The Thunder without Lightning [ Tomarry

Chapter II

The next month passed rather quickly for Harry. Although it surprised him tremendously, him and Tom got along very well— something Harry never thought would happen. Hell, he was probably closer to Tom than he ever was with Ron or Hermione, which was definitely saying something. Saying that he felt more comfortable and like himself around his parents' murderer than his old friends was definitely uncommon, but Tom was amazing; how could Harry not fall for his charms?

Being a Slytherin wasn't even that bad— the decor was a little... green... but the students were oddly nice to him. At first Harry knew it was because Tom threatened them for him, but near the end of the month he realized that they had grown attached to him.

Harry was the happiest he had ever been. His new friends didn't regard him as the boy who lived— they only saw him as Harry. They didn't expect him to be the best in everything, or the bravest, or the coolest. They only expected him to be himself, which was something the small boy had been searching for all of his life.

The only problem was Tom. Harry didn't hate him, of course, but that was the issue. He didn't hate him. Quite the opposite, actually. At first it had been only physical attraction— lust at first sight. But the more Harry got to know the taller boy, the more in love he fell. Charismatic, kind (at least to him), studious, gentle, stubborn... Harry could go on and on. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't want to change Tom. After all, the Dark didn't seem that bad. Maybe if Harry joined him, Tom wouldn't go insane.

What would Dumbledore say about him now— loving the enemy?

Harry couldn't find himself to care. The more Transfiguration lessons he was in, the more he noticed how his ex-mentor favoured the Gryffindors— Harry must have turned a blind eye because he himself was a Gryffindor. Dumbledore didn't care about their wellbeing, even with a basilisk on the loose.

"Emerald?" Harry heard called out from where he was seated in the library. He was reading up on a certain potion for an essay for Slughorn— the same one he had told Seamus he was going to work on before he travelled back in time. "You mustn't worry too much about that singular essay— it is only five inches. We both know you are good at potions."

Harry blushed and his heart fluttered. He couldn't handle it when Tom complemented him. "Not everyone can be blessed with extensive knowledge like you, Tom," he teased as the older boy sat down next to him, noticing that Tom had purposefully pressed their legs together. "I'm allowed to worry considering I'm only in the Slug Club for my Expecto Patronum. What are you doing here?"

Tom hummed in his deep voice, causing Harry to shiver. "I would hope that you are aware that professor Slughorn is hosting a Valentine's Day dance next week, correct?" Harry nodded vigorously. "I was wondering if you would like to accompany me, unless someone has already asked for your hand?"

'Tom would want to go with me?' Harry wondered incredulously. 'He could ask anyone and they would say yes. I'm not anything special! I'm not even good looking!'

Instead of saying this out loud, Harry nodded his head like it would come flying off. "Y-yes!" He squeaked. "That would be great!"

Tom smiled in a way that made it seem like he already knew the answer. "Wonderful, emerald." With that, He leant back and calmly watched Harry continue on with his paper, occasionally rubbing Harry's shoulders when they got too tense. Harry never would have guessed the Dark Lord Voldemort would be so loving and kind.

And hot. But that was irrelevant.

~

Harry was pacing nervously in front of a full body mirror. He had gone out to get dress robes and he hoped they looked fine— he was getting horrible flashbacks to the Yule dance from fourth year, and he couldn't help relating himself back to Ron. At least he looked better than whatever vomit he was wearing that night. Harry had tried countless times to calm his hair down, to no use. He had even brushed his teeth to somehow try and calm his nerves— all to no avail. Checking one last time in the mirror before leaving, he criticized himself again before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him.