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batsutousaiTitle: Abandoned: The Re-Write
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: M/R
Main Pairing: Harry/Tom, Harry/Voldemort
Side Pairings: Ginny/Theodore Nott, Seamus/Blaise Zabini, past-Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Luna, others
Warnings: SLASH, mentions of child abuse/rape/torture, language, character death, minor Dumbledore bashing, Grey-to-Dark!Harry
Summary: A complete re-write of Abandon: Before the start of his seventh year, Harry Potter is abandoned in London by his muggle family and finds himself befriending Lord Voldemort.
Chapter Nine: First Week
-0-
"You appear surprisingly close to Mr Potter, Marcus," Dumbledore commented, stopping next to Marcus' chair at breakfast.
"We met over the summer," Marcus replied evenly. "He's an irritating little brat."
"Indeed?" Dumbledore smiled over at where the groggy Gryffindors were trying not to fall asleep in their eggs. "He seems to be fond of you."
Marcus snorted. "He's used to me," he corrected.
Dumbledore just kept smiling and continued down the table to his seat. Marcus eyed him suspiciously, wondering what the man wasn't saying.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry watched Marcus with some concern. If the Dark Lord acted at all out of character, Dumbledore would probably catch it, and then he'd be screwed. The events that would occur if Marcus was caught would be very bad, and Harry would have to decide rather quickly who he was fighting for.
McGonagall came by and dropped off their schedules. The other Gryffindors looked up, a bit more awake, and they all bowed over their schedules.
"Free period every morning," Ron breathed, pleased.
"Not for us," Parvati muttered as Lavender dozed on her shoulder. "We've got Divination on Wednesdays and Thursdays."
"Look at Friday," Seamus whispered. "Only Defence after lunch. We could get completely smashed Thursday night and not have to wake up until after noon."
"Seamus Finnigan!" Hermione hissed.
"No Defence until Friday, though," Ginny complained, eyeing her own schedule. "For any of us."
"Everyone else will get Brutús before us," Seamus agreed, looking gloomy, though whether it was because of Hermione's glare or the thought of missing out, they couldn't tell.
"At least we can be better prepared for him that way, though," Dean offered with the knowledge gained from six years of changing professors.
"If he's smart, he'll test everyone to see where they're at," Neville commented quietly, then glanced at Harry. "What do you think, Harry?"
"I didn't bother asking about his lesson plans," Harry replied, folding his schedule and shoving it in his pocket, "but he'll probably check knowledge and abilities; he knows most of our year studied outside of class."
"He knows about the DA?" Ron demanded, scandalised.
"Ron, everyone knows about the DA by now," Dean pointed out. "It wasn't a secret or anything last year."
"But it wasn't a professor-sponsored club, either," Hermione defended. "I mean, sure, they knew we were doing it again, but..."
"It was classified as a study group," Harry said, grabbing a biscuit and picking pieces off to eat. "Professor McGonagall and I talked about it before we started up again last year," he added, seeing their curious looks. "I wanted to make sure we wouldn't end up in trouble, but she said it was just, basically, a student-run study group. As long as Madam Pomfrey knew when we held meetings, there wasn't a problem."
"I didn't know Madam Pomfrey knew when the meetings were," Hermione said, eyes wide.
"Or that you went to Professor McGonagall," Ginny agreed.
Neville coughed. "I was the one that suggested he might let Professor McGonagall know," he admitted.
"And I gave Madam Pomfrey one of the coins after McGonagall told me to keep her informed," Harry added, referring to the fake galleons Hermione had made for the group back in their fifth year, when they'd had to hide from Umbridge. They'd kept using the galleons last year just because everyone liked the sense of secrecy, and the meeting times weren't always the same, depending on quidditch and detentions.
"Huh. You know, now that you mention it, I had wondered a bit why she wasn't surprised when Dobby popped me into the wing that one time," Dean offered. "She looked a bit like she'd expected it."
They all chuckled in memory at the incident that had sent Dean down to the hospital wing; Seamus had fudged a spell and accidentally caused Dean's ears to grow about twice the size of his head. The black wizard had laughingly answered to 'Mr Elephant' for a few weeks after that.
Hermione shook her head and rose from the table. "Well, I'm off to the library," she announced.
