Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/451855.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Zombies, Sexual_Content, Anal, Oral, Blood, Gore,
      Romance, Horror, Spanking, Rimming, Dirty_Talk, Slut_Shaming, Semi-Public
      Sex, Religious_Fanaticism, Religious_Conflict, Cannibalism
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-05 Completed: 2012-07-11 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 70941
****** Counting Bodies Like Sheep ******
by rightonthelimit
Summary
     It's a crazy world torn straight out of a horror movie - the undead
     roam the earth and destroy everything in their wake. When Harry
     Potter narrowly escapes a horrible death he finds himself a companion
     in Tom Riddle - a mysterious, heartless man who doesn't hesitate to
     take lives to save his own. Savage as the man is, Harry still finds
     himself enthralled... He quickly starts developing strange needs and
     feelings.
     When they decide to finally find a safe place to settle down for a
     while they encounter dangerous enemies on their path. Tom's past
     demons come back around to haunt the both of them and it becomes very
     clear that even after the years they spent together, Harry really
     doesn't know Tom at all.
***** Don't Fret Precious I'm Here *****
A/N: This story was inspired by the movie Stakeland and follows the major lines
of that work. It's a movie I highly recommend for all of you who adore zombies
as much as I do. This was originally posted around 2012, edited into what you
are currently reading in 2015. I decided to polish CBLS up because I want it to
be worthy of all the praise I have received for it - going through my old
fiction is like a massive cringe-fest. 0/10 would not recommend.
I hope you'll still like it! Thank you so much for the overwhelming response. I
never thought one of my stories would ever receive the amount of love this one
did - even three years later I still receive kind messages regarding this
story.
I named this story after this_song. I will post a full playlist of this
fanfiction at the end of the story - hope you enjoy!
 Please do not repost, recreate or translate.
Summary: It's a crazy world torn straight out of a horror movie - the undead
roam the earth and destroy everything in their wake. When Harry Potter narrowly
escapes a horrible death he finds himself a companion in Tom Riddle - a
mysterious, heartless man who doesn't hesitate to take lives to save his own.
Savage as the man is, Harry still finds himself enthralled... He quickly starts
developing strange needs and feelings.
When they decide to finally find a safe place to settle down for a while they
find dangerous enemies on their path. Tom's past demons come back around to
haunt the both of them and it becomes very clear that even after the years they
spent together, Harry really doesn't know Tom at all. 
Warnings: Alternative Universe - zombies, innocent!Harry, horror, gore, sexual
content such as (but not limited by); anal, oral, fingering, spanking, rimming,
dirty talk, slut shaming, semi-public sex
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 1
                        'Don't fret precious I'm here'
His name was Harry Potter.
He was 16 years old and didn't really have a home right now. He had that in
common with the rest of the human population.
He wasn't very tall, his skin was pale and his hair was messy. He had vivid
green eyes peeking out from behind his glasses and his attractive face was
currently bruised. His swollen lip was in the process of healing and it no
longer hurt to smile, though admittedly he rarely found reason to do so. The
cut on his bare arm was almost completely gone and it would soon become a
silver line, joining the rest of the scars on Harry's skin. He had gathered a
large collection of scars these last years - they didn't even map out half of
what Harry had been through to obtain them. 
Harry didn't care much about getting scars anymore. He would take a new scar
over death any day.
There was a knife hidden in one of his army boots and a gun strapped to his
leg. In the backpocket of the worn, slightly oversized jeans he was wearing
were a random collection of extra bullets that jingled when he walked. The tank
top that kept his chest from being exposed to the warm air was stained with
dirt, and had a tear on the side from when Harry had gotten stuck climbing over
a fence.
It was Summer - the sun was making his exposed arms and neck stick to the worn
leather of the car they were seated in, and his eyes drooped shut every now and
then before he'd shoot back up and tried to force himself to stay awake. The
nasty sunburn on his shoulders and the bridge of his nose was no longer a
constant ache but he knew he should avoid direct sunlight for a few days
anyway. He didn't want to fall ill and be a nuisance.
Harry was tired. It had been weeks since they had actually found a place safe
enough to sleep, besides their car. They had been driving around aimlessly,
raiding supermarkets, fighting for their lives.
Killing people who were in reality no longer actual people.
The breakout had been 4 years ago now if Harry should believe what he had been
told. He himself had lost track of time – to him it was simply Summer or
Winter, and everything in between didn't matter. He had learned to tell the
time by checking the position of the sun and he could read the stars, but he
didn't very often use that skill. Knowing what time or month it was didn't get
you far in this world anymore.
There had been a virus and it had spread like a wildfire. The virus made decent
people turn into animals – made them lose all sense of things that were
important and forced them to rely solely on their basic instincts. Their
intelligence withered away as their bodies healed in a superhuman fashion the
first hours of their infection. After the infection settled, there was only one
thing the victim would focus on.
The need to feed.
Harry had been twelve years old when he had found out just how horribly cruel
the effects of the virus truly were. At the beginning of it all everyone had
been arrogant enough to believe that current technology and modern medicine
would fix everything.
How wrong they had been.
Though the years had passed and blurred Harry still dearly cherished where he
came from and dreamed of his parents' faces almost every night. He had
been born at the death of July to James Potter, a praised and dedicated police
officer, and Lily Potter who was mostly known for the love and care she put
into her work as a doctor. They had always lived a quiet family life in
Godric's Hollow - close by their work, but cut off a bit from the nearby large
city. Looking back on it that had probably been the reason why Harry had been
able to live long enough to see his sixteenth birthday.
===============================================================================
Harry was bored out of his skull.
His parents hadn't paid much attention when Harry tried telling them about
school today - about how a boy named Neville had cried in class because he
thought the world was ending. There were a lot of sick people nowadays and the
small radio Harry had on his desk interrupted its music to bring its listeners
news and warnings - Harry only half-listened as he played with his soldier
figurines. He still had homework to finish but he figured he could do it after
dinner. It wasn't like his parents noticed he hadn't done it yet, anyway.
'-recommend you stay inside after dark, and stock up on food during the day.
The Prime-Minister announced he is doing everything he can to not only avoid
further contamination but to also help those who are already -'
'-need to leave, James! You and your men can't hold them off, one bite is
enough! Today in the emergency I saw a man's stabwound heal in mere seconds
with my own eyes, he was completely incoherent and violent! Something is
happening, something... It's as though they aren't even human anymore.'
Harry turned the radio down to curiously listen to his parents' voices. His
parents rarely argued - he had been raised in a peaceful and loving home. To
hear distress in his mother's voice made Harry antsy.
'You can't expect me to just leave these people behind. It is my job to serve
and protect!' his dad snapped back.
'We have a son, James! He's only twelve years old, we can leave, get a job
somewhere safe where the virus has not spread yet...'
It fell silent, then. Harry retreated to his desk and switched radio stations,
picking up his toys again though he was no longer interested. Leave? Then he
wouldn't see Ron anymore... Were they in danger?
Was Neville right?
===============================================================================
How sweet life had been back then... Warm meals every night, the greatest
burden Harry had to carry had been keeping his grades up. His childhood had
been a great one and he would forever long to regain even the smallest piece of
that domestic life.
Yes, Harry remembered that night. As he drifted he remembered the calm before
the storm. He remembered the silence that had fallen after his mother's
exclamation and how busy his parents had been the days after that. Carrying
canned goods to the car and packing clothes away, busy making phone calls and
silence at the dinner table. They had kept Harry away from school and they'd
stayed home from work as well. Even Harry had known something bad was hanging
over their heads at that age - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that
out. His mom didn't smile as much and his father had his hands too full to
indulge Harry with a game of soccer in their backyard.
His parents, in the final days of their lives, hadn't even bothered opening the
mail.
Harry shifted and rested his forehead against the car window. The seatbelt dug
uncomfortably into his throat and a worried frown settled on his face.
Harry had just been going upstairs to get one of his favorite books when it had
happened.
===============================================================================
 Harry was positively pouting as he stuffed his small backpack full with his
favorite toys.
Family vacations were always a happy thing but Harry sensed something urgent in
his parents' actions. It made him sad to think that his dad didn't even have
the time to play games with him anymore - his mom hadn't asked about Harry's
homework once. They were simply too busy for them and for the first time in his
life Harry felt lonely and almost abandoned.
He glanced over his bedroom. His mom had told him to only bring what he
absolutely wouldn't want to go without and he had a strange feeling about this
- like he would never return to his bedroom ever again. His fingers hovered
over his favorite book, filled with pictures of famous athletes. One day he
wanted to be one of them and grace the pages of history books. People would
whisper about his achievements in awe... Harry wanted nothing more than to make
an unforgettable impression on the world.
Make a change.
He decided to take the book with him and he hugged it to his chest as he went
downstairs with an extra bounce in his step. He reassured both his parents he
got what he needed and wanted and went into the car, buckling his seatbelt and
flipping through his book. The radio had stopped playing music a few days ago.
The news was on all the time and Harry found it rather boring but he didn't
want to bother his parents by asking them to just put a cd into the car radio.
'We love you very much, Harry,' his mom suddenly said urgently. They drove out
of their street and Harry looked over his shoulder to see his parental home
grow smaller and smaller already. People were running around in the street,
cars were rushing by. The sun was setting and Harry met his father's eyes when
James looked into the rearview mirror. 'You know that, don't you?'
'We're never going home again, are we?' Harry asked softly. Lily opened her
mouth to answer it, but Harry shrugged. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He
understood that his parents were doing their best. 'I love you too, mom. You
too dad.'
His father didn't return Harry's smile and as they headed towards the city to
access the highway there were more people running on the road, screams outside
their car. It was as though everyone was participating in a mad game of tag.
Harry watched a man tackle a woman to the ground and then more jumped on top of
her. She cried out for help and then her voice died down.
The sound of car alarms pierced the air, along with the sirens of fire trucks
and police vehicles. He quickly looked back down to his book and told himself
not to look outside anymore as he felt fear growing inside of him.
This was what his parents were taking him away from. Mindless violence and
cruelty.
There was a tense silence in the car. His father was focused purely on what was
ahead of him and he narrowly avoided hitting a woman on the road. They were
almost on the highway.
Then, his mom gasped.
'James-!'
Another car hit theirs from his father's side and Harry cried out - his mom's
head slammed into the dashboard and his father was crushed in between the
debris of their car. His half of the car was completely destroyed and Harry
screamed as he watched his father's fingers twitch on the steering wheel. Final
signs of life were seeping out of him.
Blood was oozing from his mother's forehead, even a brighter shade of red than
her hair. She turned her head and blinked owlishly a few times, struggling to
take in their surroundings as though she was disorientated. Then she glanced at
James (of what was left of him) and sobbed. Harry stared in shock and pain
crept through his neck.
His dad was dead.
'Climb out, climb out! Come on baby!' His mom urged him. She was crying as she
rolled down her window and she was instantly torn out by greedy hands - teeth
digging into her throat as she screamed at her son to climb out and run. He
watched in horror as his mother struggled to get free and kept quiet when those
hands reached for him. When they retracted Harry stayed still for a very long
time. It could have been hours, maybe only minutes. The entire vehicle smelt of
blood and death and he looked at his father's hands one more time before he
finally c limbed out with tears staining his cheeks, instantly tripping over
his unlaced sneakers and kicking them off.
The world around him was a mess. Everything was burning and everyone was
screaming - debris digging into his feet and piercing his socks. He sobbed as
he ran listlessly with no one to help him. His mom and dad had just been killed
and he was alone in the world.
A few men were looking at him with bloodied hands and faces. Harry wanted to
walk to them, beg them for help but something in their expression terrified
Harry so much he continued running. It had been the best choice he would make
that evening.
Eventually Harry gained the attention of other men and they started running
after him like mad dogs, grunting and groaning dangerously. He could run for a
while, soccer had gained him some experience in that field but their legs were
longer and their endurance appeared endless. His legs felt like jelly already
and the only thing that kept him going was adrenaline.
He was going to die. He knew it.
The pain in his feet and neck was unbearable and the wind bit into his face. He
glanced behind himself to see them closing up on him. There were three of them
with torn clothes, oozing wounds and greedy mouths.
Harry told himself he must be having a nightmare. He should wake up now. Why
wasn't he waking up?
He ran into a wall of a man and toppled over, a set of enraged eyes instantly
aimed at him. They were both on the ground - the man had been heading into his
direction for whatever reason.  When Harry saw some signs of humanity he
crawled onto the man, clinging onto him for dear life to find some safety.
Everything was sort of a blur and he never would have embarrassed himself had
all these horrible things not just happened to him. All Harry knew was that
this stranger was somehow human, not a monster, and Harry would hold on to him
for dear life.
