Tomarry One Shots

Lovesick

Summary: Harry Potter has come unstuck in time.

Ship: HarryPotterxTomRiddle

All credit goes to fast_brother & jadiss on Ao3

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I stand at the window of this great house, overlooking the city I once dreamt of conquering, a city I do not care about anymore. Tomorrow, I will leave it, by way of train or boat, I do not know. It does not matter. You have already left, and where you are now, I cannot follow.

I have tried to forget you, and sometimes even made myself believe I had. Yet tonight, as the wind turns dark above the black river, and I shrink away from my own reflection, I must admit, to myself and to the world, that I am a liar. And out of all the lies I've told, there's one that seems worse than all the others.

We were naked under the white sheets. The morning had come too soon, casting long shadows on the ceiling, the morning which would take you away from me forever. You were curled up in my arms. You asked,

"Were you in love with me, Tom?"

And I shuddered. In the months we hadn't seen each other, I had forgotten the power you yielded. I had forgotten you didn't need a wand, or your fists, to draw blood.

"What does that even mean, being in love?" I asked, my heart pounding in my ribcage.

You didn't answer me, and the shadows on the ceiling grew redder, more terrifying. After a while, you removed yourself from my arms, left me prey to the January cold.

"I see," you said, and dared to smile. "I was. Just so you know."

It wasn't fair, I thought, that you should be so cruel. That you should, after all this time, still claim the moral high ground. You had come from far away, and you had come to kill me. Yet, between the two of us, I had always been the villain. The murderer. You called me that the first time you saw me, remember?

"YOU!" you screamed across the Great Hall, bloodied face partially obstructed by floating candles, picking me out in a sea of hundreds, pointing your righteous finger at me like a loaded rifle, "You're a MURDERER."

I had killed my father, it was true, and worn the price I had paid for it around my finger.

Somebody screamed. You were hidden by a sea of people, gathered around the strange apparition, around the strange young man wearing strange clothes that had materialised out of thin air. They dragged you away by your arms.

"MURDERER," the stone corridors carried your voice, all the way to the Hospital Wing. Eleven days later, you were assigned the bed next to mine.

"Murderer," Malfoy and the boys mocked as you walked in. "Go back to the loony bin, murderer. We don't want you here, murderer."

You ignored them, staring me down as if only you and I were in that room, while outside the rain fell in torrents, streaming down the tall windows like ocean waves on dark, black cliffs.

"Do you deny it?"

"I do," I lied. You laughed. "You really are crazy," I pressed, closing the book I had been pretending to read when you walked in.

"Time travel will do that to you."

"And from what future are you coming, then?" I asked, enthralled. There was something electric about you, as if you could explode at any time, and I wanted to indulge you before I trapped you. And crushed you.

"A sad one," you said, turning your back to me.

"Is it sad because of all the people I murdered?" I flirted, unabashed.