"Haven't you read everything in there, yet?" Ron complained good-naturedly.
"No, and I've only got one more year to do so," Hermione shot back, eyes laughing. "Anyone want to come with?"
"I think I'll wait until after I've had a class," Parvati muttered and the others all nodded their agreement.
Harry shook his head, amused. "No thanks, 'Mione. I've got a book up in the dorm I'm working on."
"Really?" Hermione's eyes lit up. "What is it?"
"Dual Casting, by Adrian Grey," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Isn't that an auror-restricted text?" Parvati asked, sitting forward and looking over at Harry with surprise. She was studying wizarding law, so it was really no surprise she'd know a restricted title.
"Auror-restricted text?" Harry replied, frowning slightly. He hadn't heard that phrase before. Restricted books, he understood, but auror-restricted?
"You're supposed to be an auror to be able to buy it," Parvati explained. "I mean, auror trainees sometimes get them from their trainers, but..."
"Harry as good as an auror, though," Dean commented.
Harry grimaced. "I'm not that good, Dean. But, sure, an auror I know got it for me for my birthday. It's an interesting read."
"Really? Could I have it when you're done?" Hermione requested.
"Ah... No," Harry decided, shaking his head.
"But, why not?"
Parvati cleared her throat. "It's a restricted book because it contains a lot of Dark spells," she said quietly. "The Ministry likes to keep an eye on who might be learning or using those spells."
The other Gryffindors gave Harry curious looks, but both Ron and Hermione had paled a bit. Ron stood and said, "Mate, a word?"
Harry sighed – he knew his best friends would balk at him reading Dark texts – and got to his feet. "I'll see everyone in the common room," he said, then followed Ron and Hermione out of the room.
They ended up in an empty classroom and wards were thrown up to keep the curious from listening in. Harry sat gingerly on the edge of a desk and watched on as Ron and Hermione had a silent argument about who was going to start first.
Ron won, incidentally, so Harry found himself shortly being graced with Ron's furious demands about why he'd ever want to read about Dark magic and doesn't he understand that Dark magic is bad and he shouldn't be looking at any Dark magic.
Harry finally sighed and, tired of listening to Ron rant, turned and shot the Reductor Curse at a nearby desk.
Ron fell silent, eyes wide with something like fear.
Harry sighed. "Tell me about that curse," he requested.
Ron and Hermione both looked at him like he'd lost it.
Harry sighed again and rubbed at his forehead. "The Reductor Curse," he said, "is a spell that's used to destroy things by reducing it to tiny pieces. It's traditionally used only on inanimate objects, but it's possible to use it on a person–"
"No, it's not," Hermione cut in, frowning. "I've read studies that say that the curse always fails if used on a living organism."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, then turned and transfigured a chair into a large plant. "Reducto," he intoned, and the plant was blown to bits.
"A plant is not a person," Ron snapped.
But, next to him, Hermione had paled. "A plant is living," she whispered. "It's that property which is supposed to cause the curse to fail..."
"It was originally a chair!" Ron insisted, voice shaking.
"And the chair was originally part of a tree," Harry commented quietly. "The Reductor Curse is a Dark–"
"It's neutral!" Ron shouted.
Harry eyed his friend for a moment, while Hermione looked a little sick. "Ron," Harry finally said, "what makes a spell Dark?"
"A spell that always causes harm is Dark," Ron said firmly. "The Reductor Curse doesn't cause harm when cast on an inanimate object, so it's neutral."
"So the destruction of the object being cast at isn't harmful?" Harry muttered. Louder, he said, "If I cast the Curse of a Hundred Daggers at an inanimate object, it would do less damage than the Reductor Curse. Why is one Dark and the other Grey?"
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to answer.
Harry nodded and hopped off the desk. "I can name ten spells off the top of my head that are taught at Hogwarts which are traditionally considered Grey that are, in actuality, Dark. Before you go preaching to me about the evils of using Dark magic, why don't you stop using it yourself?" he said quietly, then left the room and made his way up to his dorm. He'd only wasted half an hour, so he should be able to get some reading in before Charms.
