Another sneak peek of my Tomarry FanFic, âThe Explosionâ
Another sneak peek, but this is for a chapter way later in the story. This happens in the year of 1941. Tom is 14 and Harry is disguised as Henry Peverell in the past. (More notes at the end.)
Remember, this is not edited. Enjoy!
The Muggles were cowering, including the Matrons. This was not the first time he had frightened them to this extent. He hated them. He hated how cruel they were. He hated the hatred he could see in their eyes when they looked at him. He hated it all.
This proved it. That he was above them. He had power over them. When he had been too little to control his magic, they had beat him, scorned him, thrown him in the cellar, mocked himâŠ
He could feel his expression. He knew that, to them, he looked mad. His grin was so broad it hurt. His eyes were blown wide with dark satisfaction. He had seen this expression in the mirror once and even he had thought he looked mad. But what did it matter? He was alone. He had no one. There was no reason for him to hold himself backâ
Wasnât that wrong? Wasnât there someone?
Henryâs faceâhis handsome, smiling faceâswarmed Tomâs mind as realization struck him. His grin disappeared and his eyebrows rose. His eyes glossed over as he stared at the Muggles before him, no longer seeing them.
He had seen Tom explode. He had witnessed his retaliation. In fact, he was right behind him.
Tom couldnât bare to move. If he turned and saw fear and hatred upon Henryâs face because of thisâŠ
But he did move. He couldnât stop himself from peering over his shoulder. He didnât know why he needed to see Henryâs reaction. He didnât know why he needed Henry to appearâŠappear⊠He didnât know, but not afraid. Not fearful. Not angry. Not hateful. JustâŠanything but that.
Tomâs heart felt as if it were pounding hard enough to rip from his chest. His eyes locked with Henry'sâŠ
âŠand his blood ran cold.
Those glowing green eyes were wide. His eyebrows were high on his forehead. His mouth was slightly agape.
Tom didnât know where he was going or what he was doing, but his body moved on its own. He spun and ran. As fast as he could. Once he reached the stairs and began to ascend them, he heard Henryâs footsteps behind him.
âLeave me alone!â Tom shouted.
He could feel it. That familiar, awful feeling of sorrow. It heated his chest and the back of his eyes. He was going to cry and that made him so angry. Tears were useless! All they did was make people laugh at you. He gritted his teeth and ran faster, holding them back with as much ferocity that he could muster up.
His body remained on autopilot because he didnât even realize he was at the top of the stairs or racing toward his bedroom door until he was inside and about slamming it behind him. He rushed to his cot and threw himself on the floor in an attempt to reach his suitcase before Henry burst through the door. The moment it swung open, he had reached inside it and removed his wand.
Standing immediately, he pointed it directly at Henry, who stood in front of the open doorway, silent and frowning. Tom knew what came next. Punishment. But this time it wouldnât be at the hands of a cruel Muggle. Instead, his first and only friend, would be the one to do it.
âStay back!â he shouted. He was pointedly ignoring both his trembling body and the way his heart was slowly sinking into the pit of his stomach.
Henry took a step forward. Tom backed up, right into his small desk. There was no escaping this. He felt trapped.
âThey deserved it,â he snarled. âYou saw how vile they are!â
Henry took another step forward. Tom did as well and raised his wand to point directly at Henryâs throat. Henry didnât flinch. He took another step. Tom felt something odd. It was foreign to him. Heâd never felt this before. It was a tug at his heart. A twist at his naval. A waver in his stance. It was hesitation, yes, but more than that. It wasâŠ
He didnât want to hurt Henry.
Why was his chest hurting so much as Henry drew closer to the tip of his wand? Why did he want to reverse time and ensure that he had never shown that side of himself to Henry? Why? Why did everyone hate him for defending himself? Why wasnât Henry different from them?
Henry was not afraid of the wand that Tom was now barely clutching in his fist that was pressed softly against Henryâs chest, still pointed at his face, but not really a threat. He was looking calmly into Tomâs eyes.
âWhy arenât you running?â Tom demanded, but his voice was shaking just as hard as his body. âI can make you hurt! I canââ
Henry was inches away now, looming over Tom with an unreadable expression. Tom was frantic. His wand was still in his hand, but his hand was clutched in Henryâs, who held it in the air away from them.
âWhat are you going to do?â Tom whispered.
His lip was quivering, but he remained in control. His tears stayed at the edge of his vision, never falling.
Henry leaned down and Tomâs breathing stopped. The entirety of his skin broke out in goosebumps as a shiver ran down his spine. Henryâs warm lips were pressed to Tomâs forehead. His body heat warmed the chill that had settled into Tomâs bones.
Tom didnât notice when his wand fell to the floor or when he clutched Henryâs hand and shirt for dear life. He was lost to the wave of despair and hope and relief that crashed into him, forcing his tears to shed like waterfalls and his throat to scream unintelligible noises into Henryâs chest.
He did, however, notice Henryâs arm wrapped around him. It was tight, very tight, and warm and safe.
Tom hadnât ever cried like this before. Not for this reason. Not because he was relieved. Not because he wasâŠ
Henry was shattering Tomâs world. But, while it had scared him before, now it didnât. Because Henry was holding him now and Tom didnât want that to stop. He wanted Henry to be with him forever. He had never had a friend before, or a suitor, or a crushâŠ
This was still new to him, despite having spent an entire school year getting to know Henry. Because, to Tom, trust was never to be given. He trusted no one. Ever. Until today. Until this moment.
Henry wasnât afraid of Tomâs darker side.
Henry wasnât angry or hateful or cruel.
Tom couldnât believe someone like this actually existedâwouldnât have if he hadnât met Henry himself. No one was this kind and forgiving. It was impossible. OrâŠTom had thought so.
He didnât know how long he spent, crying into Henryâs chest until his voice was lost, but, somewhere along the way, Henry had laid them down. Tom eventually cried himself to sleep and, when he woke, marveled in the realization that Henry had never once released him. He had held him close.
Yes, I am still working on chapter 13, but I have written, read, and reread every line of it over and over. Sometimes, to keep myself inspired, I need to write chapters and scenes that come later on in the story.
I hope these little snippets keep you satisfied while you wait. <3
Anyway, if you havenât read my FanFic and you would like to, I have 12 chapters up now and links are below.
ArchiveOfOurOwn (AO3) link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8574454
FanFictionNet (FFN) link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12235966/1/The-Explosion
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