Come What May

Chapter 1 : After Death, We'll Meet Again

HOWDY Y'ALL. I'M BACK. And I brought an 11,000+ word chapter for you!!!!!! :D

Y'all can thank Dragonanzar for this mess, because they are a godsend in human form who wrote me a super long slave!tom fanfic in like, 2 months. It's so long and it's so wonderful and I love every word of it.

That being said, if anyone else wants to write some slave!Tom fanfic, please send it to me. I asked this in Poetic Justice, and I'll ask it here too. Because I am desperate, even after reading Dragon's fanfic.

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Chapter Summary: While Tom may have level 100 intelligence, his wisdom... his wisdom is -4.

"Please," Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, "Please accept your Right of Conquest over me." It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words.

Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. "You know, if I agree to this, you've got a lot to make up for, and I'll make sure you pay for every single bit of it."

Riddle's jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. "I know."

"Well, in that case," Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle's hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade of the killing curse. "How could I possibly refuse?"

. . . . .

"Mr. Potter, may we come in?" Two aurors, one male with short brown hair and a scar on his left cheek, and a woman with dark brown hair and a stern glare in her eyes, stood in Harry's doorway.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to even notice the question had been asked, because his attention had been on the man standing behind the aurors, his arms bound tightly behind his back and a collar with a leash attached, the other end in the female auror's deathgrip.

What in the world was Tom Riddle doing at his house???? His extremely warded, hidden, protected house???

Riddle had somehow gotten his good looks back since the final battle, where Harry had accidentally knocked Voldemort unconscious during their duel and decided that he'd rather not kill anyone else, even Voldemort. His hair was jet black, the same shade as Harry's, and curled at the edges, just as it had been when Harry had seen the diary. He was perhaps in his late teens or early twenties at best, looking that much more mature than the diary had with age.

During his staring, Riddle had frowned and lifted his eyes, meeting Harry's vivid green with blood red, only to clench his jaw even harder and look away, staring holes in the ground.

"Mr. Potter?" The male auror prompted again when there was a lack of answer.

Harry shook himself out of his stupor, instead deciding to try and focus on the issue at hand. Surely the aurors will bring up why exactly Tom Riddle has been brought to his house in chains. Surely they will.

"Uh, sure, yeah, come on in." He moved to the side to allow the aurors (and Riddle) access to his doorway.

They settled in the living room, Harry on his comfy armchair and the aurors on a larger couch on the other side of a small table to him. Riddle, however, didn't even try to sit on one of the many pieces of furniture in the room, instead choosing to kneel at the end of the table, an equal space from both the aurors and Harry, without a single bit of prompting from the aurors.