The rest of the day passed about the way Harry had expected: Charms was amusing, Potions gave him a headache, Transfiguration was a little boring, and Ron and Hermione kept their distance the entire time, forcing Harry to sit with Neville in the classes they shared, or Seamus in Potions.
As soon as Transfiguration was over, Harry made his excuses and escaped out to the lake. There, he hopped up into his favourite tree, pulled out his book, and settled in to read.
He was pulled from his reading when a largely unfamiliar voice commented, "I've heard rumours of this mythical thing called supper. Have you, perhaps, heard mention of it as well?"
Harry glanced down and smiled at Marcus, who was giving him a tired smile. "I've heard mention of it, once or twice," he agreed, closing his book. "What time is it?"
"About fifteen 'til seven," Marcus replied.
Harry sighed. "Oh well. I'll go by the kitchens."
Marcus shook his head. "How long have you been out here?"
"Since just after four. I got tired of my Housemates giving me weird looks."
Marcus snorted. "Surely you're used to that by now, Harry?"
Harry held out his book and Marcus took it with a surprised look. "They're acting odd because of that book," he explained, jumping down from the tree. "Ron and 'Mione pulled me away so Ron could try yelling some sense into me."
"Did you hex him?" Marcus wondered, handing the book back. He already knew that Harry was having some sort of training with Moody, but he was a little surprised that the grizzled auror would have given his student a restricted book. He was beginning to understand how Harry had learnt a Dark spell.
"I showed them why reducto is a Dark spell," Harry replied drily.
Marcus laughed. "Brilliant! Did it break them?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I know you hate them, but please try to remember that they're my friends," he requested, turning and starting for the castle.
Marcus snorted, falling into step with the teen. "You're the one going around shattering their delusions."
"You're deriving far too much pleasure from this."
"High horse," Marcus shot back.
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Okay, it was pretty funny. In a sort of, 'They're not going to talk to me for two weeks and it's completely my own fault' way."
Marcus snorted again. "You're better off without them," he declared.
"You don't get an opinion; you're biased against them," Harry retorted. "Are you following me down to the kitchens? Or am I free to eat in peace?"
"Peace? In the kitchens?" Marcus shot him a disbelieving look as he held the castle door open. "Are you mad?"
"Of course he is," Dean replied as Harry's year mates stepped forward.
"Madly in lo–" Seamus started, but stopped when a holly wand came to rest between his eyes.
"Seamus Finnigan, so help me, if you finish that sentence, I'll curse your happy bits off. Clear?"
"Crystal," Seamus squeaked, unconsciously reaching to cover his crotch.
Marcus snorted in amusement and forcibly lowered Harry's arm. "Let's get you some food, Harry, before you threaten someone else."
"Are you scared for your bits, then?" Harry wondered, only to be smacked around the back of his head. "T–Marcus!"
Marcus raised an eyebrow at him and Harry flushed, mentally berating himself for his near slip. "Come on, brat," Marcus insisted and, taking Harry's wand arm, led him away from the teen's chuckling friends.
They ended up in the Dark Lord's quarters, rather than brave the kitchens. He had some food sent up for his guest, then sat back with a cuppa while Harry picked at his plate.
"It's not going to eat itself, Potter," Tom commented.
Harry sighed and put his fork down. "I'm not hungry."
Tom considered the teen for a long moment, then asked, "Are you moping because you ruined your friends' delusions, or because you almost slipped?"
Harry reached up and absently rubbed at his scar. "Almost slipped," he admitted.
Tom frowned and leant forward to pull Harry's hand away from his forehead. The scar looked fine, but he asked, "Is it bothering you?"
Harry blinked in surprise at the genuine concern in the Dark Lord's voice. "Huh? Oh...no, not really. It...tingles, sometimes, but it isn't really a bother. It's just sort of...there, I guess." He shrugged and pulled his wrist out of the Dark Lord's hand. "I don't even realise I'm rubbing it half the time."
"Reflex, then," Tom decided and leaned back in his chair. "I noticed that you'd do it sometimes over the summer, usually when you're uncomfortable."
Harry snorted. "Sociopath."
Tom chuckled and motioned towards Harry's plate. "Eat, Harry."
"I'm not–"
"Do you know how many times I've slipped so far?" Tom asked over Harry's denial.
