32Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hey guys, remember me? This is a lose remake of "The Garden of Eden." I had written that story when I was 15/16 and can't stand to read it anymore. I'm in college now for accounting and have found myself in need of a creative outlet. I was going to continue my other story, but I can't bear it, so I have decided to begin anew.
This is going to be very different from the other story I have written, I have this story (or part 1 of it) all planned out, but I love suggestions to help improve it.
Getting to the Story, enjoy it. Please review, I am very nervous as I haven't written anything in years. I would love to hear if you like it more than my old story and what you like that's changed. My creative writing hasn't improved much but I hope its at least more coordinated than the order version.
I have read through the comments of Garden of Eden and noticed that the vampires and Harry weren't super like-able. Harry had a different childhood than Canon Harry so I'm trying to reflect that as much as I can in this fic, he is more confident. I hopefully made Tom more relate-able but his POV won't be shown until chapter 2.
Pairings: HP/TR, Sirius/Tonks, Harry/Draco (will not last very long or be a big part of the story), More will be added/revised as the story progresses.
Rating: MA
Summary: When Voldemort died, Tom Riddle found a… different way to survive. Harry is the boy who lived, has lived a normal life with Sirius as his guardian, and is going to follow in his footsteps and become an Auror if he could just figure out his DADA professor…Tom Riddle. People are dying, and the past seems to be unwilling to stay dead. AU Harry, slight Dumbledore bashing (Not much), Slash, Vampires
Hello to my new and old readers,
And its nice to finally be back.
Chapter 1:
The village of Little Hangelton was quiet, nestled in between forest and farm country, its residents asleep in the small hours of the night. The night was dark and cool, the soft patter of rain was the only sound to be heard in the village and dim streetlights were the sole source of light along the dreary, worn roads. The villager's homes were dark as the town slept, unaware of the struggle going on within their walls.
An shrill cry pierced the calm night as a man streaked through along the street at full speed, running towards the inn that stood at the head of the village, standing taller than the dark rooftops. His head whipped from side to side, scanning the area with panicked eyes, as he clutched his wand in a shaking hand. His blurred reflection could be seen as he passed the shop windows along the road, his only company in the eerie night. The night air was cold on the back of his neck and he knew he was bleeding out at an alarming rate but couldn't slow down or else they might catch him, he supressed a shudder hurrying himself forward.
Calls from an owl in the forest beyond the town were the only sounds permeating the air, the man wondered if he had somehow shaken off his assailants. Hope renewed some energy in his sore limbs and he knew if he had made in to the inn, the inn he had arrived in only that morning, then he would make it to the Floo-connected chimney and escape. As the thick wooden door of the building arrived before him, his eyes began to haze-over from blood loss, but he was intent on survival and shook his head to clear the fog. He had survived Voldemort and the death-eater trails, he was able to overcome this too.
With a gleam in his eye, he grasped the bronze handle and heaved the door open. For a glorious moment he saw the empty tavern with a large chimney at the far end, but abruptly the floor slammed shut from his grasp and he was facing the worn wooden door once more. Panic flooding his heart, he grabbed the handle and pulled with all his might but couldn't budge it.
Terror flooding him, the man turned to face the dark night behind him. "Lumos," his lips were trembling, and he was becoming very aware of the amount of blood flooding from the wound on his neck.
The streets were eerily quiet, the soft patter of rain the only sound to be heard aside from his own raspy breath. The forlorn streets were bare, there was no one near to have shut the door so abruptly on him. The man took a calming breath, his mind whirling with fear, he gasped try to find the right spell to open the door.
The man was losing too much blood, he needed to get help now.
With one last scan of the area he turned back to the door and wheezed, "Bombarda!" His choice of spells was less conspicuous than he would have liked, but he was beginning to panic and needed to get inside. The lock exploded, and the door swung off its hinges, bringing a sigh of relief to the man as wood chips landed in the puddles at his feet. He felt his panic subdue.
Blood-soaked hands wrapped around his neck, tearing at his wound, and the last image he saw was deep red eyes as he was pulled in the darkness behind him. A shrill scream that turned into a murmur was the last sign of a struggle in the dark night.
The owl called softly into the air as the night was calm once more, and rain pattered into the puddles in the street, washing away the smears of blood from stone.