Then, the tall man he had run into lifted a gun and shot three times over
Harry's shoulder. Harry's ears run and he buried his face into the man's neck,
thanking him, clinging onto him for dear life, trying to tell the stranger
about how Harry's mom and dad had just died and those men were trying to hurt
him too. He was so scared. He didn't want to die like this.
'Quit your blithering and come with me, child,' the man told him simply.
Harry just nodded stupidly, incapable of releasing the man's sleeve as he
struggled to keep up with his quick strides. He was pushed into a car and cried
the entire way.
===============================================================================
As the memories resurfaced Harry slowly drifted back into awareness and blinked
his eyes back open, feeling disorientated the way he always did after a nap but
knowing he couldn't go back to sleep now that his mind was filled with these
thoughts.
It had been Tom who saved him.
They'd driven all night, those years ago - Harry had eventually cried himself
to sleep and during their first morning together Tom carefully picked the glass
from Harry's tiny feet without a word. He had not once attempted to comfort
Harry, ask him about his parents, and in return Harry had just kept to quietly
crying to himself until he had no more tears to shed.
Peculiar man, Tom was. He never said much and he didn't appear to be the type
to particularly care for anyone but himself. To this day Harry still didn't
understand why Tom had bothered with him.
Maybe he was an orphan just like Harry, and just wanted some company.
Harry was in his late teens now and had never grown quite as tall as Tom. He
had given up hope on doing so a long time ago. Tom's shoulders had grown
broader as the years had passed with all the lifting he did and Harry had
learned that Tom had been 28 when he had found Harry. Harry didn't know why Tom
knew how to work a gun, but he had been taught not to ask too many questions.
Tom wouldn't reply to them anyway.
Harry had learned how to handle a gun as well, knew exactly where to shoot the
zombies ('If you can't get a good aim at their heads shoot them in the kneecaps
first, that way they won't move as fast and you'll have more time to get closer
without getting hurt.'), knew what places to avoid, knew what places to try and
find food…
When he dreamt, he dreamt of asphalt underneath his bare feet, his mother's
screams ringing in his ears. Tom often had to shake him to wake him and press a
hand against Harry's mouth to stifle his screams – he had more than once
attracted danger because of it.
But Tom still didn't get rid of him.
Tom's brilliant blue eyes were currently hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, a
frown was set on his attractive face. His hair was usually parted, but now with
the hot weather the soft curly strands had become messy and they framed his
face. He had recently cut it to keep it from getting into his eyes.
Tom was wearing a pair of cargo pants, knives and other small weapons hidden in
the many pockets he had. There were guns strapped to his thighs and ammunition
was in their trunk. The tank top he was wearing was a bit tight on him and
bruises were littered over his pale skin. Tom too was scarred, sunburn on his
neck, his shoulders, spreading over his back.
Functionality over fashion, Harry supposed. He knew if this had been other
times Tom wouldn't have been caught dead in a pair of cargo pants.
Tom still looked incredibly handsome to Harry.
There were bodies rotting on the asphalt road along several deserted cars but
Harry tried not to focus on it too much. Instead he worried for when it would
be winter, again – the infected could stand the cold far better than the heat.
The nights were hard enough to survive when they couldn't get through a city in
one day because of blockages on the road and the like, but during the winters…
Harry closed his eyes and slumped into his seat, yawning. They hadn't had much
sleep last night either. A couple of infec- ah, who was he kidding, a couple
of zombies had been slamming up against their car, trying to open it like a can
of sardines. It had ultimately resulted into a couple of crushed zombies on the
dirt road and a very satisfied Tom behind the steering wheel.
'Tired?' Tom asked and Harry hummed, sighing when Tom's hand smoothed Harry's
hair behind his ear.
But above all, something else was bothering the teen.
He supposed it was very easy for Tom to forget that Harry was only sixteen
years old, even if they did celebrate his birthdays because Harry insisted on
doing so. Harry would always struggle to keep up with Tom, make him proud and
prove him Harry was useful and worthy of keeping around. Sometimes Harry
himself forgot he was a child by old society's standards as well with all the
things he had been through.
But sometimes it showed in the things he worried about - things regular teens
always worried about. 
Such as who was Harry really, and what was his place in this world? College or
any sort of education at that was not something Harry had to think about
anymore but he'd like to think he could still contribute something. Sometimes,
when Tom was asleep and it was Harry's turn to keep watch, he wondered what the
point in all of this was. They were bound to die anyway, weren't they? No
matter how many zombies he killed and how much hate he felt toward them, it
didn't bring his parents back. It didn't change the world. It didn't solve
anything.
Tom's hand pulled away from where it had been lingering on Harry's face,
curling around the steering wheel again.
Harry has seen and done things that should qualify him as an adult (because
killing zombies counted more than smoking or drinking alcohol, right?) but he
still felt like such a stupid child. He always felt like he wasn't doing
enough, like he wasn't doing something. Also, he may very well be having an
identity crisis while he was at it.
Harry thought he was in love with Tom.
Harry never really had anyone explain to him what it meant to be in love with
someone, so he couldn't be too sure, but it must be love when he just felt this
stupid need to stare at Tom constantly, right? When he felt this happy when Tom
touched him it couldn't just be affection, could it? It was weird because girls
were supposed to like boys… Yet Harry was really, really sure he wasn't a girl
and he was really sure Tom wasn't one either, so it was just… He didn't
understand. It were times like these where he just missed his mom so much. His
mom would've understood. She would've known why Harry would fall for a man.
It was just difficult.
It was difficult and strange because his body just had this weird reaction
sometimes, where his manhood would suddenly ache and feel hard between his
legs. He had never told Tom because he didn't know if it was normal or not and
it usually just went away on its own accord anyway.
Tom sighed and Harry opened his eyes again to look at him.
'What is it?' he asked and he quickly glanced out of the window in worry. There
seemed to be nothing outside that could possibly cause that look on Tom's face.
Tom glanced at him and Harry's face was reflected in his sunglasses.
'We need to talk,' Tom decided and he glanced in his rearview mirror. The
bodies were now growing sparse and they were getting further away from larger
populated areas. Harry felt dread, somehow. Tom couldn't possibly know
about that right?
'We do?' Harry asked and Tom pulled over. He took off his sunglasses and ran a
hand through his hair. 'About what?'
And even if he knew that Tom wouldn't leave him when all they had were each
other and when they were each other's protectors it didn't take away that fear
of being left on his own. He wouldn't survive on his own – Harry was too
reckless and didn't think things through as well as Tom would.
'We have been traveling for four years,' Tom started and Harry nodded slowly.
Tom stared at him for a bit longer as if he was trying to look into Harry's
soul, before he leaned back in his seat. 'I think we ought to find somewhere
safe and remain there for a while.'
Harry blinked in mild surprise. 'Are you serious? But you always said that
settling down somewhere could be dangerous because they are always on the move,
and that we have to keep on the roads as well for supplies and -'
'I know what I said,' Tom interrupted him and when he saw the look on Harry's
face his own face relaxed somewhat and he ran another hand through his hair.
'I know,' he repeated, his voice now a bit gentler. A silence fell upon them
and Harry just stared at Tom for a short while. His eyes traced his high
cheekbones, those small beads of perspiration that had gathered on his smooth
forehead, his eyebrows, down his straight nose to his pale lips…
'We can't always be on the road,' Tom reminded him, and his voice made Harry
snap up from his thoughts. Tom rested his head against the his seat and his
pale neck was stretched out completely, his adam's apple bobbing up and down
when he swallowed and spoke again. 'We are dependent of one another, for as
much as I'd dread to admit it, considering you never use your head and I am not
quite as creative as you are. The chance of one of us dying is… There, if we
keep taking risks like this.'
They had never really set up a plan as to where they wanted to go, simply
because they would just go wherever they thought they could find food and maybe
shelter. There had never been a goal besides surviving another day, and every
day came with new risks… Sometimes the places they ended up in looked like
ghost towns, and sometimes they just walked straight into the home of countless
zombies. With the years having passed, zombies no longer stuck around in the
cities. There was nothing left to eat for them, there, and they traveled as
well.
There was no predicting the undead anymore.
When Tom spoke of creativity, he was referring to the makeshift traps Harry
created that had more than once saved their lives. The fact that Harry didn't
come up with plans often and just rather did things was something they could
use to their advantage. Harry made trip wires, for example, and fastened
bottles and bottle caps to them. They'd clink together when the wire was
stepped upon, making a sound loud enough to wake them when they had been asleep
or bathing so they knew that something was coming.
Two months ago Tom and Harry had ran out of bullets. They had sought solace in
an old abandoned manor but zombies had gathered on their lawn - too many to
fight by hand. Harry had ran to the nursery, cut open his hand and soaked the
teddy bears with his own blood. He had tossed them out of the window and while
the zombies had been busy fighting each other and ripping the teddy bears
apart, Tom and Harry took their chance to escape.
Harry had a talent for coming up with quick getaways. That was the difference
between him and his companion - Tom preferred to keep everything in stock and
prepare for the worst beforehand, plan everything ahead. Harry didn't think -
he just reacted.
'But why do you think now wouldn't be as dangerous?' Harry asked softly,
finally. The thought of being capable of living somewhere, growing old… He had
forced those kinds of desires out of his head a long time ago. This simply
wasn't the kind of world where that was possible anymore and it already shocked
Harry enough that they had managed to get this far, for so long.
'It's still as dangerous as it used to be,' Tom replied calmly, 'it just
depends on the location we choose to stay at, and I'm not saying we should stay
there for the rest of our lives. But we could stay there for a year, and then
move forward again.'
'There…? That almost sounds like you already have a place in mind,' Harry
murmured. Tom's head turned to him, and Harry instantly realized that Tom did.
He had this look in his eyes that he always had when he had come up with
something, and Harry found that he liked it. Tom used to say nothing at all and
he wouldn't discuss a thing with Harry before making decisions, but now that
Harry was slowly growing up Tom was starting to see him as more than just
someone that came along him – someone to talk to every now and then.
Harry was Tom's friend, now. Not just a little boy following him around.
'Do you remember that farm we stayed last year?'
Harry slowly nodded. Of course he did.
When they had been there it had been like everything had been safe and normal
again for a short while. It had been an incredibly long drive and they had
stumbled upon it by accident, but staying there… it had been like a dream.
It had been late September when they had arrived there, and Harry still clearly
remembered the apple tree standing right next to the house. Everything had been
deserted – the barns, the house… The farm had been completely isolated from the
outside world and although Harry couldn't understand how someone could've lived
there willingly when things had still been normal, he hadn't complained once
whilst staying there.
The house had smelt of death when they came there. The owners of the property
had killed themselves. There had been a body of a man in the bathtub upstairs;
his wrists had been slit but the blood had been drained from the tub, probably
along with the bathwater. A woman with a broken glass in her hands had been
rotting on the floor in the living room. They had rolled their bodies up into
carpets and burnt them. The sight and smell had been horrendous, but… There had
been no zombies at all when Tom and Harry did their final rounds.
They hadn't seen one all winter. The traps Harry had set up had gone off once,
but it had been a squirrel.
Harry grinned and Tom smirked back at him.
'Is that a yes?' Tom asked and Harry nodded at him. Yes, he would love to go
back to that place. It had been Tom that had said they should leave, and even
if he had always been right and he did have a few good reasons as to why they
should go, Harry had still been reluctant to leave that place. Everything they
needed had been there – the old well constantly filled up with rainwater, there
had been clean clothes they shared, plants…
'At this moment I think I'd be willing to kill for an apple,' Harry said and he
smiled when Tom snorted in amusement. They'd been living on fish and meat from
the small animals they caught for too long. Oh, the things Harry would do for a
glass of milk...
'Sometimes I wonder why I still put up with you,' Tom said though his words
held no bite. He slid his sunglasses back onto his nose and held out his hand.
'Hand me the map, will you?'
***** Step Away From The Window *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 2
                          'Step Away From The Window'
'Did you set up the traps?'
'Yes.'
'Did you check?'
'Twice.'
Tom's eyes lingered on Harry's face as if he tried to seek reason for Harry to
lie. Tom would have much preferred to set up the traps himself had he not been
busied with other tasks already, and Harry knew that it was only a matter of
minutes before Tom would double-check Harry's work anyway.
Trust, Harry had learned a long time ago, was something Tom did not give
freely. For good reason he supposed. Nowadays other humans would either try to
have them for lunch or double-cross them, and neither was on top of Harry's
wishlist.
