FIC & AESTHETIC: Stronger Together ~ Harry Potter ~ Harry/Tom|Voldemort ~ General

[batsutousai]

They were always together, like two peas in a pod. Inseparable once they'd discovered how very alike they were: Both a little strange, both capable of impossible feats, of controlling the other orphans with a couple of words and a bit of intent thinking. They even looked a little alike; more so each day they spent in each other's shadow.

There were differences, of course, but those very differences let them fit together all the better: Tom wanted to always be the centre of attention, to get the praise and adulations, but his response to criticism or punishment was always swift and harsh; the more people who feared him, the better. Harry, however, was quieter, more inclined to fade into the background, to sneak handfuls of coins from a pocket or purse while Tom made a ruckus, and his temper, while as quick as Tom's, was slow to burn out, and his punishments for slights took time to plan and implement.

When the man came for them, the one in the plum suit, they heard his introduction to the world of magic together, tempering each other’s disbelief and distrust with quick glances and pointed clearing of their throats when they knew the other might misstep. For it didn't take them long, once the initial disbelief had passed, to recognise that they'd found the ultimate opportunity; they'd wanted up and they'd wanted out, and they'd finally found the way.

It was magic that sang in their veins, that let them control and distract others around them, and the possibilities were endless. Tom could find new ways to hurt those who thought them easy targets, ways to keep Harry safe when the old scar on his forehead split open anew for no clear reason. And Harry, he could find new ways to protect them, to cover the tracks that Tom was always too far ahead, too caught up in his brilliant plans to notice.

That man, Dumbledore, didn't trust them, that was clear. But that was fine; they didn't need the approval of a mere teacher. They would play their parts—Tom loud and certain and so very handsome in the limelight, Harry quiet and shy and scheming in his shadow—and they would win the hearts and loyalties of those from old families, those with money and power. They would, together, charm and delight the entirety of the school, avoiding the barriers of Houses because they weren't fools, and house loyalty could only last so long outside Hogwarts' walls.

(They'd learnt that the hard way, the first Christmas of the Blitz—stepping out of the portal to the secret platform into the ruins of war-torn London, still trying so very desperately to pull itself back together, to show holiday cheer when the world was falling down around them—when it was not one of the Slytherins Tom reigned over, but the one Hufflepuff Harry had befriended by chance who offered them safety. And it was not their own Head of House, but Ravenclaw's, who pushed the Headmaster to give sanctuary at Hogwarts to those students living in and around London that summer.)

One night, decades after they'd discovered the truth of their power and begun to build an empire for themselves, Harry would squint past the brilliant light of his partner's failed Killing Curse and see, as the infant they'd come to kill faded out of view, a very familiar cut on its forehead.

"So," he'd say in the following silence, touching that very same scar on his own head, "that's what it's from."

And then he'd pick up his partner's fallen wand and apparate away; they had a prophecy to disprove.

.