Harry Potter did not enjoy defence against the dark arts.
He didn't enjoy the fact that the class had a new professor every year, or if it was because he learns more from the books he gets from Hermione, or maybe because it was the last class before supper and he was in a foul mood from lack of food in his belly. His stomach rumbled softly, and he tapped the end of his quill on his textbook, perusing the students around him to see if anyone heard, yeah it could just be because he was hungry. Harry observed the other students who were busy copying notes from the lecture, even Ron had his unkempt red head down jotting along his parchment which gave Harry a twinge of amusement. Maybe, he thought, it was just the current professor that he didn't quite care for yet.
Harry followed Ron's gaze up beyond the bobbing heads of students trying to listen to the lecture while taking notes and rested upon the tall professor speaking at the front. Harry sprawled further in his chair and lazily regarded his newest DADA professor. Tom Riddle had previously taught Alchemy but after losing the last DADA professor the previous year, Headmaster McGonagall offered him this position. The students, specifically the girls, were excited at the news as not many were interested in taking Alchemy but still wanted to have the man as a professor.
Harry watched as the man described the list of counter-jinxes that they were expected to become familiar with over the term. Riddle's robes were immaculately kept, and Harry wondered with a spark of annoyance if he had cast a spell so repel dirt from coming anywhere near his impossibly spotless form. The professor had perfectly kept ebony curls and his dark piercing eyes gave him a stately appearance as if he were a living statue. Harry felt the man had a cold, intimidating air that left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man was standing at the front, addressing the class with a clear baritone, and Harry turned to his other side and caught Hermione drinking in the words as if they were pumpkin juice and she was parched.
Of course, girls would be drawn to the professor's shallow good looks, Harry rolled his eyes bitterly and flashes of Gilderoy Lockheart met his eye but refused to feel intimidated by the man he needed to help him through his NEWTS. He shook his head and attempted to focus on what the tall man was teaching, pushing away his thoughts in an effort to give the man the benefit of the doubt.
"A counter-jinx is a name a wizard gives his spells to make them sound more friendly, as quoted by Wilbert Slinkheart, the author of Practical Defensive Magic and its use against the Dark Arts. These counter-jinxes are important in themselves but also are the basis of many advance spells for those who fancy the idea of furthering the subject, they are a large part of the core of this class and to be considered as such in your studies." The man trailed his cold, dark eyes over the raptured faces of the students and lingered those who were not taking notes, Harry included. Harry suppressed a shudder as he held the loaded gaze for a moment, already beginning to realize he wasn't going to enjoy having Riddle as the professor for a class he needed to excel in to become an Auror. Harry shook his head, he wasn't going to be intimidated, he was going to do well no matter how strict the new professor seemed to be. "For those who study these spells, they can be used to cause as much harm as the spells they counter, so they must be considered with caution."
Absent-mindedly, Harry rubbed his forehead and ran a finger over his infamous scar for a moment before allowing his fringe to fall, obscuring it once again. He hated the memento on his forehead from that night, the night the dark-lord was defeated by his infant self. Harry thought of the picture's his godfather kept of his parents and realized how lucky he was to have Sirius, the best friend of his late parents and his guardian after that night. After the family friend Peter Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James Potter, Sirius was all little Harry had left in his life. Harry knew that even though Sirius was an Auror, he was an excellent guardian and gave Harry the strength to deal with the notoriety that fateful night left him with.
Harry looked to his sides, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sat both listening to the lecture with rapt attention, but Harry noticed the ginger was beginning to lose focus and doodle. They were his best friends, from the first time Harry stepped foot into Hogwarts, they were loyal and made him feel like 'Harry' instead of 'The Boy who Lived' which he appreciated more than the two would ever know.
Harry looked down as Ron placed a note on his lap, uncrumpling the paper and grinning as he saw the drawing. A rough picture of Harry catching the snitch was scribbled on the paper and Harry felt a chill of excitement run down his spine. Tomorrow was the year's first Quidditch game against Slytherin and he had practiced all summer for it. He and Sirius spent most of the summer at the Burrow, where Harry spent more time in the air than on his feet. It had been a glorious summer, the twins had begun testing products for their prank shop, Sirius began dating his partner Nymphadora Tonks which made him blissfully happy, and everyone had been in general good humor. This was one of the first years Harry was genuinely unhappy to return to Hogwarts, but he was excited to begin the studies for his NEWTS, so he could follow in Sirius's footsteps and become an Auror.
