Chapter Text
Harry was not excited to be back at Hogwarts. When Death had given Harry the chance to go back in time and stop Lord Voldemort from ever existing, Harry had jumped at the opportunity without considering the consequences. He thought it would be easy: get in, kill an infantile Dark Lord, get out. It turned out Death had other plans.
"Tom Riddle wasn't wrong. Magic is imbalanced without Dark practitioners, and the persecution of creatures by the Ministry was out of hand. The problem is that he went too far. People hate Dark Magic more than ever before, even some Grey rituals are beginning to be banned, and the Creature Rights Movement is likely to take the back seat during Magical Britain's reconstruction." Death, an unbreathing entity, let out something oddly akin to a sigh. "It's too late for them. And with the collapse of Magical Britain, the rest of the Wizarding World will slowly follow."
"So..." Harry said. "What do we do?"
"Wizarding Britain needs a strong leader like Riddle. And Riddle needs someone to balance him out, to show him that there are ways to achieve his goals without all the pain and strife; someone who can be his equal and challenge him to use his head over his wand; someone to show him he can be loved," Death said, leaning back and watching Harry as if he were a bomb about to go off. Harry, who had gotten better at reigning in his temper since Voldemort's Horcrux had been removed from his scar, simply nodded.
"He needs a friend, then? I can do that," Harry agreed reasonably.
"Yes, a... friend. Sure," Death said, his monotone voice managing to sound teasing.
"Wait-" Before Harry could question Death on his odd phrasing, the deity launched into a lengthy explanation of the plans he'd made for Harry and Riddle (a name change and a Lordship and oh God, this is a lot). The question slipped from Harry's mind.
That was how Harry found himself making his way through the Great Hall under the stares of hundreds of curious Hogwarts students. It was like his first year all over again in the worst way possible.
Harry was sorted into Hufflepuff, something that shocked him to no end. He'd tried to argue with the Hat, but it insisted on the House of the Badgers with a fervor that Harry hadn't expected. After he got over his initial surprise, he decided that his new House actually suited him rather well. Nobody distrusts a Hufflepuff, after all. Loyalty and simplicity are in their nature!
His theory was quickly disproven. Tom Riddle's little followers were on him like flies on a corpse. It was clear that, despite his best efforts to appear unassuming while he found his footing, Riddle was suspicious of him.
Having Riddle's people following him was definitely irritating. They weren't even being subtle about it! If they were going to stalk him, they should at least do it well.
It was a month and a half into the school year when they gave up on hiding their creeping. One cold and dreary October Thursday had Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black, the two people who seemed to be in charge of the stalking mission, sitting on either side of them in Defense. They usually preferred to sit in the row behind him and slightly to his right so they could read his notes over his shoulder. Harry felt himself tense in response to the feeling of Riddle's allies crowding him.
"Switching it up today, huh?" He asked, not bothering to hide his disdain.
"Yes," Malfoy agreed, flashing the fake Pureblood smile that never failed to make Harry cringe. "You're the talk of the school. We thought we'd see if the rumors were true."
"Is that so?" Harry said, tensing further. His gaze slid unconsciously to Riddle, who was pretending not to be listening to their conversation.
"Is it true that you killed your parents so you could claim the Peverell estate?" Black asked, clearly attempting to get Harry to relax by cracking a joke. Harry pulled his eyes away from Riddle to look at Black and had to bite back a wince. Merlin, but he looked like Sirius.
"If it were, why would I tell you?" Harry responded, imitating Black's tone. Malfoy and Black offer him the fakest laughs he's ever heard, and why was he indulging their crap? He needed to get his head back on straight, so he did his best to ignore Malfoy and Black for the rest of the period.
After that, Malfoy and Black seemed to decide to take a more hands-off approach. They started sending other people his way. He didn't realize what they were doing at first. People would come up to him, presumably to ask him the same curious, prying questions people always had. Then they'd introduce themselves, and Harry's stomach would sink. Each name was familiar and evoked memories of screaming and blood and cold laughter as the world collapsed around him. It was a literal waking nightmare, and they just kept coming.
Then one night, he bumped into Riddle. Literally. His scar prickled with annoyance, and, for a split second, he could see his own face through Riddle's eyes. Startled, Harry felt it with his hand. Sure enough, it had opened back up like it always had when he received a vision from Voldemort. Harry had thought that the Horcrux was gone! He would have to ask Death about that. Riddle, for his part, seemed just as thrown off as Harry was.
"Watch where you're going," he said coolly, though Harry felt waves of shock and confusion through the Horcrux. He felt shocked that he hadn't noticed it before. Then again, it had always been stronger when whatever was going on in Voldemort's head pertained to him. At least that explained the frustration and desire to 'solve a puzzle' he'd been feeling since arriving at Hogwarts.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, and then he slipped away, Riddle's befuddlement lingering in his mind. When he was back in the Hufflepuff dorms, he locked himself in the bathroom, put up a silencer, and summoned Death.
