Chapter Text
It was during free time that he intruded into Tom’s peace with his presence. With his very messy dark hair, his lustrous green eyes and a visible, impressive scar on his forehead. He was meek and short, but not unnoticeable.
As for Tom, had been here for a month already.
He was sent here after the matron, Mrs. Cole, caught him trying to drown his peer. Although it was justified, he thought. That oversized mongolian Billy had provoked Tom under the deluded belief that Tom’s past punishments—given frequently by the matron—would deter his usual ways of retributions. He should’ve still expected for it to come, though, after what Tom had done to his ugly pet bunny, it was only bound to happen again. The bunny was a warning and Billy didn't heed to it. So, it was his own fault for being stupid.
And stupid people did not deserve to live, not the way Tom did. And Tom wished he had succeeded in his attempt.
Unlike at Wool’s, here in this place, it didn’t take any sizable efforts before all the kids respected him. It didn’t take him long to climb the ladder to the top. Since everyone else was as weak—and sometimes unbelievably much weaker—as the kids from the orphanage.
The new kid—Harry, his name was, the special educator had said—never spoke to anyone. Tom spent a good chunk of a week observing the boy. From meals, to free times, to the rare outdoor activities… but he maintained the same routine, with the same distance from everyone around him.
During meal times, he ate minimally, only enough to not draw any more comments from the adults monitoring them, and only the same plain food he ate daily. During free time, he sat on the flamboyant red and uncomfortable armchair placed in the common area, with his arms around his knees and his head lulled on his shoulder, he stared into the unworthy nothingness. Even during their mandatory one hour in the bedroom—because he was made Tom’s roommate—(presumably, his lack of tongue would be a blessing as it wouldn’t trigger Tom’s outbursts)—he stayed silent, only staring and staring into even more void, only this time, in a different location. He was like a living, translucent ghost. Just floating around doing nothing contributory or entertaining of the sort.
The doctors never disclosed why anyone came in, but for the first time since his stay, Tom grew rather curious as to why someone like Harry, specifically, would be here. Other kids usually came from troubled home environments, Tom had guessed, which required them to stay here until notice.
But Harry seemed different. Whereas other kids begged and starved for love and connection, Harry remained passive and closed off entirely. He not only rejected anyone's attempts to grow close, but he also seemed to reject the concept of it entirely. Acting as if these attempts were pyre came to life to consume him wholly. And this unexpectedly inquired Tom’s interest.
Therefore, to satiate his curiosity, Tom did the first thing he should've done since the beginning instead of wasting his week observing him; corner the boy when they were alone and bleed him dry of the informations themselves. After all, the reason Tom was locked away to begin with was because he had no qualms about taking whatever he wanted and doing whatever he wanted, too.
When his plan strung to action, it was during the mandatory hour time they shared on the Monday of the second week since Harry’s coming. Tom followed behind Harry into their bedroom, and they quickly settled in, but not before making sure he had discreetly locked the door behind him so Harry couldn’t escape easily if he tried.
Tom’s bed was closer to the door, while Harry’s was closer to the window. The only thing separating their beds was a thin curtain that rolled left and right from the ceiling above. The room itself wasn’t that big, and only had a singular barred window in the shape of a rectangle. Their beds were twin sized only and their desks white and small. Their shared wardrobe just enough to fit a few dozen clothes. Surrounding them, the walls were white like everywhere else. The kids were allowed to take some belongings to keep in their new rooms, but Tom had only taken his trophies, in case the orphanage kids would try to pillage his possessions in his absence. Harry, on the other hand, had not a single thing on his side of the room. Not even a plushie, Tom observed. And tired with the endless new details and observations he was making, he sprung into action.
Once the silence had stretched long enough to lay over them like a plaid, he set his eyes on Harry, and, very slowly, approached Harry’s bed.
Harry was lying atop his own bed, as usual, staring blankly at the ceiling. He had not spoken to Tom even once since he’d arrived here. Tom hadn’t initiated any conversation either, so this would be the first, but he had overheard the doctors and educators say that Harry wasn’t a mute, so it only meant that the boy didn’t speak by his own volition.
And Tom wanted Harry to cave in and speak his concealed thoughts, and he wanted to uncover what Harry was trying so hard to hide by staying silent, wanted to know why. And, he wanted so many more things, at this moment. Things only Harry could provide. Things whose ugliness and perversity repelled most. Gorish, and grotesquely humane things of the sort, which Tom did not make a habit of wanting. Especially for a boy his age, though Tom had not considered himself a child since many years prior.