'You know, doing a good job is kind of important to me too considering the fact
that I don't want to die yet,' Harry then added. Tom stared at him for a bit
longer, surely just to make Harry uncomfortable, and then he released a soft
breath and nodded. Harry dropped the duffel bag he had been carrying and bent
down, pulling out a clean shirt for Tom to wear and holding it out for him.
By now Tom's suspicion didn't offend or confuse Harry anymore. It was in Tom's
nature to only believe the job was well done if he did it himself - still it
never failed to make Harry uneasy about his own capabilities. He fought the
need to check the traps for a third time just to make sure he had indeed done
everything the proper way.
Tom took the garment without a word and he heard the heavy thud of Tom's gun
dropping the ground, followed by the rest of the small collection of weapons
Tom always had on his person. Harry felt flustered and looked away, giving Tom
the time to wash himself in peace.
Their car was waiting for them not too far away on a dirt road. They had
traveled to this clearing by foot - Tom had guided them to a lake and Harry
delighted in the idea he could go swimming. They had already checked if
everything was safe and they hadn't found any zombies near, so Tom had deemed
it an alright place to set up camp for the night.
'I'm just gonna, uh, be there, getting the water ready,' Harry pointed to a
tree and Tom hummed, carelessly lifting up his shirt and taking it off. Harry
didn't have to look to know Tom was scrubbing the fabric, ridding it from the
sweat and dirt clinging to it. Tom had this routine whenever he started washing
himself, in which he'd take off one piece of clothing off a time and take his
time cleaning it before he would start cleaning himself. To give the articles
of clothing time to dry, Harry assumed.
Harry busied himself making a fire with twigs and one of their lighters. Tom
had taught him that if he wasn't certain water was safe to drink he'd have to
boil it to kill all bacteria first.
Harry was careful not to look at Tom even if he secretly so desperately wanted
to, and he stumbled over a tree branch when he went to fill his pan. Water
sloshed out over his feet and the grass glistened with it.
He heard the sound of water splashing halt, and Harry sheepishly smiled over
his shoulder to comfort the other man.
'Sorry,' he said dryly, flushing when he took in Tom's state of undress. There
was no shame in Tom's expression, only mild amusement to Harry's relief. He
quickly went back to his task and stared at the water as he waited for it to
boil.
God, this was just so weird.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he heard the clinking
noise of Tom's knives and his heavy footsteps. Tom's hair was dripping wet but
it would dry soon enough. Harry stubbornly kept his attention focused on the
pan he was holding, feeling the hot fire close to his skin. Tom sat down next
to him and he could feel Tom's eyes on him.
Tom did that often. Stare at him, that is – sometimes Harry thought that Tom
knew about what Harry was hiding from him. When the water was finally boiling
Harry pulled it away from the fire and set it out to cool so it wouldn't melt
their plastic water bottles. He twisted the caps off the bottles and waited for
the steam to stop coming from the pan. Then, with Tom's assistance, he slowly
poured the water into each one of them until the pan was empty.
It was a simple task but Harry was more than happy to have something to do with
his hands.
'That just reminded me,' Tom started suddenly, startling Harry as the teen had
been about to refill the pan, 'your birthday is coming up soon.'
'It is?' Harry asked in honest surprise. He hadn't even thought much about his
birthday and he had secretly already thought Tom had forgotten all about it.
Tom hummed in reply and took the pan from Harry, a small indication that Harry
could go if he wanted to. Harry's mouth felt even dryer than before when his
eyes trailed over Tom's body.
He just couldn't help himself. With all that they had gone through together
Tom's body had grown more fit and it showed. His stomach was more defined, the
beginnings of abs showing, his arms and calves nicely shaped.
Harry realized he really, really wanted to touch Tom.
What was this feeling in his chest?
'Yes,' Tom confirmed. 'Do you have any idea what you'd like to have?'
Harry finally tore his eyes off Tom's body, and he bit his lip in
thought. He had wanted something for a very long time, and it wouldn't be as
dangerous to obtain as the pair of sneakers Tom had gotten him last year. What
Harry wanted couldn't be stolen. Or, he supposed it could – but he wanted it
given to him willingly.
He wanted to have his first kiss. With Tom.
Ofcourse he couldn't say such thing out loud. Tom had never even done as much
as hug Harry – just the occasional pat on his back and hand sliding in his when
they had to run and Tom needed to keep him close.
'No, nothing,' Harry murmured. Tom stopped from where he had been reaching for
another empty bottle and looked at him. Harry was almost too aware of how
droplets ran down his pale skin.
'Nothing?' Tom parroted. He frowned and Harry could just stare. He was confused
as to how he was just so attracted to Tom - how he longed for Tom and himself
to be like his parents had been when things had been normal. He had vague
memories of his father fiddling with his tie while Harry's mother had poured
him a cup of coffee, playfully smiling and tying his tie for him. They had
exchanged a kiss and James Potter had ruffled Harry's hair before heading off
to work. It were simple things, but they had been normal for his parents.
Harry knew he couldn't ask for that. Knew Tom couldn't play God and fix the
world. But maybe Tom could give him that simplicity. That comfort, that –
No. Tom couldn't – he wouldn't. Boys weren't supposed to like each other, and
neither were men. Because that was what Harry would be, in exactly one year.
He'd be 18 and then he'd be a man by the old standards of the world. Maybe if
Harry had been a girl, or if Tom had been one. Maybe then…
'What's wrong?' Tom asked and Harry twitched. Tom calmly rested his hand on top
of Harry's. His skin felt damp and cold on top of Harry's. 'You suddenly look
awfully sad. Don't you look forward to your birthday?'
He couldn't help his eyes from flicking to Tom's lips, fearing Tom had noticed
when Harry looked him back in the eye. Birthdays and holidays were something
Harry honored and Tom knew this. Harry insisted on celebrating their birthdays
and at least Christmas every year. The celebrations made him feel normal and
happy.
He struggled to find words.
'I was just – I was thinking that… it's, I'm turning 18 next year. An adult.'
It was like he wanted to convince Tom of something. Maybe that he'd be a man
like Tom was? Because Harry knew, even Tom knew, that Harry had grown to look
up to him. He had learned so much from Tom and being an adult just brought him
that one step closer to being like Tom.
Harry smiled nervously and averted his eyes, feeling a flush creep up on his
neck. No matter what he did, no matter how many times he helped Tom out or even
saved him, he still felt like such a child.
'Maybe… maybe we should stop celebrating birthdays. My birthday, of course-
' Harry added hurriedly, '- we should still celebrate yours and Christmas.
They're important and…' Harry released an irritated huff because Tom's eyebrow
was rising now and he could feel Tom thought he didn't make any sense.
'Harry, just tell me what you want,' Tom said with an amused tone in his voice.
Harry opened his mouth to deny him, but closed his mouth again when he heard a
scream.
Tom's head whipped around and he pulled out his gun, Harry pulling out a knife.
Tom got up wordlessly and started running into the woods and Harry followed
him, abandoning the bottles and the pan without second thought. He saw a flash
of white and Tom held out his arm and shot it – it had been a woman and she
crumpled to the floor with another loud wail.
Harry nearly knocked Tom over when the tall man abruptly stopped running,
watching as two cloaked men came close as well. They hadn't seen Tom and Harry
and Harry's eyes widened when they laughed. The woman had been no zombie at all
– she was crying and whimpering and pleading for help. The men crouched over
her and Harry instinctively stepped forwards when they started tugging at her
clothes.
They were undressing her. Why were they undressing her?
Harry stared in shock as the woman kicked and flailed, begging for them to
leave her be. Her white dress was stained with blood and they bared her chest,
palming her breasts hungrily.
Harry didn't understand a single thing of what he was witnessing.
Tom snarled and gripped Harry's knife out of his hands, throwing it at them. It
hit one of the men in the back of his head and he fell to the ground, dead. His
partner had finally spotted Tom and Harry and he gasped, already getting up and
trying to run.
Tom aimed his gun at him and shot him right in the shoulder.
Harry watched in shock when Tom trudged over at him. He kicked the man over to
rest on his back and Harry heard him gurgle something. Tom ignored him,
released a frustrated growl-like noise and kicked him in the stomach. The
gurgling abruptly stopped when Tom shot him in the head. Blood spattered up and
Harry swallowed thickly, his heart hammering in his chest and his sides burning
but not really aware of it.
He could just watch Tom and the drops of blood that had spattered into his
handsome face, which was twisted in a look of utmost rage.
Tom then turned and walked to the first man, completely ignoring the woman who
was whimpering and trying to crawl away from him. He stomped his foot down
between the dead man's shoulders and yanked Harry's knife out of his head with
ease. He didn't seem to care much about what he had just done to them. The
knife was dripping blood when he handed it back to Harry. Harry stared up at
him, noting the complete lack of eye contact.
Tom walked past him, probably heading to the lake to clean himself off the
blood he had made them spill.

Tom's hands were shaking.
Harry dropped the knife without much thought and ran to the woman. Her arm was
bleeding and her brown hair was a tangled mess, bruises and cuts all over her
face. She screamed out again when he crouched down to her to try to help her.
'It's okay, it's fine - I'm just here to help you!' Harry said, her crying and
squirming making him nervous, like he had been the one to do her wrong. She
didn't seem to care much for what he had to say and she just kept trying to get
away. She was hysterical.
Harry tried his best to pull up her dress for her to offer her some modesty and
he tried not to ponder at how strange breasts looked to him. She took it as him
assaulting her too and she slammed her fists on his chest.
'Make her shut up before I will!' Tom snapped. Harry's head whirled around to
look at him. Tom's usual calm eyes were livid, and it sent unpleasant shivers
down his spine so Harry turned back to the woman again and tried to hush her.
Tom had never shown kindness to anyone besides Harry. It was like he hated the
world and all of humanity.
Harry took a shaky breath and tried to turn her around again.
'Please! Leave me alone!' she yelled and Harry's hands trembled. He had gotten
so used to all the killing and bloodshed these past years that it was easy to
look past that, but victims… They always got to Harry. He gripped her
shoulders, trying to pull her up and he cried out in pain when she reached up
and slapped him in the face, her nails digging into his sensitive skin and
dragging down. She just kept struggling and Harry yelped when a loud bang was
somewhere near him, making his ears ring.
She stopped moving altogether and Harry looked up to see Tom standing over them
with a gun in his hands, her body still gathered in Harry's arms. Her lifeless
brown eyes were aimed at the sky as she went limp.
'Tom-' Harry started, his hands still trembling as he felt himself growing
angry and his face now throbbing where she had slapped it, 'Tom, you just-'
'Get up, clean yourself and go straight to the car,' Tom demanded, 'that harlot
attracted enough attention with her wailing and I am not going to wait around
for the infected to come for us.'
He turned around and Harry just sat there, staring at her. Tom had never killed
an actual innocent person in front of Harry before and this frightened him, but
most of all – he was angry. He was angry because Tom had been unreasonable and
they could have helped her, she had just been scared –
'Now, Harry!'
Harry stumbled a bit as he rose to his feet, pointedly not looking Tom in the
eye. The scent of blood was all around him and the sight of all of the bodies
made Harry feel sick. His hands were completely coated in slick blood and he
felt some dribble down his cheek as well. Tom watched him as he quickly washed
himself clean and took off his shirt, gathering their things before they left.
He sat in the car and wordlessly put on the shirt Tom handed to him.
They started driving, but Harry didn't say a word to Tom.
All he could think of was that that woman had been abused and that those men
had wanted to take off her clothes. Tom had brutally killed all three of them
like they had never been anyone's kids, lovers, friends.
And that, in return, made Harry wonder if Tom ever had felt the need to kill
Harry just like that.
===============================================================================
Harry didn't sleep well that night.
They had set up traps around the car, barbed wire on the car and bear traps
next to the car doors. Their car seats were pushed backwards so they could rest
side by side, like they usually did when they were on the road. They hadn't
spoken a word to one another. Tom did not seem to feel the need to do so and
Harry was too angry to form words.
He just didn't understand.
He didn't understand why Tom had to kill her too. Harry could've understood if
Tom had simply said that he hadn't wanted to drag her with them, but they
could've helped her. They could've dropped her off somewhere safe.
Also, it had been so long since Harry had seen actual people other than Tom and
it just reminded him of how fragile their lives were. Harry wondered, if other
people were to find Tom and Harry – would they murder the both of them just as
brutally? Harry hadn't felt much pity for the men because they had been
attacking her, but... Just how much had they done to her? She had seemed
hysterical and had barely been capable of forming words.
'Go to sleep,' Tom murmured, catching Harry by surprise. He turned his head to
see Tom staring at him.