"Death, what the hell? Why can I still feel the Horcrux?" He demanded as soon as Death appeared in all its haunting glory. Its bony face had the guts to look confused.
"I... am not sure," it said. "I do not sense that you are a Horcrux, and yet when I look at your soul, I can see that it is irreparably tangled with Tom Riddle's. It is unlike anything I have ever seen before." Harry felt his stomach sink.
"You're kidding," he said flatly. "So there's nothing you can do? I'll be part of him forever?"
"In a sense," Death agreed. "But you are part of him as well. To put it in terms that you may understand, you are..." Death hesitated. "Soulmates." It was so absurd that Harry had to laugh.
"Soulmates!? You think... that we're soulmates?"
"Yes," Death said, and it was not laughing. In fact, it seemed rather grave.
"God," Harry said, sinking to the floor and curling his knees up to his chest. "Riddle's my soulmate."
"On the bright side, this is likely to make your mission to court him much easier," Death said, ever the pragmatist. And Harry, despite his despair, had to agree. It would make it easier to...
"Wait. Court him?" Harry felt his stomach flip. "No. No, you said I would only have to be his friend! I can't court him! He killed my parents!"
"He has yet to do anything of the sort," Death argued.
"Well, maybe. But he already killed Myrtle, framed Hagrid, and made a Horcrux."
"He is not irredeemable," Death said resolutely. "But he will be soon, and this is the only way to stop it." Harry scowled, his dread and disgust turning abruptly to rage.
"Out. Get out," he commanded. Death waffled for a moment. "OUT!" He shouted, letting his full power as Master of Death seep into his voice. Death obeyed.
As Death faded, so too did Harry's anger. He felt resolved, all of a sudden. He would need some time to think this over, but he would do it. It was the only way, after all, and he had to admit that Riddle was attractive. Harry had always felt that way, had always thought it was a shame he was so evil and snake-faced, because everything else about him was hot as hell.
So Harry would court him. And it would be the courting of the century.
"Excuse me," a voice said the next morning as Harry sat in the library. It was another one of Malfoy and Black's spies, most likely. He looked up and did his best not to let his dread show on his face. "This is going to sound so silly, but my friends were wondering if it was true that you're American but were too afraid to come over here themselves," the girl who'd spoken nodded over to her friends, who were suddenly very interested in their Charms homework. Harry offered her a weak but hopefully polite smile and answered her question.
"My family moved to America when I was very young, but I was born here, and when my parents passed, I moved back," he said carefully. The girl smiled gratefully.
"See, was that so hard?" She said, aiming a teasing smile back at her friends. "I'm Heiress Eileen Prince, by the way," she said, bowing her head slightly and offering her hand, as was proper for an heir to do when greeting a Lord or Lady of unknown status. Harry felt his chest tighten. 'By Merlin, this is Snape's mother?' He thought. But because Death would kill him if he wasted all the etiquette training they'd done, he responded in kind.
"Lord Harrison Peverell, well met, Heiress Prince," he said. Eileen continued to smile blithely, and seeing that expression on a face so similar to Snape's snapped him out of the daze he always entered when he saw someone familiar. Snape would have never smiled at him, but one day, this woman would give birth to Snape. Snape, who was one of the bravest and yet most frustrating people Harry had ever met. He felt his cautious smile turn genuine. "But everybody calls me Harry."
Harry had no plan for courting Riddle, but he watched him nearly every day. He wondered idly if any of his followers noticed. They probably hadn't. They were self-centered enough to never realize the person they were staring at was staring right back. Riddle would notice, he knew. And so he settled in to watch and wait for Riddle to come to him.
Riddle approached him after holding out for almost two weeks. It was nearly winter break, and Harry had taken to wandering the dungeons in the evenings despite the extreme chill. It was unpleasant, but the blatant exploration of Slytherin territory was sure to attract attention from the snakes.
"I've noticed you following me, and I know you know what that strange phenomenon was when we bumped into each other. I want you to tell me what it was," Riddle said plainly, skipping pleasantries to get straight to the meat of things. Harry grinned at him.
At some point, it had become clear to Harry that the easiest way to do this would be to be upfront with Riddle. He didn't like to be deceived or manipulated, and Harry, after years of dealing with Dumbledore's twinkling and Voldemort's cackling, understood that better than anyone. So he said, "You're right, I do. Follow me." Then he turned away and started walking in the direction of the Room of Requirement. Tom followed, his indignance at being led around like a misbehaving puppy coming in waves through Harry's scar. When Harry reached the entrance to the RoR and started walking back and forth in front of it, Riddle's irritation reached a breaking point.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" He snarled. Harry, whose own temper was made shorter by Riddle's ire, snapped back.
