Tomarry Oneshots

'I was dead.' 'You saved me.'

The door opened, and Snape swept in, all bat robes and menacing scowl.

Harry eyed him, trying to make himself as small as possible.

After the incident with the pensive, Harry didn't want to get under the man's wrath.

He finally understood why he hated him.

Because of his father.

James Bloody Potter.

"Potion is on the board," Snape snapped. "Get to work!"

"And Potter," Harry shivered under the menacing gaze. "Pair up with Longbottom. Let's see if you can mess up a potion even more than usual."

Neville paled, and looked down.

Harry felt indignant fury rise within him, but he stomped it down.

He joined the poor boy, murmuring encouragement.

They worked in silence.

Harry knew it was only a matter of time before one of the Slytherins aimed properly, and their potion would be wrecked.

It would be funny if one of them accidentally managed to save it instead.

The faces they would make!

Harry was sniggering internally, so he didn't notice the potion bubbling up precariously, until it was too late.

It exploded, drenching Harry like a tsunami, and he swayed on his feet, feeling dizzy, and disconnected, as pain exploded from his forehead.

He could hear screaming, but it was becoming fainter and fainter.

When Tom Riddle's diary was stabbed, all he could feel was antagonising pain.

No, no, no! No!

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to die!

For, surely this was death.

This empty loneliness, and darkness.

This was only a little worse then living inside the Diary had been.

Dark, darkness on every side.

Had it been worth it after all?

He had never considered that he would be the one stuck inside of an object.

He had never considered that it may have been better to live, even if to die.

Green eyes appeared occasionally, along with the faint impression of silky hair, fleetingly.

It was the only thing that kept him sane.

Tom Riddle was trapped.

And, as he was trapped, he had a lot of time to think.

Think on his plans, and his life.

Had he ever truly been happy?

No. He hadn't.

He promised himself, on those nights where he lost count of time, that he would make happiness his first priority.

If he escaped.

No. Not 'if'. When.

And then, he breathed.

Breathed for the first time in who knows how long.

He could feel the stone cold floor under his cheek, smell something musty, and taste something in his mouth.

Copper?

Ah. It was blood.

He pushed himself up, and he stared down at his hands, full of wonder.

He could feel something tugging him in his chest.

His eyes followed, and widened.

Dark raven hair lay spilled on the floor, green eyes glazed over in pain.

And Tom finally understood.

Harry returned to consciousness, warm and safe.

Arms were around him, holding him steady, with soft words of gratitude flowing into his ears.

He melted into the embrace, burrowing deeper, unwilling to let this feeling go.

"I was dead." The voice whispered, cracking. "But you saved me."

Harry pulled back slightly, wanting to see the other's face.

What met his gaze, shattered his heart.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was staring back at him, his eyes full of tears, his uniform and hair utterly drenched. He was shaking, minutely, gripping onto Harry as though his life depended upon it.

"I'm sorry." Tom said, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I know it won't change what I've done, but I regret it every day." His voice was quivering, afraid of rejection.

Harry softened, the sight unbearable, lacing his fingers through the other's. "I forgive you."

Tom choked on a sob, his head resting on Harry's. "My sweet, sweet lion..." Harry's eyes misted over.

"Thank you."