Chapter Sixteen of 'Lightning and War'- Families of Choice
Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter One.
Title: Lightning and War (16/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Tom Riddle, a few het and slash background pairings mentioned
Content Notes: Established relationship, angst, violence, dimension travel
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Tom are pursuing Harry’s cousin Jonquil Potter into Tom’s dangerous, paranoia-ridden world. In addition to finding Jonquil, they need to deal with Dumbledore, Tom’s associates, and dangerous fluctuations in Harry’s magic. Sequel to Jonquils and Lightning.
Author’s Notes: This story involves a lot of background that won’t make much sense without having read the prequel. At the moment, I don’t know how long this story will be or if it will be the last in the series.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Sixteen-Families of Choice
“Are you all right?”
Tom stared in silence down at the cup of tea in his hands. Harry had ordered it from a house-elf the minute they got back to Malfoy Manor and had then stood in front of Tom, obscuring the sight of him from the elf. Tom wondered dimly if Harry was thinking of keeping the elf from reporting to Abraxas how weak Tom looked right now.
But honestly, Tom didn’t feel weak, although he knew he was pale and his hand shook on the teacup he was holding, and Harry knelt beside him holding his arm in concern. He sipped from the tea and considered.
He felt-strong. Strong enough to ask for something he had thought of and speculated about only.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You don’t look-”
“It’s a bit of a shock,” Tom said dismissively, and put the cup of tea down on the table beside them. “It will pass. I want to know how much you knew of my family in your first world.”
Harry grimaced a little and leaned back on his knees, although he didn’t release his hold on Tom’s arm. “Only what I saw from memories my version of Dumbledore showed me. Your mother fell in love with Tom Riddle and used a love potion on him, then stopped using it when she was pregnant with you-I mean, the Tom Riddle, Jr. of that world. Riddle rejected her, and she had her baby at an orphanage and died soon after. I knew that Marvolo was your grandfather and Morfin your uncle, and the Voldemort of my world framed Morfin for the deaths of his father and Riddle grandparents.”
“What else?”
Harry sighed. “Your family had two artifacts that were important to them, Slytherin’s locket and a ring. Voldemort made them both into Horcruxes and hid the ring in the shack that his family used to live in and the locket in a cave that he associated with torture of the other children in the orphanage. One of his followers went rogue later and stole the locket, replacing it with a fake. I managed to get hold of the locket from a house-elf-”
“A house-elf?”
“Yes. He’d been the elf of the Death Eater who went rogue. The ring, Dumbledore found and destroyed. But it cursed his hand.”
Tom was silent, thinking. Then he asked, “Was my mother a Squib in that world?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I know she didn’t go to Hogwarts. But she was so abused and worn-down by her father and brother that it’s impossible for me to say how her magic manifested. She could brew a love potion.”
Tom nodded slowly. “I’m glad that I didn’t grow up in your world.”
“Even with how horrible your family is in this one?” Harry’s spine was stiff, his eyes blazing as if they still stood in front of the Gaunts. “It’s terrible, what they did to you.”
“They’ve always hidden. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they would be upset when I began to fight for my place.” Tom reached out and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, drawing his fingers slowly down from cloth to bare skin. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”
“What would make you feel better?”
Tom smiled, as slowly as he had touched Harry. Harry’s voice was soft, his eyes fixed on Tom as if no one else had ever existed in the world. Even if Harry was doing this mainly because he thought Tom wanted to, that was more than tempting enough.
“For you to fuck me.”
*
Harry choked. Tom only raised his eyebrows as if he hadn’t said something astonishing.
“You’ve never done it before?”
“I-it’s not that. I thought you would always prefer to be on top.”
“I think you’re confusing me with the Tom Riddle from your world.”
And maybe I am, Harry thought, as he took in the way that Tom sat there and looked at him, the depth in his eyes, the way his hands rested on the arms of the chair. That Tom Riddle would never have been this calm about being rejected by his family. He might well have killed them.
That Tom Riddle would have succeeded in making a Horcrux.
Harry smiled at last, and stretched out his hand. “Come with me, then. I think we’ll make it to the bedroom faster if we don’t have to deal with all your Knights asking us where we’re going.”
Tom smiled slightly as he stood up. His eyes never left Harry’s face, even when Harry guided him around corners and past shrouded furniture that would have made most people look down at their feet.
God, he trusts met. I hope I don’t fuck this up.
Harry closed the door behind them the minute they entered their bedroom, and then Tom was on him, kissing him as if he wanted his teeth to break. Harry fell onto the bed, working at the buttons of Tom’s shirt. He could feel his own breath quickening, his cock stirring.
He would have been lying if he said that he was going to do this all for Tom’s benefit. He wanted to see, to feel, what Tom would look like underneath him, around him.
Tom stripped off his shirt with swift, efficient movements, even though Harry had wanted to be the one to take it off. Then he lounged on the bed, and Harry’s mouth watered as he reached out and curled his fingers through the sparse dark hair on Tom’s chest.