Harry swallowed and glanced down at his plate. "No."
"At least twice a day. Sometimes, I don't answer when someone calls my name, sometimes I forget to speak with an accent. And, today, I had a class of first years with death wishes. I almost granted that wish quite a few times..." He trailed off, pretending to think about that, but really glanced over to watch Harry smile and relax a bit. "Not even I am perfect," he added and grimaced at the bad taste the admission left in his mouth. He'd been so confident in his acting abilities until he'd had to spend a weekend with people just watching for him to slip up.
Harry felt the other's disgust through their bond and his smile grew just the slightest. "You're perfect enough," he said with sincerity. It took a moment for his mind to catch up to his mouth, and then he flushed and looked firmly away, hoping the Dark Lord hadn't heard him.
But Tom had, and that same strange emotion that came to life when Harry thanked him was again attacking him. He felt himself smile an honest, impossible smile. And then Harry glanced over at him, face flushed with embarrassment, and Tom couldn't help but think, He's really very attractive.
They both jumped when Tom's teacup hit the floor.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked when Tom just stared down at the cup on the ground. "Tom?"
"I'm fine," Tom said, standing and waving his wand to clean up the mess. "I need another cuppa," he decided and hurried into his tiny kitchen. There, he set his cup on the worktop and leant his head against one of the hanging cabinets. What. The. Hell? Where did that thought come from? Why would I even think it?
He closed his eyes and tried to decipher the emotion that only reared its head around Harry. He'd been trying to figure it out for weeks now, but he hadn't had any luck, and it had only been getting more frequent. That, and his new-found happiness at just talking with the teen. It made no sense. And if Fletch knew anything, he wasn't talking about it.
But this...this...attraction? This was new. Or was it just a new symptom of this overall problem?
Dammit, Harry, he thought, stop messing with my head. I can't take much more of this. What was I thinking, coming here?
"Tom?" Harry asked from the doorway of the kitchen, concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Tom said to the cabinets. He sensed Harry's disbelief and smiled tiredly. "It's been a long day," he admitted. Yes, that's it. It's been a long day and I'm tired.
"Okay... Do you want me to go?" Harry asked.
No, Tom's mind supplied, but he shoved that part of him off to one side and said, "It might be best. Go do your homework."
Harry snorted. "You sound like 'Mione."
"Ugh." Tom pushed away from the cabinets and glared at the teen. "Out."
Harry smiled at him. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you at breakfast. Sleep well," he offered, then hurried out of the apartment, not giving Tom the chance to return his well-wishes.
Tom sighed to himself and waved all the lights off, then went to bed. Maybe things would be better in the morning.
Tom was walking out into his sitting room with a tea tray. Harry sat on the couch, but instead of taking the chair, Tom sat on the couch next to the teen, leaving the tray on the table. Harry turned to him with a smile and Tom smiled back, reaching out to touch the side of Harry's face. The teen leaned into the touch, not flinching, and Tom leaned down to capture his mouth in a kiss.
They were on his bed, naked, sweat gleaming in the dim candlelight along Harry's skin as he thrashed against the bedsheets. He was breathing out words in Parseltongue that Tom couldn't quite understand, but knew to be very much not innocent. He thrust into the teen, moaning at how wonderful he felt, how tight and accepting and–
Tom sat up with a gasp. He took a moment to stare around his room, ensure Harry wasn't magically there, then he lay back on the bed. "What the hell was that?" he whispered to the empty room.
Then he became aware of a problem raising his blanket and groaned. He hadn't had this problem since he was a teenager, so why was it cropping up again now?
He reached down to take care of his erection, letting his eyes slip closed as he turned the whole of his focus on getting it handled as quickly as possible. Green eyes flashed through his mind and he came with a gasp. Once he'd come back down from his high, he dropped a hand over his eyes, rubbing at the closed lids. "Shit," he whispered. "Shit."
Tom hadn't cared for anyone since before he could remember, but that's what that emotion was; he didn't just think of Harry as a friend, he genuinely cared for the teen. Cared enough that he needed to keep him safe and happy. Cared enough to sacrifice everything to see the teen smile, to endanger himself and take up the Defence position at Hogwarts to be able to keep spending time with him.
