FICATHON: FIC by meikitsune "Two Halves Of A Whole" (Tom, Harry, PG) Title: Two Halves Of A Whole Author/Artist:meikitsune Prompt numbers: 169: Tom. Playing with himself (prompt suggested by midnight_birth) Characters Harry/Tom, Tom/Horcrux Rating: T Words: ~1,200 Warnings: none given Summary: Tom and himself. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Author's notes: If I was a bit older this would be so much better. I’ll probably write that version out and post it elsewhere so it’s not really that bad.
Two Halves Of A Whole
It was so easy to manipulate people through talking, and touching and just paying attention them. Almost every girl swooned for him, and most guys wanted to either be him, or be with him. Tom Riddle was the Master at Hogwarts; he got what he wanted, when he wanted it and how he wanted it. He barely had to snap his fingers to get what he wanted; most people already knew. Just with a look, his minions were tripping over themselves to please him. It wasn’t even a matter of want. It was possession, and so far, everything he’d ever wanted was his, which was, of course, fine by him. Touch was becoming meaningless; however, it wasn’t his pleasure anymore. It was his need. His need to manipulate and get what he wanted, if there was nothing there; no emotion, then it was meaningless. He walked away unsatisfied and in a worse mood than when he began.
Tom sighed as he stepped under the spray of water. He was fascinated by the color green, especially the color of Slytherin’s house; his obsession, one of many, but one of the most prominent, he wanted to find someone with those Slytherin green or emerald eyes… He almost whimpered as the fantasy he’d created flashed through his mind. There was always another boy. He looked almost exactly like Tom himself, only his hair was messy and his eyes were a darker green. He was carefree and he always smiled at Tom. He liked to think the boy was him, and on some level it felt like Tom was with himself, like a part of him pulling to himself. They would talk; how they would talk. Tom would talk about everything with the other green-eyed boy and what the other boy didn’t know Tom would tell him about. There was always a place, whether it was a park that the boy would take him to or a study Tom would concoct on his own, they would meet. Sometimes the boy would want to play a game and they’d play chess or Merlin forbid – and Tom would deny he liked it – tag. There would be scarce times when the boy would randomly corner him and tickle him until Tom was red in the face; twisting and squirming until the boy stopped, or he was able to tickle him back. The images were so precious to him, but at the same time so torturous. He could not have what he needed most, yet he always got what he wanted; quite paradoxical to him. The green-eyed boy was just so…magical. He knew he was a wizard but he never took it for granted. The boy loved magic almost as much as Tom loved the boy. He was kind and childish but he was composed too. He seemed to be a Gryffindor but there were times where Tom could swear he was undeniably a Slytherin.
“What’s your name?” Tom asked the green-eyed boy as they both sat on swings, a park surrounding them, silence enveloping them. “My name’s Harry, Tom.” “How do you know my name?” “I’m a part of you,” “How is that possible?” “You ripped your soul.” “That can only be done when Horcruxes are formed.” “That’s right, and you ripped your soul seven times, I’m the last part. Your soul split when you killed my parents.” Tom looked horrified as the words triggered in his mind. “I haven’t killed anyone!” he said indignantly. “Not yet you haven’t. I’m a part of you; I’m part of your soul. I’m you. As long as you don’t create those Horcruxes, you’ll never be alone.” “If I don’t create the Horcruxes, you won’t be a part of me.” “I can be a part of you and orphaned, or a part of you with a family. I think I know which one I want more.” “How would you become a part of me?” “A soul bond, we’re already connected, otherwise this wouldn’t be possible,” Harry said with a grin, spinning himself slightly on the swing. “So you are me…just a different part.” “Yeah, ‘xactly so,” Harry said with a small smile that slowly faded. “The way you are now, though, my wish my not come true.” “Why not?” The question was indignant. “You’re cruel, Tom, and you’re narrow minded with a one track mind. You take what you want with no consideration for others. A person like that would never take the path toward the possibility I want most. “That’s not true.” Harry laughed humorlessly, morosely, “Yes, it is. I don’t think you could change, even if you wanted to.” “I’ll prove you wrong.” Harry only smiled sadly before Tom’s fantasy dissolved in clouds of steam and droplets of hot water. Tom swept wet hair back from eyes that had narrowed with determination. He wanted; no he needed the green eyed-boy, his other half. He’d have him too; he’d prove the younger boy wrong.
Tom entered the Great Hall that night on a mission: he’d change and he’d change so fully that there would be no going back. If he destroyed the image he’d created that drawn all those others to seek his attention, if he changed as dramatically as he’d promised, there would be nothing in his past to cause him regret and so much more that he might gain. Like always, as he entered the Great Hall things quieted down and almost all the other students monitored what he did. One of his…minions came up to him. “Tom,” she cooed, “I’m free this evening.” He withdrew her hand from his arm and repressed a grimace. Compared to Harry, this girl’s touch felt disgusting, degrading almost. “I’m sorry,” he said insincerely before turning to find a seat. By now the hall was quiet, eerily so. Tom looked over his shoulder as someone paused behind him. “Good evening, Professor Dumbledore.” The older man paused, staring for a moment at the Slytherin, trying to absorb the realization that Tom had actually meant what he’d just overheard, that he was sincere. “Mr. Riddle, I’d like for you to meet me in my office after your meal.” “All right, sir,” Tom replied, slightly put off as he made his way to his seat. He ignored the curious glances, the questions and the obvious prying into his business. After all what he wanted, he got; what he needed, he claimed.
Tom arrived at Dumbledore’s office a few minutes shortly after the man himself did. He knocked three times and paused. The door opened on its own and he stepped in, vowing that he was really putting his past behind him and that he would judge whatever Dumbledore had to say not from his old, cynical viewpoint but with an open mind. “Sir?” he called and he almost felt he was in a dream, that he was somehow just a normal student visiting the office of his professor. The situation felt awkward and weird, but then so had magic the first few times he’d tried it. “Please sit, Tom.” Tom complied, sitting in front of the older man’s desk. There was silence for a few minute before Dumbledore spoke. “You surprised me today, Tom.” He stopped for a moment and looked thoughtfully into space. “You haven’t spoken to me like that since our first encounter when you were in the orphanage. You were very sincere tonight, and very different. I would like to know why.” Dumbledore continued to sit quietly, not expecting an answer but pondering the meaning nonetheless. “There’s someone waiting for me…sir, and I want to prove him wrong. He doesn’t like ruthless people, and he didn’t like some of the things I was doing before. So I’ve stopped, completely. I’m putting the past behind me and keeping it there. The best way to do that was to destroy my image, so I – as you saw – have started on that. “I’d rather reevaluate my goals, and meet him as a whole, then lose him on the path I had chosen.” “Who, Tom?” “He’s not here yet. May I go, sir?” Dumbledore let him go, watching in a masked sort of shock and guilt. He’d forsaken a child because he’d showed signs of Darkness when all he’d needed was a little light to choose another path.