An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@dctvgen, just finished my piece for DCTV Gen Pride month!
Summary: Barry Allen was finally comfortable in his own skin. He was the Flash, he was doing well as a CSI, he was out to Joe and Iris. The last thing he expected was to get beat up for being bi. Then again, he didn't expect the Rogues to save, comfort, and support him either. And he certainly didn't expect the emotional discussion that followed.
Relationships: Barry Allen & the Rogues
Warnings: Homophobia, homophobic slurs & actions, coming out (and acceptance)
Note: Background Goldenvibe relationship, & this is my first time posting fic, so my apologies if I don’t tag or rate it right
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Gen: Tony Stark & Peter Parker
Summary: Half a decade later and Tony still remembers it; the felicity touch of his parental instincts he carried since meeting Peter Parker.
Prompt: 100: The felicity of the first touch.
A/N: Written for the Iron Dad 1000 Feelings challenge @irondad1000
Word Count: 2,894
Or read on: ao3 | ffnt
It had not been that big of a deal, he had hugs before (it made him think about Jarvis and his mother). Had fist-pumped with fans and friends alike. He had never been a stranger to someone caressed his cheeks when he remembered how Pepper did it, always so gentle, always attentive.
It had never been an alien concept. Tony had been well versed about it. Had harmless memories of it.
Yet.
When Peter came into his world it got harder to confront some of his emotions. The kid was just so reckless. So, spirited with innocence that few had these days. He made him want to protect him. Pepper saw it when he worked long hours with him, when he repaired and upgraded the suit. Happy did too when he picked up and dropped off the kid many times and listened to the many stories Peter had to share. Rhodey didn’t miss the train when he came over and shared very embarrassing stories from their youth when Peter asked about them.
It all had turned his life into a mushy mess with him picking up signals that he was getting very parental. Tony Stark had never called a family man, had never had the chance to explore it either. And when he gotten to meet Peter Parker, it still hadn’t fully clicked until it all winded out with the whole before and after the homecoming disaster. But it should have. It should have! There had been signs everywhere. All the makings of Tony seeing that the kid was more than a teen superhero that he was mentoring.
He was his kid. They may have not shared the same blood or were relatives, but Peter had become the son he never dared to imagine before he could have. He was the very light that he needed when all else turned into hell. He offered Tony a way to keep his life moderately safe. To have Pepper, Happy and Rhodey relieved that Tony could go a day with eating at a normal schedule if he had the kid nearby. To sleep better when Peter noticed the dark circles.
Peter had practically became the source of guilt trip if someone needed him to act like a normal functioning human being; and he couldn’t fault them for doing that. Nobody would want to disappoint the kid. Not when his brown eyes were the equivalent of puppies and kittens that stared at someone’s soul.
All those hours when they had laughed, when he accidentally parented his spider kid Tony felt like that there was this crawling sensation was coming in waves. As if, Peter’s continuous exposure into Tony’s life was spreading him into thinner layers. He needed to always have some way to communicate with him, to know if there were any new villains popping up. Tony really didn’t want to watch or have the experience of Peter’s form ever crumble. Because, it had been scary when the plane had crashed, and he later learned about certain pieces of what happened that night.
He hadn’t been stupid; he knew that Peter didn’t tell him everything.
But he allowed him time to go over his own triumphs and to hopefully find peace to ever confide with him.
.
It still struck him with awe that Tony had a teenager in the facility. Yes, it had been awhile since they established a routine for Peter coming and going to the facility while juggling being Spider-Man and being Tony Stark’s personal intern. The kid had a lot going for him, and Tony had been growing restless with how consistent he was getting paranoid from his nightmares.
It just felt like madness that his life really changed. And it all had been thanks for the positive effects from Peter and from his own life experiences of working on damage control when his mind went out of control. An unlucky perk of being a superhero.
He didn’t know why he had his dreams so often. Or why he kept them when he worked inside his lab. Tony just knew that some way or another he needed to have the perfect defenses for his family. For everyone that placed trust into him.
It had felt like it had been so long since he found a moment for himself.
To be only Tony. Not Tony Stark. Nor Iron Man.
Just Tony. The person that hardly ate right when Peter, Pepper or Rhodey were there to threaten him to act human. The same one that kept on working and working as seconds passed and multiplied as hours used for his eyes to look at screens or his hands padding through updates or calls. It all been a cycle. Watching, reacting and adapting. The only difference was that his close-knit family had grown from his mother and Jarvis.
It went through tragedies, triumphs and all in between.
Years, decades (if he wanted to be accurate) had brushed on his skin, he was no longer as youthful like before. The reflections that he saw had explored that reality. He had a kid. He had a fiancée and he was a superhero billionaire. That had been his life.
Was how it still ran when he woke up to that dream.
It felt so real. So warm. Tony had wanted it badly. He told Pepper so when they had been jogging by the park. And of course, she had her side, while he had his. Yet, he knew that they could work it out. It was them; it was all the years since they first met. He could see how much she wanted it too when he told her.
There had been a hesitation in her part; gods know he had those same feelings before when he had been going through endless bottles when he had been far younger. Sinking further from those ideas when he first didn’t know how to cope by been left alone. He had the stories to prove when he looked back. The dream though, had been what helped him see how much he wanted and needed another chapter in his life. Pepper and Tony deserved that kind of ending.
Didn’t they?
He had seen everyone else finding their own conclusions, and with Peter...Tony had seen a part of it. A bright kind of stepping stone where his heart could relax. He had wanted the world to finally let him rest so he could see the end of the tunnel.
Was that too much to ask?
.
Apparently, Tony still had a lot to learn from May. He always had known that mothers were strong figures, and he never doubted it when he remembered how strong his own had been with the kind of life they shared. When May Parker entered into his life, it had shown him how protective, caring and utterly lively she could be when she saw the whole picture. She became fast friends with Pepper, (not that it had been shocking, they both had a lot of common when it came to taking care of reckless people like Tony and Peter respectively) had wrangled a modest schedule to help him deal with parenting a kid that wormed into his world. She didn’t have to, but that had been the point. The Parkers were honest people.
Such a rare aunt-nephew duo when Tony had mostly known dysfunctional families and strangers in his life. It had reminded him of how wonderful Rhodey’s family was. A touch of normality that Tony could never achieved or been allowed since Howard had been his father.
He had wanted to protect them. Wanted them to know how grateful he truly been when she didn’t stop Peter’s internship and Spider-Man time. She and Pepper had become the very people that made it all possible when he couldn’t separate the paternal instincts he got when Peter came into his life. It all had been altered into something else that he couldn’t recognize. He was not the same person when he was 19—25—30. They all had different outlooks.
All different phases really, when he remembered how the world looked to a child, a rebellious teen, to a reckless twenty something years old self went through. It had a way to circle and morph into the one he had now. It proved that Tony was not a man that wanted to go back to the very beginning. He was a futurist. Someone that would and hall the essential makings to keep progress going. Having a kid had only amplified his desire to better the world. If only to pass on a worthy legacy he never had.
It had been why when Peter made his debut at the ship that made it all go to hell.
He could already sense how his heart wanted to explode. How his anger at the universe at large gave him this kind of obstacle. He didn’t—Tony couldn’t afford any more mistakes. Not when Peter with his large brown eyes were staring at him. With his go happy smiles at his movie references was still inherently a part of his charm as he worked alongside him.
When they crashed into a planet, when he had seen who exactly he had to work with to beat Thanos he desperately wished that the tag team that they formed wouldn’t cost them greatly. Strange, the wizard that had looped him inside the whole parade didn’t give him much to work on either when he told them their chances. But he was Tony Stark. A man that worked with impossible factors.
He would make it work. (Because, there was no other option; he couldn’t lose any more of his heart here.)
.
“Mr. Stark. I don't feel so good.”
.
He woke up to the sound of his heart racing. Never a good sign. His skin had been burning hotter as his throat clogged with the puffs of air that he could barely keep; Tony had desperately wanted to go back to sleep. To go about the hours when his body was shut down and he drifted off. It had been so long since he had been able to find a moment for himself.
His lungs demanded for him to detach himself from his own bed, to free his limbs from the blanket that had once promised a luxury he didn’t have for some time. It felt so raw, the boiling emotions of before reawakening his fears. To find himself so small again, powerless from being so broken and human. Pepper had been there for him, like always, trying to calm him. In the back of his head he knew that she had been doing her best to stay stronger for each other. And Tony—he, he had been waking up every day and night wondering why it had been him. Why did it choose Peter?
He had remembered how Peter clung to him. How desperately scared he had been. It all happened so suddenly, too quickly for them as Tony watched in horror as his kid turn into dust in his arms.
It had been a sight that never dulled since he had been left in space with Nebula. Or when he had finally been rescued. But the world after that, he couldn’t really call it one. The amount of people that died from the aftershock had said it all. More than half the population of the world felt it all. The repercussions of it all and the leftovers that made of the Avengers hadn’t helped Tony either.
He didn't stay there for long.
Rhodey, Happy and Pepper were left. Not even May survived it. He lost both Parkers. In many ways, she had been lucky because of it. She didn’t have to see her nephew’s name engraved alongside the rest that perished or vanished from that day. They both had been marked together, and Tony, he had been left on Earth to trace the names he both knew and couldn’t help. He felt all the weight of the world’s tears when he went there and each time he woke up.
He knew that he had been ‘lucky’ considering that he still had Pepper. That Rhodey was still doing his best as colonial, and Happy driving him when they both knew he needed to talk in the cemetery. But Tony literally lost his kid.
The same one he vowed that he would have protected when he first met him.
The coldness of the cement stone burned him, but he still traced his name. No matter the weather, no matter if he had business, he made sure to go there. That had been his new routine. Pepper understood when she went with him with flowers, when Rhodey tagged along when Tony needed another hand to tell him that he was still there, and Happy to drive him to the deli store that Peter loved so much.
Every day it would still hurt, and everyday Tony would notice that the grass had always been cut clean and sharp. And he knew why it had always been so pristine. So many visited, so many made sure to maintain the space. Because they all knew.
The world was so much colder and dead since that day.
.
Morgan had been his joy. Both Pepper and Tony knew that. And nothing could dispute that.
But. When he remembered the small wedding, when Morgan had been born, they both had known that everything had not been as perfect as it could had been. It hadn’t been like when he lost his mom or Jarvis. Something that he could fully put away into a box because when all was said and done, Tony knew deep down that he could have prevented it.
Ultron had been a terrible loss, the Sokovia Accords had been a very demanding ending to an era. But when Thanos happened, Tony knew that the moment had been when Tony knew how much the world could grow so much weaker and stronger. It all depended on the individuals themselves and how they carried the survivor's guilt since then.
.
Life went on.
As much as it had to.
Tony learned how to smile at his daughter, to his wife, to—he eventually learned that sometimes, people couldn’t always move on that quickly. And that had been fine. Because, he knew everyone coped differently.
When he heard from them again...when he had found a way to bring Peter back, all Tony could see was how the world could be shaped if they could achieve the impossible. How much he still needed to do. And so, Tony Stark went back to work.
.
It didn’t matter that all around them had been a big battle, where the screaming never stopped, and where his blood was running high as he memorized the absolute truth that he had his kid back. Peter was alive and right in front of him.
He was there with his hands wrapped around his son, they were both alive and Tony almost felt like he was delirious or in some strange bittersweet dream. Tightly, his heart squeezed as he heard Peter’s voice since a five-year silence. He listened to the choppy, so innocent chatter that Peter had always been known for. It held the same lightness he saw in Morgan when she first started talking; and like that, Tony felt so at peace, so relieved to have his kid back. The hug itself rallied his resolve to ending Thanos.