And Harry was attractive – half the population of Hogwarts probably thought so – it was only sensible that Tom would notice. Noticing was okay. Dreaming about having Harry Potter in his bed was not okay. "It won't happen again," Tom told himself. "It can't."
The next few days seemed to fly by. Harry and Tom both went to their classes and handled the troubles that came to them in the forms of peers and classes. Harry took Tom's suggestion to heart and worked on his homework the night he got it, which made Dean and Seamus moan, but Neville would smile and read over his Herbology essays when he asked.
Tom found himself wishing Harry would come by in the evenings, but he knew the teen had friends in his own House that he liked to spend time with. As far as Harry was concerned, Tom wasn't even a friend, probably barely counted as an acquaintance.
Friday finally rolled around. Marcus had the sixth years in the morning and Ginny sat down at the Gryffindor table with bright eyes and a wide smile at lunch. "He's amazing," she breathed to the seventh years. "He seriously knows what he's talking about. It's like learning from Moody, but we're so much older now and actually at war and..." She shook her head, at a loss for words.
"I think Harry's got some competition," Seamus commented.
"Leave my sister out of this!" Ron hissed across the table at the Irishman.
Seamus just grinned back.
Ginny rolled her eyes at the two boys and focussed on Harry. "He really knows what's going on, though, you know? He was alive during Grindelwald and has survived through You-Know-Who so far."
"He lived through Grindelwald?" Hermione asked, leaning around the scowling Ron.
Harry blinked and nodded. "Yeah. He graduated the summer that Professor Dumbledore defeated him."
Hermione deflated a bit. "So he was never a part of the war?"
Harry shrugged. "No, not really. Not in the way Professor Dumbledore was. Why?"
"Hermione was thinking about writing a paper on the war with Grindelwald for History of Magic," Parvati explained, being the only other Gryffindor who'd chosen to stick with Hermione in the sleep-inducing class.
"I suppose you could ask the Headmaster," Harry suggested. "And maybe Professor McGonagall? Hagrid might know something, too." He thought about it for a moment, then added, "And Madam Pomfrey, but she was in Marcus' year..."
"I never realised how many members of the staff lived through World War Two," Hermione commented. "I think Professor Flitwick might have been alive then, too."
"He certainly looks old enough," Ron agreed.
"I'll have to send out owls with questions..." Hermione murmured and pulled out some parchment to make notes on.
The other Gryffindors turned back to Ginny and started picking her brain about their new professor. The sixth year rolled her eyes at their questions and told them they could wait an hour to find out what he was like.
Consequently, when Marcus got to his classroom fifteen minutes before class was to start, he found it already more than half full.
When the last of the Slytherins finally swaggered in, Marcus waved the door shut and observed the full room. He knew, from talking to the other professors, that all but four seventh years had made it into the NEWT level Defence class. The room was quite full and he was wondering if he'd be able to test everyone by the end of their two hours.
Well, nothing to do but jump in, he reminded himself.
"I'm Marcus Brutús," he said to the class. "I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for this last year. For this lesson, I will be testing each of you individually to see where, exactly, you are at. Mr Potter?" he asked, seeing Harry's hand up.
Harry smiled slightly and held out a parchment for Marcus to take. "Sorry I didn't think about this sooner, sir. This is a list of what spells our study group covered last year, as well as who was a member; it might help you judge where people are at."
Marcus glanced over the list and raised his eyebrows. The group had been covering seventh year material since just after the winter holidays. "This will help, Mr Potter, thank you," he said and set it off to the side on his desk. "I'll still have to test you all, but it should go a bit faster. Now, when I call your name, please join me in my office and we'll see what all you know. While I'm testing students, I would appreciate it if the rest of you out here can try and keep quiet. I'm sure the Head Boy and Girl are capable of keeping this lot under control?"
"Mostly," Hermione agreed as Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy, straightened in his seat.
"Good." Marcus considered his roll, then looked around the room again. "Miss Abbott?"
Hannah Abbott sighed and got to her feet. "Here, sir."
"Follow me," he ordered, then led the way into his office.
For the next hour, Marcus called each student into his office and ran them through random spells to judge their knowledge and spellcasting levels. When Harry went in, Marcus shot him a wry smile and commented, "I'm not sure I actually need to test you."