He was as close as he could get now, yet Harry still hadn’t spared him a glance.
That upset Tom slightly. But, patience was a virtue, and Tom had mastered it by the throat.
“Why are you here?” he easily managed, albeit through faintly gritted teeth.
Harry didn’t answer, but he did finally look up at Tom. He looked, and looked a little longer, only to turn his back at Tom, as if he hadn't said anything at all. As if Tom was nothing more than a mere bothersome fly, not worth any of his attention.
Rage engulfed Tom’s entire being, boiling his blood and giving life to the itching urge of violence resting deep inside him.
Patience be damned. It had failed him today, so it deserved its new founded damnation.
With a rather aggressive grab of Harry’s lithe shoulder, he turned him over to face him once more, Harry’s breath hitched.
“I am talking to you.” he hissed, “Answer me, or I’ll make you regret your stay here.” The threat came easily to him, what with the kids in the orphanage’s past attempts to rebel against him. Though the kids here hadn't needed such threats to submit, one glare was usually enough, but Harry was an unusual challenge in Tom’s agenda, meaning he manifestly wouldn’t fit his usual take of actions.
The boy finally started looking properly nervous, his eyebrows furrowed and his green eyes darting from Tom to the empty space behind him. Yet, he still didn’t speak. Tom gave him a little more time, more grace—noblesse oblige, after all—no longer than a minute, before finally snapping at his oblivious interlocutor. He jumped atop the bed and got on top of Harry by the same occasion, essentially straddling him and trapping him in place.
Once pleased with his station, he circled his own thin fingers around Harry’s dainty neck and added minimal pressure, enough to pass his dissatisfaction on while still allowing a tiny bit of air to flow.
He could feel Harry shiver, almost writhing, like a roach that’s been turned onto its back and was struggling to right itself. That at least, made Tom feel better.
“Talk, or else.” He warned, letting the threat hang in the air, and Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, which Tom felt against the palm of his hand and the fat pads of his fingers, before he spoke at last.
“I—I tried to die, so… I was sent here.” Harry managed, not without great difficulty.
But that one short sentence shook Tom to his core. He did not understand why anyone would want to die, the concept evaded him entirely. Life was a blessing, Tom's existence in on itself proved this. Life was an opportunity. Opportunity to get what you wanted, opportunity to rule, and opportunity to soak in earthly pleasures and have it's perversions drip through your fingers the same way Bacchus soaked in his fine red wine, while it traveled down from the roots of his hair to the tips of his fingers. Life was, a hedonistic mission placed upon the living. Ridding yourself of such on purpose, was purely and simply, foolish. Stupid.
But he would indulge in a stupid person’s logic, if only for curiosity’s sake.
“Why did you try to kill yourself?” asked Tom, removing most of the pressure to allow Harry to speak more clearly.
“I… wanted my aunt to regret hating me. My aunt, uncle and cousin…” he continued, puffing on the newfound air. "And I wanted her care, and, uhm... her attention, too." He finished, his expression twisting into many emotions. Mainly one of shame.
What a foolishly curious motive, Tom thought.
“And where are your parents?” Tom inquired again. The boy had only spoke of an aunt and alike so far, so perhaps he was an orphan, too. Or perhaps he was taken away from them, similarly to most children here.
“They died when I was still a baby, that’s why I live with my mums family. But they hate me, because my aunt hated my mum.” Harry said, slight tremors siring themselves in his voice.
Tom thought for a moment, picking his next question with great care, as he finally settled on one. "How did you do it? Your… attempt."
Harry's face contorted again, into one of disgust now, as if remembering something unpleasant.
"My aunt makes me do the chores, so I have access to all the cleaning products." A pause followed. He was starting to look more and more uncomfortable and jittery by the second. "I swallowed a lot of different products.” he paused shortly, before continuing on. “My mouth and throat were burning, and then it got even more painful and I started throwing up a lot. At first it was normal vomit but then there was also blood everywhere. The noise woke my aunt up and she freaked out and called the emergency because she thought that I had a contagious disease. But then the doctors did tests on me and made me stay in the emergency room for many days, before they took me here. They told me they told what really happened to my aunt. But… I think she's gonna send me away for sure this time. She always threatened to send me to an orphanage when I misbehaved.” his voice broke once he finished describing the detrimental ordeal, his lower lip wobbled, and those transparent beads he'd been trying so hard to hold back, finally rolled down his cheeks.