“I trust it meets with your approval?” Tom murmured, half-closing his eyes.
“Merlin, yes. You always do.”
Tom smiled and tilted forwards to kiss him. Somehow, without removing his hands or his eyes from Tom, Harry managed to get out of most of his own clothes, but Tom was the one who removed his own shoes, socks, and trousers. He was reaching for his pants when Harry snapped, “Stop, would you?”
Tom looked at him, his fingers still hooked in the sides of the cloth. “What do you mean?”
“I want to be the one to undress you. At least as much as you’re still dressed.”
Tom raised one eyebrow as far as it would apparently go, and then leaned back with his legs spread. Harry stared at the outline of his cock against the cloth before he jerked his eyes away. Tom laughed quietly. “Out of everything we’ve been through, that’s what embarrasses you?”
“Sometimes I have odd reactions,” Harry murmured, and leaned forwards so that he could rest his face against the cloth. Tom breathed in harshly. Harry reached up and traced his fingers around the curve of Tom’s cock this time.
“I think I like them,” Tom said, and lounged still further back. Harry gently took his pants off.
*
Yes, it had been a good idea to ask for what he wanted. Harry was panting and bright-eyed, his quickening breath stirring Tom more thoroughly to life than anything had done in ages. He let his legs fall open until they hurt, and Harry gently eased them back together to slip his pants over his ankles.
Then Tom was bare, and Harry took him in his mouth without hesitation.
The sucking wet pleasure was just what Tom needed at the moment. He let images blur and shift in his mind, blending together until they buzzed, nothing else, in the back of his head. And then they whirled away altogether as Harry gave a deep suck.
Tom shuddered and reached down to yank at Harry’s hair, which was rarely satisfactory to yank on, as short as it was. But this time, Harry leaned in to the touch and sucked yet again, a long, drawing pull that brought Tom off in such a short time he barely had a minute to buck his hips.
That’s what should be embarrassing, Tom thought as he blinked, in a daze, and looked down to see Harry darting his tongue out to collect a drop of whiteness from the side of his mouth.
“I reckon I don’t need to ask if that was good.”
“Could always be better,” Tom replied, but his panting betrayed him, and Harry’s slight frown became a smug smile. He kissed Tom’s ankle and urged his legs wide again, then appeared to change his mind.
“Turn over.”
Tom did it as nonchalantly as he could, although his pulse was already beginning to flutter faster in his throat. Harry seemed to sense how he felt, because his kisses rose up Tom’s feet to his thighs, and his hands were incredibly gentle as he urged Tom’s legs wider again.
“I promise that I won’t do anything you don’t want.”
Tom wanted to say that Harry didn’t know what he wanted, and how could he, when Tom himself only had vague ideas? But he remembered that sensation he’d had watching Harry defend him from his family, and he nodded, listening to his hair rustle on the sheets. “I know.”
Harry kissed the middle of his spine, and slid his fingers down to separate Tom’s cheeks. Tom grunted a little as Harry conjured lube and eased a finger in. Harry started to pause, but Tom was already shaking his head. “Fine. It just feels stranger than I expected.”
“I know. I thought so, too, the first time I felt it.”
Tom arched his neck back to watch as Harry penetrated him, although from this angle, he honestly couldn’t see much more than the nape of Harry’s neck and the point of his chin under his hair. “You need a haircut.”
Harry rolled his eyes at him, face shining, and eased another finger in. Tom gasped and rocked back and forth. He was starting to understand the kind of trust that Harry would have had to have in him to let Tom do this to him, and more than once.
He closed his eyes. Black and violet swirled behind the lids, dancing until he concentrated on nothing but Harry’s fingers parting gently in him, pushing back and forth, and brushing his prostate in a noiseless flash of pleasure.
“All right?”
“Yeah,” Tom said, and dropped his head down as Harry hesitated. “I’m ready.”
“All right,” Harry said again, this time without a question, trusting Tom to know what he was saying. He was lubing up his cock, from the sound, and Tom could already feel himself beginning to twitch and fill again at the thought. He would have liked to watch that, too, but he also knew that this was the easier position for a first time.
Harry slid into him, and Tom hissed. It was thicker than Harry’s fingers, but that wasn’t the major difference. He was a lot warmer, it seemed to burn, and Tom clasped the blanket with tight knuckles.
Harry stopped, then moved forwards when Tom nodded rapidly. There was enough slickness to ease the way, without completely dimming the heat or the feeling. Tom found that he preferred this way-or he acknowledged it to himself when he realized he was thrusting steadily backwards with his hips in search of Harry’s erection.
Harry kissed his back again, and then he was all the way in. Tom grunted in surprise. He would have said, if someone had asked him, that there was more to go.