Harry grinned. "No? I'm just that bad, then?"
Marcus snorted. "You're just that good," he disagreed. "I'm curious, though, about why you started covering seventh year material after the holiday." He tapped the parchment Harry had handed him with his wand.
"We had some seventh years in the group," Harry explained. "A couple of them asked before the holiday started if we could look at some material for them and I studied up on it. Most of my year and the year beneath me joined in with practising the spells, but the younger years weren't able to manage any of it, so we kept them at OWL-level material."
"Impressive," Marcus allowed. "Well, why don't you–"
"Tom," Harry said quickly, cutting the Dark Lord off and earning a raised eyebrow. "Is it okay if I visit with you after supper?"
Marcus blinked, surprised. "You can visit my rooms whenever you want, Harry."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't want to drop by if you were busy with anything."
Marcus snorted. "I have some fifth year papers to grade–"
"You already gave the fifth years homework?" Harry asked, disbelieving.
"I only have an hour a day with them; it was easier to give them questions to answer and see how they did with those."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, okay. Well, I'll stop by after supper, then."
"Okay," Marcus agreed. "Now send in Mr Smith for me."
Harry grinned. "Sure thing!" he called and hurried out of the room. "Zacharias, you're in."
Zacharias gave Harry an irritated look – they'd never got on well – but put his books down and made for Marcus' office.
Harry sat back down next to Neville and pulled a book out to read. It was a more classroom appropriate book that he'd received from Mad-Eye about clever ways to use household charms against an opponent.
Seamus leaned around Neville and whispered, "How was your test, then?" He waggled his eyebrows a bit.
Harry gave his roommate an unamused look. "If I didn't like your boyfriend so much, I'd threaten to expose the two of you," he retorted.
"Seamus, leave Harry alone," Neville muttered into his Herbology book.
"But it's so much fun!"
"Let's see if you're still saying that after I've hit you with a paint-stripping charm," Harry hissed.
"I'd go for the dish-washing charm, personally. Aim for the mouth," Neville suggested.
The evil smile that stole across Harry's face made Seamus whimper a bit and back down.
Not too long after that, Marcus finished his assessments and returned to the front of the room. "Right. I'm going to break you up into two groups and you'll be duelling each other in two sets. Last witch or wizard standing in each group will earn their House fifty points."
Someone whistled and a few people perked up in excitement.
Marcus then proceeded to break them up based roughly on their skill level. The higher-level group, which included Harry and a substantial portion of the DA, went first. After giving them a list of which spells were allowed, Marcus let them at it. Fifteen minutes later, Harry was the last man standing and he smiled a bit smugly at Hermione, who had been his last opponent.
"Fifty points, Mr Potter," Marcus said. Once everyone was back on their feet, the second group went and Theodore Nott was the last man standing there, earning Slytherin fifty points.
The students were told to fix the room back up, then dismissed ten minutes early, Marcus telling them to all think about what they could have done better during the duel and they'd talk about it next week.
They left in crowds of chatter, people comparing what had happened and discussing how they could have done things differently. Behind them, Marcus smirked and congratulated himself on an excellent lesson.
Tom didn't bother looking up when he heard his room door open – he'd changed his password that morning to 'silversmith' and hadn't told anyone, which meant only one other person could get in.
"Hi," Harry called, dropping his bag on the couch. "Grading?"
"Crying inside, more like," Tom muttered, turning away from the papers to look at where Harry was leaning on the back of the couch. "How many of these kids were in the DA?"
"Maybe ten?" Harry shrugged. "Most of my year was in the DA, and a good chunk of both last year's graduating class and the current sixth years were members, but we didn't really have a lot of recruitment for the younger years."
"But you got them."
"Oh, sure. A couple members talk loudly in the common about this study group they're in..." Harry shrugged. "The only House we never got any members in was Slytherin, but most of the school doesn't trust them, and it's not like many Slytherins would be willing to join a group I ran."
Tom nodded. "I had noticed that many of the Slytherins were behind their year mates." He glanced back at the papers on his desk again and sighed. "It should prove interesting to balance catching the students up and keeping them interested."
"I wish I could help," Harry offered.
