thus began making it near impossible for Tom to score even a single point...until today. By now he was nearly one thousand behind, but he was now fast catching up.

"And just...a little...ha! That should do it!"

The teen stepped back to look at his work. A large section of the railroad track was now filled with all manner of small explosives. He glanced at his watch and quickly figured up in his head before nodding and slipping far enough back to not be caught in the line of fire.

"Five...four..." The train whistle blew loudly, signalling to anyone on the track to get the fuck off because the train wasn't going to stop for them. "Three...two..." The train came around the bend of the track at a higher speed than usual. It was pulling hundreds of cars worth of passengers. All Muggle, of course, and the conductor had no idea what was along the sides and down the middle of the track. The whistle blew again. "...one!"