When the fight was over, when the nightmare would fully end, Tony Stark would make sure that his family would all be reunited under one roof.
.
“We won. We won Mr. Stark.”
.
It had been a sight Tony always wanted but had brushed it off as a dream.
After half a decade later and his body screaming in protest as he lifted his head, he saw it: Peter, Morgan and Harley in the same room. The beeping of the heart monitor however, had not been in the picture. Neither when the three heads snapped to attention when they heard the rustle of his blanket. His daughter had been the first to speak, to reach out for him. He had indulged her with a kiss on her forehead, and Peter and Harley both had sat on both sides of his bed.
He never had been fond of hospital beds, and the white walls, but when he saw his kids, all alive and relatively healthy, he couldn’t help but feel so grateful.
Tony Stark may have not been brought up to have such affectionate dealings from his father, but he did have memories of Jarvis and his mother. He had Rhodey watching out for him since MIT, gave Happy a work for his job when he hired him and Pepper since she first became his assistant to now loving wife.
It once may have been a thoughtless concept; but now, after all the tribulations that Tony had faced, he could say that now he was happy at where he stood. Since the first touch of meeting them all, Tony Stark finally felt at peace. Pepper came into the room and chuckled at bit at seeing a dog pile on Tony’s bed.
When she kissed his cheek, softly she said: “You can rest now, Tony.”
And he believed it. Because his whole family was there, safe and alive back in earth. Where they all belonged.
You are truly the most awesome person in the whole wide world and seriously, I cannot imagine not having you in my life. Thank you so much for being the amazing person that you are <3 I hope yo'll have the most fantastic time with your family and I can’t wait to have you all to myself next week so that I can spoil you just as much as you spoil me <3
For those wondering what this story is, this is an au of our au of flowers and fireflies. In this ficlet Harry is also a magic user and Daisy is his familiar. That’s pretty much all you need to know about it :)
Enjoy!
of little girls and butterflies
They had done the calling ritual together when Harry had found out about Merlin’s plans. Not because Harry felt any particular need to have a familiar, but out of solidarity for his best friend and brother.
And because that way, it had been easier to show Merlin that even if no magical companions would deem them worthy of their presence, they would always have each other.
At the time, they hadn’t realised that the ritual had actually worked. That the dog that followed Merlin home the following day and the little bird that started fluttering around Harry’s head were the familiars that answered their calling. The animals of the estate had always been a friendly bunch after all, it wasn’t surprising that the two brothers had chalked their behaviour off without thinking twice about it.
It had taken the dog -- Eggsy -- turning into a human for the first time for them to catch a clue. Of course at first, Merlin had freaked out a little, but it hadn’t taken long before he and Eggsy fell into an easy cohabitation. And for having been a witness to their partnership since day one, Harry isn’t at all surprised when their feelings for each other evolved into faithful love.
It’s exactly the kind of companion Merlin needed and Harry has never been more happy than when they all go on walks together in the forest surrounding the estate and he gets to watch them holding hands together, their magic and love combining in a whole new universe under his gaze.
Daisy, the little wren that has claiming him as her wizard, doesn’t have the same fascination for them, but her chirping is enough to know she is nonetheless happy for her brother and Merlin too.
They don’t know if she’ll ever take human form since Eggsy doesn’t really understand what prompted his first transformation, but Harry couldn’t care less. And Daisy is of the same opinion if Eggsy is to be believed.
Not having to rely on him to interpret everything that she wants to tell him would be great, but after nearly a year of partnership, they’ve learned to make do when they’re on their own and it’s been weeks since they last felt any real frustration over the language barrier.
A butterfly flying lazily in front of them distract him from his thoughts for a moment and he watches the winged bug graceful landing on a nearby bush. What is less graceful is Daisy’s own landing, the bird falling under the leaves of the bush after miscalculating the weight its branches could hold off.
He chuckles, his bond with her enough to know she isn’t hurt and quickly goes to help her out, careful not to disturb the butterfly that somehow has been unperturbed by Daisy’s crashing not a feet away from it. Harry jumps back in shock when the head of a little girl suddenly pops out from the leaves and her hand comes up to the butterly, the bug readily fluttering to come rest in her hand instead.
The little girl’s smile is absolutely delighted and she shoves her hand under his nose, proudly showing off her new friend.
“Look Harry! A butterfly! So pretty! Look!”
Before he can say anything, the butterfly flies away something comes barrelling through his legs before crashing the bush.
Giggles and happy shrieks echo in the forest when Eggsy in his dog form starts giving Daisy’s face big licks, little yips of excitement escaping him.
Because of course the little girl is Daisy.
What better companion for him than a child he could show the wonders of the world with? What better companion than a child that would remind him to take joy in the little beauties strewn on their way?
Merlin and him lets the siblings have their fun for a moment, always indulging their familiars’ whims. Not that it is any hardship to wait patiently for them to remember that they are present too. They are wonderful like this, a tableau of childish amazement, their magic bouncing off of each other in a strange game.
Harry ends up taking Merlin’s hand in his to help him see what he sees, the currents of magic interlocking the four of them together, sharing his gift of Sight with the only other companion that mattered to him.
The sun is setting down when they finally resume their little walk, but neither of them let go, their fingers interlaced as surely as their magic, their gaze never faltering from Eggsy leading Daisy in a exploration of the forest in her new form, his tail wagging with happiness.
They stay out far longer than usual that evening, unwilling to let this peaceful moment of contentment fade out, but the rising moon and the fireflies coming out to play around them are barely enough to light their way home, especially when Harry has to walk with Daisy fast asleep in his arms.
Her little adventure as a human girl has completely exhausted her and she’s surprisingly heavy in this form, but Harry won’t relinquish his hold on her for anything in the world. Even Eggsy’s offer to carry her back to the house, only has him hold on tighter and shake his head simply.
Daisy is his to protect and cherish, has been since before he’s even truly realised it.
Today’s not the the day he’ll betray her trust in him.
This was inspired by commenters on the original piece that thought Tony would get Bucky’s mark first. Speaking of, you should probably go read that first.
Summary:
The first time someone tells you that they love you, the words are written on your skin. Gold for platonic love, red for romantic. Of course, people don't often say 'I love you' directly, but Tony in particular tends to give really strange marks.
A lot of people had unusual words from Tony Stark, and Bucky wasn't sure why he wasn't one of them.
After hiding out for a few days, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He marched into the workshop to finally confront the engineer who was currently hunched over a table tinkering.
“What the fuck is your deal, Stark?!” His shout was loud in the basement room, causing Tony to jump. He put down the wrench he had been using to work on…something, and turned to look at Bucky, clearly very confused.
“I just don’t get it!” Bucky continued to shout while walking to him, “Everyone in this tower and half their families have your words! Apparently it takes you all of two seconds to decide you care about someone, even if you do leave the weirdest fucking marks. I’ve been hanging out down here, thinking we were having a good time, thinking that if you hated my guts you would’ve gotten rid of me a long time ago, but I just don’t know anymore! I could see you not liking me when I first got here, that makes sense, I was a mess, but I have other people’s words now so clearly I’m not completely unlovable. And alright, getting Steve’s words wasn’t really a shocker to anyone, and Natasha and I have a history, albeit a weird as shit history, but I even have words from Clint now! I’m not saying I don’t like Clint, I do, but I don’t think I even spend half as much time with him as I do just sitting on your shitty couch, so I don’t understand why I have his words and I don’t have yours!”
Tony was staring up at Bucky, who at this point was standing directly in front of the seated genius. But Tony wasn’t saying anything, why wasn’t he-
Oh God.
There, in the reflection of the glass wall behind Tony, Bucky saw it. Bent over the workbench like he was Tony’s shirt had ridden up just a bit and there, in the gap between shirt and jeans, Bucky’s speech was finishing scrawling itself across Tony’s back. His advanced eyesight gave him the ability to read his words even at this distance, but you didn’t need to be a super-soldier to see that they were unmistakably red.
(Keep reading link warning)
Bucky stood frozen. That…that explained a lot actually. He knew he liked Tony, knew he maybe even liked him in a different way than he liked some of his other friends, but couldn’t that have just been a best friend vs. normal friend thing? Except that’s not how he felt about Steve, but Steve was basically his brother anyways, of course Steve would be different right?
All the time spent in the workshop, the feelings he got watching Tony work, the desire to never ever leave the space and the constant pull to come back when he wasn’t there, it all suddenly was very obvious what that had been but, honestly, he had spent most of his life as an emotionless brainwashed assassin, how was he supposed to work out that he was in love??
He realized then that he had been standing staring at Tony for a while and Tony was…staring at him too. Oh no, was he upset at getting the words? He shouldn’t be, he didn’t know what color they were yet, unless he really did just completely hate Bucky? Despite what he said earlier Bucky was fairly certain that wasn’t the case, but then why wasn’t Tony saying anything? Maybe, maybe he did somehow know what color they were? Maybe there was another reflective surface behind Bucky and through a series of mirrors Tony had realized that his untimely soliloquy was a romantic love confession and not just a declaration of friendship. Maybe Bucky should turn around and check just to be safe - no that was crazy, best to just extricate himself from the workshop then perhaps see if any of his old bolt holes in South America were still standing.
Bucky coughed awkwardly. “Well, I, uh…I’m just gonna…yeah.” He turned to go and was stopped by Tony jumping up out of his seat and grabbing his arm. The shorter man shuffled nervously before finally visibly gathering his nerve and blurting, “Mine will be red!”
The distinctive feeling of words coming in went across his chest, and Bucky looked down to see that indeed, he now had a set of scarlet markings. “Oh.” Oh, Tony loved him back! His love wasn’t unrequited at all, and he was in fact loved by the man who was now babbling away in front of him.
“-and I’m sorry I never mentioned it before but you were still healing and figuring your life out and I didn’t want to mess that up and I’m serious we never have to discuss this again we can just pretend it never happened I can go work in Malibu for a while if you need it’s fine I’ll just-“
It turned out that kissing Tony was a great way to stop his self-doubting rambling, a fact Bucky was going to have to file away for later. When he broke contact Tony gaped up at him in open-mouthed confusion.
“Wait-but wait what?”
Bucky grabbed one of the shinier pieces of scrap metal off the workbench and, angling it so the other man could see, lifted the back of Tony’s shirt.
“Oh. OH!” Tony looked back at Bucky and grinned, “Well in that case...” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically and pulled Bucky’s face back down to his.
---
By the time the other Avengers found them they had somehow migrated to the common room couch and were in the middle of an intense make-out session. All five superheroes stopped in their tracks upon entering the room, but Steve in particular looked like his eyes were about to bug out of his skull.
“Um, Buck? Tony? What uh, what’s going on?”
Bucky wrenched his mouth away from Tony’s and grinned over at Steve, pulling his shirt collar down and exposing his new words. “Check it out Stevie!”
The reactions were priceless – Steve, Bruce, and Clint somehow managed to both stunned and pleased, Thor grinned his impossibly huge grin, and even Natasha’s face twitched slightly. She walked closer so she could read the words herself.
“Hmm, well, as far as Strange Stark Words go you didn’t get hit too bad.” She looked over at Tony. “Didn’t know you could have a relationship with somewhat normal words.”
“Oh, don’t go changing your opinion of me and my relationships yet Widow, you don’t know about Bizarre Barnes Phrases yet.” Tony was smirking. When Natasha gave him a questioning look he got off the couch, turned around, and lifted his shirt baring his back to the others.