Tom's eyes narrowed in thought and he glanced back at the teen. "Hm... Let me see your schedule."
"Uh... Why?"
"Harry, let me see your schedule."
Harry sighed and pulled his schedule out, then walked it over to the Dark Lord. He proceeded to lean over the edge of the desk and glance between his and Tom's schedule with slow understanding. "Ah... Ah, no. Tom, no."
The Dark Lord smirked and pencilled in some classes on Harry's schedule, then handed it back. "There."
Harry reached for the pencil to erase the added times, but Tom just vanished it. "Come on, Tom. You remember NEWT year; you can't expect me to give up my free time like this."
"You did say you wanted to help," Tom replied, still smirking.
"I didn't, necessarily, mean that I'd come to the class and help you teach!"
"So you don't want to help after all?" Tom asked, putting on a sad face.
Harry closed his eyes against the face and sighed. He really didn't mind the teaching, and if he agreed, he'd get to spend more time with Tom. Nothing wrong with that. "Yeah, okay. But do you really need my help with the third years?" He pointed to where the third year Slytherin/Gryffindor class was marked in after his Care of Magical Creatures class.
"No, probably not," Tom replied, "but don't you want something a bit calm after having to deal with that half-giant–"
"I like Hagrid!" Harry defended. "He's my friend and I enjoy spending time with him, even in class."
Tom sniffed. "If you'd prefer to stay with him after class, be my guest. I'm sure he's a much better conversationalist than thirteen-year-olds."
"I can't stay with him after class, he's got the sixth years," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Fine, I'll come help with the third years. Just know I might be late some days, in case Hagrid needs help putting the creature away."
"Something that half-giant can't handle on his own? Can such a mythical beast exist?"
"It's not Hagrid I'm worried about," Harry snarked and went to put his schedule away.
Tom chuckled and conjured himself a new pencil to mark the papers with.
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a professor use a pencil before," Harry commented, coming back to the desk.
"I'll ink in my corrections later," Tom replied, distracted by an answer, "after I've had a chance to read through what everyone's written. If they're all writing the same things, it might have something to do with the question, or it could be that it's something I seriously need to address. Like this question, here." He pointed to a question partway down the paper.
"Talk about basilisks?" Harry blinked. "What's wrong with it, then? Other than the fact that no one actually talks about basilisks any more."
"Well, they keep saying the last basilisk in Britain was killed five years ago, but the last basilisk I know of was–"
"The one in the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry suggested drily.
Tom scowled at him. "Yes. But she's not dead...is she?"
Harry sighed and looked away. "Yeah, she is. Sorry."
Tom closed his eyes. "Ah, well. At least that explains those answers. I'll still have to tell them what answer they should be writing on the OWLs..."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, it's not quite public knowledge that there was a fifty-foot basilisk under the school and that a twelve-year-old managed to kill it."
"The things you get yourself into..." Tom shook his head.
"I'm going to work on my homework now," Harry decided and turned back towards the couch.
"You mean you only wanted to visit so you had a quiet place to write essays?" Tom complained, turning to watch the teen set up on the couch.
"I can study just fine in the common room, thanks," Harry retorted. "I wanted to visit because I missed your obnoxious self. Don't know why..."
Tom smiled and turned back to his papers. "Fine, then. Work away," he muttered, but he knew Harry could sense his pleasure at the teen being there.
And that was good enough for both of them.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Missing Scene from this chapter, just after Tom's wet dream, written by Shara Lunison:
Tom took care of his little problem...
Somewhere in the Gryffindor tower, Harry awoke from the most mind-blowing orgasm he had ever experienced.
"Bloody hell," he whispered. "Where did that come from?"
In the four poster across from his, he heard Ron's sleepy voice, "All right there, mate?"
"Yeah," Harry called.
"I'll say he's all right," Seamus said, a leer clear in his voice. "Are you having wet dreams about Marcus now, Harry?"
The green-eyed Gryffindor was too busy flushing to respond.
Abandon the Prequel: Sixth Year
Abandon chapter 01
Reclaim chapter One
Abandoned Chapters:
One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight ||
Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || Fifteen || Sixteen || Seventeen || Eighteen || Nineteen || Twenty
INCOMPLETE
.
