Xposted to WattPad, Trigger Warnings for abuse, negative stimming, neglect, violence and, later, smut. TomXHarry.

Chapter One

A Pleasure To Meet You

Harry's scowl could've probably melted the window he was frowning at. The incessant rain was doing little to help his mood and, unfortunately, his persistent relatives were immune to his emerald glare. Black, chopped locks of hair fell in his eyes as he pressed the side of his head to the cool window, ignoring the shift of his glasses to accommodate the hard surface.

At least Dudley wasn't here this time. The fact that his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't dare expose their 'precious Duddykins' to Durmstrang Behavioural Academy only served to the torment of kicks and punches his cousin didn't even bother hiding from Petunia and Vernon.

Anxiety and relief flooded the pale boy in torrents as they pulled up in front of the biggest oak doors he had ever seen, even more intimidating was the appearance that each of the huge doors was a single piece of wood rather than planks and must've been at least a century old.

'Mitescere Tempus ut Draco.' Was etched boldly into the stone arch above the door and Harry could determine enough to figure out the meaning.

It takes time to tame a dragon.

But apparently they think they can do it.

In front of the doors was a put-out looking lithe man in a black, over-sized suit with lank black hair and a previously-broken nose.

"I am Professor Snape. All of the teachers here are Professors and will be addressed as such. As you've been put in my wing you will be my responsibility. Do not make me responsible. Come this way, please." The last word was so delayed it was barely an afterthought and the scowl set deep in his thin lips rivalled Harry's in intensity other than the dull, bored glazed over obsidian eyes.

As they walked through an enormous parlour with an almost inadequately small reception desk – Petunia and Vernon stopped to sign in – Snape explained that he needn't sign in because he was already registered from a student as though he were speaking to a toddler.

Once they'd gotten to the headmaster's office Petunia and Vernon were as eager to leave as Harry was to be shot of them. After a few signed papers and shaken hands they were gone and Harry was in the best mood he'd been all day.

By the time they'd made it to the Slytherin dorm, Harry was starting to feel like he could breathe again. He hadn't spoken much, perhaps five words between the car and the dorm and he was glad to feel the lump in his throat moving down.

As Harry had spotted a few uniformed students on their path, Professor Snape had explained – after being prompted by Harry – that his two sets of each uniform – summer and winter – would be folded on his bed when he got there.

"Rooms are shared by two students and seperated by gender. Bed assignments are fluid but in the case of an argument between whose bed is whose the staff will always side with the given assignment. There is a bathroom with a small shower in the room, food is always in the dining hall and there is a bath in the gym for muscle release. Baths are always monitored. Dinner is a 6pm, no exceptions. If you miss dinner you will go hungry." He paused for a minute to glare directly at Harry.

"Your roommate is Tom Riddle. Room changes only occur under the strictest of circumstance and believe me if that happens I. Will. Not. Be. Impressed. Any questions Mr. Potter?"

From the tone of his voice Harry knew not to ask so he simply shook his head and picked up his single trunk and his satchel and made for the inside of the room.

The inside of the room was...peculiar. Not that in that it was messy or even disorganised, but because it wasn't. In fact, Harry couldn't remember ever having been inside a teenage boy's bedroom that was this immaculate.

The shower was on through a plain white door with a steamy, swirled glass window so Harry assumed he'd be safe to look around while his neighbour showered.

There didn't appear to be a scrap of mess anywhere in the room. Even the waste-paper basket aside the two sibling work-desks contained paper that had been neatly folded instead of crumbled or shredded.

One of the beds was clearly claimed - the trunk at its foot and the writing on the desk at that side made that clear, unfortunately it seemed that that was where someone had put his uniform by mistake. Harry debated moving the uniform or not.

Clearly, his roommate – Tom – was fussy about his belongings, but would it bother him more if he moved it or left it?

In the end it didn't matter; he'd debated the matter for so long that Tom had come out and was now looking at him with a calculated look in his eyes.

And he was fucking gorgeous.

Almost-black, neat locks fell in damp, curled waves in front of eyes that were such a warm, intense brown they were nearer red. His skin wasn't quite as pale as Harry's and what he could see was flawless and stretched tight over drawn muscles and a lithe, strong chest. He had one towel wrapped around a sinewy waist and Harry could just about see a neat happy trail disappearing beneath the fluffy black fabric.

"-must be Harry" Harry had just realised the other was speaking and nodded emphatically while he found his voice.

"Erm, my uniform is on your bed, I wasn't sure if.." He struggled to say more and Tom seemed to look at him with that same calculating gaze before realising.

"You noticed the neatness of the room and you weren't sure whether moving it would upset me more than it being there?" His voice was so confident and charming, it clearly wasn't a question and Harry was back to nodding.

This one was at least cute. His emerald eyes were something you could get lost in... In all honesty Tom had moved the uniforms to see how his new roommate would react. Not that he'd tell Harry that.

