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Wizarding sports were, in Tom’s opinion, one of the most offensive examples of uselessly enduring Pureblood culture. At Hogwarts, his housemates had insisted he simply didn’t see the appeal of Quidditch and the like because he was muggleborn. Tom knew he was a half-blood, but the only proof he had to such a claim was his ability to speak Parseltongue, and he would not give up the advantage of having a secret ability that useful just to impress some witless blood purists. So, he smiled. He said that they must be right. He stayed at the top of his classes and made it into the auror academy, even as a ‘muggleborn’.
Yet here he was on his first mission, protecting the national Quidditch team at some irritatingly loud game versus France’s national team. The other aurors were thrilled. Tom was bored. He’d been assigned to guard their teams’ locker room hallway and keep anyone but the team out. The minister was worried about tampering or sabotage of the team in general, but in particular of their new Seeker. He was some kind of prodigy athlete, newly graduated from Hogwarts and snatched up by the team’s captain, Oliver Wood, the very day he left the castle.
His fellow aurors had mocked him with false sympathy that his assigned post meant he wouldn’t be able to actually WATCH the game. They insisted that he most certainly wasn’t given the worst post because he was muggleborn. Tom knew the truth. It was lucky that he didn’t give a fuck. He kept a small garter snake hidden in his robes at all times and had sent her off to gather any bit of gossip she could overhear in the Minister’s box. Waiting for her to report back was dull, but he couldn’t be seen outside the bounds of his post, so he disillusioned himself and found an alcove at the end of the hall overlooking the pitch to sit in. The game should be starting any moment. He didn’t intend to watch, but the fresh air was nice. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to allow the sun to touch his face.
“Are you hiding from someone too?”
He leapt to his feet soundlessly, looking around for the source of the voice. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the alcove with him, and he could sense no enchantments besides his own disillusionment. Then, in a ripple of fabric, a man became visible as he shed a shimmering cloak. Ah, extraordinary. He’d never seen such an exquisite Invisibility Cloak. He’d seen two others in training, but he could still sense those when they were worn. The man’s back was to him as he folded the cloak and tucked it into his robes, but Tom recognized the uniform of the National Quidditch team players.
“Family heirloom.” The man explained mildly, as if Tom had asked. His voice was bright and warm, and when he turned, he had a friendly look of encouragement on his face, as if he was delighted to have found someone stalking near his locker room invisibly. And Merlin, what a face it was. The young man brought to mind the myths and legends he’d read in his youth – surely this was the reincarnation of Patroclus. Beautiful, slim, yet strongly built. His eyes were an otherworldly green, and cupid never crafted a bow so flawless as his lips. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and upper lip, and with the angle of the sun on him, he looked to be glowing.
“I’m hiding from my Captain. He can be a bit intense before a game. He’s spent the past week insisting I not use my hands for anything I could do with magic, including eating, and yells at anyone who speaks to me about anything but this upcoming match.”
Although it seemed the man was content with Tom’s silence, he wanted desperately to speak to him. He simply couldn’t find the words. His thoughts had scattered as if in a breeze when he looked upon the stranger. His hands opened and closed in a spasm that seemed to have nothing to do with Tom, but as if in remembered repetition. What finally emerged from his mouth was intended to be impressive but sounded more like an argument.
“I am not hiding. I’m here to protect you.”
Those electric eyes nearly met his when he spoke, despite the fact that he knew his enchantment was perfect and he was entirely invisible. The man tilted his head slightly, smiling.
“One of the aurors, then? I didn’t realize you all would be patrolling under disillusionment.”
The tiny quirk at the stranger’s lips told him clearly that he knew Tom was lying but would not call him out on it.
“… I wanted some fresh air and sunlight.”
WHY was he telling this man the truth? He could report Tom for leaving his post. Yet still…he grimaced at the thought of lying to the stranger outright.
“Ah, a man after my own heart.”
His breath was suddenly squeezed from his chest. He made a sound of agreement, something gruff and low in his throat that he was endeavoring to keep from becoming a growl.
“Sorry if I disturbed you. I should be getting to the pitch now anyway.”
