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Vera )1957( Having Harry as a willing, fully conscious participant made the experience forty times more overwhelming then the first time. It was one thing to rut like animals, quite another to approach each other as adults. It should have been horribly strange and awkward. And it was for the first few minutes. They went back to the house and went straight up to the bedroom, neither wishing to delay the inevitable. Hesitant, Tom trailed a finger down Harry's jaw, waiting for a tightening, a tremble anything. He wasn't expecting his fingers to be caught and a delicate kiss to be pressed into his palm. The intricate dance Harry initiated was nothing like the last time. If anything, its intention was clearly to wipe any memory of the last time from their memories, leaving only this tender, raw thing between them. Harry insisted on stripping Tom himself, pressing closed mouth kisses on revealed inches of flesh. From wrists to waist until Tom was sure he was going to scream in frustration. A flash of teeth on his stomach distracted him from fast fingers on his trousers. Then he had to perform the awkward shoe/sock removal dance that was never ever sexy, no matter how many times he practiced it in front of the mirror. Naked and vulnerable, he had no fear. Harry pushed him on the bed, before stoping to remove his own clothing. "You're wearing a glamour." It caught both of them by surprise and Harry paused halfway through pulling off his trousers. " You don't usually. You put one up today." "I always wear one when I..." "Even then..." "I have them called up automatically. No one wants to pause in the middle of something to do complicated spells." "Could you drop them?" He moved sat up, curling his legs underneath him. "It's not as pretty." The warning was half-hearted as if Harry knew this battle was lost before it began. "Pretty is overrated." The release of energy signaled something more then the dropping of glamour. Shields, massive thick layers of them crumbled and lay bare the man Tom had once thought he knew. Power, slick and quivering with potential lapped at his mind, caressed it and rolled through it. It left him starving for breath and half-hard. Locking eyes with Harry, he took down his own layers of protection and he was gratified to find the older man swaying. Power drunk, Harry finally managed to rid himself of his clothes and crawl over to Tom. In the bright afternoon light, Tom could easily make out what Harry had struggled to hide. Long ropey scars that must be from claw marks slashed down from one shoulder to abdomen, three curse burns puckered the skin over his hip and the print of a hand was seared over his heart. Reverently and afraid, Tom placed his hand into the groove of the hand scar. It fit perfectly, already countered. Harry hissed at the contact, but didn't pull away. "That was me." "Not you, never you." Harry kissed him again, this time possessive and hard. "Another life time, another time line." Feeling the need to repent for the pain he had not inflicted, Tom rolled them, before slithering down the older man's body to suckle at his interested cock. Encouraging hands stroked his shoulders, neck and carded through thick black hair. He worked, sloppy and obscene noises filling the air. This time Harry spoke. It was nonsense mostly, but a harsh cascade of words that spurred on his younger lover. When he came, Tom managed to swallow some of it before he started to gag, then spit out the rest into a corner of a sheet. A fresh breath charm dually muttered, he climbed back up the sheets to press his own kisses on torso, neck and face. Harry's wild hair had taken on epic proportions of disarray, creating a black nimbus of chaos on the pillow. Slowly, teasingly, the older man lifted a hand and spat into it , before reaching down to take Tom in his hand, using his other arm to guide the younger man down next to him. Laying on his side, staring into Harry's eyes, he arched into the sensation, letting loose a series of embarrassing squeaks. It was just a hand job, he repeated to himself, you've had sex with dozens of the most gorgeous men and women in the world. Some of whom had degrees in sex magic. You will not be undone by a vaguely out of shape forty year old wizard. Another wave of magical force washed over him, causing the most deafening cascade of notes he'd ever heard in a sexual power melding. He came so hard, he could have sworn that he blacked out for a moment. When he came to, Harry was still watching him. The shields slowly rebuilt themselves though not as thickly as before. "I do love you." Harry said softly. "Never question that." "I know." He moved closer, eager to keep the intimacy that they had shared. "I never doubted it. Not even that day in the hospital when you told me you would have killed me. You have to really love someone to kill them to save them from themselves." "I wasn't thinking of you then." And it should have been harsh, but Tom knew that it was a lie and let it go. "You and I are bound by more then love anyway." "Oh?" There was only a hint of amusement there. A quirk of a brow and a pause in the hand that had been stroking his side. He moved into the touch a little to encourage it again. "We have spared each other from horrible fates. Saved each other and laid each other low. We have been allies, enemies, monsters and angels. Even, on occasion, simply men. What other couple can claim to have truly known each other all their lives, from the darkest depths of their souls to the most trivial of habits? I love you that is sure, but what I feel for you is not that simple." "You should take up poetry." The hand resumed its stroking. "I've had time to refine my speeches. There's one that I like that is solely about your arse." "You are a troubled young man." "Not so young anymore." "No, I guess not. But if you're old, then I'm ancient, so allow me my few self-deceptions." "You," Tom pointed out helpfully, "have not even been born yet. Which means I am taking advantage of a much younger man." The low chuckle shook Tom's head. Content, he draped one leg possessively over Harry's and fell into a deep black sleep. )*( The translation was fascinating. Harry read it, eyes widening and making happy little discovery noises as he paged through it. Dimly, he was aware of Tom watching him. It was the first time he'd dared showed anyone else Salazar's text and only when Harry was through did he ask the question that had weighed on his mind since he had left England. "What if.." He paused, tapping the spine of the tome. "What if he meant me to kill the basilisk?" "But it says directly here. The whole plan is for you to let it loose. Kill