Everyone stood, silent, slowly absorbing the massive wall of script that took up Tony’s entire torso from his shoulders to his waist. This time Natasha couldn’t control her reaction, staring wide-eyed and speechless along with the rest of the team.
The moment was suddenly broken with Clint’s snickers. Tony, raising his eyebrows, turned to him. “What are you laughing at birdbrain?”
Clint’s laughter grew as he pointed at the words on Tony’s back. “You- ha! You have my name on your back! TWICE! Ohmygod when you guys start doing it you-“ Tony cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “Shut up or see if I ever make you another bow again, these words are perfect and you’re just…you…don’t ever finish that sentence! “
Bucky reached up and pulled the fuming engineer back into his arms. “Hush doll,” he murmured, running his hands over Tony’s arms like he could actually smooth the man’s ruffled feathers.
“It’s your fault,” Tony grumbled, but as he sank back onto the couch Bucky found he was unable to feel even a bit sorry.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Tom Riddle/ Luna Lovegood; Daphne Greengrass/ Pansy Parkinson
Summary: When Luna Lovegood came to his life, Tom didn't want ever want to go back to the days when he didn't know her.
A/N: @tunavibes
Additional Tags: Muggle AU, No Magic, Modern AU, Rich society, arranged marriage, dysfunctional family, music, dance, secret romance, angst, happy ending, Musician Tom, Dancer Luna
Word Count: 10,407
Or Read on Ao3 or ffnt
“I love you, I love you alone. Truth cannot be destroyed: time has no effect upon it.”— Simone de Beauvoir, from The Woman Destroyed, transl. Patrick O'Brian (Pantheon, 1987)
They had met before.
Sometime ago, when Tom had been a novice piano player. During the days when he had thought he had it all together. Tightly bound, and without any other reason to believe it would change.
His fingers had bled and ached. But he had remembered it; the frosty ice that plunged into his bare skin, when the night had been young, and she had been his light of hope. Her body had been shorter, younger, and somehow far wiser before her years even back then. Tom had not yet known what she meant when she told him that they would see each other more often.
He could, at the time, feel how her arms and body moved to hold him securely as they made their way to the closest convenience store. She had grasped his hands with care, while he had watched her clean them when she had bought a first aid kit with too much experience. It hadn't taken long for her chatty mouth to keep him company, even if he never asked for it. She just had been the kind of stranger that loved foolishly and completely for animals and stringing her empathy to people that greeted her. They had been younger, but Tom had always wondered why her. Why did he allow a stranger that could have been assumed to be loony to mend his wounds.
He didn't thank her that night verbally.
Not that it looked like she minded. She just had been funny in how she calmed his soul. So quickly, so randomly that it made him feel as if he was losing his rationality.
He didn't ask for her name, and she didn't ask for his either; they just heard the ice freeze the snow into place. They had made an odd pair. With Tom's custom dinner jacket dirty from blood, while, Luna's had been wearing common clothing with the material that had been aged by constant use. His black trousers and coat had not given him much warmth, he hadn't bothered to grab a thicker coat or a muffler when he had left the reception. He couldn't really regret it since his own bones felt numb. That had been his own saving grace that someone like her had turned up.
She had bought two cups of hot tea, and while he didn't like the quality his body did appreciate her efforts. Besides her one-sided conversation Tom had figured that he would have to call his parents soon. But back then and now, he would try to feel his body regain some purpose and focus.
It had started when he looked at her. Tom had known that in that day, she had come from out of nowhere. A total surprise and rarity from his life. That had been the very conception of his life pivoting into a new corner.
Back then, he hadn't known about it, but she had changed him. Gave a new concept of seeing his life as something more. It had reminded him about his childhood had that been vacated, with a mother that had obsessed in loving her husband and son. The same woman that had always monitored who he interacted with, how he talked, stood and behaved. How he had an estranged father that did not, nor would ever love him or his mother. The coldness he learned from him, and Tom had hated how vicious he had become with his emotions.
He had always known he was a monster. Even if his mother praised him. Or when he felt like his facade had felt like it had been working.
But the girl he met that night, she had poked, and ultimately had accepted his entire being. All before they knew each other's real friendship, mind you. (Or so, Tom had first thought when he had walked away from that night.)
.
She had graced her presence the following weekend. Her hair had been combed, maintained and had been transformed into a braided crown. Her skin, still pale, had a light blush. But when her lips had opened, her words had still evoked a breath from within his soul; it had frozen him. Her silver eyes had a sharp gleam in them, unlike the previous night.
(He liked it.)
Her parents had been dressed well, but Tom had known that his own parents hadn't been that impressed. The Lovegoods had been known in their circles for a couple of generations, just like how the Gaunt and Riddles had been. But they, Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood had stripped some of their traditions that his mother and father did not agree with. It had brought some of the more gossip chatter to brew into his view. That night he couldn't stop looking at how lovely she had been.
The transformation had not been that drastic to cause him to lose all his breath, but it had only reinforced that she had been a lovely vision, regardless of her outfits or decor she kept within her body. A natural beauty that felt timeless and visionary.
Someone that intrigued Tom for unconventional pretenses.
When she had told him that her name was Luna, Tom couldn't help but agree to her naming. She had been pale, and lovely like the moon. She was dotty, but it had not bothered him like how other girls acted before. It had been a new different. A plane of existence that he could see to wrap his dull days. It could have been better if he had danced with her.
But when his mother gave him her infamous long glare he didn't push it. She never liked when he acted before her. Nor when they had been in the middle of an open room with too many eyes watching them. She clung to his father and kept Tom in a tighter invisible lease. He couldn't wait until his holiday was over.
School had been his only escape from her.
With the dancing portion still at play, Tom had made due with his time as few peers had walked over to his station. Small mercies were given when he had people around him. It had made it easier to pretend his role. And, for his mother to pay less attention to him when his father had to keep her company. That had helped him to breath temporally.
(Her dancing figure had flooded his dreams soon after their second encounter.)
.
He knew it had been trouble when he felt his mother's glare and his father's low voice to cease his daydreaming. It hadn't been like he meant to zone out.
It had been out of character of him to seem distracted, but somehow Tom had found his mind to be fuzzy. A blurry mess when he had watched the same group of people sit, eat and pretend to be superior to others. It had been a game Tom did not want to continue.
Maybe in another life he would have been ambitious to be the best heir of his family. To live accordingly by becoming a perfect Lord that his mother wanted and one his father expected; but in this one, Tom wanted to be fulfilled differently. His heart yearned for other pleasures.
To have meaning when he woke up. Or to feel vaguely satisfied in his future career. Instead, what he had been received were his parents' cold touches and a colder building that he been forced to call home. Tom wanted more. And if he wanted to be happy meant for him to be greedy, then so be it.
They had unofficially met for a thrice time in his school. The morning snow had almost blinded him when he stepped out of his ride. She had been in the midst of the early crowd, dressed in the same uniform he'd always seen for past couple years since he had been admitted. Her hair had been let down, and her shoes had been worn down. In the mix of rich girls that flaunted their jewelry and intricate hairstyles, Luna had still won over his time.
However, that did not mean that he spoke to her right away. He had noticed that she had carried a second bag, where a pair of flats had stuck out. The same ones that he had seen his fiance use when she had her dancing lessons.
Tom did not pursue her when he heard a call for his name to be repeated by shrill of girls coming closer to his person. Within them and sea of students, Tom could have sworn that she had learned of his presence too.
.
School had begun in the same manner he expected: dull, slow and tedious. The only few hours he had to himself, had been music. The piano had never actively started as a part of himself or as form of escapism; not purposely. It had always been just another task for him to master. Another form for him to be perfect in.
But it had come along. Once he noticed how his parents left him, Tom worshiped the keys. The melodies he could sing with his fingers had made it worth in his eyes. He grew up to be a performer. A strong voice came with it in his dreams when he learned a new key or a new combination. His youth had grounded him when he soon had been toured into competitions.
They may have started as a means for his competitive blood to chime in his awards, but strangely, it had given Tom an outlet.
Years later when they had pulled and strangled him Tom could still not hate music. He couldn't fully embrace his hatred either when his mother began to want more from him. The recitals, competitions and tutors had boiled to him losing feelings on his arms and fingers. (He could remember how they throbbed and ached until he couldn't stop feeling numb.) If it hadn't been his mother, then Tom's life went against his father's rules.
His father's own family had demanded for a stricter life too when they wanted him to stop dabbling in the piano. While Tom never liked both sides of his family, he had known the Riddle's more since his mother's brother and father were worse company. They always came to watch him. His looks had always made it feel as if it had been a cure to be the next generation of the Riddle and Gaunt Family. With one side happy he looked like a spitting image of his father, and to another that the Gaunt line did not appear so heavily in his eyes.
His aristocratic features had very little praise when each time both families scrutinized him when he kept playing. A Lord never had time to play an instrument. Only a dreamer with no future could waste his hours.
In a cruel twist of fate, Tom had been allowed to maintain his hours on the piano when he had been in the middle of meeting the Greengrass family.
It had been during a late winter when he had working on a new piece that his mother wanted him to play for small gathering she had planning for weeks. It had been a hush operation as the walls of his room twitched with anticipation. His skills among the rest of their family's circles had made his mother win the battle for him to continuing to improve his skills. And since then, his father still did not appreciate his efforts on proving to be a good son, even when he won more and more awards and recognition. That, had made Tom see that the piano was all his own, a piece where he never wanted to change, even if his heart had throbbed in loneliness.
.
Daphne Greengrass had always been a lovely image: hair always perfectly styled, flawless skin with no blemishes in sight, and a slim body that most guys would appreciate from his grade and school. She had a family history that his parents respected, as much as his mother could allow for him to marry. Her grades were close to his own. Tom had no real issues before when he had been told that she had been arranged to be his fiance. A few years too soon they would be wed.
Before he had met Luna Lovegood, Tom had thought he could promise himself to a loveless marriage without too much thought, concern, or belief that love existed.
He had lived with that kind of impression with how his father and mother worked alongside each other. (His mother may have been obsessed, but it had been his father that really showed how arranged marriages were all political. Cold.) His lineage had always been a talk, with Greengrass being one of the few ladies that had acquired some status for him to march in the same halls with her hand.
All before that night, he had thought he had figured how his life would entail.
But, like all chances were fabled to be, Tom had seen her. She had burned his blood, had made him corrupted by her pureness. It hadn't been fair. Lovegood had been something only stories could makeup. With her kindness and oddly charming riddles. She intrigued him. Had made him torn of how woven his life had already been with from his mother's shackles.
She made him want more than he could ever thought were possible for himself.
That reason alone, had been why he couldn't afford himself lose any more inches of himself. Never for a girl he had met on that bizarre night when all his sense had been bitter and torpid from use. He had a life already planned, with people expecting him to accomplish.
But life could never be that easy. Not when Lovegood had been involved. Her actions had made Tom cling to their encounters. The hallways were always crowded with numerous witness, but Tom had grown to welcome the few minutes of hearing her laugh. To see her healthy and enjoying her time with the friends she made.
(Although, Tom had wanted to be the reason why she smiled. To be the person she hugged. It never felt like it had been enough for them to be in the same school and not interact.)
It did not take long for him to figure and then accomplish a few stolen moments with. In those rare bouts of silence in the open corridors, Tom had found her figure sitting down on a bench. The trees and bushes of roses gave her cover and privacy.
As he walked over, Tom was hit momentary when his mind went completely blank mind unexpectedly. Right before he could recover, she sensed him. Her eyes sparkled with recognition when he stopped a couple of feet away from her.