The man had turned away, and he was LEAVING. Tom moved to block him unthinkingly.
“Wait! What is your name?”
The young man paused and turned to him again.
“Harry. Harry Potter.”
Potter. A pureblood name. He had heard some gossip about the family over the years, but as they held no considerable power, he’d never paid it much attention.
“What’s your name, my protector?”
“Harry! Harry, the game is about to- ah, at last! There you are my boy!”
The Minister for Magic was walking over to them as quickly as he could manage, wiping the sweat from his brow as he went.
“We need you down on the field immediately, can’t have our star Seeker being late for his first big game!”
Tom crept back into his corner silently. So, this was the prodigy Seeker?
“Heavens, where has Riddle gone? He was supposed to be guarding this area. That’s the work ethic of a muggleborn for you.”
Well, shit. He hadn’t expected the lazy and unintelligent Minister to know the post assignments. The Head Auror wasn’t here, and the others were spread throughout the stadium. Nobody should have checked if he was at his assigned spot.
“What does him being a muggleborn have to do with anything? I’m a half-blood, Minister. Obviously, he’s hard working if he’s gotten to such a position as a muggleborn. And he was here a moment ago. I asked him to get me something from the locker room. I’m sure he’ll be right out.”
The Seeker very carefully didn’t look in his direction, and Tom found himself flushing at the irony of Harry protecting him. Defending him against the ignorance of these pureblood gits. The Minister sputtered and apologized, and the ugly color he turned coupled with the satisfied curl of Harry’s lips made Tom’s heart race in his chest. He slipped past them and into the room, removing his disillusionment and finding the locker labeled H. Potter. It held a variety of clothing and hygiene items. Tom was sorely tempted to take an item of clothing for himself, but it would be too obvious it was him. Instead, he grabbed an inert golden snitch. It seemed the kind of thing a Seeker would keep as a lucky charm. Tom hurried out to the other men, handed the snitch to Harry, and caught only a glimpse of wide, admiring eyes on his before the Minister turned Harry away and pulled him down the hallway, out of sight.
He watched a Quidditch game intently for the very first time. He cheered, he hissed boos at the opposing team, and he admired his only favorite player as he soared through the sky. He was beginning to see the appeal of this sport. The struggles of the chasers to make progress, of the beaters to minimize consequence, and the keepers to defend what was theirs. It was all to facilitate the primary objective – to ensure that the seeker gets the prize first. The game went on for nearly 12 hours. It was brutal and exhausting for the players and the audience, but in the end, Harry rose above the crowd with the golden snitch in hand.
Yes, Tom understood this game now. And he would have his prize.
.
.
.
.
Five years was a very short time to go from a freshly graduated auror to Head Auror. He’d set a record at the Ministry and was the youngest ever in his position. The amount of blackmail, staged accidents, and biting his tongue it had taken was immense, but it was all worth it to finally be in a position of power so great as to rival the Minister. He WAS the law now, and the current Minister was just as useless as the last one. That’s how he preferred his elected officials – easy to manipulate, quick to pass responsibilities on to others to lighten their own workload. Tom had taken as many of these troublesome tasks from the man as he could and was now in charge of approving criminal cases to go before the Wizengamot, vetoing proposed bills in the name of national security or secrecy, and many other invaluable processes. The Minister was thrilled, and so was Tom.
Five years was an unbearably long time to wait for the perfect opportunity to claim Harry Potter. He had become one of the most popular athletes in the country and won them the Quidditch World Cup last year. He’d had one semi-serious relationship with a player on the Holyhead Harpies, but it had ended amicably, and Ginny Weasley was now engaged to another. Harry’s parents were bearing down on him to get married, and it was well known that he did not want this. Harry Potter had been interviewed several times since the breakup about new relationships and invariably insisted that he wanted to focus on his career.
This is why it was now the ideal time to seize him. Tom had heard about the marriage negotiations currently ongoing between the Potter family and the Bell family, and he doubted very much that Harry was aware of these negotiations.
“Head Auror Riddle? Mr. Potter is here to see you.”
