(tomarry) The Veil of the Sick, Poor, and Stupid

Sirius Black falls through the Veil. Harry Potter, with a constant refusal to lose, to let those he loves die, follows.

They come out the other side; inserting themselves into a world that is their own, but different. There is something blatantly and disgustingly wrong here. Tom Riddle is president. Harry Potter is his right-hand man. Sirius Black is in love with the wrong man.

And it seems Harry is too.

In other words: Harry Potter tries to get back to his world, and Tom Riddle finds him so interesting he does not want to let him.

...

"Harry," Tom says. His tone is cautious; his eyes narrowed. But not committed. He does not want to believe what he sees. And what an act of mine, thinks Harry, being able to make Mr.-Fucking-President doubt himself. "What is that?"

"This," Harry weighs the heavy thing in his hand, his magic suppressing bracelet jiggling against his wrist. "Is a gun."

Tom tugs his own bracelet absently. He has, surely, by now noticed it is not a friendship one. It is not a gift. He states, cautious and almost, Harry would say, if he didn't know better, betrayed, "It's not Auror issued."

"No," says Harry. He points it at Tom, who steels himself. "It's not. It's Muggle."

Tom eyes him. Considers if he can run, if he can fight -- but he's always admired Harry's muscles, in his own fucked up sort of way. This is not a fight he can win. There is nowhere to run.

"Are you going to shoot me, Harry?"

"What do you think?" (He doesn't want to.)

"I think," says Tom, almost too quiet to hear, "you love me."