"Hello." She had a thick jumper and muffler on. "It's good to you again." She didn't put away her writing material from her lap, but she had made the motion for him to sit down.
His body may have been cold from the weather, but he hadn't care then. The only thing he could clearly remember of that day had been the simpler things. The way she smiled at him, how he grew comfortable with her odd stories she loved to write or sketches of magical creatures her father and mother used to describe about. It had been a nice mid-afternoon all things considered when the campus had been quiet. The best thing however, had been she laughed at his horrible jokes.
He never did know why he had said them, only that he loved the sound of her giggling.
In the end, they didn't mention his hands that day they first met. And it didn't bother him one bit. Tom had just been relieved that she had been kind enough to understand to not touch that yet.
.
Greengrass had not ever really cared in the beginning, middle, or end.
Years ago, they had already established how reluctant both parties had been when they had been told of their future union. They each grown fond of each other as one could be for acquaintances. Their differences had been vast enough for them to realize early on that they knew they would never be a perfect match.
She was louder; Greengrass had often preferred riding on her horse and spending many hours either being physical or dressing like a proper Lady. Even if she danced because of her mother's background, she did not love it the way Lovegood did. There was unspoken coldness in her, the kind that made Tom see Greengrass struggle to put her emotions in way that could be described as delicate. She knew wrath, pride, and boredom, but she could never truly dance with a whimsical or soft manner like Lovegood. That had been why it all made sense.
Why Tom couldn't find himself to ever fall in love with Daphne Greengrass. There was no passion. He could never give himself to her, as she couldn't to him.
That had been why when he met Lovegood he saw how much he hadn't been alive. Music could only reanimate his body when he played. But it had been exchanged with new vigorous when Lovegood had walked up to him.
They both had reactions to make each other smile, and feel at peace when the silence pauses came forward. Nothing ever felt forced, and it had made Tom sense that his own happiness would trap him. He couldn't afford it, losing Lovegood, losing his name and his future. It all had been wrapped perfectly when his mother noticed his happiness radiating closely to his skin. His parents both had been suspicious when they learned that Tom had started to spend more time by his piano or in school than before.
"Tom, I see you are more passionate during your piano lessons lately." His mother's eyes were hard, charier when she noticed how his jaw tightened by her interrogation during dinner. "Should I worry?"
He did his best to maintain a placid tone when spoke. "No, mother." He touched the silverware close to him. "I merely am enjoying the current piece that I am playing."
She didn't fully believe him, but left the matter to drop when his father entered the room.
The dinner left him without a full appetite.
Greengrass had never objected when Tom escorted her to her dance classes before, and not much more when Lovegood became apart his life. They had that sort of system of them pretending to be a school's perfect couple. Their schedules had done enough for them to know each other's activities to be stifling.
But now, it had also made it easier for Tom to see Lovegood. There had few occasions of him seeing her abilities out in the open, and as he kept coming frequently, he didn't mind when Greengrass paid no attention. It hadn't been like he was there for her anyways.
She didn't disappoint; couldn't ever, when she looked at him. Tom had now learned what it meant to live a life with her. She would never cease to amaze him at how selfless she could be. To be pure of heart.
Luna never allowed their meetings to speak more, to invest in anything further. She had met his fiance, as they were in the same class and rank when they danced. That had been why Tom could stand the hours he spent when he could watch them practice. They both knew it had been a terrible reason for him to suddenly pick up more enthusiasm, but it hadn't been like his fiance cared. She, herself had been absent as she stayed closer to her own pack of acquaintances.
Tom didn't do anything else but watch Luna stretch her body, sing a song with her limbs and, Tom had been fine with the imagery she could create within a moment's notice.
Those hours had been his own personal grip of a reality he knew could not stay in.
As spring loomed Tom and Luna had grown closer. So much he couldn't go back to calling her anything else than her first name. It had been a journey for them to meet up without making others aware what they both wanted. From brief glances in hallways, to sitting at the same bench when the campus died down. It had inherently made Tom seek more hours, opportunities to be in the same room as her. (He still couldn't believe at the levels he did to have a justification for his affections and friendship he had with Luna.)
The crossfire he eventually found himself in had been acted on the simple coincidence of being in the same room as his music professor and the director for the dance section. They had wanted to bring in more cheer as the new season would come into view. A recital had been dubbed soon after they gained enough attraction from others.
Tom did not actively sign in; but, he had not said no when Luna asked him to perform with her. When he had been asked about it, he made sure that the people who asked had been aware of how he had ended up in the situation. How he couldn't refuse his professor when he agreed for their paired union for the recital. It hadn't been like he would perform with Greengrass, she already made plans to work with another girl, Pansy Parkinson. It all worked out in the end.
With Tom, he had more excuses to use the school's practice rooms, while Luna could actively, and freely talk to him about her ideas or music. It had been spur of joy when he could walk to school and have Luna be at his side. Greengrass hadn't said anything negative either as she accepted it and even provided him more time with Luna as they both covered for each other.
Tom at the time, hadn't bothered to question it when they worked together for those reasons. All he could be gratefully was how it worked out for the time being.
.
Through trial and error Tom eventually understood what Luna tried to say in her movements. She twirled with ease and hummed when she couldn't stop feeling happy. She had the knack of always being positive, it warmed his own heart when she told many stories of where her family visited during their holidays. It had been obvious that her life had been more loving and free.
But what really drove him was how she never pitied him when he gave her small insights of how much he wanted out. She had been born from wealth too and had some responsibilities, but unlike her, Tom could never strip away his name unless he took Luna's hand. Something had always guarded him, protested for him to stay away from making a huge mistake; but even when the danger hovered when he saw Luna he couldn't back away. He always took another step closer. He wanted to taste his freedom.
He never wanted his parent's life. Tom could admit that when Luna sat next to him as he played a tune. With every breath he took he knew how much he wanted to leave. He had been sure that she knew what he thought when he finished a song, with the keys ghosting a decrescendo in the air as his fingers lowered to his sides.
Fundamentally, they both knew where Tom couldn't venture, and where, more importantly, Luna wouldn't ever touch.
But they had both couldn't estimate how much stronger their youth and love was stronger, and more palpable when she danced, and he played the piano alone. Something made her lower her guard, and his heart. It was intoxicating. A slip from both their judgments when her skin was flush from her dancing and his mind whirling with finding the perfect song that could replicate how much he loved her when he thought about her. It had become intense.
With her so close, Tom couldn't stop himself from falling deeper.
It had been a mistake when she sat next to him, her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun making easier for him to see her flushed face. Her silver eyes gleamed when she lowered her head back.
"That was lovely."
The pile of music sheets had dwindled slowly, but it still hadn't felt like he found the right song yet. Not when he still wanted to discover and ultimately to find the right words and keys that could make her see how much brighter his life was since he'd met her. She, Luna's dancing was unworldly too as she painted the songs he played with more meanings.
He didn't know when time stopped, only that when she opened another folder the light beamed with more focus. His heart soared. It had occurred to him that Tom moved was when one hand touched the closest arm to him, she didn't pull away but nearly, did Tom felt like a dying man when her eyes searched for him to answer.
He didn't want to lose her, couldn't bare of the idea of ruining it and having her leave his side.
Tom knew that his eyes burned with longing. He could have kissed her, could have confessed more of his dreams, but he didn't. His heart swelled when he let—Tom died instantly and then came back to life when Luna kissed his cheek.
It had been a small opening, but Tom Riddle knew that they both made their graves when he kissed her back.
.
The recital practices had been the kick starter. It had unlocked something for Tom to rebel from within his confinements. It gave him the strength when he had still kept up appearances when he escorted Greengrass.
Neither spoke about their private hours, but Tom and Greengrass at least both shown that they could work together when they were watched by their own set of parents. In those days when they shared dinner or had to be chaperoned as they walked back and forth each other's gardens Tom noticed Luna's influence when he listened more actively to Greengrass' chatter. It had been different from Luna's happier and gentle tones, but Tom could at least acknowledge that Greengrass did not spend their own time of her talking about her clothes or makeup. They debated, but it had not been without any real heat. It had been friendlier; and it had caught him off guard how he had wasted some of his years of not better acquainting with her and the dry humor she used.
As they reared into one of the many water fountains Greengrass quietly lowered her head as she repositioned her umbrella. "While I do not care much of what you do in your own time, may I offer a few words of advice?"
Tom didn't slow down, but he had readjusted his arm that had been wrapped by hers. He didn't reply but she must have read on his face that he would allow her to say her peace. With the waters still their background she whispered to him.
"Our practice rooms are not soundproof or windowless. In case you forget yourself of who you are, I suggest that if you want to partake in that kind of behavior, you should pick a more private area."
Greengrass didn't sound partaken offended or repulsed that he found someone else for his affections, but it still made him wary of her assigned at times. As if, she knew from experience of keeping a lie to herself. (He wouldn't be surprised if she had a lover in the past to hide.) It still hadn't meant that he would ever expose her; Tom had known that their lives and happiness were limited. And if she were willing to help him, then he supposed he would help her if she ever asked for his assistance.
"I'll keep that in mind, Greengrass."
Her hands flexed and tighten on his arm, "Daphne." Her eyes locked to his. "At least call me Daphne. We have been betrothed for a while to at least be familiar with each other."
He resisted to roll his eyes as he heard her tone chip at being friendly, almost teasing. He didn't see another reason to not cooperate or humor her. "Daphne."
Her lips curled into a smirk when he finally said her name, as they walked another lap around the fountain. Mid-way to the rows of lilies it had seemed like they both unlocked another level for them to be friendly with each other. It felt had nice to have a friend in his secrets.
(Even if had been his fiance.)
.
It had always been gentle, the glide of her arms around his neck, the flutter of her eyelashes when she pressed her face at the crook of his neck. Sometimes, Tom liked how time slowed down when it had been just the two of them. Nothing else felt like it mattered, as if Tom had a moment to collect himself and feel free to reacquaint with thoughts he never got to finish before.
Luna had always helped with that, with him winding down and seeing what he left behind. Stolen chaste kisses had never been what he thought he would ever do, nor how much spirit he gained since she came to his life. It had strangled him when he had to leave the school and be away from the piano room they used. Even the bench that they used had become a spot he liked to visit. It had been one of those places where the world held more warmth than he was used.
It had become a second escape for him.
Those seconds and days had accumulated to an existence that harbored something far grander. Practically tangible. It had made Tom both weak and strong.
He hadn't at the time, thought Tom could ever he could ever experience what he had with Luna and be allowed to keep it. He had known that if he ever, that it would be temporary; but he hadn't planned to have been that alluring—promising to be in love. It had made him almost careless with his bundling emotions.
.
Luna's shape had engulfed him in his dreams.
Tom could stamp most of his dreams as that, images of warmth swarming into his blood and her own heart squeezing his own when she had tightly wrapped her arms around his torso. Both in reality and in his dreams, Luna had the exact talent of making him want to seek a new way to have more hours stolen by her presence. It seemed like nothing could be denied when she came to his quarters.
He needed her. More than the oxygen he breathed, more than all the power and influence his family were willing to give him one day. She had been his sanctuary.
And that had meant that Tom never wanted to let go of her.
It had been it had been easy to start the same cycle. Leaving his home, going to any piano and play a song or two until she would appear. She would either sit next to him or dance to mirror her emotions. Each song held a memory, an echo of something they each wanted to convey. And it made sense, for him and to her for them to tell each other their secrets, their whims and desires for their lives.
Tom had always been known for being cold and having walls, but when he had met Luna, she had been the real test. With her honesty and empathy she had been genuine with her words. With her actions, and love. She freely admitted it when Tom had been taught to guard his own heart from himself as much as the world.