"You'll see, snake-face. Relax, or I'll sectumsempra your balls off." Riddle huffed, but his anger receded a little bit. Harry returned to his pacing. When the door appeared, all of Riddle's exasperation dissolved into shock. Harry yanked the door open and held it open for him.
"Pains-in-the-ass first," he chirped, motioning for Riddle to enter the room ahead of him. Riddle scoffed something about disgusting Blood Traitors, but went ahead anyway. Harry followed behind him and shut the door firmly before turning to examine the room. The RoR had given him just what he had asked for, and they now stood in a room with a Pensive surrounded by a circle of comfortable-looking chairs. Harry turned his gaze to Riddle and hesitated. If he did this, if he told Riddle the truth, there would be no undoing it. And he knew that Riddle wouldn't accept having half the story. Riddle was clever enough to realize it if Harry omitted information. Really, it was far too late to back out now, and there was no point in Harry's waffling. Harry mourned the loss of the small bit of anonymity he'd managed to maintain to this point and let the words come.
"So..." he started. "You're probably wondering why I brought you here. Actually, I know for a fact that you're wondering. I also know that you're pissed at me for making you wait and uncomfortable with how closely I was just looking at you. I know everything you're feeling, and I have as long as I can remember feeling anything. Since October 31st, 1981, I have had a piece of your soul inside of me." Harry felt a spike of panic at the mention of Riddle's soul.
"What are you talking about, Peverell?" He demanded. Harry waved him off.
"I'll get there," he said. "I was born Harry James Potter on July 31st, 1980, to James Fleamont Potter and Lily Marie Potter, née Evans." And so he told Riddle everything. It took hours, and Riddle often asked to view the memories Harry showed him over and over until he was satisfied that no, they weren't doctored, and no, he wasn't seeing things.
"This is... a lot to take in," Riddle said, flopping back into a chair in a manner so unlike him that Harry had to hold back a laugh.
"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed, sitting in the chair next to him.
"Why would you tell me any of this? I... I killed your parents, your friends, your family... I ruined your life." Riddle seemed genuinely stunned by this. Harry shrugged.
"I'm not sure, really. I think it's because I believe in you, and I want to trust you. I mean, fundamentally, I've always agreed with you. And maybe I shouldn't have told you any of this. Maybe you'll report me to the Ministry, or you'll kill me and use me to make your next Horcrux, and take all the information I gave you and use it to achieve your goals even more quickly. But maybe you won't. And if I can trust you with this, then I can trust you with anything. Besides," Harry offered Riddle a wry grin. "We're soulmates, or some such nonsense. I've never had anyone who loved me and knew every part of me. Maybe that could be you, Riddle." His heart pounded in his chest, waiting to be faced with the sting of rejection. It wasn't like he was in love, but he thought he could be, given time. It would hurt to be shot down, and it would ruin his plans.
"Call me Tom, my soul," Riddle said, eyes softening. "I can feel you panicking. You're afraid I'll match your worst expectations of me, right?
Afraid I'll shoot you down?" Tom laughed and shook his head. "You are the most intelligent, brave, and stunning person I have ever met. Never in my life have I felt so enamored with another person. I'd like to give this... partners thing a try."
"Really?" Harry said, feeling almost breathless with relief. "Also, did you call me your 'soul'?"
"Yes, really," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "When am I ever joking?" Tom ignored Harry's second question, but Harry didn't care. He simply grinned so hard his face hurt.
"Cool. Cause, you know, I fancy you and all," he said. Then he reached for Tom's hand and threaded their fingers together.
"Cool, huh?" Tom laughed. "I may never get used to your future-isms." Harry hummed in response, distracted by the feeling of their mutual joy mingling in his mind, creating a feedback that left Harry feeling almost high.
"I'm excited," he said, after a while. "I think you'll do great things now, Tom. I can't wait to be there."
"We'll do great things, my soul. You are my partner now. Everything we do, we do together."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, shocked by Tom's sudden willingness to have somebody be his equal.
"Of course," Tom said, as though it had never been a question.
"Thanks, love," Harry said. Tom didn't ask what Harry was thanking him for. He probably already knew.
Despite their budding relationship, Tom's followers didn't lay off stalking Harry. He didn’t notice it at first, too caught up in the whirlwind of falling in love with Tom Riddle, but after a few weeks, he noticed that they were still following him around. By the time they were returning from winter break, he was planning to confront Tom. Then, a few days into the new term, Malfoy and Black approached him again.
"So, what do you think of Tom?" Malfoy asked bluntly. He and Black had taken to sitting next to him every day. Usually, Harry ignored them, and they pretended to ignore him right back. Today was different. They must have finally realized that they weren't going to figure him out from a distance.