He must have some intelligence to even have considered which option to take, but was either not confident or smart enough to pick the right one. So he was either above-average but not any higher intelligence or he had submissive tendencies. Judging from his posture and the thin arms grasping around his abdomen, Tom was inclined to go with submissive nature. Perfect.

And he was adorable at it too. He'd glance up to make eye contact and then he'd realise and drop his head and blush so fiercely that Tom swore he could've lit a cigarette on those pale cheeks.

Once Tom had moved the uniforms, even going so far as to put them in the small wardrobe that had been split into two areas, and transferred the shoes from under one bed to the other, he put his tight boxers on and lounged on his own, now clear, bed.

Harry seemed to take that as permission – smart boy – and sat down, he, however, decided on his own desk chair as opposed to the bed and, although he was sitting up, determinedly kept his back from touching the chair's cushioned back.

"I assume Severus gave you the same, basic introduction slash warning we all got?" at a nod he continued "Well, uniforms are optional in free time but during the week they are required at lessons, activities and meals. As dinner will be in half an hour, I suggest you make use of the en suite."

Harry's determined nod was so cute that Tom almost forgot to notice when he took his shoes into the bathroom as well as his clothing.

Once his roommate was gone Tom decided to put his own uniform on, making sure his deep green tie was to its usual impeccable state and that his shoes were speck-free as he did so.

When Harry returned he was fully dressed – his tie hanging limply around his neck – and seemed far less flustered than before. Shame.

Typically, Tom would've probably offered to assist with the tie – if only to assert his dominance and begin the indebting – but it seemed as though Harry wouldn't appreciate the contact and he was certainly intelligent enough to manoeuvre the strip of fabric himself so the elder brunette just left it.


Dinner was typically a calamitous affair, with imbecilic chimps screeching from each table. However, the introduction of a new student seemed to silence the huge hall as the pair walked in, three minutes after the pre-Victorian doors had opened.

Tom had taken his time getting ready for dinner and washing his hands, not out of any particular care or neccessity, he simply detested the rushing crowds that amassed at each and every mealtime and, as arriving early wasn't a possibility - though rest assured the teen had looked into th course of action repeatedly and insistently - he had eventually settled on simply arriving later than the others.

His... friends were all glancing curiously at the small boy at his side from their usual table, Draco and Blaise had been smart enough to make room for another occupant while Gregory and Pansy complained at their sudden lack of space in the middle of the table. Tom found it almost intriguing that they'd decided to seat Harry directly opposite Tom at the 'head' of the lunch table, perhaps Tom had sightly understimated their intelligence after all.

Harry had told him that he was 15, only two years Tom's junior, and the older boy hadn't quite believed it, from his frame and height and the slim figured of his body positively swallowed by the tattered clothes he'd been wearing, Tom would've estimated him to be 12, or perhaps 13 at a push.

Once Harry had come out of the bathroom and attempted to comb his choppy black locks, Tom had ascertained two things. Firstly, that the younger boy's hair seemed to be almost untaimable, and secondly that he had not performed the poor hair cut himself, likely it was a family member.

While Tom had initially suspected poverty, he'd gotten a look at the car that the boy had arrived in and the enormous whale that had been driving it.

They were certainly not struggling financially and Harry's seemed to be the only clothing that was severely oversized and in such a morbid state of disrepair.

The boy practically screamed of neglect, or he would if he ever opened those pouty lips. Tom was going to have to be careful here, while he edged towards a honey over vinegar approach to ensnaring new people, he apparently wasn't immune to Harry's unique charms and he had no intention of making a fool of himself over a new student, adorable or otherwise.

Harry waited to see where Tom sat before he sat down and, while he was acclimating quickly, the new group of people - several of which seemed to be appraising Harry in a way that made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end - made the lump in his throat reappear as a flurry of questions flew at him from almost every direction.

Tom wasn't asking any questions, simply listening quietly for a few minutes. Harry wasn't an idiot, He could see that Tom was naturally dominant, and clearly he held a position of authority in this little group of students and that whatever reasons they were here were discreet, or at least trained to be so as Harry was having difficulty spotting any obvious behavioural issues in any of them.

"I would hope," Tom began with his hands pressed neatly together over his meal tray and in a sedate tone that rang false in Harry's ears with a hard edge underneath. "That when presented with a cautious new student with obvious anxiety we would ask them questions politely and in turn rather than barraging them with demands of their past." there was very little hard-edged or aggression in Tom's tone, but the moment he'd started to speak, the cacophony of enquiries stopped and some of them even bowed their head in apology.

Yes, Tom was definitely naturally dominant.

"What's your favourite colour, Harry?" The polite question had come from Blaise Zabini, a caramel skinned boy about Tom's age who was doing his very best to look friendly and non-threatening from next to Harry.

Smiling in earnest, Harry looked directly at Tom's tie when he answered "Green."