Somehow Luna would never cease to stop smiling. It had been a silly song, one Tom had heard before his studies took priority when he finished primary school. The keys had come back into a hum, and her face had been too pretty and the lighting had made him move to capture her silly story she just finished telling him. The song did wonders. It filled his soul, and it had made Luna laugh and laugh in those holes he never stopped digging from.
She had made the difference.
In the same way that Tom had seen how his own life had started to tip out of balance. If it had been another year, Tom would have not welcomed how she kissed his cheek. How he bent down mid song to close his eyes and let his forehead touch hers as he kept the song flowing, filling the air with his love for her; for keeping the image of what she represented in his heart when she was so close—Tom didn't know if he could live another day without her. He would have been appalled before, for being so open to another person. But it had felt right.
To have Luna so close to his own body and have her own arms cup his face as she gave him butterfly kisses.
That sort of delicate touches had been lost before, but now, with her Tom had found his paradise. His own heaven on earth. Tom had always had a streak of being selfish, and with the introduction and addiction he had with Luna, he would do anything to keep her by his side.
Anything.
.
They had been laughing. A display that Tom would have never been able to afford before. Not with his mates or with his family.
Tom remembered that with clarity that never dulled with time. In those occasions Tom figured that had been a reason why he had felt so horrid, having clarity in some venues on his life and others he drifted without much fuss. It hadn't been healthy when it all crashed and burned; but he supposed, it had all made sense for it all. The clash of his happiness and his reality of losing everything he had never been supposed to have. It had hurt. Yet, it had also spoken for the miles he had been given before it all went to waste.
The grey and dreary skies had not bothered him that day. In a stroke of luck, Tom had watched most of his life slightly turning lighter, and in some ways, more naive when it came to his heart. He had been working on the piano when Daphne called for a small meeting. A causal day off, if his parents questioned it. They had been after all, teens filled with youth and always wanting to explore beyond their walls. His father had been the one that caught him leaving. They didn't share many words.
Tom ended up an hour away from his home and inside a larger community that bare resembled a small city between hills of suburbias. It had ached a part of his soul he never thought could call out. Walking, driving and escaping a part his life. Most of his life had never favored for him to have a Saturday afternoon where he did nothing productive. A lazy day. It felt so liberating.
Daphne had showed him to a small diner where Luna had been sitting in a lone booth. Tom stopped short, "What?"
Daphne's own eyes were shaded with a playful tint. "Don't worry, nobody we know linger here." She still had an arm linked with his as reflex. "Besides, I thought ahead of it."
When he looked back at where Luna was, he saw Parkinson sitting down next her. Her eyes didn't meet his, but Tom knew what she was saying to Daphne. In a silent, but meaningful way, he understood what she wanted. What, she had given him too as they sat down in the same booth as Pansy and Luna.
He had wanted to say more, but when Luna's eyes shined at him—Tom only wanted to remember the way his own soul sang when she called his name that day.
When they were all laughing.
.
They, meaning Tom and Daphne, had thought it would have been safer to continue the charade. Of them all being good friends, and that nothing else took place. They all laughed, joked and spoke to each other in the same beats. Luna may have of not liked lying to most of her peers and friends, but she had also longed for the days when they could just be themselves. Her own friends, in particular had been a hefty weight on his limbs. They watched him when he was alone, when he was Daphne and when Luna was talking to Pansy.
That had been a transition he couldn't really believe that took place. Pansy was glamorous, talkative and known to be a queen of information. She led the masses when she wanted. Had known a couple of blokes that made her like a modern version of a black widow. When Luna sat and danced next to her it felt like a small lamb was prancing around a lioness, where the line of death and life swept him. They made a quite a pair. One fragile-looking girl with a fairy goodness and another where danger lurked in passion that youth only could delve in.
It had made sense why Pansy had found a place in Daphne. They each complimented each other. Just like how Luna showed him how to live. Their own adventures had been hidden longer than Tom could have imagined, and in the sum of his own musings he wondered if he could have the same highs as them. If he could provide some strength in himself to finally break away.
There had been enough nights when he wanted to fight for his right to happiness. Money and influence didn't make him happy, had never granted him to smile or laugh the way he did when he was with Luna. Daphne had a lovely vision for many, but Tom knew what she really wanted. And he was not Parkinson; just like Daphne would never be Luna to him. They could be friends. Allies, if they were able to firmly establish that with their families. Marriage wasn't the only way to unite people.
It just became a sore topic when he went to school, or when he had been forced to watch how his parents kept on looking at his progress. He didn't want it. Couldn't care that he was becoming less than the person he was a year ago.
They didn't look overly pleased when the recital came. But his mother did persuade his father to not overly judge his performance like in the past. It had been strangely, a mute day; he had walked to his classes, and had talked to Daphne like normal. It shouldn't have been any different. And yet, it had been. A slow burning heat had touched him.
He could still eat calmly, could still answer each question his teachers asked him.
However, there had been a disconnection with him and the world. Had only been the one to restore some echos of what he had been cut off from when she called out to him. The static rose and then had been lifted when he touched a piano key. He knew what Luna had been thinking when they rehearsed for the final time. He didn't open his mouth, and she didn't either; because they knew that it wouldn't have last forever.
It had been (always) temporary.
Having the rush of people roaming, running and presenting themselves had been a means of seeing time pass. He had learned about the life behind the curtains. With it chaotic spirals and time ticking.
His dinner jacket had been dutifully pressed and perfect. He had fiddled with his fingers before he heard his mother.
She spoke with a clear brightness that always felt like fluorescent lights from a hospital, her eyes were always direct and wild. With few people watching them Tom wondered why she didn't stay in her seat with his father. She tutted for a second as she straightened his jacket, her icy form hadn't bore him any real smiles. Not with a tender love a mother would provide to her son either. She had always been a bit obsessive for him to act like his father, and when he showed some divergence it could go either way.
And as faithful as she had always been for wanting a good son, she put pressure in any form in his life. The recital winners would be granted a nice prize and more importantly, a sway in best higher level schooling. He wouldn't go to any higher arts school, but the title of being a winner nonetheless had been something she wanted him to achieve.
"Make us proud, Tom." Her eyes gleamed again, and Tom did his best to not flinch.
"Yes, mother." His voice had automatically answered her as she turned away from him. "Always."
.
Right before the storm, Tom had stolen his minutes with Luna. The girl that looked like a right princess with her slim body, her hair had been braided again by Pansy and Daphne's help. With light makeup and shoes on, she was ready to take the world. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to let her know she was lovelier than any pictures could ever capture. Her own natural blush when he escorted her had been enough to satisfy him then.
When they walked to their appropriate spots they shared one final look before they bared their souls together. He didn't consistently recall how the audience sounded like, or how his parents felt when they watched him and Luna perform together. But he did memorize how she glowed in the stage lights, how she enchanted him. The song they ended up with had a bit softness that made sense when he saw her in the early spring mornings, a tempo that carried how his heart bled for her voice. It could have been described as romantic, playful and whimsical; but Tom had loved how free she danced.
How she opened his eyes when she twirled and swam in the notes he pressed. They had told as many plot points in their story as they could in the limited minutes that they had, and Tom had felt breathless when they ended it. And, when the silence the stage and rows of people processing it had engulfed for a short breath, he smiled openly, when they cheered for her.
It had been a brief life, but Tom had loved playing the piano when its star featured her. He knew he would pay the price, but the flushed and happy face of Luna Lovegood had been worth it. Even if he knew it meant he had to brace the wrath of his mother, who, at the front row had seen his eyes never leave Luna.
Only a daft person couldn't see what Tom felt and wanted.
Backstage, Daphne and Pansy congratulated them. Their outfits had been expressful, and in contrast to Luna's delicate color and shape. It had suited them too. When the program ended and winners announced Tom had steeled himself as Luna's parents came first to pick her up. They had been kinder when he shook hands with Luna's father and mother. Both Lovegood's had sharp eyes as they hugged their daughter. He had known that they wanted to say something to him, but decided that it hadn't been the right place to. And as Luna left Tom halted his next thoughts when he caught his own parents coming along.
His mother did not openly say much when she caught Luna's figure; but he had sensed that they would talk in depth in their home. Her hands had been tight when they walked away from the school. His father still didn't say a word, unlike how his mother kept pursing her lips in order to not start a fit. It had been a colder ride back, with tense shoulders, deeper scolds and barely concealed fury. When his father opened the door Tom could hear the precise moment when his mother went straight for Tom's neck.
She didn't strangle him, but she had been furious. Her anger was always a hellfire; it left burning marks in Tom's memories. "Who said you could talk to her? Let alone spend any time with that kind of girl?"
Tom move an inch, not when she still had turned her body to have his father have a go at his opinion. He was not shocked when his father went straight to a disgusted murmur before leaving for a strong drink. He had always been against him playing music, and when it showed he had the capacity of loving anyone not his fiance, his father did not even coax his mother into not stopping her screaming for the rest of night.
.
She did not accept his apologies. Not that he expected her to even loosen any of her anger when he still kept his grades up or when he went to their joint lunches and dinners with the Greengrass family. In the wake of the recital, his mother did everything she could to reinforce his limitation towards Luna. She couldn't do much when it came the dancing lessons, but it had still festered for Tom to want to rebel. He couldn't go back to before when he didn't know who Luna was. To the days when he felt like a defeatist in the wake of his younger years.
Daphne's own romance with Pansy had been momentarily shaken too when Tom couldn't be there to help them. Rumors were awful and as iron clan when people wanted them to. It had made them all suffer the few times they could even talk to each other. Daphne couldn't rightfully ignore her duty any more than Tom could find the right hours to sit with Luna. The bench they used to have had been taken by another pair of stringed lovers. And without a legitimate excuse Tom and Luna had their own circles to maintain.
That didn't mean that it had fully stopped him from seeing Luna.
.
And, it had been because of that, that Tom didn't know what to say when his mother found him lounging with them. Her hair still, styled in a tight bun, and her lips in a glossy red. She didn't scream, quietly, she glided towards Tom and Luna.
Nobody said anything. Didn't look away from her the way one hand outstretched to Tom and Luna's linked hands. Luna's parents in the background soundlessly went to the rescue and plucked her out of his mother's radius. Tom, had too went to block her from Luna. He would shield her and her parents until they could safely be away from his mother.
In a tense, but firm quiet voice she looked at Tom. "In the car. Now."
Tom didn't want to leave without reassuring Luna that everything it would be okay. But when he saw Luna's sad figure leaving, he couldn't help but wonder if they would let him see her again. They had never shown that they disliked him, but when the few times he had met them he couldn't help but see how they compared him to his parents. Her father especially when he had caught him escorting her back to her home. Tom had grown to please many adults in his life, but when it came to Luna's Tom had genuinely wanted them to like him.
To approve of him of ever being in Luna's life.
It had once been a silly dream of moving away from his parent's lives and move into Luna's lifestyle. He had wanted to wake up with her being the first thing he saw. To have a set of parents that didn't care if he took business or music as a major.
He had wanted a simpler life with her.
But when they left without a second word, and Tom only seeing of the braver random strangers staring at him, he collected himself and walked away from the place. He didn't swear, didn't cry when he had been disciplined. In all, Tom had chucked some books when he had been locked in his room. He hadn't been allowed to touch the piano for the rest of the remaining year, unless for academic purposes. He later found out that after the spring holidays the Lovegoods moved away.
To where, he hadn't been given expressive permission to know.
