Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Inner Thoughts

Everyone feared there would be an attack that weekend. A period of two weeks had passed between each of the three attacks, and since another two had gone by, it was only logical for the population at Hogwarts to assume the culprit would follow their previously laid-out pattern and petrify another student. The more apprehensive students–which consisted mainly of the lower years–tried to pass nearly the entire weekend away in their common rooms–venturing out only when it was time for meals. The rest, who were less weary but cautious all the same, weren't afraid to wander the castle and snow-covered grounds ; though, you never saw a student who wasn't a Slytherin pureblood or courageous Gryffindor upper-year, alone. The tenseness of the staff didn't help the castle's overall atmosphere as they watched their pupils with eagle-eyes, ready to pounce on whomever looked to be starting trouble.

However, what no one in the school could have possibly known was that the probability of an attack that particular weekend, was at absolute zero.

Because, as it happened, on that particular Saturday afternoon, Slytherin's heir was too busy scouring the castle in search of the boy who had kissed him in the snow and then run off as though the hounds of Hell were snapping at his heels.

Truth be told, Tom hadn't actually planned on what had happened happening. He had been in a state of stupefaction once Harry's lips had touched his. All he'd wanted was to "rescue" the younger boy from Dmitry's clutches, and he'd only thought to bring Harry outside because it had snowed.

Harry loved the snow.

He hadn't intended to retaliate to Harry's snowball with an attack of his own. He hadn't planned on Harry chasing him, for them both to fall, for the younger boy to–

Not that he really minded. It was a delicious secret he'd always kept to himself for fear that Harry would leave him, disgusted with his unnatural thoughts. It had terrified Tom that one day Harry would find out, that he wouldn't understand, and Tom would once again be all alone. Sure, he'd have Abraxas and Orion–as long as Harry told no one, or the two simply didn't care–but neither of them would be able to fill the giant void Harry would certainly leave behind.

Tom checked the path from the Great Hall to the library with incredible thoroughness, poking his head into every classroom–used or unused–and even going so far as to make a quick stop off at the Hospital Wing. The process was slow and extremely frustrating. More than once the Slytherin sixth-year had wished he had a map of the castle that could just show him wherever Harry was hiding.

After agitatedly pursuing the entire first four floors of the castle, Tom stopped and leaned against a random wall for a bit of a break. It was time to use his hibernating brain and actually think of the most probable places Harry could be rather than searching the entire castle. Not only was it gargantuan in size, but the younger boy could have been continuously moving and stopped off at a place Tom had already checked.

Letting out an aggravated growl, Tom began to mentally list all the places Harry might be, followed by all the best hiding spots in Hogwarts that he knew of. There was the library, the dungeons, the owlry, the dungeons, the kitchen, another House's common room, the dungeons...

Tom's blood froze as he was coming up with ideas as a new prospect wormed its way into his train of thought. What if Harry hadn't meant it? What if it was just a random kiss, spurred by the moment? Those types of things occasionally happened. It could even have been that the kiss was meant in merely a friendly sort of way, and the reason Harry had run off was because he'd been embarrassed that it had connected with Tom's lips rather than the older boy's cheek or forehead. Harry had sometimes joked in the past that the two of them were closer than brothers, and Tom had heard that it wasn't uncommon for family members to give each other innocent kisses from time to time. In fact, Orion's older sister did it every time the young Black left for Hogwarts at the beginning of each year...

No, Tom wouldn't accept it. Harry hadn't meant it in a familial way, he was positive. He was convinced. And if Harry tried to play the kiss off as something else, he wouldn't believe it. He'd extract the truth from the younger boy, even if it was doing its damndest to stay covered in the dark. Tom had been waiting years for Harry, having become suspicious of his unusual feelings for the younger boy at age thirteen, and when he'd turned fourteen, he'd known for sure.

But now was not the time to think of that. First, he had to find Harry, and the best place to look seemed to be the dungeons. There were an abundance of unused classrooms down in the dank maze underneath Hogwarts, any one of them a splendid place to hide from someone. Tom was sure that's what Harry was doing, and even though he had to go back the way he came, he could make a pit-stop at the kitchens and inquire within to see if the house-elves knew anything.

Actually, he thought as he hurried back the way he came, maybe the best course of action is to simply ask an elf to find him for me...

"Tom!" Sucking in his cheeks and closing his eyes, Tom counted to ten, very slowly in his head to calm down. It wouldn't do to curse the girl into oblivion for the interruption; she didn't know any better. He also didn't want Harry to become angry with him for behaving impulsively, and he knew that's just what Harry would do if Tom inflicted and sort of damage on the approaching female.

Amaryllis Lacoursiere was probably the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, but that was due in part to her mother being half-veela. The rest of her good looks, she received from her father, who was quite the looker himself. Tom had the impromptu pleasure of meeting the man on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at the end of last term. Amaryllis just had to introduce her parents to the boy whom she'd set her sights on, but that wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him either. Many females at Hogwarts desired him, though Tom thought they were all somewhat featherbrained and should spend more time studying their atrocious spellwork rather than gazing wistfully after him wherever he went. Unfortunately, that was the price one paid for being incredibly handsome, wonderfully intelligent, and a splendidly smooth-talker, even if it was all false praise. One needed to keep up appearances if they wanted to get anywhere in life, and you always caught more flies with honey than with vinegar, Miss Hallwicke, one of the teachers at Tom's muggle school, had told him one day after he'd made another boy cry by insulting the child's artistic abilities. Tom hadn't expected the other boy to be so sensitive–not that he really cared–but had taken his teacher's words to heart when he'd arrived at Hogwarts, and his dealing with other people had become much easier.