He grinned and began scribbling a note back to Ron.
"Mr. Potter, I am surprised to see that you do not much care for counter-jinxes, considering your reputation for finding trouble. But, of course, who needs to understand how to defend themselves when they can catch a Snitch fairly well?" Riddle's voice whipped Harry's eyes up from his detailed drawing of Slytherin team crying when they lose and caught the cold, dark eyes boring into him. The rest of the class turned their heads to look at him with surprise and he could see the smirk of a platinum blond sitting in front by the irritated professor.
Shock caught Harry's throat for a moment before he could feel anger pool in his stomach. He could feel Hermione's stern glare at him from his right and cleared his throat. "Sorry." He muttered in embarrassment, but some force compelled him to continue. To be fair, professor, my reputation also includes being a little better than 'fairly good' at Quidditch." Harry held Riddle's gaze indignantly, not wanting the man to see how much he had intimidated him. He cursed his stupidity momentarily afterward after seeing the man's ire.
Riddle's expression didn't change but his eyes gleaned with chagrin, clearly displeased with Harry's impertinence. Harry wished he didn't voice the smart retort as Riddle opened his mouth to scold him. "Was that supposed- "
"Just wait until the match tomorrow, Potter. You won't think you're so funny after Gryffindor gets creamed by Slytherin." All eyes turned to the blond-haired boy at the front with a victorious smirk on his face, the other Slytherins giving him praise for the quip at the expense of their rival house and its star Quidditch player. Draco Malfoy's mercury eyes bore into Harry's as he waited for the raven-haired boy's reaction.
At the challenge, the Irish student Seamus angrily stood up. "Yeah Malfoy, it was especially funny after Harry bested you to the Snitch every time last year."
A chorus of angry shouts erupted in the class as the Gryffindors and Slytherins stood to defend the honor of their house. Harry felt Hermione jab him in the ribs as she shot him a poisonous glare for starting such an uproar during her new favorite professor's lecture. He winced and looked back up to see Draco smirking at him once more, ignoring the angry debate going on in the room. Harry felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes fell to the blonde's mouth as he saw the pink lips mouth the word tonight. Harry pushed down the blush and glared angrily away from the blond.
Suddenly the room fell completely quiet.
Students exchanged panicked looks and grasped at their throats as they realized they had lost their voices. All eyes turned to the front of the room where Riddle was standing with a calm but annoyed glower, the air turned cold and the students sat quickly. Riddle murmured under his breath and the students felt the vocal cords work again but gave the man terrified looks and didn't dare utter a word. Harry was surprised the presence of control Riddle emanated, as his magic had so completely governed the room and the attention of those in it.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for wasting the time of all those in the room with your desire for attention." Harry hadn't ever felt more chastised in his life. "I do hope you keep the standard you have set for yourself at Quidditch because you have just lost Gryffindor 20 points. Now, we will continue with the lecture." The students in red cloaks groaned and Harry suddenly felt 3 feet shorter and glared down at his desk. The amused looks the Slytherins gave him didn't help the anger he felt growing in his stomach.
The rest of the class continued without excitement and Harry stared at his new least-favorite professor coldly the whole time. Close to the end of the class, Harry saw Ron drop another drawing on his lap. He grinned as he looked down and saw a detailed picture of a bludger cracking Malfoy in the head, knocking him off his stick-broom, but Harry didn't dare to reply with Riddle's attention focusing on him every minute or so.
As the class ended and students stood and began packing away their belongings, Riddle cleared his throat and commanded the attention of those in the room once more. "I want 7 inches of parchment describing what counter-jinxes you are most interested in learning about and why- due in tomorrow's class. This will be quite easy for those who cared enough to take notes." Harry felt the man's gaze fall on him and he looked up to see an amused grin on the stern man's face.
Angrily, Harry grabbed his pile of books and followed his friends out of the room.
Yes, it was the professor that made him not enjoy Defence Against the Dark Arts. He did not like Tom Riddle.