Harry wanted to nod like he usually did, but this night he didn't. This night,
he just averted his eyes back to where he had been staring at nothing in
particular. Tom's hand reached out and Harry slapped it away, rolling onto his
side and turning his back to Tom.
Sometimes Harry thought Tom had been a murderer before all of this started.
It would explain it all. Why he knew how to handle weapons, why he knew how to
survive in this world… Why this all just never had seemed to get to him,
emotionally. Tom was angry most of the time, yes, but other than that it he
just acted like the world had always been like this or like he had always been
like this – on the road for any possible threats, killing whomever got into his
way.
Tom was just so destructive. Harry didn't understand, but this part of Tom… it
was ugly, and vile. Cruel in its own overbearing existence and Harry didn't
know how to handle it. It had been a while since Tom had acted the way he had
today, and Harry had been so caught up in his other conflicted feelings that he
hadn't really thought of it before.
But he was thinking of it now.
'Don't touch me,' Harry murmured. He was tired, but too tired to go to sleep.
It were times like these in which he just wished he had a place he could go to
– a place to be alone. Tom released a long sigh and he felt Tom roll over as
well. He could feel Tom's eyes boring into the back of his head.
'You're being unreasonable -'
'Why did I survive, Tom?' Harry asked softly. Tom instantly stopped talking,
and Harry just stared at the door. 'Why didn't you let me die?'
Harry felt cheated. Tom still didn't trust him enough and acted like they
weren't equals even though Harry so desperately wanted them to be.
He just wanted them to be like his parents had been.
Tom sighed again.
'It's in the past,' he murmured. 'It's not important.'
'It is in the past,' Harry agreed softly, simply. He sucked on his bottom lip.
'But it's important to me.'

Tom's hand brushed over his shoulder, and Harry turned around so he could see
Tom again.
'They were members of the Brotherhood, Harry,' he said, 'you know it too. You
saw the sign on their backs.'

Harry had. There was no point in denying that when it had been painted in
thick, red lines on their backs. That triangle sign, with the circle and the
long straight line in the middle.
'But that woman -'
'She only would've slowed us down.'

Harry opened and closed his mouth. He knew that Tom was right, in a way, but
still…
'We could've helped her,' he murmured. He licked his dry lips and frowned.
'There was no reason for you to just kill her. She could've been someone's-'
'No, you're right,' Tom suddenly snapped and Harry felt himself tense up,
'there was no reason for me to just make a decision that could've saved our
lives in the end. Who knew how close the infected were? Who knew where the
other members of the Brotherhood were? If she had continued screaming like that
she would've killed us all.'
Tom sat up and Harry followed the motion, feeling confused when Tom grabbed his
gun and shoved it into his waistband.
'Where are you going?' he asked. Tom's eyes shone in the darkness.
'I'm going to do my rounds,' he snapped. Harry gripped his wrist, but Tom just
pushed him away.
'Tom, it's still dark, you're gonna get yourself-'
'Killed? I thought that that was what you wanted.'
It was a low blow, they both knew it, but Harry could only stare helplessly
when Tom got out of the car. Harry watched him walk until he disappeared in the
distance.
***** Go Back To Sleep *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 3
                              'Go Back To Sleep'
Tom didn't return until late afternoon the following day, and when he did he
was carrying two dead rabbits.
Harry instantly shot up from where he had been waiting by the car, feeling
relieved at seeing Tom again. His smile died on his face, however, when Tom did
nothing but drop the rabbits near his feet and reached into the trunk without
saying a word to him.
Harry couldn't help the disappointment flaring up in his chest. His shoulders
sagged again in resignation.
He knew better than anyone else that Tom could fend for himself, but there just
had been these mental images of Tom being surrounded by more zombies than he
could handle, him being attacked by members of the Brotherhood… Or Tom simply
leaving Harry here to rot. For all the horrors he had witnessed in this world,
Harry had been only terrified of one thing and that was the notion of being
left all alone in this horrible world.
Harry wanted to speak but with the way Tom was acting he wasn't sure if it
would be smart to say anything at all so Harry just settled for making a fire
when Tom handed him the lighter. Tom started skinning the rabbits.
When they started eating Harry realized he'd been starving. He tried his best
to eat slowly because the meat was still hot and it wasn't much – though
admittedly more than they've had these past days – but even if the meat was
bland and not that tasty, he couldn't help himself. He had never been too good
at killing rabbits, and their meat was better than that of the pigeons Harry
managed to shoot out of the sky every now and then.
He blinked when Tom dumped his portion onto Harry's broken plate.
'Tom?' he asked softly. Tom shrugged.
'I'm not hungry anymore.'
Bullshit. They hadn't eaten anything in a day, it wasn't possible for Tom
to not be hungry. Harry opened his mouth to protest but the irritated glint in
Tom's eyes made him sigh. Harry's stomach twinged painfully and he finally
started eating again, feeling awkward now that Tom's eyes were on him.
'Did it take you long to find these?' Harry asked when he was done. Tom
shrugged again.
'No,' he simply replied, obviously not in the mood to talk. Harry nodded and
sighed, staring into the fire and giving up on the conversation he had
attempted to start. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them;
if Tom wanted to be left alone, he would be. It didn't keep Harry from feeling
frustrated though. Sometimes he thought that if he didn't give Tom his desired
peace and quiet, Tom would become even more aggressive.
Just when he thought he had been starting to figure Tom out Tom would just do
something that would completely throw him off. Harry didn't know what to do to
get closer to Tom. All he could do was remain productive and follow Tom's
lead. The fact that Tom hadn't answered most of his questions last night hadn't
been too much of a surprise. Harry had a lot of questions that probably never
would be answered. Tom wouldn't have the answers for them anyway.
All Harry knew for sure was that they lived by Tom's rules, or died. Or worse –
they died and came back.
Harry played a bit with a bone before he sighed and got up, getting ready to
clean up so they could start moving again.
But then one of their traps went off.
Harry froze and Tom tensed up, his hand reaching out and curling around Harry's
wrist to keep him near. Harry's eyes flicked from his wrist back to their
surroundings, hearing a dull thud, another clinking noise and a guttural noise.
He swallowed thickly and Tom glanced up at him, reaching a silent agreement.
You get our things, I'll take care of it.
And Harry was willing to do just that. He had actually already been walking to
the back of the car.
'…Tom,' he started, stepping back. He reached for this gun.
'Not now, Harry,' Tom snapped at him. He moved backwards, his throat feeling
dry.
'Tom -' his chest just filled with dread and his back connected with Tom's
side, reaching backwards to grip Tom's hand.
'What?' Tom hissed. His head turned finally and the sight made his eyes widen
rather comically. Had it been a better situation Harry probably would have
poked some fun at it.
It was more than one zombie. Tom and Harry were completely surrounded – the
undead just kept gathering around them, their lifeless eyes fixated on them.
Harry swallowed thickly while his nails dug into Tom's skin. For a moment the
undead just stared, as if they wanted to figure out if Harry and Tom were
edible or not. There were about six of them, covered in blood and clothes torn.
One of them missed an eyeball, the other missed a hand.
'Damn.'
Harry felt Tom squeeze his hand in reply.
One of the zombies stepped forward, but Harry didn't move just yet. He didn't
wait for Tom's orders because there never was any predicting in what they'd do.
Another one stepped forward now, as well, and Harry's grip tightened on his
gun. Tom murmured something he couldn't quite comprehend; there was too much
blood rushing through his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He
felt alive, and once the fear ebbed down he realized he just had this need to
make them die.
One made a grunt-like noise.
Harry grinned.
The only times Harry could let go of all the stress he's been experiencing was
when he could fight for his life. Harry just couldn't explain it any further
other than that it made him feel satisfied; as if he was avenging all the
people these creatures have killed.
After the initial fear ebbed down, Harry's mind worked quickly.
'Take the cyclops, big foot and the stripper,' Harry murmured, releasing Tom's
hand and referring to the one eyed zombie, the tall one who didn't wear any
shoes and the woman whose dress was completely torn and didn't keep her body
from getting exposed.
Harry would later on wonder if it was weird that he hadn't felt a damn thing at
seeing a woman almost naked for the second time in his life.
Tom hummed and then the one handed zombie lunged forward.
Tom moved amazingly fast – he was just a blur in the corner of Harry's eyes.
Harry couldn't focus too much on it and instead just moved forward as well,
jumping and aiming a kick at its chest. It fell over and Harry gripped his gun
from his waistband and shot it in the mouth, and then in its forehead. He
barely had time to avoid getting bitten by the female zombie, whose screech
seemed to echo through the woods.
It wasn't just adrenaline that went through Harry at times like these.
It was sheer arousal that went through him during the aftermath as well. Like
he had gotten rid of some of his frustration but not all of it. Not by a long
shot.
Tom practically cackled after a particular loud bang and Harry heard a couple
of bangs after the first one – Tom was fucking around. He always enjoyed making
them suffer, and sometimes Harry thought that Tom had been created for the sole
purpose of destruction.
Sometimes it seemed to be all that Tom was capable of.
And the worst was that that was exactly what drew Harry into him.
Harry gripped her wrist and it snapped – she screamed again, drawing the
attention of the other zombies. Harry ducked his head just in time before a
shower of blood poured down on him. One of the zombies had just been about to
bite him and had bitten her instead.
Tom shot the both of them in the head and Harry looked at him, sharing a look
of just something before Tom went back to the remaining two zombies.
Wait – two?
Harry's eyebrows knitted together and he yelped in shock when he felt breath on
his neck, and he started running without giving it too much thought. He could
hear footsteps right behind him, feel the wind in his hair…
He didn't have to look to know the big guy, the one that he had told Tom to
kill, was coming after him. He cursed softly.
That was the thing with Tom.
When he got excited, he forgot all about Harry. For Tom, the world solely
existed out of him, the ones he was fighting and the life he was protecting.
This time, it didn't happen to be Harry's. Harry's gun dropped but he didn't
have the time to turn around, and his heart was fluttering in his chest.
He wasn't going to die. He refused to be someone else's dinner.
He hadn't kissed Tom or kicked his ass yet, after all. Either one of them
seemed on top of his try-before-you-die list.
Harry's lungs felt like they were on fire and he was suddenly so reminded of
that night of so many years ago, but he couldn't think too much of
it. Wouldn't. His emotions always got in the way when he was being chased down.

He ran into an old building and it was dark, and his eyes barely had the time
to grow accustomed to it.
The zombie behind him grunted and growled, and when its hand reached out to
grab Harry Harry suddenly stopped running altogether. It rushed Harry by and
dragged him with him and Harry let him – he got his knife out of his pocket and
slammed it into its chest blindly. It roared in pain but it didn't die, not yet
anyway, and Harry yelped when it threw Harry off himself.
Harry landed on his back painfully on the stone floor and his body screamed in
protest when he stood up, and for a moment the two of them just sized each
other up. Harry's gun was too far away for Harry to make a grab for it and his
knife was now embedded in the zombie's chest – right under his collarbone, to
be precise. It could bite Harry if he would attempt to get it out of him.
The zombie would be too stupid to avoid getting hit when Harry would throw
something at it, though...
Problem was that Harry didn't have anything he could throw. Harry's eyes darted
around him, and he spotted a broken pipe behind the zombie. The zombie screamed
and lurched forward again and Harry gulped, running in a perfect circle and
switching their positions. He bent down and gripped the pipe, stumbled, and
held it out in front of him. He toppled over when the zombie ran to him even
though the pipe had punctured the empty eyesocket of the monster, another wave
of blood gushing down on him. When he tried to break his fall with his hand he
cried out in pain, feeling something snap and puncture his skin.
Harry heard a couple of bangs and then footsteps. He tried to scramble up, but
his hand just ached so much and the zombie was just so fuckingheavy that –
'Harry!' Tom called and Harry made a muffled noise. He raised his unharmed arm
and waved, tears stinging in his eyes. Shit. This really fucking hurt, and
lying underneath the stinking body of someone that had once been human didn't
make it any better. He felt light headed.
But he had survived.
And he had killed a couple of the monsters that had destroyed his life.
Tom kicked the body off him and hauled Harry to his feet. There was already a
bruise forming on Tom's cheek, and he had a long cut on his neck. He was bathed
in blood.
'Did it bite you?' Tom asked sternly, his eyes raking over Harry's body, making
him feel naked somehow. He caught sight of how Harry cradled his hand to his
chest and he made to snatch it, but Harry stumbled backwards. A piece of his
bone was puncturing his pale skin and Harry needn't see to know that it was
just bad.