His secretary led the star player into his office, and Tom hardly noticed her departure. Having Harry this near to him again was like being in the pull of a black hole. He could not possibly fight against the force that brought him forward, that had him orbiting around the beautiful man.
“…it’s you. You were at my first professional league game, weren’t you?”
Harry’s eyes were wide, mouth parted slightly in wonder. He remembered. He’d only had one glance at Tom, yet he remembered him.
“Yes. Thank you for helping me that day, Harry Potter.”
Harry gave him a wry grin, cheeks turning a delicate pink.
“I don’t think you needed much help, Head Auror. That’s incredibly impressive by the way, congratulations.”
He did his best not to preen and only allow himself a polite inclination of his head, but he was unable to control his own pleased flush.
“I have requested your presence here today because I would like to help you as well.”
He retrieved the copies of the tentative agreements between the Potter and Bell families from his desk and handed them to Harry. He had put a reroute order on both families mail (under the code for suspicious activity) to obtain them for copies, then allowed the owls to make their way to the recipients as intended. As Harry read, his friendly face grew stony. He reached the end of the documents and handed them back to Tom without a word. Their hands brushed, and an arch of green magic stung his hand like electricity. Tom gasped, exhilarated. Harry panicked.
“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry! When I’m upset or overwhelmed, my magic can break from my control and – oh gods, you were just trying to help me! I’m upset at them, not you, but my stupid magic –“
Wild magic. How fascinating and rare. The hungry thing in him that had decided it would be satisfied ONLY with Harry Potter purred.
“No need to apologize. And I am still trying to help you. I assume that you have no desire to wed Miss Bell?”
He placed the parchments on his desk and watched Harry’s eye flick towards them contemptuously.
“No, I do not. That proposal is just like all the others – I’d have to stop playing Quidditch to focus on making heirs, taking over my father’s seats in the Wizengamot, dedicate my life to a bunch of equally boring pureblood nonsense.”
Tom smiled, trying not to let it grow to a victorious grin.
“I quite agree that it is dated and unfair. You should be allowed to continue what you love doing for as long as you’d like. May I propose a solution?”
“Why? Why do you care enough to help me?”
He was not expecting the question. People in Harry’s position, people of power or influence, very rarely questioned why they were offered anything. They took it as their due. How charming his Seeker continued to be. His instincts had been as correct in his choice of partners as they had in everything else.
“I care because I was quite charmed during our first meeting. I never forgot you. Is that so surprising?”
A furious blush began spreading over Harry’s features. His gaze slid to the side of Tom’s head as he muttered in a joking tone:
“Like love at first sight? I might understand if I hadn’t been a mess of nerves and sweat.”
‘A mess’ is not a way he would ever describe Harry Potter. He moved close and boldly cupped his gentle face in brutal hands and continued to reply with honesty.
“Something like that. You remembered me too, Harry. Why?”
There was a flicker of something in those jewel-like eyes as he used his first name, but it was soon smothered in shyness. He could tell that Harry spoke truly when he responded. Earnest, so earnest was his beautiful chosen.
“Because I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I wondered… if you watched me play that day.”
“I did.” He insisted, heart soaring at Harry’s reply. “I kept my eyes on you for the entire 12 hours.”
Too much honesty, fool. Too much hunger is breaking through his gaze, he knew. Harry was wide-eyed at his tone. He had wanted for so long, and finally he had his prize, quite literally, in his grasp. He made himself release Harry’s face and speak evenly again.
"Until I can see changes come about in our current system, and I assure you that I will indeed change the way the Wizarding world does things, there is another solution."
Harry tilted his head curiously.
"You seem very passionate about that. But I guess you'd have to be in order to move up in the Ministry so quickly. It's an old man's club here, and they aren't eager to hear the progressive ideas of the young."
It sounded like Harry knew that from experience. He may have found a partner who was his equal in every way, which was far from what he thought possible before meeting the Seeker. He thought he might eventually make an advantageous marriage someday but had never anticipated any kind of yearning for another. How did he get Harry to feel the same? He had already admitted to attraction. Perhaps seduction?
"Instead of settling with one of these marriages where you will be pressured into roles you do not want - choose me."