Tom had seen many boys and girls cry, most of them a result of his own design. But sadness had never looked as beautiful as it did now, on this boy. This stupid, naive, and needy boy, who was now full on hiccupping nothing short of truly melodic sobs.
Maybe he did want love and connection too, after all. More than anything else. Maybe, he was simply too afraid of it.
Perhaps he was all that Tom had been looking for. Something that will only belong to Tom, willingly may it be or not.
A pretty, pathetic thing. The only stupid thing Tom could indulge in.
The exception to the rule.
He let go of Harry's throat, going to hold his now rapidly wetting cheeks instead.
His skin felt tender to the touch, despite many visible bruises in other areas of his body, such as his legs and collarbones. Tom leaned over, their foreheads practically touching now.
"It's alright now, Harry. I'll take care of you. And if she sends you away, you'll stay in my orphanage, with me." Tom purred, feeling unusually content with the turn of events.
He was glad he could find someone entertaining in this hellish place.
Harry's sobs grew louder, but he didn't do anything to escape Tom's caging hold of him. He was crying like he never had before, and wasn't that a beautiful sight? Harry, so often impassive and introverted, breaking down his defenses completely in Tom's presence…
They stayed like that until the mandatary hour ended and they had to leave so they could eat together with the other kids.
Tom’s smile had not dimmed once.
—
Harry had been here for well over two weeks now, and while he was getting used to the place and it's absurd list of rules, he still only spoke to Tom, which Tom took great enjoyment in.
The doctors had taken Tom aside after the fourth day of them being glued to each other, to ask him if everything was okay, or if they needed to worry about anything regarding Harry...
Tom was not stupid, he knew they were suspicious of him, but he hadn't hurt Harry yet, since Harry had been behaving himself so well thus far. So really, they had no reason to pull him aside.
Regardless, he chose to ignore the growing irritation he felt by this unnecessary intervention in order to focus back solely on Harry instead.
Him and Harry were enjoying their never ending free time in their room, when a knock on the door and the uninvited, impatient presence of their educator, miss Marlin, manifested itself and called for Harry.
With a nervous look back at Tom, Harry left.
—
He'd been gone for nearly half an hour now, and Tom was not only getting angry, but dreadfully bored, too.
Harry had somehow managed to become a constant stimulation in Tom's routine, which was usually filled with unending boredom. Boredom that was so afflicting that it made him miss his days at the orphanage. At least there, he could behave as he wanted, since avoiding punishments now came easily to him.
Boredom, so horrifying, that it sometimes pushed Tom into cutting himself open, if only to see the blood flow and the skin tear. To occupy his mind and not think of the sheer void of emptiness that consumed him whole.
He wanted Harry back immediately, but he must wait. Even though he had claimed ownership of Harry, and so he shouldn't have to wait for him. But unfortunately, following the rules was all he could do here, despite the seeding hatred it induced in his system.
He did not want to go back to the white room for misbehaving, so he will obey for now. But once out of this glorified prison, he will keep Harry by his side at all times. Nothing and no one will deprive him of his newfound ichor.
After all, it wasn’t like there was anywhere else you could go if you belonged in an orphanage.
The door finally opened, revealing Harry's thin shadow. Tom's eyes perked up at once, locking into Harry's solemn ones.
"What did they tell you that took so long?" Tom nearly spat, but successfully kept his anger contained.
"They said that my aunt signed some papers to send me away to an orphanage..." he paused, his voice trembling. His eyes were red and his face distorted. Then; "They said when I leave here, I will be going to 'Wool's Orphanage' instead of home, since it's the closest to the area and the only available one." Harry's beautiful eyes were glistening with unshed tears, only a small push and they'd fall like waterfalls...
But more importantly, Wool's. Harry would indeed be joining him, just as Tom had predicted. Of course he was rarely—if ever—wrong, but small victories were still victories nonetheless.
"She must really despise you, if she was that excited to throw you away." was all that Tom said, voice condescending, and once more as awaited, the tears fell.
Harry hadn't moved from his spot in front of the bedroom door yet. Maybe the shock was too great for him. Although he couldn’t understand why. Probably because Tom himself never had anyone to call his own, or his family.
He pushed himself up and closed the gap between them, before gently holding Harry's hand and affably guiding him to his own bed.