And maybe it was the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. Or maybe it
was just the fact that Tom looked absolutely fucking sinful with his hair
falling into his eyes like that, his shirt torn and sticky with blood and his
hands slick with blood as well.
Either way, Harry just reached forward, gripped Tom by the back of his neck
with his unharmed hand and slammed his lips against Tom's.
Just because he could.
Because he had almost died.
Because Tom had come for him.
And just maybe because he was about to pass out from the pain spreading through
his hand.
***** Safe From Pain *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 4
                               'Safe from pain'
Turned out kissing someone while you're high on pain isn't a good idea for two
reasons. One, being, that the person you just kissed will think you've totally
lost your mind and won't take you seriously. The second? Unless
actually vomiting after doing so was part of your plan…
Yeah.
Not a good idea at all.
Harry couldn't remember much after the vomiting – he had pulled away from Tom's
lips, turned around and threw up in the bushes somewhere near them before
passing out. Something told him that Tom hadn't found that very attractive.
When Harry used to imagine his first kiss with Tom he had admittedly expected
more romance or maybe just not the stench of blood and agonizing pain, thus he
kind of promised himself that for as long as Tom wouldn't bring it up, Harry
himself wouldn't mention it either. Which actually was not too big of a deal
since his hand and the bone sticking out of it offered plenty of distraction.
'We're heading to town,' Tom had said, when Harry had been waking up again. He
must've carried Harry to the car because up to this moment Harry couldn't
remember ever walking to it.

Tom's monotone voice had vaguely reminded Harry of that voice that used to do
the announcements at train stations. Harry wished he had remained unconscious
because the pain was just… Harry just had to do all he could to keep himself
from crying out whenever Tom drove over even the smallest bumps in the road. He
hadn't even remembered the kiss at that point – had been too busy biting the
inside of his cheek and was only vaguely aware of Tom's voice.
'And you decided that on your own?' Harry had ground out. He cursed when Tom
drove over a bigger bump in the road because the slight movement had jarred his
hand painfully and he had glared at him.
'Given you broke your hand, we're almost out of gas and bullets…' Tom
sarcastically had pretended to be actually mulling this over while Harry had
stared at him in irritation, 'yes, I just did,' Tom concluded.
'Asshole,' Harry had hissed under his breath. Tom had said nothing in reply.
And now they were there.
Tom wasn't really saying anything. The town was near the woods where they had
been attacked, so it hadn't been a very long drive, but if it had depended on
Harry he would've been more than happy with letting his hand heal on its own.
Too bad Tom wouldn't agree with him on that.
Harry hated towns. They all looked like lockdowns – filled with people just
sauntering the streets, looking unhealthy and worn out. The few humans that
were left acted like the very monsters they were running from with the way they
barely seemed aware of anything other than that they just needed to survive.
Harry kept his chin up and quickened his pace, having some trouble keeping up
with Tom but not a lot.
People were just trying to move on. Make the best out of life and still hoping,
even after all these years, that this was all a bad dream. The very few
children that had born these past years didn't know any better – they would
never have the childhood Harry had.

Tom carefully followed the directions they had been given and Harry just
stared, feeling unsafe somehow. It was the fact that zombies were driven by
madness and fueled by endless hunger that made them so frightening. It was the
fact that humans planned their heinous crimes that made them demonic.
Tom had always said that that was what made the Brotherhood so strong. The fact
that they acted like zombies, but thought like human beings. Tom had never
explained Harry what the Brotherhood had done. He probably never had felt the
need to do so.
Harry's eyes lingered on a little girl, who stared right back at him with eerie
eyes. Her hair was long and white, and she was holding the hand of a man who
was probably her father. When Harry looked at the man he realized the man had
been looking right back at him, and he could feel the strain of his eyebrows
when he forced himself not to scowl at him. Tom's hand gripped his upper arm
and tugged him forward.
When the virus had spread people had taken the opportunity to start stealing
things at first – breaking into stores, shamelessly making people pull over and
yanking them out of their cars… And that was why humanity nowadays wasn't to be
trusted. They all wanted to survive just a bit too much, and everyone just had
too much to lose and to gain personally. After all, Tom and Harry had more than
once stolen from fellow survivors as well.
Harry stumbled and Tom instantly gripped his arm tighter. It was more of a
reflex than him having desired to help Harry, really, and Harry could
appreciate that in Tom. He left Harry to fend for his own most of the time
because he knew Harry could handle it. When Harry had just been a boy Tom had
constantly dragged him with him. Killing zombies in front of him. Forcing him
to fight the ones that Tom had carefully tied up at first so Harry could learn
how to fight.
In a strange way, protecting him.
It had always been Tom to stitch Harry up, always Tom to get them food, always
Tom to find them a place to sleep at night. It was Harry's job to stitch Tom up
in return, to cook their food, to mark safe places on their maps and to set up
traps. It seemed natural to be working together with Tom like this. To have
chores and to be join forces, as a duo.
Tom's hand felt secure on Harry's arm and Harry tried to take bigger steps.
Every step he took jarred his hand and it felt like it was on fire. It wouldn't
surprise Harry if it was.
They finally stopped walking and Harry nearly ran into Tom. His hand was no
longer bleeding but it felt slick nonetheless, maybe with sweat. Tom stared at
the door as if he somehow expected zombies to burst through it, but they
wouldn't. They were safe here and it felt strange but then again maybe Tom just
wasn't willing to trust whomever it was that was behind this door and serving
as a doctor. He had never trusted any of the other survivors. With good reason,
Harry had always supposed, but whereas Harry always felt this need to help
everyone Tom would just ignore those in need. If it hadn't been for Harry he'd
leave everyone off to die, even if they were begging him for help.
They walked in and a bell chimed somewhere above their heads. The sound
startled Harry and he leaned more into Tom.
There was a woman in a white coat sitting behind a desk and she looked up from
the book she had been reading. Her nametag read Ginny.

Tom was pushing Harry toward her with a sneer on his face, as if he hated the
woman even if he didn't know her. Ginny's eyes widened when she caught sight of
the hand Harry had been cradling against his chest. Whether it was in worry or
disgust, Harry didn't quite know, but he just hoped she'd be capable of helping
him. She looked like she wasn't much older than Harry himself.
She ushered them in a back room without introducing herself and Harry didn't
really care much for introductions either. He sat down on the ratty bed and
stretched his arm out to her, and Tom watched them both very carefully, his
hand on his gun.
'I can't work if you threaten me,' Ginny stated and she aimed her brown eyes at
Tom. Harry vaguely noted she smelt of flowers. 'If you don't want to watch then
just go outside.' Tom sneered and opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him
to it.
'It's okay,' he assured him shakily, the first thing he had said in hours. Tom
looked at him before he slowly nodded, and then he sat down next to Harry. He
removed his hand from his gun and stared at Harry's hand.
'Try flexing your fingers, will you?' she asked patiently, and Harry did. He
hissed in pain, and all he managed was a pathetic twitch under her close
scrutiny. His hand was swollen and had all kinds of colors to it, the white of
his bone sticking out so obviously it made Harry wince. It was weird to stop
and think about it, but Harry had never expected his bones to actually look
this pure white. He had expected them to have a yellow tone.
Ginny sighed and she poked and prodded at Harry's hand for a while, constantly
muttering apologies under her breath when he'd let out a pained noise. When she
was finally done she released a long sigh as if she had made a decision, but
wasn't very happy with it.
'I don't have anything to ease the pain,' she said, and then she looked at Tom.
'Could you hold him down?'
Harry frowned in confusion, but he was too tired and trusting to struggle when
Tom pushed his shoulders into the bed. He bit his lower lip, stared into Tom's
eyes and then felt the brush of her hand on his own before –
'Fuck!' Harry exclaimed, his hand jerking in her grasp. She kept it firmly in
her grasp and Tom gripped Harry's wrist to hold it still for her. Harry
released a pained cry when she started pushing the bone back into his skin and
he closed his eyes, legs kicking out until Tom patiently sat on top of his
hips, keeping him from running away. If he had thought breaking his hand was
agony then he definitely had no words for how this felt.
Harry was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making too much
noise, but he quickly broke the thin skin and he tasted blood so sharp it was
like someone had shoved a handful of coins into his mouth. Hot tears were
leaking out of his closed eyes and it was like she was trying to grind his
bones together, trying to –
Harry gasped when something just shifted inside of his hand and he heard the
soft murmur of Ginny's voice. Then, Tom released him again and Harry could just
lay there and pant for air. The nails of his free hand had dug into the sheets
and Harry cried out again when something stinging got poured over his hand. He
didn't need to look to know he was bleeding - his entire hand throbbed and
random bursts of pain shot up from his hand into his wrist.
He turned his head and saw her putting away a bottle again and she dabbed at
his hand with cotton pads. Harry tried to move it away, but all it resulted
into was Tom gripping his wrist again. Harry noticed belatedly that Tom was
still on top of him.
Harry was shivering, twitching in pain. He felt sick, like he was about to
throw up, and he turned his head to the side when she started bandaging his
hand so tightly it sent tingles down his entire body. She just kept touching it
and Harry kept murmuring pleads, he later on realized, a mantra of 'It hurts
stop please you need to stop please please please' and he just whimpered in
relief when she was finally done. The fabric of the bandages felt like they
could chafe up his entire skin no matter how soft they felt.
Tom was brushing his hair out of his eyes and then there was a murmur of their
voices. The room felt like it was spinning, and it came to a surprise to Harry
that he could hear anything besides the rush of blood in his ears.
'You should've come earlier – it didn't get infected but the swelling made it
really difficult for me to push his broken bones back into place. It wasn't a
clean break.'
Tom didn't reply, he just Harry's forehead absentmindedly.
'Why aren't you letting him stay here anyway?' she continued in a voice that
clearly said she didn't want Harry to hear. But he heard her anyway and he
stared at Tom, finding it was easier to fight off the need to vomit when he
focused on one point. Tom smoothed Harry's hair from his face. 'He's just a boy
– he'd be better off with people -'
'He is safe with me,' Tom snapped at her. His eyes had that cruel thing in them
once more and Harry shakily reached for Tom's hand, needing something to
squeeze down on so he could focus more on the pressure. They shared a look of
something, something that made Harry shiver and something that made Tom relax
just a bit.
Tom broke eye contact again. His large hand squeezed Harry's in a silent offer
of comfort.
'What do I owe you?' he said. It was hard to imagine Ginny had done
something good for them. He vaguely wondered how she would've coped if Tom
hadn't been there to hold Harry down. Tom reached into his pocket and pulled
out a jar of pills. Ginny looked at it before she tightly nodded.
'That'll do,' she replied when she took it. Money nowadays meant nothing
anymore, and people usually liked to be paid in objects, canned foods, fresh
meat or clothing instead. Tom said nothing in return, and he just pulled Harry
up in a sitting position. Ginny grabbed a piece of fabric and created a sling
out of it for Harry to put his arm in, so he wouldn't have it dangling by his
side all the time.
'Thank you for your time and service,' Tom drawled once she was done. Harry
gripped the front of Tom's shirt with his good hand, his knees feeling shaky.
He had a bit of trouble walking the first few steps but eventually he managed,
and only when they were outside and had been walking for about 5 minutes or so
did Harry speak again.
'Where did you find the pills?' he asked, voice trembling a bit. Tom glanced at
him before he shifted so that he was no longer gripping Harry's arm and
dragging him along, but merely holding it to keep him steady.
'I stole them from her desk when she wasn't looking,' he said and Harry
blinked, before he looked back up at Tom.
'You mean -?' Tom shrugged, as if he hadn't just fooled someone by paying with
something he had stolen from them in the first place. Harry mentally applauded
for Tom for having thought so fast and tucked that trick away in the back of
his mind so he could use it later, whenever it should come in handy. They kept
walking, but Harry had no idea where they were headed. When he asked, Tom
looked at him before shrugging again.
'Somewhere we can sleep,' he said. His blue eyes lingered on Harry's lips but
he didn't say a word.
Harry suddenly remembered he had kissed Tom not too long ago. He absentmindedly
brushed his fingers over his lips as if that could make up for the lack of
pressure from Tom's lips against them, but he could not clearly remember what
they had felt like at all. Tom's lips weren't chapped so they couldn't have
felt rough against his own, and still… He released a surprised noise when a
fat, whale-like man with a mustache suddenly stood in front of them, his hand
already reaching to his waistband for his gun. The man hadn't been attacking
them, however, and he looked at them with a eager look in his eyes. Tom scowled
at him.
'What do you want?' he snapped.
'Have you been to little Whinging?' the man asked them. He gripped Tom's arm
and Harry's eyes darted back and forth. Tom shoved the man off.