Harry blinked rapidly in shock.
"I will not interfere in your career or make you take up your father's place in the Wizengamot. Bind yourself to me in a brief ritual. We will be married by magic but not law if that’s your preference, and no other union will be possible. I will protect you and your interests and provide anything you could want as a husband."
He accompanied this last statement with a blatantly appreciative scan of Harry's body, slowly removing his auror's cloak at the same time.
"You - you want me to marry you. To avoid a traditional marriage?"
"Yes. I will keep you safe, happy, and I assure you that I am an excellent lover."
He need not know that Tom had only been able to stomach other lovers these past five years by mentally projecting Harry's features onto them. He need not know that Tom had already used his authority to gain entry into the Bell home's wards and killed the foolish girl who dared to attempt to take what was his. Harry went very pink in the face and mumbled something he didn't catch, but he did catch the way Harry's gaze trailed over his body like a caress.
"And what happens if we decide not to be fake married anymore? Won't you eventually want someone-"
" No, I will not. And I will ensure you don't either. If you agree to be mine, I will not let you go."
Harry looked tempted. So close. He just needed a little push. He made his voice soft and silky, full of promise.
"Come on beautiful, say yes. Let me thank you properly for defending me years ago while you consider it."
He backed Harry against a filing cabinet, hands on both sides of his head. Harry shook slightly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.
"Thank me... how? We're in the Ministry and you're Head Auror. We can’t just…”
"I do as I please. I am nearly at the level of the Minister. Who is going to challenge me on the law here?"
To make his point clearly, he pressed his hips against Harry's, mouth hovering over his chosen partner's. There was only a thin ring of green visible in Harry’s lust blown eyes, and he flicked his own down to Harry’s lips, daring him to take the initiative and kiss Tom. There was only a moment of hesitation before his lovely Seeker did, and that was all the permission he personally needed. Harry would be his forever, whether he knew it or not. He placed one hand on the front of Harry’s straining trousers and whispered against his lips.
“Say yes, Harry.”
As he hoped, Harry’s attention went only to the hand and what he thought Tom was asking.
“Y-yes. Yes, please.”
Such a good boy. He would be sure to reward him. He had Harry stripped from the waist down in moments, a vial of pink tinted lube in his hand a moment later, and Harry stared at it, blush deepening.
“You were definitely prepared to meet me today.”
He had no idea. The pink tint to the clear lubricant was due to the blood of Katie Bell. Her body was still waiting to be discovered at the Bell home, as he'd come straight back to his meeting with Harry afterwards. The kill needed to be fresh, and the blood needed to be inside Harry for this to work. He coated his own hand and stroked Harry’s erection firmly. Harry’s head whipped back to thump against the filing cabinet. It must have hurt, but the man below him hardly seemed to notice as he sped up his strokes, carefully unfastening his own belt and trousers in breathless anticipation. He began whispering the ancient words in the archaic language of the ritual, but Harry’s whimpers of pleasure mostly drowned them out. His breathing sped to an unmistakable rhythm, and Tom knew that now was the perfect moment.
“The magical binding requires… consummation. More than this, Harry. It requires penetration.”
He slowed his strokes to a snail pace that he knew would keep Harry aching to cum, but without enough stimulation to get there. His beauty’s eyes opened, glassy and desperate as they found his. The begging whimper he made nearly convinced him to cave to the younger man’s demand.
“I – penetration? But I’ve never…”
Hunger rose in him like a wave, ready to erode his reason and turn him into a beastly thing that would only take. But Harry needed to consent to this part of the ritual.
“Just a little bit, darling. The tip would do. Say yes, beautiful.”
He sped up again, rubbing his thumb torturously over the head of Harry’s cock with every stroke. Harry choked on a moan, legs only shakily keeping him standing now.
“J-just the tip?”
“Of course. Say yes. Let me give you everything you deserve…”
“Okay. Yes, do it then.”