off the impure ones." Harry pointed to several chapters concerning just that. "Harry, think...this is Salazar Slytherin, the most manipulative man in the history of ever. Do you think he would write a text to his heir with the sole intention that the heir carry out his every command mindlessly?" "No, I suppose not." "What if it was a test?" The two men stared at each and then rouse at one. "The fastest way to Hogwarts is floo." Harry reminded him as Tom went for his broom. "I'll call Minerva." They were there within minutes, a very eager Minerva armed with a few good torches. "No Albus?" Harry asked tartly. "No." She glanced away. "I wouldn't tell him about this." "Minnie.." "I've made my choice, Tom. Not all of us are so fortunate as to trust the ones we love." Now it was Harry's turn to glance away, remembering his furious rush to the Chamber, ready to slay the greatest love of his life. Together, they secured the bathroom and Tom opened the entrance. In silence, they made their way down. The room was as over done as ever. It seemed no one could stomach coming down to clean up the corpse, so the basilisk lay where he had slain it. It hadn't rotted at all and Tom shivered as they muscled by it into the room it was blocking. The small, plain chamber had none of the ostentatious marks of the outside. Instead there was only a painting of a classically handsome young man. Black haired and green eyed, he peered at them with a certain amount of contempt. ~What took you so long?~ ~I'm sorry. I had business to attend to.~ Tom stepped forward. ~Did I pass your test, sire?~ ~You know you have. There is no need to fish for compliments.~ Salazar sneered. ~Are you ready for the great work, child?~ ~I will not rid the world of muggles or mudbloods.~ He glanced over to Harry, who nodded supportively back at him. ~Don't be stupid. Sweet Merlin, where's your head? I could careless about those miserable impurities. I am concerned with the wizarding world. Tell me of politics, the world. I have spoken with the other portraits over the years. Spied in offices, but much is lost. And we have an empire to rebuild.~ "What are they talking about?" Minerva whispered anxiously. Harry watched as Tom moved to his ancestor, talking a mile a minute with animated hand gestures and diagrams drawn in the dust of the walls. "Oh, just the future of the world." "Should we worry?" "Honestly?" Tom glanced over at him, a happy grin on his face, eyes sparkling before turning back to the portrait. "Harry?" She looked frantic, so he smiled broadly at her. " I can't think of any one whose hands I would rather it to be in." ) 2000 ( The man sitting in front of her did not look like the new President of the United Wizarding Nations. Dressed neatly in plain black robes with a crisp wave to his salt and pepper hair, he looked competent, but reserved and content. Certainly she hadn't expected his personal residence to be reminiscent of her own family home. The cottage was clean, but cluttered. Stacks of books lined the walls, objects of art and magic, both priceless and worthless lay side by side on shelves the length of the living room. The man himself was sitting in a comfortable armchair, having already taken a glass of water from his house elf and offered her a choice of beverages. "Now, Ms. Skeeter, you were saying?" "Tom, where in bloody hell did you put my..." Another man halted at the door. "Right. Sorry. Forgot you had the interview today." "Don't worry about it, we hadn't started yet." The older man, Harry Dover presumably, was one of the greatest enigmas in the wizarding world. He had no past that anyone could discover. He had arrived in this cottage one day and adopted the boy who would be the man who virtually ruled the world. It should have been enough of a scandal to keep Riddle out of office, but he was too good at what he did. For a man of mystery, Harry looked even more innocuous then his adopted son. Hair gray and thick radiated from his head at all angles, framing a finely featured face including eyes the same vibrant shade of green as the man sitting across from him. His jumper was soft and worn looking and his pants were rumpled. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done. I think Dotty made some scones." The interview went well. Tom's answers were to the point without being dull. She found herself easily pulled into the charm everyone had warned her about. The full extent of the hypnosis wasn't clear to her until she sat down to write out the story and found her notes seriously gaped in some places. Confused, she flipped through the transcripts. He had simply not answered some of her questions and she'd been so taken with him, she hadn't noticed. The only moment that stuck out in her mind was in the middle when Harry wandered in again to bring Tom a fresh baked muffin. Involved in his answer, Tom had taken it without looking, but his fingers had acted on their own volition, caressing the offering hand before it retreated. She decided that her readers might like this humanized side of President Dover with his adopted father and turned the hand touch into a ruffling of the hair, before shipping it off to her editor. "This is complete tripe." Tom said happily, setting down the paper. "Honestly. If I ever ruffled your hair, I'd be lucky to keep my fingers." They were sitting on the couch together, Tom's head pillowed on Harry's lap. In about five minutes, Tom would have to go back to work running the world and Harry would apparate to the store. Nothing would convince him to give up his shop, not that Tom wanted him to. Sometimes after hideously long days of snarling knotty problems, the only thing that made it bearable was the thought of Harry waiting for him amid clutter and dust. "Harry?" "Hmm?" "I want you to know that I release you." "From what?" "From your promises. I was thinking of all those things...that's a lot to bind someone too. Consider them fulfilled." "My dear boy." He pushed Tom into sitting up and cupped his cheek. "As long as I draw breath I will not have fulfilled the promises I made to you. It's part of being a parent and a lover." "President Dover." A soft voice called from an intercom on the wall. "You're first briefing is in three minutes, sir." "I'll be right there." He called, before terminating the connection. "You were saying?" Harry leaned forward and kissed him. "I was saying, have a good day at work. Wake me when you get home and don't forget to eat supper." "Yes, Daddy." He rose, getting up only for one last deep kiss. "Promise me?" "On my life." Port-keying to his office and sauntering to his first meeting, Tom whistled. It was going to be a good day. ~Finis~ Feed the Author last part << |