Tomarry Oneshots

A Literal Prophesy

"Look!"

Harry's eyes shifted from the spot on the floor - where Sirius should be - to what Neville was pointing to.

The Dark Lord & H. J. Potter

Harry reached out, and his hand closed around the glowing orb.

Not a second later, they were surrounded by death eaters. "Give me the Prophecy, Potter!"

"Where's Sirius?"

"Sirius!" A high pitched cackle echoed. "My dear cousin isn't here!"

Harry felt bile rising in his throat. This had been a trap.

"Hand us the prophecy, and you won't be harmed. Much."

Harry swallowed, his grip tightening.

He looked down at the globe, his eyes widening at the darkening mist.

Then - somehow - it slipped through his fingers, and smashed on the floor.

The reaction was instantaneous - Bellatrix let out a howl of rage, and something rose from the shattered glass.

Harry had barely any time to register the very human shaped cloud, before he was being brutally kissed.

Harry's brain short circuited, and he stared petrified, as it - he - withdrew, his familiar face looking far too smug.

"Y-you-"

Tom Riddle smirked, his eyes oddly soft. Then, in a very fond gesture, he pressed a kiss to his scar. "Until next time."

Harry trembled, supporting himself on the shelf behind him, his breathing ragged, staring at the spot the misty apparition had been.

Deathly silence met him, as he looked at his far too pale friends.

"Who was that, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern.

"N-no one-"

"No one, he says."

Harry's head whipped around, and his heart sank. "H-How much did you - "

"Enough." Red eyes gleamed. "It is rather... interesting. Not at all what I had expected." He was eyeing Harry in a new considering light.

Harry glared, turning red at the way Voldemort was looking him up and down.

Their audience shifted, unsure what they were witnessing, or it's significance.

Harry shot a look at Ginny, and was glad to see she looked fine (well, as fine as one can be when surrounded by death eaters). Perhaps she had never seen Tom in his human form. Good. Less explaining to do.

"Stop looking at me like that!" Harry snapped.

".:Like what?:." The death eaters shuddered at the hissing.

".:Like you want to eat me!:."

Voldemort blinked. ".:You can understand me?:."

"Of course I can - "

".:Oblige me, Dear Harry. Speak like this.:."

Harry jolted, realising he had revealed his parcelmouth abilities.

".:How did you come by this marvellous gift? You and I are not related...:."

".:Er... Dumbledore said I got some of your powers that night.:."

Voldemort stared at him, his eyes widening.

"Impossible." He breathed, his finger coming up to touch Harry's scar, surprisingly not causing any pain.

Something gleamed in Voldemort's eyes, dark and possessive, but also adoring.

He took Harry's arm and side apparated him away, amid the bursting in of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry flinched, frightened, squeezing his eyes shut, already preparing himself for the torture that was going to come.

He was surprised when he was gently lowered onto a soft mattress, and tucked in with a blanket.

"Sweet dreams." Voldemort said softly, his silhouette outlined in the faint light, sending an irrational comforting feeling through Harry, who shut his eyes, succumbing to sleep.