'There's nothing but the infected there,' Tom snapped cruelly. The man gaped at
him and Tom started walking again, like he hadn't just very well told this man
that his family had been dead for years.
===============================================================================
Night fell quickly after they had found a house that hadn't been occupied just
yet, and after placing traps to keep people outside and leaving their things
behind in the living room, Harry had fallen asleep on a ratty old bed that
creaked whenever he moved around too much.
He couldn't have slept for more than an hour because it was still dark and he
could still hear voices outside. Tom wasn't there when he woke, but Harry
didn't need him to. He hadn't been alone in months and even if Tom's company
was great, sometimes it was nice to just not have pessimistic or sarcastic
comments thrown at him all the time.
The warm summer air smelt kind of sweet, and the streets were only weakly
illuminated by candles. It occurred to Harry that he had never walked the
streets like this at night, not when he was alone. When he had been just a boy,
he had only been allowed to leave the house by himself if he would go to his
godfather's house, who lived right around the corner, or when he'd go out and
play with some of his friends. It felt liberating to be capable of walking
around here, without having to worry or fear for his life. Without awkward
tension.
Even if he hated towns because of the people that lived there, they also
reminded him of what he had lost.
Of whom he had lost.
Sometimes Harry did think he could stay in a place like this, with Tom. Try to
connect with other people and be a normal teenage boy. But he also didn't feel
safe with people. There was just no telling whether someone was good or bad…
though lately Harry had been wondering what made the Brotherhood, for example,
so bad. They seemed to be influential and Harry had heard people whisper about
them on the streets earlier. Tom had never explained – he had just said they
were pure evil.
Nothing more.
Speaking of Tom, Harry had no idea if he had really kissed him. Maybe he had
been so out of it that he had started making things up? It had to be –
otherwise Tom would've confronted him already. He was a pretty straight forward
person after all.
Harry's hand still throbbed and hurt like hell, but admittedly it hurt less
somehow, like the bandages kept everything in place and were some sort of
cushion and the sling kept Harry from jarring it every time he walked. He'd
have to discuss with Tom how he could fight best with his hand like this or if
he would have to remain in the background and shoot zombies while Tom was
fighting them. Harry's aim was pretty good, after all.
He spotted Tom before Tom had spotted him, and he was standing across a pretty
girl. She had her back against the wall and they were talking, and Tom was
leaning his hand over her shoulder against the wall as well. They looked close
enough to kiss.
Harry abruptly stopped walking.
And of course it would be logical for Tom to end up liking a girl. Guys were
supposed to like girls… but that did nothing from keeping a horrible feeling
settle in Harry's stomach all of a sudden, like some kind of ugly animal had
woken up inside of him. He just wanted to push the girl away and –
But why? Why would Harry want to hurt a harmless girl? He felt his eyebrows
knit together in confusion and he bit his bottom lip. He felt a bit silly,
standing there, and he thought to himself that he should start moving again but
he couldn't. He wanted to see. If Tom would like another person, Harry deserved
to know.
But much to his surprise the girl said something, probably about Harry, and Tom
looked over his shoulder. He had a charming smile on his face, one that he had
worn whilst talking to the girl, one that Harry knew would make anyone weak in
the knees.
Including himself.
Tom pushed away from the wall and walked up to Harry, and Harry looked up at
him when he was close again. He vaguely noticed his hand was itchy, but he
couldn't scratch it. Tom had told him he would disrupt the healing process if
he would do so.
'Hey,' he said stupidly, not knowing what else to say.
'Hey,' Tom said in return, smirking a bit. 'I was just talking to Pansy,' he
pointed to the girl who leaned against the wall and shamelessly kept staring at
Tom while Harry felt that thing inside of him sneer at her, 'you need new
clothes, and she-'
'My clothes are fine,' Harry said, feeling irritated. The prospect of accepting
something from her made Harry feel humiliated somehow. Tom looked at him in
surprise. He probably hadn't expected Harry to snap at him like that.
'What's bothering you?' Tom instantly asked, sounding a bit snappy as well.
Harry shook his head and fought the need to apologize. He was getting more and
more out of control, wasn't he? It dawned in on Harry that Tom had only been
trying to get the both of them the supplies he needed, and it was common that
Tom used his charm whenever he could, but…
'Nothing – I just don't know. Can we go? Please?'
Tom frowned at him, but he nodded as well. Maybe he understood or maybe he
didn't. It was just that the way Tom looked at Harry was too intimate, just too
much there and it made Harry feel uncomfortable.
'Fine. After tonight we will.' Tom's arm reached out as if he wanted to touch
Harry, but in the end he seemed to decide against it and stuffed his hands into
his pockets instead. He started walking and Harry followed him. When he looked
over his shoulder he saw the black haired girl looking at Tom in disappointment
and he couldn't help but feel achievement at that.
And it was completely random, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a
victorious smile when Tom's hand brushed against the back of his head before
his arm settled around Harry's shoulders.
===============================================================================
When they left in the morning Harry's hand still ached and he was staring out
of the window of the car while Tom's eyes were aimed tensely on the road, as if
he was struggling to keep himself from doing something. Harry was torn in
between enjoying the silence and loathing it.
There were different types of silences that Harry had quickly learned to pick
up on after living with Tom. There were the comfortable silences, in which they
wouldn't really have anything to say, the angry silences when Harry fought not
to say anything that might make it worse while Tom ignored Harry entirely, the
silences when all they had to do was look at each other to know what they were
thinking...
And then there were the tense silences.
The tense silences were the worst. They were rare, as they both always spoke
their minds, but they happened in exact situations like these when they weren't
exactly fighting, but weren't comfortable around one another either. Well -
Harry wasn't right now. He doubted Tom would ever feel uncomfortable.
Point was that Harry had slowly been realizing he had been
feeling jealous yesterday, and his own feelings for Tom were driving him
insane. He was just too aware of him, too aware of how Tom's jaw was tensed up,
too aware of how his own fingers were drumming an uneven tune on his thigh...
They didn't have a thing to say to one another, yet Harry wished that Tom would
just talk. He wanted to know if Tom realized that Harry had been jealous - he
probably had - and what he had thought of being kissed by Harry - if Harry
hadn't made it up in his mind - and if he just knew what Harry felt for him -
 probably not - but most of all Harry just wanted them to stop being so goddamn
weird around one another.
Harry got it. They hadn't talked about their earlier fight just yet and Tom was
most likely just thinking about that, but there was just an aching suspicion
that...
Harry closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. As soon as he had closed his
eyes Tom looked at him, his eyes lingering on Harry's lips again before he
turned his attention back to the road.
===============================================================================
When they stopped driving that night and Tom started pulling out the barbed
wire from their trunk, Harry was groggy. He had been stretching his legs a bit
when he suddenly froze, catching sight of a light somewhere in the distance.
Without really thinking twice he started walking toward it, but as soon as he
had taken a couple of steps towards it Tom was holding him back already. The
wire laid on the ground, abandoned, and the tension between them was firmly
back in place.
'Where are you going?' Tom asked. Harry shrugged and pointed to the light in
the distance. It looked like a tent, and Harry was just curious.
'Are you crazy?' Tom asked incredulously. His eyes stared at the tent for a
while, and then he shook his handsome head as if deciding something. 'No -
look, Harry. We can't. Let's just go.' He already started tugging Harry into
the direction of the car without waiting for a reply, and Harry pulled his arm
out of his grip. He frowned at Tom in frustration.
'Why's that?' he said. He took a few steps toward the light as if challenging
Tom. Tom followed him.
'We need to be careful or-'
'Is this about the Brotherhood again?'
Tom didn't reply to that, but he was wearing a frown of his own on his face
now. Harry huffed and stared him in the eye for a short moment before bending
down and grabbing one of their guns and stuffing it into his waistband, patting
his leg for his knife. Tom just kept watching him and it was unnerving.
'You know what? I think you're full of shit,' Harry snapped. Tom looked at him
as if he had grown a second head, and he remained silent for a short moment as
if he couldn't decide whether or not Harry was actually being serious right
now.
'Excuse you?' he finally said.
'You heard me. I think you're just overreacting about the Brotherhood. They
haven't done anything to us.' Harry started walking toward the tent and Tom
started following him with a dark scowl on his face. The expression didn't mean
any good, but right now Harry didn't care. It wasn't that he wanted to upset
Tom - okay, maybe he did - but...
'You may not realize it, but you just said one of the most stupidest things I
have ever heard, Harry Potter,' Tom snapped at him. Harry just kept walking
with a determined look in his eyes. 'Harry, we need to go back-'
'You can go back. I want to see if there are other people there.' Harry stopped
walking and looked Tom in the eye for a short while, before he sighed and ran a
hand through his hair. Harry knew, though, that he was being reckless. But
after going to town he just felt like doing something reckless. After seeing
Tom with another person, he just felt like upsetting Tom as much as Tom had
upset him, even if he had never done so intentionally.
'You're going to get us killed,' Tom finally decided. Harry's eyebrow rose but
he otherwise didn't say much and he struggled to keep up with Tom when Tom
started walking ahead. Tom didn't give in to him – he was playing with their
lives by trying to show Harry a point. It wouldn't be the first time he had
done so.
After he had gone with Tom, when he had only been 12 years old, he hadn't been
willing to believe that zombies actually weren't human anymore and he hadn't
been willing to allow Tom to kill any of them, firmly believing that Tom was a
murderer and that he wasn't fighting for his life. Just to prove his point, Tom
had captured a zombie in their trunk and let it out - of course it wouldn't
have been capable of touching Harry, Tom would've made sure of that, but Harry
hadn't known that at the time. He had just stood there, frozen in shock when
indeed someone who had once been someone's daughter started attacking him.
Harry would never forget the first time he felt blood on his bare skin. It had
been hot and sticky and slick, and he had thrown up and cried when Tom had shot
her in front of him. It hadn't been just because the girl had been killed in
front of him, though. It had been because that had been the first time Harry
had really realized that his parents were now either dead or the same kind of
monsters.
Harry would also never forget how Tom had wrapped his arms around him rather
awkwardly, as if he hadn't known how to comfort someone, and had promised him
that he would be there for him. That they would survive, together.
By the time they got into the tent, Harry somehow completely got why Tom had
thought the Brotherhood to be dangerous. His breath got stuck in his throat and
he vaguely wondered that why, every time that Tom tried to prove a point, it
had to be accompanied with images that would haunt Harry for the rest of his
life.
There were dead bodies slouched in chairs, everywhere. Plastic cups were strewn
around the ground and it was like they had all committed suicide at the same
time. Tom murmured something but Harry didn't pay any attention to it. Instead
he started moving further and further into the tent, trying almost desperately
to find someone who was still alive.
But they were all dead.
Harry started walking forward, his eyes wide in realization. There was a cross
nailed to a pillar.
In desperate times, false gods abound. People put their faiths in the loudest
preachers and hoped they're right. But sometimes they're wrong.
Harry's eyes lingered on the cross.
Dead wrong.
Harry heard a noise behind him but he shrugged it off, thinking it was Tom. A
hand curled around his wrist and he tried to shake it off, feeling irritation
toward the tall male. 'Tom, let g-'
His eyes widened when he turned his head. The dead people – they suddenly
weren't dead at all, and they were holding guns and-
Had they actually been ambushed? Harry stared in shock at Tom, whose arms were
forced behind his back. There was a gag in his mouth and his eyes were angry
while they stared into Harry's. Harry thought that he would've said something
along the lines of told you so if this situation hadn't been so, well, fucked
up.
And even if Tom had only been planning on proving a point to Harry, he had
probably only been counting on one or three men in a tent, drinking alcohol and
too drunk to really do anything. If Tom had seen this coming he would've thrown
Harry in the car the moment he had even considered going to the tent an option.
Harry just cried out in pain when his wrist was forced behind his back as well.
He saw Tom struggling, but they just got pushed forwards.
===============================================================================
If Harry's life had been a story he would've been very poorly amused with the
way things were progressing and he was going to kick the author's ass for
giving him such a piece of a crap as a life.
Harry's arm was painfully wrenched behind his back, the arm in his sling was
being held by a tall man and only recently had his blindfold been taken off.
His glasses had been confiscated a long time ago along with the rest of the
weapons they had had on them but they couldn't have been walking very far. He
counted his steps and carefully remembered which directions they had walked in
so they might as well shouldn't have bothered with the blindfolds, but Harry
figured that the situation wouldn't have been this overly dramatic (almost
theatric in its own surrealism) without the use of them.