His mother eventually regained the normal pale color back to her cheeks. She still had been strict with him, and the Greengrass had been cold to his presence. Daphne and her little sister were kinder, when they talked to him. School or not, he still checked in for Pansy to have her time with Daphne. In a way, the distance he had been given from Luna gave a better perspective of his life. She had been the push he needed, the ache that developed for him to gain thicker skin. His own emotions may have been still stuck in being rusty, but Tom had known that he would not stay still forever.
Not when he had seen what was beyond the walls he had been born into. As the year settled the Greengrass family had wondered about Tom and Daphne's dynamic. With Luna gone, and Tom barely holding on some days, Daphne had grown bolder. It had made sense, when Pansy and Daphne made plans, they always sparked with gambles when their rationalities shrank. Both families had been roaming an open garden museum.
Tom had Daphne's arm. They haven't chatted much of Luna since her departure, and that had been kind of her. The months since then had been rough. But he still had been able to hear her light steps in the corridors in school, hear her laughing when he sat down and closed his eyes.
But it had been in the deepest hours when he slept that he had Luna's ghosting kisses that made him feel lonelier.
Daphne's sister came around to them. Her hair and eyes mirrored her sister, but Astoria had always been a bit more delicate. Her eyes were warmer, her cheeks almost permanently flushed when she caught anyone's eyes. She had been a sweet girl, and when she heard of Luna and her erupt move she had been gentle too when Tom came over during his visits. It had been sweet for some time, but as they rolled closer to summer sometimes Tom wanted her to shut up with her sympathy. He couldn't heal when all the pity looks that were given to him.
He didn't remember most of that day. Just fades words of Astoria and Daphne giving him a crash course of what some flowers meant as they encountered them.
It had been a semi warm day when he had wanted to stretch his legs. Tom's few mates had come along when his feelings registered for him to stop moping outwardly. It had been uncharacteristic of him slipping his emotions, but he figured it had been due to his inexperience of falling in love. He didn't think he could ever stop loving Luna, but it had become easier in accepting that she was out of his grasps. For now, at least.
In that time period of his life, Tom Riddle had thought that one day he would have been able to trace Luna out, and ask what she did after. If she missed him the way he did to her, if she moved on faster and forgot about him. If their first meeting had crossed her mind as much as it did to him the older he got. He had never been much of a sentimental person, but there had been inches of his life when he did pay attention. When he wanted to recall each time she had touched his soul.
He reached his own conclusions when Daphne ran away from home on an early July day.
She didn't carry much on her person. With sunglasses hiding most of her face, the rest of her commoner clothes didn't shock him. Daphne had later told him how she always secretly preferred street wear than the dresses she wore during their parties. A couple of bags that weren't all that heavy were by her feet. From what he could see she seemed small; and when he grabbed the keys to his father's less used car he took her to the closest train that would take her away. Pansy had met them shortly.
Seventeen-almost-Eighteen and still children to many, Pansy and Daphne chose to leave what they had been offered when they had been born. He kissed Daphne in the forehead for luck and gave a small hug to Pansy. And as the train left, Tom stayed sitting down as he looked at the different places he could go too.
When he got back to his room he briefly jotted down a couple of places he wanted to see.
He didn't confess in helping his ex-fiance and her lover escaping until when he himself got disowned by his father when he refused another arranged marriage with another well-off family. Tom may have been placed into a tight corner when he had few pounds to his person, but he had felt freer, curious again since that night when he met Luna.
And that—that had more than enough for Tom when he restarted his life again.
.
The bareness of pale flesh of his arms had woken up. A dream from long ago that had reclaimed him had made Tom sigh. The coldness that only winter could bring made it possible for him to get up as routine. In his younger days, Tom had foolishly thought that his first taste of freedom would rekindle him with a life fitting for his troubles. But it hadn't.
It only brought him to his knees.
Without his family, going to uni had been a bit like strangling himself underwater while running a marathon. That didn't mean it had been all unpleasant. He had made acquaintances, friends and few short-lived links that could have been called lovers for some people. He made healthy connections, destroyed and sabotaged others. It all had been part of the cycles he went through. His practice at the piano had paid off. His name, in the barest parts did few turns.
Nonetheless, it had been his own work and practice that made him successful. Since he left his teens, his adult life paid off with the countless people he'd met after. They gave inspirations, had given him lessons and few had influenced him.
(But never like Luna had.)
When they tried to get closer to him it had become a problem; and one he couldn't easily solve. It had always felt like they went against a current that had been made of a maelstrom. Sometimes he had been forgiving when he didn't want to be alone. But loneliness was maddening, it had trapped him, engulfed him and Tom swam in their storms. He had lived before in the darkness. With its stifling air, or cold clutched when he tried to find a way out.
In rare moments, he had one or two lovers that were what he needed. But they couldn't work it out the longer they shared their dreams.
One of them didn't want children, and Tom at the time hadn't either; not until he one day looked and saw a happy family enjoying one of his concerts. One of the youngest children of three, barely ten, had been awed by his performance. He had curly black hair and brown eyes that shined, he had wanted to be a great musician like Tom. He had been such an innocent kid, and when his parents smiled and shook hands with him, Tom pictured a faceless child that danced gracefully as Luna, or played the piano with passion he had now. Tom couldn't go back to the days when he didn't want another family; and so, he parted with that person.
The other partner he had loved to explore and meet new people. It had been only six months or nine with that person. The time had flown with that one. The second longest partner that Tom ever had.
He went with his life. Eighteen to Twenty to Twenty-One. All short-lived epilogues of what Tom thought he wanted.
Then, like how life is meant to change, he was Twenty-five. With a career that had given him lee-way of seeing the world as he fancied. The flats that he had over the years had evolved throughout his life too, with photos he'd taken where he traveled and who he met. Of books, he bought when the hours weren't spent on the piano. And of course, the first piano he bought when he had been able to afford a good one. That one, had always been a fixture for him as he coasted the world and his years.
Right after a short shower and breakfast he looked back at the calendar on his wall. In a tight scribble, a date and place had been marked for that mid-morning for his upcoming job. He ended up inside a grand theater, where the golden details almost blinded him from the cravings the ceilings had. The music composition had been drafted and composed to fit an epic. Tom's own talent had drawn their views and a job had been secured.
As he stepped onto the stage, he admired the view of thousands of rows of chairs. Even in at the wake of dancers coming along, he couldn't help but feel at peace for those short minutes. Leaving the theater with his own notes and music sheets he saw a list of the cast and most importantly, the grand star he would play for, Tom smiled softly.
.
Her face and name were his lullabies during the times he couldn't breathe despite her time with him had been a short couple of months. When the hours didn't seem to move any faster other than to antagonize him. Past lovers couldn't hold a candle when he remembered her sweet face, or her softer kisses that had always brought him to life. Young and first loves were always that strong, precious, and difficult to forget. She had been the first that had held him, his soul and heart.
When Tom had been chased out, he thought he could one day follow the trails and see his own ghosts leave him. However, when he was haunted, they lingered. Firmly. Without any remorse or mercy.
Luna Lovegood had been his ghost.
And since that day, Tom still couldn't stop his fingers to dedicate songs for her, them. For his heart to yearn when they were both young, naive and together. In sober moments when Tom could see away from her, he had wished that he had said something earlier. He hadn't spoken to his parents when they disowned him, nor when his name became bigger as he sold out concerts. Not that they reached out to him, he was sure that his mother had been persuaded into not contacting him by his father.
The cold blistering night nipped his naked neck. It made it uncomfortable as the coat he had grabbed had been thin, made it nearly impossible for him to walk back to his flat without fearing he would turn into a solid pile of limbs. The night sky had been clear, with no clouds in sight.
It made him think back to that night. When Tom had been numb. Where his life had once been dictated, and he hadn't cared. At Twenty-five, he knew more or less what he wanted than compared to when he had been a young boy. Had decent mates to drink with and a career that had given a place to air his whims. It was more than he could have hoped when he first started to hope to dream.
He had been about to cross the street when he saw a lone figure sitting, or sleeping, on a fountain. There had been few snowflakes falling, and with fewer people mingling where a body of water was. The fountain hadn't been on, but there had still been a body of still water slowly turning frozen. Tom normally would have not reached out to a stranger, but in a case of dreamless sleeps he did. The bundle at least had the courtesy of wearing a thick jumper and coat. The muffler had been a faded green and so were her boots.
As he got closer, he could see a peek of white blonde hair, and pale, pale skin. She looked up at him. It felt like time stopped for that moment.
He didn't outright gasp, but he almost did in the end when he reached for where her fingers were left to turn red from the weather exposure. Tom knelt down slowly as she sighed when he placed them inside his own warmer gloved hands.
His breath ghosted between the distance of them. "Luna."
Her silver eyes shined brighter than the moon. "Hello, Tom."
They didn't kiss right away. But Tom hadn't cared when she had been close to him again. Where he could physically touch her again and not have her image didn't disintegrate from his fingers like how his dreams did.
He still couldn't reel back how speechless he was with her there. And from the years away from her, Tom had been glad that she could still read him. Her affinity of being a pleasant and thoughtful had calmed him. It had always made him curious and even as adult, she still seemed otherworldly. Mystifying as the fairies of bedtime stories.
With her hands still held by him, her eyes drew back to his own. "How are you?"
He thought back to when the first months of when she left. When he came to the city for work and the friends he'd made since then. How the music he worked and written had built him up again. Then, back to the night they met.
"Better."
And he was, because she was there again, alongside with a second chance for the two of them to start again in this new stage in their lives.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing:Tom Riddle/ Cedric Diggory
Gen: Tom Riddle & Teddy Lupin, Cedric Diggory & Teddy Lupin
Summary: Teddy Lupin always had a big heart. It came to no one’s surprise when he wanted to befriend the portraits of Tom Riddle and Cedric Diggory.
A/N: Next Gen AU, Young Portrait Tom Riddle/ Portrait Cedric Diggory, with commentary of Teddy Lupin.
Word Count: 4,291
“I find the best way to love someone is not to change them, but instead, to help them reveal the greatest version of himself.”— Steve Maraboli
Or read on ao3
Strangely, it had been Teddy that had started the communication. He had been a young boy, small but still filled with big dreams. Before he had been eleven and a student, Teddy had been given permission to wander Hogwarts when he and his godfather, Harry walked in the hallways and while they've talked with some of the professors. In those occasions, Teddy had watched and chatted with the portraits that had welcomed him. He loved it.
They all each had their own stories, with all the different colors and palettes awing him when he visited each time. They all had their landscapes and moods. It made the wizarding world always fascinating for him.
For Teddy, it had been fun to interact with them. The conversations almost perfectly mimicked real people. And that had been why he wanted to talk to them. Tom and Cedric. They were both two interesting people.
One with dark hair and fair skin that hardly conversed with others. He somehow always had to sport a borderline sneer close to his lips when anyone tried to actively talk to him. (It somehow reminded him when his cousin Draco and godfather were in the middle of a passionate argument. Like for quidditch games or when Uncle Harry wore the jumpers that made cousin Draco feel disgusted to be seen next to him.) He could be friendly enough, and for Teddy, he liked Tom well enough.
He just needed help in having friendly conversations.
Which, reminded him of Cedric. He, who was bright and cheerful at first glance, he had that type of aura around him. Cedric had been a great person when he had been alive too apparently. Although, Teddy would never get a straight answer from anyone that had known him no matter how many times he politely asked or overheard, he just knew the bare minimal that he knew that Cedric was the perfect first portrait friend for Tom to have. They were two opposite personalities that Teddy wanted to interact. And Cedric had humored him too in that day when he asked him if he would help Tom loosen his walls and shields, he kept since his portrait had been discovered and allowed to be put inside Hogwarts.