Harry was in a foul mood as the trio made their way down to supper, anger coiling in his belly at what has transpired. His friends voiced their anger at losing so many house points so early in the year but only Hermione chastised him for it. "Harry, it's extremely irresponsible to start off on the wrong foot with Professor Riddle. Especially for such a silly reason."
Harry nodded shortly but didn't want to discuss the git so he followed the group in silence as they arrived at the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table.
The great-hall was alive with excitement as students chattered happily, still recalling the excitement of their holidays. The first years were still beaming with glee at the feast that appeared before them, not used to the abundance of food yet. Harry watched a squealing group first-year students with a grin, remembering his own excitement in his first year at the feast that appeared out of thin air.
Harry turned his gaze upon the head table, absent-mindedly scanning the professors gathered for supper as he helped himself to a glass of juice. The headmistress was regarding the students with amusement and her eyes met Harry's for a moment, giving him an affectionate nod and continued inspecting the students. Harry liked the woman very much, she had become headmistress after Albus Dumbledore had died the year before Harry started school, which had devastated the wizarding community. Harry heard McGonagall had once taught transfiguration, which amusement the raven-haired boy as he remembered she-herself was an Animagus and could turn into a cat.
Harry scanned the head-table until his stare landed on the far end where his grin turned into a scowl. Riddle and Snape were sitting together, as usual, speaking quietly as they ate. Of course, the two least like-able professors would be friends, Harry thought bitterly and ran his eyes down Snape's dark figure. He knew the two professors were friendly, but Harry was still hoping that Riddle would be more likable than the greasy-haired git he associated with. He, evidently, was wrong.
Harry tuned into his friend's conversation as they were having a heated discussion about the Chudley Cannons, the professional team most of the Gryffindor house rooted for. Harry laughed as Ron heatedly expressed how he was going to become the keeper for their team one day, earning amused grins from his classmates.
"You have to be a good keeper for Gryffindor before you can think about the Pro's, mate." Dean Thomas laughed as Ron hit him in the arm for his snide comment but didn't lose his grin.
Ron's cheeks flushed as he retorted, "We won most of the games we played last year, didn't we? I'd say that's pretty good!"
"Yeah but that's because we've got Harry, Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked up from the large textbook that she had been reading and earned nods of agreement from the rest of the group.
Harry looked at his friend and laughed and quipped, "Yeah, guys, maybe I should try out for the Chudley Cannons one day." The rest of the Gryffindors laughed and agreed and looked at Ron, his face turning almost as red as his hair. Harry squeezed his friend's shoulder, giving him an apologetic look for the joke.
Seamus, not missing a beat. "Yeah Harry, I do actually think you could make the cut! Shame though," he shot a look at Hermione with her nose again in the book, "that you couldn't play for Hermione's favorite team: Bulgaria. You and her boyfriend Viktor could be great friends." This was left with other amused grins and a few students swooned hearing the famous seeker's name.
It was Hermione's turn to blush angrily and set down her book, glaring daggers into Seamus and then Harry for laughing. "We did not date! I attended one ball with him during the Tri-wizard tournament and we exchange letters from time-to-time!" She blushed harder as Lavender and Parvarti giggled and started gushing about how lucky she was, earning a heated glare from Ron who hated the guy. Harry shot Ron an amused look at the jealous expression on the ginger's face when discussing Krum.
Harry laughed and remembered how exciting the tournament was and how Hogwarts roared with pride when Cedric made it out of the Maze with the cup in hand, winning glory for their school. He shuddered, thinking about the tasks and wondering if he could have even survived such an ordeal if he was old enough to compete. Definitely not with a git like Riddle teaching me defense, Harry thought angrily. Cedric had graduated and gone on to the Auror training program, inspiring Harry.
"Hey Harry, you have post." He was jerked from his thoughts when Ron beckoned to the owl that had landed in front of him.
Harry grinned and tossed the soft-white bird a piece of meat and grabbed the letter, "Thanks, girl." The owl hooted and nipped his finger affectionately and flew off.
"From Sirius?" Hermione asked, her blush finally subsiding from the teasing.
Harry nodded and ripped the letter opened, scanning it quickly.
Harry,
I hope your first week back has been going well. Even if it hasn't, beating Slytherin tomorrow will definitely turn it into a great week! Harry laughed, grinning with delight and kept reading. I managed to find the time off and will be cheering you on in the crowd, if anyone asks then I'll be investigating a case near Hogsmeade. Harry laughed, hearing the wink in his godfather's words. Do remember your old godfather before your victory party, I'll meet up with you after the game.