But there was no one here to ask. There was only him and Harry. And Harry would never tell anyone else what he saw here…
Tom felt the hovering pain and discomfort melt away before the thought of that, and he smiled. Not only would Harry not tell anyone else what he saw here, but he would never be doing this to anyone else. Tom was the only one who would feel Harry inside himself, the way that he was the only person who would be inside Harry.
Tom had once believed he would never snare a person he trusted enough to do this. Then again, he hadn’t believed he could fall in love, either.
He tilted his head back and whispered, “Fuck me harder.”
From the startled snap of Harry’s hips, he was about to do just that.
*
Merlin, Tom.
Harry wanted to clutch Tom’s hair and bring his head back and kiss him. But he was really too caught up in the heat inside him, and the way Tom was pushing back, and the cascade of his breath, and he was bent over him, and so he did manage to kiss the top of Tom’s head. Tom’s hand found his and clutched it so hard that for a second, Harry thought the bones would break.
Holy hell.
It was wonderful. It was bliss. Harry returned Tom’s clutch and kept his pace going, shutting his eyes as he drove into Tom, but also trying to brush Tom’s prostate as much as he could. He wanted to return the pleasure. It was only right that he make Tom feel good when Tom was making him feel this good.
Harry’s pleasure mounted, soaring higher as he heard the continued little grunts escaping Tom. Now his hips were out of his control, and he only hoped that those grunts meant he was hitting Tom’s prostate more often than not.
Tom’s skin was getting slick with sweat underneath him. Harry sat back and tried, as best as he could when his cock was going crazy on him, to reach down and slide his hand under Tom’s body and get hold of his cock.
Tom cried out abruptly and squeezed down, and Harry came in a glorious, confusing, slightly guilty rush. He gasped and sagged, but managed to wriggle his hand into what should be the right position to bring Tom off, too.
He found nothing but limp flesh and wetness, and blinked a little as he tried to reach for it again.
Tom laughed into his arms, and then turned and gave Harry a smile that had all kinds of edges Harry would probably have to examine in a Pensieve memory to understand. “I came when you moved like that.”
“What, leaning back? I didn’t mean to-”
“Mmm, I know.” Tom reached up and grabbed Harry’s arm with a casual hand, pulling him firmly down, Harry went with the motion, and Tom kissed him, obviously not caring about the painful angle he was forcing Harry to bend his neck at. “And if you can fuck me that well when you don’t have any training, just imagine what you’ll be like with it.”
“Training?” Harry asked suspiciously, swallowing at the slickness covering his lips and the light in Tom’s eyes.
“Well, of course, you aren’t ever going to have the experience of fucking someone else again, so I’ll have to teach you how best to please me,” Tom explained as Harry slowly withdrew from him and reached for his wand to cast the necessary cleaning charms. “I’ll show you how I like it. It ought to be a pleasant experience for both of us.”
Harry rolled his eyes and cast the charms anyway, although he might not have used as much gentleness as he could have on Tom’s arse. Tom jumped, but said nothing. Harry sighed and settled in next to him, one arm draped around his shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about training right now, or anything outside this bedroom,” he murmured.
“Training would qualify as something inside the bedroom.” Tom eyed him. “Unless you have some desires you haven’t told me about…”
Harry groaned and hid his face in Tom’s arm. Tom stroked his hair, and talked about some more nonsensical things that Harry didn’t listen to. He didn’t need to, not when the stroking itself was soothing him to sleep.
And sleep he did.
*
“My lord…”
Tom looked up as the door of the bedroom opened and Abraxas stepped in. He stopped the moment he saw Harry lying curled next to Tom, and bowed his head. Tom waved a negligent hand at him. Abraxas couldn’t have known that Harry was here. “Yes? Do you have a report?”
“An owl arrived for you,” Abraxas murmured, and held out a piece of parchment. “It wasn’t sealed. However, I neither read it nor let anyone else read it.”
“I see.” Tom took it and unfolded it, studying his mother’s handwriting for a moment. It was so curled back on itself and scratched and re-scratched, the way it usually got when she was angry, that he honestly couldn’t read it for a moment.
Then he could.
Your grandfather has disowned you. You no longer have the right to call yourself Tom Gaunt.
Tom sighed a little and folded the parchment, his gaze straying to where Harry was breathing strong and confident beside him. He debated waking him and asking his opinion on what Tom should do now that he didn’t have a pure-blood name to command attention.
He could practically envision the way Harry would wrinkle his nose, though, and hear his words. What does the name matter? You’ve always commanded attention because of your charisma and your magic.
Tom could think of another solution, though one that he would have to get Harry’s opinion on when he awoke. He nodded to Abraxas. “The owl doesn’t require a response. You may go.”
Abraxas bowed and left. Tom lounged on the pillow, mind whirling too fast to fall asleep, as it usually was when he tried to nap in the middle of the day. He shifted to feel the pleasant twinge in his arse, and considered his idea.
Surely Harry wouldn’t mind sharing the name Potter, now that the rest of the family has disappeared from this dimension.
Chapter Seventeen.
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