The older Hufflepuff had liked the idea more when he had finished asking him. And, it had kicked it off when Teddy spirited through the summer hallways. Hogwarts had been a little quiet but, it still had made Cedric smile as he followed Teddy. His godfather Harry, in the background had looked confused but allowed Teddy to wander around. Nine years old was old enough to have some freedom, especially when there were house elves and other thousands of portraits to watch over him.
When he first saw him, Teddy had remembered how pretty the background had been. A sleek couch, a wide library with sunlight that only spring could have had made the room cozy and refined. Tom had been painted wearing a nice relaxed white shirt with ironed slacks and polished shoes. His hair had been sleek too, and when he looked at Teddy his face had been pretty. (Even if it morphed into a scowl and hesitant nod when Teddy lingered in front of him.) He had been able to see how lonely he had been too, as other portraits watched Teddy smile at Tom.
At that time, Teddy had given his name, but he had not known Tom’s name. No. It hadn’t been simple back then, Teddy had tried his best but it had been Uncle Harry that answered it when he called him out. He had been about to call him out again, but when he noticed who he was introducing himself to Uncle Harry had automatically reached over to firmly pull Teddy away.
“Tom?” His godfather’s voice had been deadly calm. He had questions, of course, and as tense as he had been back then, Teddy knew his godfather would find whatever answers he wanted soon enough. “I never figured you’d be the type to have portraits of yourself back then. Not until—” He stopped himself when felt Teddy’s glaze.
“Never mind that, how are you?”
He still looked both output for having to run into someone he knew before. The same kind of look reserved for when Teddy knew that meant Tom had been something related to his godfather’s past. Either for the war he fought or school related.
Tom, who had been carefully analyzing them didn’t look surprised of how protective his godfather had been.
“I am fine. However, I do not know you.” His body still had resembled like a caged animal. “I was created during the very beginning of my fifth year in Hogwarts back in 1942.”
It had been a big deal. For Uncle Harry at least, but he never did find out when Teddy had still been a young boy. Yet, Teddy understood that Tom, and Uncle Harry had a history with each other, just not the portrait that they both found in Hogwarts. But it still had been the beginning when Teddy knew what he wanted to do with Tom and his lonely corner where his portrait had been displayed.
One well-known fact about Teddy Lupin, is that once he wanted to be friends with someone, he would do his damn best to achieve that. Whether they were animals, portraits, or people, Teddy had known his role in the world. His own heart had been shaped for that kind of love and empathy. It had been why it had been easy to persuade a kindred spirit like Cedric to join his cause. They both, Teddy and Cedric were willing to be friends with him.
There were no hidden agendas.
Even if at first Tom had been hesitated and very standoffish when Teddy had announced his and Cedric’s arrival. With Cedric being a portrait person, it had given Tom more subtle reactions as Teddy coaxed Tom to allow Cedric to get closer. That day Cedric didn’t step inside Tom’s domain, but he had been able to introduce himself.
It had been a taxing and slow afternoon that day, but Teddy had been happy that Tom did not outright banish them. Or the next day or the day after that. But he had been jealous that Cedric had more time and opportunities to greet Tom than Teddy could. The nine-year-old didn’t deny it, but he had also been very happy to hear that Tom had slowly been nodding off to Cedric’s babbles. (It still had been a little rude that Tom read his books when Teddy and Cedric talked to him, but Teddy had also been stubborn and practically punctual with his greetings.)
Those first days had turned to weeks. Before he knew it, Teddy had to say goodbye. It had been sad that there had not been a portrait he could take for Tom and Cedric to visit him back at home, but with Hogwarts starting again Teddy had managed to have some hours dedicated to Hogwarts during the holidays, provided that a professor or other adult with permission to be in campus would be there to monitor him.
But that had been good enough for him as he noticed Tom getting used to their company.
Just as much as Teddy loved seeing Cedric’s youthful face smiling bigger each time Teddy waved at him. Or when he found out who his parents were.
“Your mom was Tonks? She was a brilliant Hufflepuff.”
Cedric had been a little shocked when he saw Teddy’s hair spontaneously switch colors. But he had also been quick to smile and reassure him too. He could see why Cedric had been made a prefect.
“And also, Professor Lupin too? Incredible. He was of the best Defense teachers I ever had the pleasure of having. You have both their best qualities. (They would be proud of you, and the person you are becoming.)”
With his smile and kind eyes seeing him, and taking in his features Teddy had always felt comfortable when he visited Cedric. He was like the perfect big brother and sort of uncle that a portrait could be. And companion when he checked on Tom. The winter season had been kind, with the layers he wore and not the multiple ones that he would need later on as December roared. Since summer, Tom had still been stony in some topics.
But it hadn’t been that bad. Unlike his godfather, his cousins Draco and Ginny had accepted his bundling friendship with Tom. They had also memories with other versions of Tom. One with an old dairy, and one of an older man. They never told him the whole stories, but they had also seemed to understand what Teddy wanted. As well, they had in turn visited Tom in Hogwarts during the Winter Holidays.
It had been awkward.
When it concerned cousin Draco, Teddy had caught his skin turn pale and somewhat stiff when Tom looked at them both. Cedric had not been there, but Teddy’s warm smiles had done a decent job for Tom to get a feel of his future (and very dead) version’s outcome. His mood had been sullen and reluctant, but Teddy had also been careful when his cousin Ginny’s turn had been a little more talkative. In her end, at least with her red hair pulled into a tight bun and Luna by her side.
Tom had answered their questions, but they all knew his replies would never mean much. She had known Dairy Tom, and Portrait Tom was similar, but not the exact shade she was looking for. Just like how cousin Draco found the youthful face of Tom Riddle to be an alien moment for himself. It had all been accumulated to both his cousins Ginny and Draco to finding their separate perceptions of peace for themselves. They never fully did explain what they saw or needed, but Tom and Teddy welcomed the lazy days when Cedric came into the frame.
Nobody would ever fully know what would have happened if Cedric and Tom were alive at the same as teenagers; but it had been something else entirely that occupied Teddy’s own musings. Each time he saw them both he could see the walls getting lower. Spring came, and Cedric greeted him first when Teddy went to the same corner with Cedric sitting next to Tom. The window had been opened and the curtains were pulled apart. The distance was still palpable, but he had known that Tom was the type to slowly bring others into his circle.
Something that the other Tom versions were capable too, but for other reasons and missions. (He had heard the subplot to that when his godfather thought Teddy couldn’t catch his words.) That spring holiday came and went faster but when he reached ten that summer it had opened another set of memories of watching Cedric work his magic.
“Must you two always be so jolly loud this early in the day?”
Cedric and Teddy would always reply with loud chuckling and giggling respectively as they continued making horrible jokes. Tom would look annoyed, but never too much that it would hurt Teddy’s feelings. They each all knew by then that Tom had a soft side, a rare shade that Teddy wished the other Tom had been comfortable to see and feel with ease that his portrait did.
“Honestly, why I bother with you two, I’ll never know.”
Portraits were not like ghosts. He had been told that. Multiple of times as he grew up. And he knew. Teddy knew.
But it still didn’t stop him from wondering.
He may have been young, but Teddy loved to socialize and see every day as a new beginning and chapter he couldn't wait to start. It had been why Uncle Harry liked taking him to Hogwarts. They both shared a lot, and at the same time, were different in constitution. Magic, and Hogwarts were special to both of them, and it showed when his godfather eventually gained the job as professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, it had been rightfully earned and Teddy had been proud of him. His grandmother had said the same when he had been shown the room his godfather would use in September.
“Uncle Harry, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, Teddy. What do you need?”
“Tom.”
“Potter.”
The portraits were just painting with enchantments that many artists learned how to do. Teddy had loved visiting many, and he had also loved watching the process too when he had been allowed. His cousin Ginny took up painting sometime before he had been born. He saw the rows of landscapes and portraits, some living some not. It all had been lovely, and he knew she loved it dearly.
One time she showed him a portrait of his parents that she made when he had been five. Back then, he had been memorized at the likeness and life she brought to them. But they had not been his parents, they hadn’t met them their living versions, so they had been silent. Left to the imagination of how his cousin Ginny remembered them. Along with their secrets not being shared with them.
(But it had been the start of his quest.
To finding a soul beneath their lines and colors.
To each and every other painting he met since then too.)
Something about painting had become a hobby for him too. He had never been a particularly great artist, but he had fun with it. Abstract shapes had been his expertise, and the freedom to mix his emotions helped him too. It had made his cousins Draco and Ginny to also bond too. Those days when they all went to the painting room his grandmother converted, they all talked about whatever had been in their heads. Silly things, normal boring adult things and funny things.
He loved it when they made animals, or when ocean waves swirled. Each of them had made Teddy see the world they shared with him, it connected him to their hearts. Edward Remus Lupin may have been ten almost eleven but even back then, he realized something profounding. Life was wondrous, dangerous and daring. But with them passing along their wisdoms and experiences Teddy would be fine. He would seek his own adventures and answers. But all at the same time, he knew he would be loved fiercely by both his past, present and future choices and people he’d met on his journey.
Just like how Cedric had and maybe Tom.
(But he couldn’t ever be completely sure. Because, sometimes his gut would fall and his heart felt like it broke. Tom Riddle was a mystery, but he had also been a boy back then. With dreams, aspirations. He couldn’t have been unloved for his whole life.
Because then Teddy—because, then he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at him. And wondering why. Why would the world be so cruel to certain people?)
He ventured out and spent more time seeing his godfather talking to Tom more too. It had been slower than compared to his cousin Ginny, but that had made sense she was a Weasley through and through. She was a wildfire; she always made rounds to figure her emotions and then seek solutions. His cousin Ron had said so too as well his Aunt Hermione when they heard about the times his cousin sought out Tom during the holidays. Compared to them, few people went up to Tom.
Students and faculty alike didn’t pursue Tom like he and Cedric did. But it had come to portrait animals to poke their bodies to Tom’s couch. (Apparently it had been a comfortable couch that many other portrait people wanted to visit.) It had been funny to see Tom shuffle with either being a good host and being anti-social. Teddy could only guess that Tom had few memories and conversations to fully understand and replicate the other Tom from 1942. It explained why sometimes his outbursts came along too.
They were ragged, and uneven when Tom had a row with Cedric. Those rare times had made Teddy sad. As if, he saw the flaws that the other Tom must have faced alone. They hurt him when Tom wouldn’t want to see him too. He was sure it hurt Cedric too when they couldn’t reach a hidden Tom in the castle.
It had been his godfather that spoke to him gently. The summer holiday was looming and with the letter freshly placed on top of the table Teddy couldn’t mask a smile. His hair, deeply dark blue had mirrored him.
“Tom had always had a hard time letting others close to him.” His hair had been tucked behind his ears. His godfather’s hands wrapped him into a hug. “Portrait Tom or other versions of him alike have that same fear to an extent. That doesn’t mean you should take it to heart when he said he didn’t like you. Knowing the git, he must have been scared that you and Cedric are very close friends for him.”
Teddy didn’t let go of his godfather. “But how can someone be scared to be loved?”
The pause had frozen his own heart when he felt one hand brush away the tears from his face. Green vibrant eyes that Teddy always known and loved had that faraway look again. His glasses dropped a bit from his nose, making it easier to see the indents he had for wearing his glasses every day.
“Sometimes, love can be pretty scary. And sometimes people like Tom weren’t always given the same opportunities like the rest to know how it is to be loved or to love others so easily.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It’s not.”