Sirius
P.S, kick some Slytherin Butt
Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder and scanned the letter laughing. Harry grinned and folded up the letter, sliding it into his robes. "Yeah, Sirius will be there."
"I love your godfather, he knows how to have a good time." Ron laughed with excitement. "He's worse than Fred and George though, I have to say!"
Fred leaned down from his seat further down the table, "Hey, we resent that comment."
George leaned forward, as well, and chirped, "Yeah, I do believe that we are the worst." The twins grinned and resumed their conversation with their year-mates.
Ron rolled his eyes and swallowed the food he had shoveled into his mouth. "Yeah, the most annoying." He murmured low and checked to make sure they didn't hear him. A glob of potatoes landed in his lap anyway and the table burst into laughter. The twin's ears turned red but didn't look up from their conversation.
Harry laughed with the rest of the table as Ron angrily glared at his brothers. Hermione bit her lip to stifle a chuckle but spelled the food away. Harry's mood had completely changed, and he found himself glancing up at the head-table once more. Surprisingly, Riddle was looking down back at him and met his gaze. Harry flushed and tore his eyes away from the curious expression on Riddle's face, as if he wanted to know the joke, as well.
Harry excused himself from his friends on their way back to their common room, explaining that he had forgotten one of his texts that he needed. They offered to come to retrieve it with him, but Harry shook his head and stated he was going to grab it quickly. Reluctantly, the group of Gryffindors made their way up to their common room without him.
The raven-haired boy wandered through the halls, descending towards the dungeons. The hallways were empty as it wasn't far from curfew and most of the students had retired to their common rooms, so Harry enjoyed the warm evening air that wafted through the castle without disruption.
Until he was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into an unused classroom.
Harry gasped as he was pushed roughly up against the cold, stone door of the classroom, his glasses skewed and a flash of blond hair before him. "Watch it, Malfoy!" He growled irritated, fixing his glasses.
The platinum blond Slytherin grinned and stood close enough that their faces almost bushed together, his silver eyes boring into him with captivated attention. Harry straightened his shoulders and started to fight back, green meeting grey with strength. Draco Malfoy was an arrogant pureblood and fought Harry on everything he did, his determination and sheer force of will had impressed Harry. The Malfoy heir was one of the only students who had ever dared be openly hostile towards the 'boy who lived' and it invigorated Harry, loving the challenge and excitement the boy offered.
Draco's cheek brushed against Harry's as he leaned in and whispered, "It's Malfoy now, is it? You call me a different name when I have your cock in my mouth." He pressed Harry against the door and nipped at his ear, his lusty tone and closeness sent jolts down to Harry's cock.
Harry shivered and felt adrenaline rush through him mixing with his arousal, grabbing the blond and slamming him against the desk opposite them. He claimed the fair-haired boy's mouth aggressively, his tongue persistent until it was granted access into Draco's mouth. Harry pressed himself roughly against the other and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, the other tangling in Draco's platinum locks.
Draco gasped from the sheer force of Harry's assault on his mouth, momentarily shocked at the pressure on his lips. He felt his cock grow hard and the raven-haired boy ground his own erection against his. It consistently surprised Draco how Potter could completely turn him from a strong, confident heir to the Malfoy name into a complete and utter puddle of arousal, unable to think or even remember his own name.
Draco moaned loudly as they ground their arousal together, grabbing Potter's hips and digging his fingers in hard, earning a hiss from the beautiful Gryffindor. Everything they did was a competition and sex was no different, it was a contest for control and Draco loved losing just as much as winning. It was the same feeling Draco got while flying against Harry on the Quidditch pitch, the adrenaline of a worthy opponent, of proving himself against Harry. It was a feeling no one else could give him and Draco was addicted. That's what Harry bloody Potter was, addiction.
Harry was Draco's addiction that the blond boy never wanted to quit.
"Bloody Hell, Potter," Draco growled as Harry tore open his robes and grasped his cock firmly. Draco groaned and let his head fall back as Harry attacked his neck with kisses, bites, and licks. Draco's blond halo of hair fell around his head, his pale lips parted in pleasure. Harry found the spot he knew the blond was extremely sensitive along his collarbone and sucked, stroking his cock with vigor. Draco was a lustful mess and Harry loved seeing the effect he had on someone like Draco.