Harry stumbled a bit when he got pushed forward, staring at the back of Tom's
head as if willing him to find a way to get them out, because his own mind
didn't seem to be willing to do anything but panic at the moment. It seemed
that the drama in their acts – Brotherhood, he reminded himself, this couldn't
be anyone else but the Brotherhood – had been working.
He didn't recognize a thing here, but he knew that he would be capable of
finding his way back. It had been one of the first things Tom had taught him
after all – to always remember exactly how many steps he had taken and in what
direction, to find his way back. He was sure he'd make Tom very proud if he
tell him they had been walking 297 steps east so far.
There were eyes staring at him from behind masks. The only sources of light
were the fires in front of the tents and the flames felt hot on Harry's exposed
arms. When he was forced to kneel he nearly toppled over, somewhat grateful to
be capable of giving his aching feet a rest. When he aimed his eyes up again he
was facing the only man who wasn't cloaked – a middle aged man with blonde hair
stood before them. He noted that Tom was forced to remain standing, and the
blonde wore a look of badly concealed rage on his face.
'My name is Gellert Grindelwald,' he said, his voice quivering and his German
accent thick and impossible to miss, 'and you killed two of my men, in cold
blood.'
Harry's eyes went from Tom to Gellert, his mouth feeling dry behind his gag.
The men that had attacked that woman about a week ago had worn cloaks as well.
It suddenly dawned in on him how horrible the situation they were in was – the
Brotherhood had seen them coming and had set up an ambush, to get even with
them.
'You shot one of them in the shoulder, beat him up and shot him in the head.'
Tom looked unimpressed. His blue eyes bored into Gellert's cold eyes, and he
didn't even attempt saying a thing. Gellert kept staring at him. 'He was my
son.'
Harry's eyes widened while Gellert kept talking, all too aware of what was
going on. They had killed the wrong people.
And now they were going to pay the price.
'He was only 16.' Gellert inhaled a sharp breath, turned his head away for a
moment as if he struggled to keep himself together and then turned back to Tom.
He slapped him in the face and Tom's head snapped to the left from the effort
of it, and Harry made a noise of protest behind his gag. He struggled and tried
to get up but cold hands kept him down, forcing him to watch.
Tom still didn't attempt to make a noise or move away, and he just inhaled a
deep breath through his nose. He slowly turned his head back to look Gellert in
the eye. Almost promising him that he will join his beloved son very soon. 'He
never returned from hunting. God rest his soul.'
Tom still didn't say a thing and Gellert grew irritated by it. Harry could read
it in his body language, and it wasn't much of a shock when he turned to Harry.
He gripped Harry's hair and forced his head backwards, his throat exposed. For
a moment Harry thought he was going to slit it, but all Gellert did was study
his face.
'He was just as old as this boy is,' he said, as if he was trying to see his
son through Harry's eyes. He ran his fingers down the long column of Harry's
throat, petting him. Harry tried to move his head away, but to no avail.
'You're a fine looking young man, aren't you? Is he your brother?'
Gellert turned to look at Tom again. He gripped Harry's gag and Tom made a
muffled noise, struggling against his bonds at last. He pulled the gag down and
Harry stared the man straight in the eye. He could practically feel his blood
rushing to his ears, his face darkening.
'My family is dead,' he said in a cold tone, his voice trembling in anger. For
a moment the man's eyes just stared into Harry's and Harry saw no good in him
at all. He was rotten to the core.
'Don't you worry,' Gellert replied, as if he wanted to comfort Harry. Tom's
breath was picking up now, looking nothing short of an enraged animal. 'We'll
get you some religion.' With his hand still on Harry's head, he pushed him down
until his forehead was pressed into the dirt. Harry let him, not because he
feared him, but because he for once knew that he would only make things worse
by resisting. 'Bring you to God and the right way.'
Harry couldn't see his face, but he just knew that Gellert was staring into
Tom's eyes while he spoke to Harry. Somehow he just knew he was doing this
because he knew he was getting a reaction out of Tom.
His grip tightened on Harry to the point where it hurt and then he pulled
Harry's head up again. Tom was struggling violently in the arms of the man who
kept him down, his eyes staring into Harry's. They shared a look but this time,
Harry couldn't fathom what the expression in Tom's eyes was. He had normally
always been capable of reading Tom, it had been something he had learned
throughout the years.
Harry was pulled up to his feet and he yelled behind his gag after it was put
into place again, voice picking up when Gellert turned to Tom again. He gripped
Tom's chin and completely ignored Harry.
'As for you, Thomas Riddle…' There was surprise in Tom's eyes and Gellert
released a cold laugh, having seen it before Tom had composed himself again.
'Yes, we know who you are. You kill them – those who came back to serve us for
the greater good even when you're secretly one of them. Them who God has
brought down to do his work, leaving us to purify the blood of our fathers. And
when that day comes, he'll take them back. Peace and purity will rule this
world. Forever!' he turned to the men behind Harry. 'Amen!'
'Amen!' they parroted, like it was something that they had all practiced.
Gellert's eyes had lit up from the sheer sense of power he felt from that,
probably, and he turned back to Tom. He pulled his gag down.
'What do you have to say for yourself, sinner?' he asked. Tom lifted his head
and spat in his face – Harry jumped in his bonds. And to think he had even
expected Tom to just submit to this man… Harry realized he felt a mixture of
pride and irritation, because Tom was being reckless and it was the first time
he had ever done anything like that.
And that just proved how much Tom hated the man in front of him.
'Fuck you – and fuck your God.'
Gellert just laughed and carelessly brushed the spit off his face.

'Well – you can tell him that yourself. You're about to meet him.' He beckoned
to men to take Tom away, and Harry got pushed around a bit before he was forced
to follow. Tom looked at him from over his shoulder and Harry met his eyes.
Harry knew that he was safe for now – but Tom wasn't. Far from it.
***** And Truth *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 5
                                  'And Truth'
Tom had never introduced himself as Thomas Riddle to Harry.
Harry was becoming painfully aware of all the things he didn't know about Tom,
and the worst was that Harry right now feared he never would get the chance to
ask him about them either.
The heat of Tom's thigh was practically burning through the fabric of his worn
jeans and Harry was too aware of it – too aware of how it flexed every now and
then, how Tom's bare arm was pressed up against Harry's as well… They were
seated in the backseat of a van, and were being driven somewhere Harry didn't
know. He was trembling in anxiety, he realized, and although their gags were
off they didn't talk. His mouth felt too dry and he knew Gellert and the other
man in the van were straining their ears to hear if they were speaking. Harry
himself was straining his ears just to hear Tom breathing. In his heart it felt
like he would never have the chance to do so again.
The minutes seemed to pass agonizingly slow, yet too fast – Harry wanted to say
things, do things… but he was physically just numbed. Losing Tom had never been
an option to him and now just the mere thought that it was so very possible
scared him more than anything. Harry had never been alone in his life.
Now, it wasn't just a thought or an option. It was something that would happen,
inevitably.
Tom's knee bumped into his own and Harry looked up, swallowing thickly. His
good arm was awkwardly tied behind his back, and the arm that was in a sling
was constantly jarred because of the bumps in the road. Wherever they were
going – it wasn't by a main road. Tom's eyes glimmered almost mischievously and
Harry licked his dry lips, uncertain of what Tom was getting at. Usually that
look meant…
Harry gasped audibly when Tom's hand was suddenly at the small of his back.
Gellert's head turned and Harry was quick to press his body more firmly into
Tom's and pretend he had landed on his wounded arm to conceal Tom's hand and
create a reason for his sounds. Harry twisted his face in a painful expression
and put up a great show of whimpering, feeling Tom shift until his hand was
back behind his own back again.
Tom had freed his hands.
He sat back up again when he was certain Tom had hidden his hand again, but
Gellert still stared at him with cold blue eyes. They weren't beautiful like
Tom's – they reminded Harry of shark eyes. They were just as dead,
expressionless and almost cruel and definitely demanding in their harsh gaze.
'So if he isn't your brother, what the hell is he to you, boy?' Gellert's gruff
voice reached Harry's ears and at first he didn't plan on answering at all,
until he felt Tom's foot nudge his. He glanced at Tom, before he glared into
the eyes of the man in front of him.
Harry's mouth moved, but he didn't know how to reply. He wanted to say
something witty, something insulting, something that wouldn't cause them any
more trouble… but he didn't know what Tom was to him. Tom's hand brushed over
the small of his back again, slipping underneath his shirt. His hand felt large
and warm on his body, almost demanding attention.
Gellert's face suddenly darkened. 'Are you a fag?'
'I don't smoke,' Harry instantly denied. Gellert stared at him for a long time,
before he burst out in laughter. The teen blinked in confusion and was unsure
if he had just made a fool out of himself, but when he looked at Tom from the
corner of his eyes he saw that the elder male didn't seem to have tensed up.
Whatever he had done to amuse the blonde, it wasn't bad. He hadn't screwed
anything for him and Tom up.
'Good thing you don't,' Gellert said once he was done laughing. Harry's
confusion seemed to please him and Harry forced himself to remain quiet, to
keep from asking any more questions. He leaned backward a bit, bit his lip and
felt Tom's thumb stroke circles on his skin. The touch was intimate and Harry
couldn't recall a time where Tom had touched him specifically there in that way
before, but he found he liked it. He liked the rough feeling of the palms of
Tom's hands on his bare skin and if he would close his eyes he could pretend
they weren't in danger. Like it was just the two of them, living in the moment,
in safety. As it always had been.
Harry became to acknowledge that he hadn't appreciated the safety Tom had
offered enough. Not even close to enough - now that he was experiencing other
kinds of threats, other kinds of danger, he realized just how good Tom had been
for him these years. He could've been like Grindelwald and humiliate Harry, or
kill him. Play with him before he had left him off to die. It was obvious that
Tom had the potential of being cruel. Harry had seen it with his own eyes -
seen him kill plenty of people who could've been saved. It was just the way the
world worked now, Harry supposed, and he had grown up to learn that playing
nice, sharing, helping other people when in need didn't get you far no matter
what his parents had said. The only person Harry had really needed to keep
safe, assist and share food and the like with had been Tom.
Just like Harry had been that person for Tom ever since they had met, no matter
how much trouble Harry had caused him in the beginning. No matter how often
Harry had broken down and resisted and yelled and screamed at him for killing
creatures that hadn't been human anymore. He had been there for Harry
unconditionally.
They slowly came to a halt, and Gellert's face twisted up in a smirk.
'Last stop for the weak of faith,' he announced, beckoning for the other man to
get Tom out. Harry's heart sank and the somewhat relaxed state Tom had worked
his body into was completely gone. Tom almost casually removed his hand and
didn't even protest when the doors got opened and he was dragged out. Both his
hands were behind his back again, in the darkness looking like they were still
tied together.
But Harry did protest.
Harry protested because Tom was his world, and because he was scared and needed
to protect because he had promised Tom that they would take care of one
another. He wanted to scream because the situation was all just so unfair - why
should Tom be harmed for killing someone who had been harming someone else? Why
should Tom be the one getting pushed out into the wilderness, to fend for his
own while Harry was still here, safe in the van?
Harry shot to his feet and his heart momentarily stopped beating in dread when
he heard all kinds of things move in the bushes and he released a desperate cry
when a zombie suddenly stepped into sight.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Gellert lit a tree branch on fire and dropped it on the ground at Tom's feet –
his face twisting up in sadistic glee when the zombies danced backwards at the
sight of the light. As soon as their eyes grew accostumed to it they moved
forward again.
'Don't let that flame go out,' Gellert said.
'No! Tom!' Harry tried to get up and they tried to hold him back, but he just
stomped on the feet of the man who did it. He was temporarily released but all
he managed were three steps until he was dragged back. Harry fought again but
Tom was too busy keeping the zombies off to properly look at him.
And it just broke Harry's heart in a million pieces. There were four of them,
and there was no way Tom would manage fighting them. Not like this – Tom had
never fought zombies without weapons before. Harry's yells had distracted the
four zombies enough to look at them instead of Tom with mild interest, but they
focused back on Tom again.
'Let- Let me go!' Harry said when Gellert pulled him back, struggling heavily
in his arms, 'I need to- Tom!'
'Don't make me do this. You have done nothing wrong, and I hate harming
children,' Gellert said calmly. Harry ignored him and tried to move forward
again.
Gellert slammed the back of his gun down on his head suddenly and pain exploded
in Harry's head, making his vision swim for a moment and distracting him enough
to be dragged into the car again. Gellert shot a victorious smirk at Tom, who
had temporarily looked away but looked back at them at the sound of Harry's
pained cry. He looked positively livid and his eyes shone in the darkness,
reflecting the headlights of the car like a crystal.