They comfortably settled on Tom's bed and Harry's sobs intensified, prompting him to place a soothing hand to Harry's back and rub it, as he had done before.
"She may have abandoned you Harry, but you still have me, do you not?" Tom's sultry voice lulled, "I am from that same orphanage, and I don't have a roommate there because I chase them away, so we'll share a room there too. It worked out for the best, you see?” Tom said at last, not gauging Harry's reaction.
Harry could not fight against inevitable outcomes anyways, so his reaction mattered little in this case.
And Harry did not enjoy crying, nor was he that sensitive usually—he usually preferred turning to complete isolation—but it thrilled Tom greatly when it did happen, and even more so when he made it happen. And knowing that he was the only one that managed it, in the confines of their bedroom walls, filled him with even bigger jubilation.
He could not wait for their time here to end, when the restrictions would lift.
—
It was during their last week here that Harry’s behavior started changing. Tom noticed immediately, and he did not enjoy what he noticed.
Harry was more expressive, more open, and Tom did not know the reason why, at first.
But now, with the scene unfolding in front of his eyes, he could not ignore the overwhelming rage he was feeling.
Here, in the common area, sat Harry. But he wasn’t alone, and he was smiling at someone. At some other stupid, useless boy. They were talking and laughing together. Harry was sharing what was Tom’s without his consent to other people.
His smile, his laugh and his words, which were only meant for Tom, were now public property.
No, Tom couldn’t allow this to happen. He absolutely wouldn’t.
He bolted straight towards the two, without thinking for another moment.
Harry turned just in time to face Tom, who had now gripped his wrist so hard it would likely bruise in the hours to come. The other boy jumped, startled at Tom’s sudden appearance and recoiled. As he should. Tom wasn’t gonna let him off easy, either. But first, he’ll discipline Harry.
Tom was dragging Harry towards their bedroom, while the latter started struggling in Tom’s grip and pleading for him to wait. But Tom heard none of it.
As soon as he opened their bedroom door, Harry was thrown onto Tom’s bed, with little to no time for a reaction, Tom straddled him the same way he did when he first talked to him. But this time, he wouldn’t hold back the squeeze of his hands against Harry’s delicate throat.
Harry was struggling to breathe, scratching Tom’s hands, trying to get away from him. Tom felt euphoric, despite the initial anger.
“What do you think you’re doing, happily chatting with other boys? Answer me, Harry.” He spat, knowing Harry would struggle for a reply the same way he struggled for air at this exact moment.
“You’re not allowed to share yourself with others. I’m plenty enough for you and you ought to know that.”
Harry’s eyes were wide open and filled with tears and fear, and Tom decided that this was enough of a punishment for now. After all, it was Harry’s first time slipping. Tom could show himself generous.
With a last hard squeeze, he let go of the pressure entirely, prompting Harry’s loud coughing. Once it ended, Tom grabbed Harry by his face with both of his hands and held their faces closer than ever before.
“This will not happen again. Do you understand me?”
It seemed Harry was still in shock, as he didn’t make any attempt to provide an answer, only staring wide eyed into Tom’s own eyes. How pretty his eyes were, greener than emerald and more expressive than any emotions a human face could provide.
Poor Harry. Orphaned and lonely, sickly and helpless. Far too kind for his own good. But it was of no matter, he had Tom by his side to ensure his happiness.
Tears were still pouring from his Harry’s eyes, and the overwhelming urge to lick and kiss them away was unbearable. So he did exactly that, kissing and licking Harry’s meaningless sorrows away, as would any responsible owner.
Because that is what Tom was to Harry. Harry was Tom’s precious, living treasure, and he was Tom’s alone. So it made Tom Harry’s owner by default.
He finally let go of Harry face so he could lay down next to Harry and hold him more comfortably.
“Don’t stray too far from me, Harry. Or else you’ll force me to act like this. And others will suffer the consequences for even daring to be near you in turn. It’s for your and others’ sake.” Tom purred, nestling his face in Harry’s rapidly bruising neck. “You know that, don’t you? I’d never hurt you maliciously.”
It seemed Harry finally calmed down, as he stopped shaking and simply nodded dejectedly.
If god was real, then he had made them a match. Perhaps god brought Tom into this world because he loved Harry. Because if not Tom, who would love Harry this much?
—
Night had come, and everyone was asleep, everyone except for Tom. He could not sleep, as he had something he must finish first.