Harry fell to his knees and Draco almost screamed when he felt the raven-haired beauty's glorious mouth on his cock, sucking tightly at the tip while massaging his balls. Harry lapped up the blonde's precum happily and worked the entire length into his mouth, staring into the foggy grey eyes that were boring into him. Draco held onto his hair as if Harry was the only thing anchoring him to this world and groaned, feeling his orgasm building.
With a gasp, Harry felt Draco's cock throb and withdrew his mouth, finishing off the boy with his hand. Harry watched the fair-haired boy's beautiful face as he climaxed, marveling in his beauty. Draco shut his eyes and shuddered, he stood there for a few minutes massaging Harry's dark locks "Fuck, Harry. Your cock looks amazing around my cock." His face was flushed from his orgasm, feeling no shame in the statement.
Harry grinned and stood to give Draco a heated kiss, his own cock still hard. Draco grinned and fell to his knees, avoiding the mess he made on the stone floor. He felt his pulse began to rise again at the thought of sucking Harry's cock, no matter how many times he had done it, it was still a shock how perfect Harry was when aroused. He skillfully opened Potter's robes, appreciating the boy's lean muscle before landing on his cock.
Harry's cock was perfect and the perfect size in Draco's opinion, tanned with a red tip that begged to be sucked. Draco licked and sucked at Harry's balls, giving them the attention Draco felt they deserved before moving onto the prize. Draco licked along the length and looked up, locking his eyes with Potter's.
Oh God, Potter's eyes.
Draco felt himself stop as he gazed up at the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. They had been seeing each other often since their fourth year, beginning with just kissing up working the way into more and Draco still couldn't believe how gorgeous Harry's eyes were, especially clouded with lust. His emerald green orbs glowed with intelligence and power, highlighted by his unruly black locks. Draco felt a twinge of humility and possessiveness that he was lucky enough to have Harry this way and couldn't imagine the time when he still believed he hated the boy.
Draco was addicted to Harry and craved his attention, the blond-haired boy had resigned himself to this, feeling alive when Harry paid attention to him. Harry pushed him to be better, to excel, and Draco pushed himself to live up to keep up with the great Harry Potter. Harry never feel this way though, he gave Draco the most tender kisses on the blonde's worst days, during his failures and this is what motivated him to do better, to be better.
For Harry.
Draco moaned as Harry bucked into his mouth and shut his emerald orbs in an intense orgasm. Draco held tightly onto Harry's hips and drank in every last drop of his cum, savoring in the taste of the dark-haired beauty.
Draco stood and gave him a slow, lazy kiss. They stood there in each others' arms, blissfully kissing for a few minutes before Harry broke away and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Is that your apology for defense today?" He grinned playfully.
Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed his arms around the other's waist, "no apology needed, you cocky git." He said playfully. "You got on Riddle's hitlist in one of the first lessons, not the wisest move for someone wanting to become an Auror."
Harry's face darkened, and he pulled away, taking a step back. "I know, I heard this already. I shouldn't have tried to be smart, but Riddle was being a git before my comment. I should have figured, he's close with Snape after-all."
Draco smiled apologetically and took a step closer to close the gap again, "It won't be that bad. I've heard that he is fair, he just doesn't seem to be much of a fan of Quidditch." He finished with a goofy grin that Harry wouldn't have believed possible for the blond before he got to know him.
Harry laughed and slapped Draco lightly on his arse. "I think you may be right. Or maybe, he doesn't like that Gryffindor is so much better than Slytherin in that regard."
Draco smiled mischievously and pulled Harry into a deep, sensual kiss. After he let go, Harry was breathless and felt his cock stir again. Draco smirked, "watch it, Potter. You're only so lucky because you're such a distraction."
"Maybe I'll have to start flying shirtless, it might help my team." Harry retorted back with a smile, enjoying the blonde's company immensely.
Draco smirked back and gave Harry a light kiss on the corner of the mouth. Harry marveled at how the Slytherin's skin glowed in the moonlight, how his grey eyes that are normally so hateful could become so affectionate. Harry groaned the moonlight. "It's late," he whispered against the blonde's mouth.