"What do I think of Riddle?" He repeated. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Black answered. "We just want to know." Harry had to hold back a scoff. Like Tom didn't already know what Harry thought of him. He felt his frustration with Tom's followers begin to boil over. More than that, he was upset with Tom for failing to call off his minions, even though Tom already knew everything there was to know about Harry. Harry wasn't doing anything particularly embarrassing or incriminating anywhere they could follow, but he'd like to have some semblance of privacy while making his way about the castle. It was absurd that he had been completely unable to relax outside of the RoR or the Hufflepuff common room all year! He was done, and he was going to make sure Tom knew it.
"In that case," Harry cleared his throat, mind made up. "I think he's a Pureblood-supremacist hypocrite who's too much of a Slytherin to have his own opinions. I think that he lets his fears and self-doubts compromise his integrity far too often for him to be a respectable leader. I think he holds himself above everyone else when he has just as many issues as the rest of us, if not more." He hesitated for a moment. He could go on, of course, but nothing else he had to say was something Malfoy and Black would understand. "He's an asshole," he concluded after determining that his more creative insults were too much. Malfoy and Black were both wide-eyed with shock.
"You've been thinking about that," Malfoy eventually determined.
"You could say that, yes," Harry agreed. He could tell that Malfoy and Black wanted to say more, but before they could get anything out, Merrythought started class.
Harry knew that Tom would hear about what he'd said soon, so the next morning, he woke early and waited outside the Great Hall for Tom. When he spotted Tom, the other man broke out into a soft smile. Harry scowled back.
"Well, hello, darling," he said, sauntering up to Harry and giving him a soft kiss good morning. "You're irritated. Did you not sleep well?"
"I slept fine," Harry said, glaring at Tom. The other man examined him for a minute before something seemed to occur to him. He laughed gently.
"Ah, then this is about my followers, yes?" Tom said.
"Yes," Harry hissed. "What was that about?"
"You, my soul, drew my attention the very first moment I saw you. I immediately knew that I needed you on my side, or at least out of Dumbledore's clutches. Abraxas and Orion were tasked with figuring out who you were, where you were from, what you valued, and most importantly, if you showed any indication that you might support our cause. I eventually determined that while you seemed to support our ideals, you did not support us. This meant you had to know something we didn't know. You had to have had some reason not to side with us, considering your principles seemed to match ours. That's what they were trying to discern. I told them to stop last night. I already know all I need to."
"So your little followers were trying to get information out of me?" Harry asked, wrath slowly dissolving in the face of Tom's calm explanation.
"Yes," Tom agreed easily. "But, for the record, I didn't think you would want to speak to me."
"Ok, sure. But why'd you only call them off last night?"
"Because I forgot, and it was cause for great amusement when they reported back to me last night? I heard that you had some choice words about me," Tom said. He smiled, big, real, and beautiful, and Harry felt the last vestiges of his anger slip away. He laughed.
"Alright, love. I'm glad you called them off now. It was getting hard not to bite their noses off every time they sent somebody else to talk to me."
"I would have done it sooner if I knew it was bothering you. It had honestly never occurred to me that they would still be so committed after these months," Tom responded, the tilt of his mouth turning slightly self-deprecating. Harry knew Tom struggled with being upfront about his emotions, so it was pleasing to see Tom relaxing a bit while he was around.
"You shouldn't underestimate them," Harry advised. "They'd probably take a long walk off a short pier if you asked." Tom frowned consideringly.
"Probably, yes," Tom agreed, humor shining in his eyes. Harry grinned and stepped forward, slinging his arms around Tom's neck. He tugged Tom's face to meet his and kissed him, sweet and lingering.
"I'll see you later?" He asked, pulling away only far enough that he could speak. Tom smiled.
"Of course, my soul," he agreed, easy as anything. Harry smiled as Tom kissed him again.
When they broke apart again, Harry backed a step away. Over Tom's shoulder, he spotted Malfoy and Black, both gaping in a way that was very unbecoming of their station. Harry chuckled.
"I think you broke the dynamic duo," he said to Tom, nodding in the direction of his two stunned followers. Tom turned his head to look at them and rolled his eyes.
"Get out of here, both of you," he ordered. "And feel free to spread the news." Malfoy and Black quickly obeyed.
"Corvus owes me so much money," Harry heard Malfoy say as they entered the hall. He grinned at that, turning his attention back to Tom.
"Spread the news, huh? That's pretty official," he said. He smirked at Tom, but on the inside, he felt slightly uneasy. For all they'd agreed to be partners, they'd never actually discussed what that meant for their personal relationship. A public announcement of their relationship was a big step. In traditional wixen courting, it was a step that a couple only took if they had the intention to become engaged, barring any unforeseen issues.
"It is," Tom agreed. "But I intend to marry you. I apologize if I have not made that clear." Harry beamed at his partner.
"You hadn't, but that's alright," he said. "I love you anyway." Tom smiled back, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him into a hug.
"And I love you, Harry, darling."