He felt the bond snap into place between them. The piece of himself he was giving to Harry began to tear from his soul, and it was agony, but the feeling of victory was stronger. He lifted Harry’s legs from the ground and pinned his knees to the filing cabinet on either side of Harry’s head, his hips holding the smaller body in place. He was spread open so wonderfully before Tom’s own cock, already freed and coated in lubricant while Harry was debating. The embarrassed squeak that his lovely partner made at the position was so endearing. He would get used to being spread wide over Tom’s office furniture soon enough.
“N-no, this is so!”
He muttered a spell to stretch and clean Harry, which made him yelp in alarm.
“Tom, wait, I can’t even move!”
His darling seemed to be trying to lever himself into some position where he could hold onto something besides Tom’s arms for support. His smile at Harry’s use of his first name made his cheeks ache.
“You don’t need to. Let me take care of you.”
He rubbed himself against Harry’s hole once, twice, in warning before he began pushing in. Fuck, he was tight, even stretched. Harry’s sweet voice rose in a whimper again, higher than he’d heard it so far. It was almost musical. The head popped past the tight ring of muscle, and Tom stopped, breathing deeply to try to keep the reins on his control. Harry’s breathing had become so labored, his eyes shone wet with tears.
“Oh gods, even the tip is so much…”
They both froze in shock.
“Did I just speak in Parseltongue?” He asked.
“Yes. You still are.”
Tom was just as shocked as Harry. Did this mean...? It had worked better than he could have imagined. Harry was his horcrux now, and the soul piece that resided in him gave him the ability to speak Parseltongue, just as Tom could. The feeling that came over him was indescribable. Without thought or further hesitation, he pushed the entire length of his cock inside Harry in one deep thrust.
“AHN! T-Tom, you said –“
He was a liar. He always had been, but he would try to be honest with Harry from this moment on.
“I couldn’t help it. Not when I heard you Speak.”
He might have said some other things, but words were soon drowned out in the sharp slap of skin on skin as he fucked Harry against the cabinet. The heavy wood creaked behind them, but all he could focus on was the begging.
“Tom! Oo fast! Fuck, wait! Pleeease, it feels – “
Harry’s surprised shout of pleasure as he struck his prostate was his undoing. The last remnants of his composure, his front of civility and gentleness fell away like a shed skin. His thrusts became so brutal and relentless that the cabinet thumped loudly against the wall continuously, and Harry’s magic lashed out indiscriminately. Sparks of multicolored magic rained down on them in tiny shocks, the floor of his office cracked and began splitting down the middle, and the parchment upon his desk caught fire. Tom chuckled with what little breath he could spare, utterly delighted. Harry seemed unable to speak between short screams and deep moans.
“Bring the whole building down- with your wild magic. I will still. Keep. Fucking. You.”
He punctuated these last words with thrusts so hard and deep that Harry’s sweat-slicked body moved further up the cabinet. His soul’s mouth hung open and panting, even as he came, soaking his own chest and face with pleasure. Tom watched every moment raptly before allowing himself to orgasm, pressing deep enough to ensure his cum would leak out of Harry and remind him for hours. He realized then what this warm feeling was, swelling up and tingling through his entire body.
“I love you, my soulmate. You’re mine now, aren’t you? Always…”
He took Harry’s heaving body in his arms. His limbs were still shivering, a thin line of saliva trailing down his cheek. He sat down at his desk chair to drape Harry over his lap, arms limp at his side as he collapsed against Tom tiredly. He had not pulled his spent cock from Harry, enjoying its new home too much. Eyes like spring, like life itself opened blearily to meet Tom’s. What little realization and alarm he saw there was quickly fading. Sleep pulled Harry’s eyelids low again, and he murmured his response as if repeating an old adage that he knew to be true.
“Yours…always.”
Harry’s breathing evened out as his eyes closed. Tom kissed his temple and repaired the damage to his office. He destroyed the rest of the vial of incriminating evidence, and freed one hand from around his horcrux. Tom signed off on the revisions to the latest bill he had ensured got approved through the Wizengamot and sent it to the Minister for the final signature. The man would hardly glance at it. It was for same sex marriages and non-purebloods to share all the same legal benefits and inheritance. He and Harry were going to change this wretched outdated society together, and they now had forever to do it.