Draco looked out the window and nodded, "We should get going, we do have a game tomorrow after all." His grin fell slightly and looked at the door. They both listened quietly for a few minutes and couldn't hear any footsteps as they walked up to the door.
This had been their routine for the last two years and the pair hadn't been spotted yet. At first, Harry had been extremely nervous, only using his invisibility cloak and Marauder's map but after the ease of their meetings, he stopped bothering to bring them.
Harry gave Draco a quick kiss and opened the door quietly, stepping out into the cooler hallway. Harry marveled at how dark it had become and wondered how long they had spent together. Draco took a step to follow him out the door before they stopped in their tracks.
"Well Potter, you seem to be determined put Gryffindor into last place in just the first week of school." The two jumped at the bored baritone that pierced the otherwise quiet hallway.
Harry looked up to see Riddle walking soundlessly up to them, almost blending in fully with the shadows around him. The man was wearing full black robes, but the skin Harry could see was pale and almost glowing in the moonlight as if his magic was humming just under his skin in a way that was almost inhuman and made Harry's blood run cold. He felt Draco cower behind him and took in a deep breath, rubbing his palms on his jeans.
"I am sorry professor, we were studying and lost sense of time. It won't happen again." Harry spoke slowly, trying to emanate honesty in his words. He vehemently hoped the man would believe him and rumors of his trysts with the Slytherin wouldn't surface. Harry knew almost any professor would give them a slap on the wrist but allow them to leave, but he had already pissed off Riddle once today which didn't leave him hopeful.
Riddle's eyes gleamed and regarded the two sneaking out of the unused classroom with a knowing look. "I'm sure." His words dripped with sarcasm that stirred anger in Harry. "An odd place to study, I'd say. It is past curfew, Potter, 20 points from Gryffindor." Riddle's heavy gaze never left Harry as he addressed the blonde, "Draco, your godfather has told me what a model student you are. I do hope that this doesn't happen again or there will be consequences." Riddle finished, his cold gaze leaving Harry for a moment to emphasize his point to the blond.
Harry stood frozen for a moment, unable to use his throat to say anything and hating it. He hated the uneasy way Riddle intimidated him, he had never felt that way before and didn't know how to proceed. Riddle was a right bastard who was arrogant to take points away from Harry but not Draco because of house prejudice and a general dislike for the black-haired boy after class that day.
Riddle sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, "don't just stare at me like a dead fish, get back to your dormitories! And no detours, Potter, or I'll know." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
Harry shot off, making his way quickly toward the Gryffindor tower and gave Draco and nod before leaving. Draco nodded back and walked off in the opposite direction, toward the dungeons. Harry's pace was quick, wanting to make it away from Riddle as fast as he could. Dark, cold eyes bore into his back until he made it to the end of the corridor and toward the stairs.
The dormitory was dark when Harry arrived, the room lit by moonlight only. He passed by the beds of his slumbering house-mates before sinking down into his own red duvet. Setting his classes on his nightstand and toeing off his shoes, Harry collapsed onto the bed, unable to find the will to change into his pajamas. The raven-haired boy stared at the canopy above him, trying to rekindle the giddy feeling he always had after parting ways with Draco, but it would not come.
Sighing in annoyance, Harry contemplated his new professor. Tom Riddle was a bastard, that was becoming clear. He obviously had a problem with Harry since the dark-haired boy voiced his smart comment in class, which was fair, but Harry figured he probably wouldn't like Riddle even if the class had gone smoothly.
Harry was confident, he gave respect when it was due, but he submitted to no-one and especially not some old git trying to get a reaction from him. The Gryffindor allowed his features to become contorted in a scowl, but the statuesque man had unnerved him so wholly and made his skin crawl. Harry figured Riddle must dabble in dark magic, as Harry knew he had become sensitive to it after he became the infamous 'boy who lived'. The trick Riddle pulled in class today, taking everyone's voices was one Harry wasn't familiar with and seemed to ooze power which could be a sign of dark magic. However, it was extremely unlikely Riddle would risk using dark magic inside the school, especially not on students. It didn't make sense to Harry that he was the only one to feel this way about the esteemed professor. Riddle was well-liked among the students and staff alike before Harry had him as a professor he heard nothing but praise for the man.