Teddy’s heart hurt. Even when his godfather had been close and hugged him tightly. And even though he could guess the correct answer, he still couldn’t help but ask.
His head rested on the crook of his godfather’s neck. “Did anyone ever love him? The one from before?”
His godfather didn’t look at him directly, but he nonetheless answered quietly. “His mother loved him.”
Teddy looked at the portrait of a pack of Crups. “And besides her? Were there any others that were his friends? A second family to watch over him?”
“I don’t know, Teddy. I—never asked the Tom I knew if he did. He had other priorities then.”
The next time he saw Tom, Cedric had already cleaned up most of the mess. It had been cumbersome for Tom to apologize, but Teddy had been the one to understand what Tom couldn’t outright say. He didn’t bring up the outburst, but he had been thankful to see this Tom be loved.
It had been the only thing that helped him when he helped Cedric bring back a smile to Tom’s face.
Teddy preferred that version of him. Smiling and having a light in his eyes. Portrait or not, Teddy knew that they were alive to some extent, which meant that they deserve respect too.
They returned to a relatively fun summer with Teddy catching them up. The stories they all shared were what helped him connect to them, and it showed how much of a big heart he had for anyone and everyone. It also granted him more of a firsthand experience of seeing Tom have the capacity to be free, charming and happy. The stories that he'd been able to learned from them had always been rewarding. And with Tom, it had always felt heavier but meaningful, because he knew how little Tom really revealed outwardly.
Unlike Cedric, who loved to talk, Tom was the type to hide his emotions and lessons in riddles and metaphors. Something, that could have been seen as extra and dramatic. But with Teddy, he liked the challenge. More so when his godfather came along. It had been two years, and with September coming, he hadn’t hidden how much he laughed when Tom and his godfather sassed each other.
It must have been therapeutic for both. Cedric had told him so as he grew older. But when he firsthand witnessed it, Teddy knew too. That and how much everyone else eventually caved to see how much Teddy could make virtually everyone smile at his vicinity. That had been a particular reason why he had been able to keep seeing Tom and Cedric in Hogwarts when he hadn’t been a student before.
(Teddy had noticed how his godfather had laughed at Tom’s face from the very beginning when he saw Teddy’s screaming his name in greeting. And when he chased Tom all around the castle until he acknowledged him. He had been known for being a very persistent kid since he could form sentences as a babe.)
When August came to a close Teddy saw another change to Tom and Cedric. But before he could address it, he had to leave with a brief goodbye. He would return very soon, but before that he would ride to Hogwarts in the infamous train and see what house would fit him for the next seven years.
His godfather would not be in the train ride, but he did have the luxury of having some sweets from his grandmother provided him with. His anxiety didn’t fully stop him from saying hello to other first years, and other older students that recognized him from his time in the holidays in Hogwarts. It made it memorable when he spent most of that day laughing and making acquaintances and friends. It reminded him of how wonderful it felt to be eleven, and ready to learn earnestly to perfect his magic. That and it had been his chance to try out seven years without any super disasters onto his belt.
He had remembered the looks he got when most of his uncles and aunts had asked him to be careful and not follow his father, mother and godfather’s luck to bring too much trouble. Or when they all chuckled when his godfather gave him a playful hug and a certain map somewhat tucked into his pocket.
Once the hat chosen his fate and the name, Hufflepuff had been announced Teddy couldn’t have helped but feel his eyes water by the amount of emotions overwhelming from inside his body. From the faculty table he saw his godfather beam at him. He wobbled out of the chair but as he did that, he couldn’t help but raised a fist out in triumph.
Like mother, like son his hair turned to bubblegum pink in honor of her as he sat down at his House where the other students alike smiled and greeted him. It felt like he arrived to his second home.
The rest of the way into his common room had helped when he saw Cedric greeting other returning students and saying hello to the rest of the first years. He didn’t miss the friendly wink when Teddy smiled at him as he went straight to the dorm room to find his bed. He knew he was proud of him too as he took one last look at his yellow and black tie before he changed for bed.
The early morning brought a smiling Cedric with a Tom that looked both disgruntled but happy to see Teddy. He watched Tom peer at the tie and common room he had been forced to travel away from his domain. His lips twitched to nice smile, the one that made Teddy smile freely and cheekily.
“Not much of a shock really, considering how much you loved to pecked and mothered like a mother hen.”
Tom sat down at a random empty portrait of a kitchen. Cedric did too when he picked up an apple. He admired it before looking at Teddy with a huge grin.
“You’ll make Hufflepuff proud. I can already see it: Future Quidditch Captain and prefect in fifth year.” Cedric had known about Teddy’s wishes to hold up his parent's legacies.
Tom smiled more openly with the common room still empty. “Head Boy in your seventh too.”
Teddy chuckled as they followed him out to the common room. Tom always had the perfect posture when he walked, but over the course of the two years he had Cedric poke at him. He had Cedric put an arm over his shoulder like what friends did all the time. It made him approachable, and human. But what he didn’t expect was the soft and intimate kiss Cedric gave Tom on the forehead and cheek when they reached the entrance to the main hall.
“Ew!! Come on, I’m about to eat you two.” Teddy dramatically said with a fake gag.
They all knew he was happy for them. But it still had been fun to see how far Tom came when he first had arrived to Hogwarts. He rolled his eyes while Cedric amped up the dramatics with loud kissing noises at Teddy’s direction first before he started to aim some raspberries kisses at Tom. Few people didn’t bat an eye at Teddy having fun with two portrait people, but some of the younger generations did.
Cedric gladly greeted some of the other vocal students first while Tom stayed behind him and quietly watched both Teddy and Cedric entertain the rest.
Teddy may have not been able to meet the real Tom Riddle or Cedric Diggory, but he was fine with who he did meet. They were their own versions, with their personalized lives too. Besides, he did after all get to help the Tom he got to meet, and see this Cedric get his own happy ending too.
I know you’ve been super busy, but I hope you still have a great time! I am forever grateful for your friendship Doll and I only wish we weren’t living so far away from each other. I hope you enjoy my little gift to you <3@
Otherwise Occupied
Jack startles awake, his hand automatically reaching for his whip when he doesn’t recognize his surroundings at once. A spike of fear runs through him when his hand closes around nothing, until he finally realises he’s on the Statesman’s jet, heading back home.
It’s rare he’s so out of it, but after the horrible week he’s had it’s no wonder a simple dream of kissing Eggsy underneath the mistletoe, Harry a safe presence at his back would leave him so disoriented.
To think this mission was supposed to be an easy one, done before he knew it… Champ have never been more sorely mistaken with a mission assessment before.
Not that he could really blame the man. Sure he had sent Whiskey on the mission a week before Christmas, but only because he knew one of his best agent could finish it quickly. Had he sent any of the other available agents, all very good but far less experiences in things blowing up in their faces, it would have either taken even longer or a new spot would have opened up at the table.
“Ginger? How soon before we land?”
It’s been two years since Champ has made her position more of a field one and even if he can’t help being worried for her every time she’s on a mission, no matter how good he knows she is, this time, he’s grateful for it. Without her as back-up, he would probably still be running for his life.
“About an hour until landing,” she answers via the comms and he frowns, not because he doesn’t believe her considering she’s the one piloting, but because he’s surprised he’s been asleep so long that they’re already nearing Kentucky. “The plane needs a refill,” she continues innocently even if she doesn’t fool him one second, “and Kingsman has graciously accepted to let us make a pit stop at their HQ. And I think there is a storm coming so we’ll get stuck there a few days.”
“You little devil,” he doesn’t need to be with her in the cockpit to know she is looking rather smug right now. Not that he can blame her. She is giving them the perfect excuse to spend Christmas with their respective partners after all. Of course Champ must know exactly what she’s up to, but trying to stop a hurricane would be easier than trying to rein in Ginger now that she’s gained the confidence to match her abilities.
Whiskey counts them lucky she isn’t interested in world domination because they wouldn’t stand a chance against her, especially if Merlin were to join her, which he probably would.
“Consider this my gift for you this year. Christmas Eve with your husbands.”
He grunts in agreement and vows to ask Merlin what he can get Ginger to pay her back for the opportunity.
*
It’s pretty rare that they go to bed so early in the evening, but despite their best efforts, both Harry and Eggsy have been a bit mopy.
Of course, they know the realities of their profession, that drug lords and megalomaniacs don’t take a vacation simply because it’s Christmas and that they can be called away at any time, but Harry, as Arthur, had seen Jack’s latest mission’s orders and agreed with Champ assessment that it would take a couple of days at most.
Which means both him and Eggsy had been looking forward to celebrate Christmas with Jack. Their first Christmas as married men and without Jack and Harry pretending they were only tolerating each other for Eggsy’s sake.
But of course things has gone tits up and instead of them three snuggling in front of the fireplace waiting for the clock to strike midnight so they can exchange their first gifts, Jack is fighting for his life somewhere in India and while they are stuck home, trying their best not to worry.
It’s a bit better now that they know Ginger has been sent as back-up not long after Whiskey’s mission have gone wrong, but they still miss him like crazy.
Harry especially seems to be hit harder by his absence.
Not that it surprises Eggsy that much. He tries his best, but he simply cannot be as much of a strong presence as Jack is when they are all home.
Caring, unwavering, headstrong -- that yes.
Able to just ignore Harry’s bullshit without going into a fight first and giving him exactly what he needs?
Not so much.
Even less so when he’s also feeling Jack’s absence like a physical pain.
Hence why he stole his shirt to sleep in. It’s not quite the same as falling asleep in his arms, but his scent around him is comforting. And not just to him.
Harry has admitted a couple of nights ago that it’s easier for him to relax when he can smell both of them, when he can trick his brain into thinking that Jack is safely in bed with them.
A bit like how Eggsy trick his own mind right now that the warm hand gently playing in his hair is Jack’s and not Harry’s. Still lost in a sleepy fog, he wonders how Harry does it when he can feel his two hands on his hips.
Probably be a super spy trick…
Then he feels the familiar tickle of a mustache against the nape of his neck and he’s fully awake, turning to face Jack not minding that his brusque movement is sure to wake Harry up too. He’s pretty sure he won’t complain once he sees just who joined them in bed.
“Jack! You’re back!”
“I am,” he confirms before dipping down for a kiss. For once, he doesn’t linger, but Eggsy cannot even be disappointed, not when instead he gets to look at him lazily kiss Harry all the way to awakeness.
Harry blinks at him in confusion when they separate, but even if he doesn’t seem to understand what Jack is doing here, he’s not willing to let him go, one of his hand having come up to grip at his arm tightly.
“Ginger says ‘Merry Christmas’,” Jack offers as way of explanation and Harry must still be muddled by sleep considering his reply to that.
“It’s not Christmas yet.”
“Well, no, there’s still a couple of hours left to that, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be otherwise occupied with Merlin by then.” He waggles his eyebrows pointedly, at if there is any way they can misunderstand his meaning and Harry groans at the mental image while Eggsy slaps his arm, but not so hard to actually hurt him. “And to be frank, I plan to be just as ‘otherwise occupied’ as she’ll be all day tomorrow.”
“Good luck explaining that one to my mum and Daisy,” Eggsy snickers, Harry joining his hilarity at Jack’s horrified expression, before they both forces Jack to properly lie down with them. “But now, time for sleep. You must be exhausted.”
That Jack doesn’t protest is the only answer they need and Eggsy wiggles and rolls until Jack is the one in the middle. If he minds being trapped between his two lovers, he doesn’t say and Eggsy can hear Harry sighing in contentment as he cushions his head on Jack’s shoulder.
They might not be in front of the fireplace, but at least, they’re all safe and together now.