The boy who had dared approach Harry was called Cedric Diggory, and he had been here before Tom. Thankfully for Tom, he didn’t share his room with anyone as Cedric was one of the oldest here, and one of the few who stayed here the longest.
Tom quietly exited his bedroom, making sure to be as silent as one could possibly be. At this hour of the night, the workers wouldn’t come to check if they were sleeping or not.
He made his way to Cedric’s room; it was only a few steps further down the hallway. While it was very dark, Tom had grown used to darkness, having grown up in the orphanage, so it wasn’t an issue.
Finally here, he slipped into the very room he sought out. Cedric was peacefully asleep on his bed.
How dare he? How absolutely dare he, after taking from Tom so shamelessly? It burned Tom with rage, how nonchalantly Cedric acted.
He creeped closer to Cedric’s lying form, and took out the glass shard he’d discreetly taken earlier, when he “accidentally” broke his plate.
First, he’d pretend to suffocate the boy, before the true punishment unfolded.
With the pillow he had taken from his bed before coming here, he pushed it onto the resting boy’s face without a hint of hesitation and applied as much pressure as his body allowed.
Cedric woke with a jolt and struggled immediately, though the noises he made were muffled.
Only a few seconds after, Tom pushed the pillow away before immediately moving the shard of glass to his victim’s throat.
“If you scream, I won’t hesitate.” Tom spat, not hiding his disdain.
“What do you want?” Cedric fearfully whispered. Tom longed to turn that fearful look tearful instead. And he promised to himself that he would.
“I’m going to slowly move away, and if you scream, your tongue will be the first thing you’d lose. And if that is not enough, your eyes will follow shortly after. I hope I'm understood?” The shard was pressed slightly deeper into the boy’s throat, drawing a single drop of blood from his neck. He nodded, and Tom slowly put the shard away.
“Do you understand why im punishing you?”
“I–I don’t know…”
“Today, you touched something of mine. You stole from me.”
“What–? No, I didn’t, I swear!” Cedric whispered in panic.
He was not only shameless, but an idiot at that. He truly needed to pick a struggle.
“That’s fine. You will understand soon enough.”
Tom set his back straight again, now looking down on his unlucky ward mate.
“Show me your arm.”
The boy trembled and hesitated, but Tom was running out of patience.
“Or would you rather I do it myself?” And finally, he put up his trembling arms.
His arms weren’t delicate like Harry’s, they were thicker and bigger. That brute dared touch Harry’s breakable frame. It infuriated Tom to no end.
“Bite into the pillow, I don’t want your screams calling the nurses over.”
The boy reluctantly did as told, to Tom’s delight. The real punishment could finally begin.
He placed the glass shard over the shaking forearm, and pushed into the skin, before sliding in horizontally in an agonizingly slow pace. The boy’s cries were muffled thanks to the cushion, and he was glad to know that no sound would leave this room.
He did it over and over, in multiple areas of Cedric’s left forearm, but he was still not satisfied. He needed to be more cruel. More punishing.
“Now, I want you to take this shard of glass, and cut over five times each of these wounds. It’s truly unlucky for you that my anger is insatiable.”
The sheer terror in the poor boy’s eyes filled Tom with anticipation. It was already a bloody enough scene, but he hadn’t gone beyond the white of the skin. Fortunately for Tom—and most unfortunately for Cedric—the shard had not yet penetrated any deeper.
Cedric’s trembling right hand let go of the cushion to hold the shard, and Tom, in his endless mocking generosity, held it up his mouth instead.
His hand moved in a very slow motion, but it did its job nonetheless, and Tom was fine with that.
It only took him a few seconds to continue the gruesome work Tom had already started. Tears poured, and his arms were shaking far much harder than earlier. Cedric cut over the first wound five times, and the fat of the skin was sticking out in a marvelous fashion.
“Go on.” Tom instructed his paralyzed victim. The shaking only got worse, but the boy knew what awaited him if he stopped, so he kept going.
It took many minutes before he was done with all the cuts, but the job was done beautifully. Blood was spilled everywhere, like a fine work of art.
Tom was proud of his work.
“That will be all. You will think twice from now on, before ever laying a single eye on Harry.” Tom warned, and continued in the same breath; “You can call for the nurses today if you wish, just make sure to wait until I evacuate the scene, okay?” He offered a faux sympathetic smile, before turning on his heels as if nothing had taken place.
He felt much more relaxed now. He could not wait to show Harry the consequences of his actions.