Surely, if Riddle was a dark wizard, someone must have noticed? Harry thought of Riddle and Snape conversing over supper, surely someone who could enjoy that git's presence was a little evil themselves. But no, Harry sighed, none seemed to share in his theory or dislike.
Harry shivered as a cool breeze drifted through the room and climbed under his goose feather duvet, sinking into the warmth appreciatively. His thoughts began to blur as he felt sleep beginning to fog his mind and succumbed to sleep.
Harry knew he was dreaming.
He had been here before, more often as he aged, but his heart still softened when he laid eyes upon the small cottage. The worn stone walls were lined with flower-filled vines that nearly touched the low-hanging roof, Harry smiled softly and gazed upon his fairy-tale cottage, the windows were always bright, and the chimney had a light line of smoke whirling into the air above. Harry had been dreaming of this place all his life, and he still wasn't sure why his mind's eye saw fit to bring him here, but it calmed his soul more than anything he had ever experienced in his waking moments.
Harry dreamt of the cottage his whole life, but he had never been inside, his destination was the ancient oak tree just beyond. He took a few steps forward into the meadow and took in the sight of his oak tree, his branches hanging as if it were cradling the cottage below. Harry smiled and continued forward, to the wooden chairs set under the everlasting tree, facing the sunset, and was not surprised when one was already occupied.
The being was waiting for Harry, they were always waiting for him. With a calm demeanor, Harry took the seat he always did beside the ethereal figure. Harry never knew who they were supposed to represent to him, and he had never bothered to question it as they had only ever sat together calmly, sharing in the picturesque view before them.
It was always sunset here, and Harry felt his heart calm and warmth seep through his body as he watched, the oak tree a blanket from the world beyond them. He knew he should question why his mind chose this place to dream about, but the peace it brought him pushed all questions away, this place wasn't real, but it was his sanctuary. Harry was sure if he pressed their astronomy professor, he could learn the psychological reasons why he needed to create such a world to visit, but he didn't want to share this place.
Sitting there, with his unearthly companion, blanketed from the world, Harry could truly let himself go and drift off in the tranquility and safety of it all. This was his sanctuary, his 'garden of Eden' if you will, and he cherished the times his unconscious mind would bring him here. This place, where the air was always warm, the sunset was eternal, and he was never alone, felt more real than his real life at times. Though this place held such significance in his heart, Harry could never picture the place while awake, like grasping at air.
Harry turned to look at his companion, the figure who had been an integrated part of his unconscious mind for longer than he could remember and smiled softly as he saw their head tilt as if he were whispering some inside secret Harry would only understand. The wildflowers of the meadow billowed as a warm breeze filled the air, caressing Harry's cheek like an old lover.
Harry exhaled the warm air, gods he loved this place.
"I agree." The voice that faded into the breeze was like a soft music note, clear in Harry's head but lost in the air. Harry had never spoken to the figure before and found he couldn't hold onto the voice once it drifted off, unable to recall what it sounded like.
With a small gasp of surprise, Harry turned to regard his companion, who gave no indication that they had spoken at all. He wanted to hear the voice again, like water on a parched tongue, Harry wanted to prod the being into speaking once more. "Pardon?"
The raven-haired boy was met with no response and wondered if it had even happened at all. Harry got to his feet, trying to grasp anything he could from the being, anything he could hold onto, anything to prove that he really heard it. He felt his eyes beginning to burn and was surprised when his cheeks were cold from wetness. Harry had heard it, it wasn't just a trick from his mind, his whole body had felt that musical voice. The words, the voice, they were meant only for Harry and belonged to him.
All too soon, Harry felt himself being pulled away, the world slipping through his fingers. He regarded his companion reverently, the first time they had ever acknowledged Harry hadn't been enough, it was a taste of the other side and he wanted more. The image the place melted away and Harry was left feeling cold in the darkness of dreamless slumber.
The end of chapter 1.
I know that there are many unanswered questions, but they be answered soon enough! (One of them probably what happened to Dumbledore, but his story was not for Harry to tell *wink*wink*)
I would really love to hear any thoughts you have, even if it is (I hate to say the word) criticism. When I say criticism, I mean constructive with actual reasons as to why you're unhappy with something, not just being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole.
If this is worth continuing than please let me know.