'Let's see if you can save yourself out of this,' Gellert snapped. Harry's body
got dragged back into the van and Tom's teeth were bared in a snarl. In the
darkness, he suddenly resembled the zombies quite a bit.
'I'm going to destroy you,' Tom hissed. Gellert laughed and got into the car
again and Harry released a disorientated moan in pain. When Gellert looked into
his rearview mirror, he watched Tom run off in the darkness, zombies chasing
him right after.
'I doubt it,' he said. He briefly glanced at the boy in the backseat, whose
forehead was bleeding. He looked pale and painfully young, and he had passed
out.
===============================================================================
When Harry woke up again, he awoke with a startle. His head was rested in the
lap of a woman, and his eyes were instantly wide open, heart fluttering in his
chest, almost pounding against his ribs as if it wanted to break right through
his bones.
'Tom,' he whispered, as if uttering his name would've made a change. He felt
confusion and dread go through him when he took in his surroundings; took in
the tents, the people, the stares… it hadn't been a bad dream. He was where
they had gotten caught in the first place; he recognized the trees.
But Tom wasn't there.
A horrible hollow feeling settled itself over Harry and Harry's body just
froze, his mind blank for the first time in a very long time.
Why wasn't Tom there?
He pressed his hand against his mouth and it felt like the world just stopped
spinning. His mind was completely gone and Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted
to laugh at the irony of it all - Tom saving Harry and Harry being the one who
had made Tom lose his life - or scream in utmost rage and pain or just break
down and cry like the little boy he so very often felt he still was. He didn't
do any of that, however, and tried to tell himself that it was impossible. That
he was being stupid.
That Tom wouldn't die and leave him.
And he wouldn't. Harry refused to – Tom wouldn't...
'I'm sorry,' the woman he was resting his head on whispered. He turned his head
upwards and stared at her. It was Ginny. Her face looked bruised and her hair
was a mess, and her white coat had tears in it. She smiled sadly at him and
stroked his hair and Harry let her. He didn't have it in him to resist.
Harry tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was hard to do so with her
staring at him like that so in the end, he wound up turning his head away. A
pair of boots came closer and closer, but Harry only vaguely knew who they
belonged to.
Grindelwald.
The man dropped empty water cans next to Harry, and he stared down at the teen.
Harry vaguely noticed he had his glasses on again - his vision was better than
before yet all he could think of was that Tom had been left there to die by his
own and Harry should've helped him. Should've, but hadn't been capable to.
Hadn't been strong enough. And who knew what could've happened to him? He
could've gotten bitten by one of the zombies if he hadn't been careful enough,
could've been ripped apart alive, could've been attacked by an animal in the
woods…
'Go to the river, fill them up and bring them back, boy,' was all Grindelwald
said, yet his voice startled Harry. Harry stared at him, feeling numbed. He got
up and swayed on his feet, feeling sick to his stomach at the mere thought of
all the possibilities. He supposed he should at least tell the bastard that he
wouldn't be able to carry more than one with his hand in the state it was in,
but he couldn't.
He didn't want to believe Tom was dead.
But it was unlikely he had survived like that. Without weapons.
'Wait,' Ginny said. Gellert stared at her, watching as she took her necklace
off, and gave it to Harry. It had a cross hanging from it and Harry was unsure
of what to do with it. The cross reflected the light and it shone in his eyes
for a moment and Harry briefly wondered if he should feel obliged to return it
to her because he didn't believe in any gods, and especially not this one, not
when this god made people do such cruel things. 'Be careful.'
Harry didn't say anything to Ginny in reply. He didn't thank her or in the very
least acknowledge she had given him something that had probably been precious
to her personally. He grabbed a can and almost blindly started walking.
Tom could be dead, by now.
It was the shock that got to him most, or maybe it was the silent rage that
went through him at the mere sight of Grindelwald. He wanted to kill him. Never
had Harry felt so much hatred toward a human being before – the worst was that
he couldn't do anything about it. Not without his weapons, not when he was so
clearly at the disadvantage.
'Hey boy.' Harry froze but didn't turn around. 'You can run if you want to.
Ain't nothing out there but sundown and them.' Gellert stepped closer to him
and temporarily caressed his face. 'You won't get far.'
Harry started walking again without acknowledging the elder male. When he
looked over his shoulder he saw Gellert shoving Ginny into the tent. She cried
out and only seconds later there was a stream of 'please don't I haven't done
anything no you can't do this to me please please don't touch me you're hurting
me-'
There was nothing Harry could do. Nothing he could do to save her, nothing he
could do to save Tom because Tom was somewhere he didn't know and he couldn't
call him, couldn't find him in these woods, couldn't save him, couldn't come up
with a last minute clever plan.
So he just continued walking. And by the time Harry was at the creak tears were
stinging in his eyes. He tried his best on focusing on his task but he just
couldn't bring it up to do so; couldn't serve a man who…
Without even thinking he released an aggravated noise and dropped the can and
kicked it. He started running, his lungs burning but just continuously pushing
his way forward, forcing his legs to run faster and faster and just continue.
His heart ached and Harry inhaled a deep breath, the wind going through his
hair the real thing he could feel right then.
He would make his way back to the car. Tom had taught him how to read the stars
– he would get their weapons and send those God loving idiots right back to
their God they kept talking about. Harry would destroy them – all of them.
Harry had to keep moving, and be by the car before sundown.
Tom could be there.
And alone, Harry didn't stand a chance.
===============================================================================
'Did the boy return?' Grindelwald drawled when he finally got out of the tent
again. He zipped up his pants and ran a hand through his blonde hair, watching
as one of his followers ducked his head and shook it. He released a long, drawn
out sigh, feeling vague dissapointment. The younger ones were always the ones
most difficult to break - he must've had the wrong influence for too long.
Pity.
'Would you like us to find him-'
'No, that's alright. He will come to us, eventually.' He looked over his
shoulder at the whimpering, naked form of the girl in the tent with a dark
scowl on his face. She would have to learn her place as well.
They had a world to repopulate, after all.
===============================================================================
By the time Harry was by the car the sun was already going down. His body all
but slammed into it and his breath came out in wheezes – he could
barely breathe but he didn't care. He pressed his hands against the window and
peeked in.
But Tom wasn't there.
'Fuck,' Harry snapped. He slammed his hands on the windows in desperation.
'Fuck fuck fuck!'
He kicked the car in frustration and leaned against it, taking a few deep
breaths and burying his face into his hand, his body quivering, his heart
feeling as if an icy claw was squeezing it tightly.
He should've seen it coming. Shouldn't have clung onto his hopes, because this
world was cruel and especially now that humanity was hard to come by, but all
he could think of was that Tom was gone. His companion, guardian, teacher, best
friend… he was just gone. There was nothing Harry could do about it. Harry
kicked the car again and sobbed, fisting his hair tightly and cursing, tears
stinging into his eyes. A dull ache spread from his foot through his ankle, but
he ignored it and bit his lip to keep from crying.
Tom always hated to see him cry. Nothing was achieved with tears, after all.
That didn't stop Harry from just really wanting to break down and sob at this
moment. His entire world had been Tom these past years, and it wasn't just
Tom's guidance that Harry needed. Harry just needed Tom. Tom and his stupid
smirks and his sarcastic comments and his large hands and his beautiful eyes.
Anything.
His head whipped around when he heard a noise and his entire body was filled
with dread when he discovered a lone figure in the distance.
There was a zombie staring at him.
Her dress was torn and dirty and there was blood dribbling from her brow. Her
hair was a tangled mess and – oh god Harry wasn't armed he was going to die.
He swallowed thickly and took a hesitant step backwards, and the zombie took
one forwards. He took another step, standing behind the car now, in front of
the trunk. He hesitantly ran his hands over his pockets, but he knew it was
fruitless. They had stripped him off his weapons a long time ago.
What was maybe the worst about this entire situation was that Harry wasn't
afraid or thrilled with the promise of a fight. It seemed proper, almost, to
die the way Tom probably had. The zombie screamed and started running, and
Harry's body hit the bumper of the car. Even so, no matter what his emotions
were doing, his instincts seemed to take over. He took in her dead eyes, the
look of utmost hunger and rage on her mutilated face... His heart hammered in
his chest but his legs wouldn't budge – he was frozen in place, he was going to
die, he was going to be torn apart –
Harry released a surprised cry when the trunk suddenly opened and he was pulled
inside, only a split second after the trunk closed again did the body of the
zombie slam into the car. He heard her scream and slam her fists against it,
and he glanced over his shoulder.
This couldn't be.
Harry's entire body tensed up in complete shock and he just stared, his heart
stopping its franctic beating completely. Tom was curled around him, and he was
holding a flashlight in his hands. There had been a split second where he
thought it had been another zombie, but Tom's body was warm and almost
protective. His blue eyes bored right into Harry's and Harry felt relief go
through him – how was this possible why hadn't he come out earlier why hadn't
he died thank God Harry wasn't alone he was really okay and he was so beautiful
from up close and Harry was just so goddamn grateful - and he wanted to open
his mouth to ask Tom something, anything, but he yelped instead when she
slammed her fist right above Harry's head on the car.
'How many?' Tom asked and Harry swallowed thickly, lips quivering, tear tracks
drying on his cheeks. He didn't know how to speak anymore. He just didn't.
'Tom,' he said stupidly. 'Tom -' it was the only word he had been capable of
uttering these past hours. The only word that had seemed relevant enough.
'I know,' Tom simply said. He leaned forward and his lips brushed over Harry's
forehead and his arms were awkwardly folded around him and Harry had to do
everything he could to keep from crying of all stupid things he could do right
now. He felt so safe and loved and alive in that small moment, suddenly aware
of everything yet nothing but Tom at the same time.
The zombie screeched and slammed her fists on the car again. Harry twitched in
Tom's hold and felt disorientated for a small moment before realizing where he
was again.
'One,' he whispered, reminding himself of Tom's question but not fully capable
of speaking full sentences just yet, Tom's eyes – thank God his blue eyes his
wonderful amazing blue eyes so expressive and beautiful and intelligent and so
very alive – boring into his.
'Make noise,' Tom told him and Harry nodded, instantly slamming his fists right
back into the car and yelling at the zombie while Tom climbed into the front
seat of the car, limbs long and almost elegant as he did so. Tom started the
car and the punching suddenly just stopped. She had heard – Harry could hear
her move on top of the car. Tom stepped on the gas and then the brakes. She
fell off, and Tom drove over her body. Harry heard her scream, felt the car
move up and down. But she stood up again.
'Harry!' Tom snapped. Harry climbed out of the trunk, over the back seat. He
leaned over Tom's chair. 'I hate those fucking zombies,' the elder male
sneered, his facial expression alone enough to convince him of the truth behind
those words had he been capable of questioning them in the first place.
Tom stepped on the gas and Harry flew backward into the backseat from the sheer
force of it, and he felt Tom hit her again. Only this time, she had gripped a
doorhandle. She busted a window and slung a hand into the car, a scream
escaping her throat again.
'Grab the steering wheel!' Tom said, narrowly avoiding getting his nose bitten
off. Harry nodded and Tom stepped on the gas, trying his best to keep her from
getting into the car. She screamed and the noises she made were feral – she was
thin and looked like she hadn't eaten in a long time.
Harry leaned over Tom and moved the car to a tree, hearing her scream when he
rammed the car against it. Her arms stubbornly held on, but her lower body got
torn off and the scent of blood and gore instantly hit Harry's senses. He
fought the need to vomit and Tom sneered.
'Fucking bitch!' he snapped, but she didn't do anything but attempt to bite
him. Her nails dug into Tom's skin.
'Brakes!' Harry yelled, and Tom instantly complied. He stepped on the brakes
and the tires made a screeching sound as the car came to a halt, the force of
it making Harry's head slam against the steering wheel and making him feel
dizzy. He thought he heard something drop, though he couldn't be too sure, and
he just weakly allowed Tom to push him to the side. Tom went back into the
driver's seat and he stomped on the gas again, and Harry's body slammed into
the backseat when the car suddenly surged forward again.
He felt woozy, and he thought he heard a thump of something when they drove
over a rock – the rest of the zombie's body? – and felt like he was going to be
sick when Tom drove backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards… Until the lump
didn't really feel like anything more than a small bump in the road.
Tom started driving again and he was saying something, probably cursing under
his breath. Harry wasn't really aware of it. His head just hurt so much and his
vision was just so blurry.
But Tom was alive.
He was alive, and okay, and Harry honestly couldn't care less about whatever
the hell Tom was saying because he was just so much more interested in feeling
him against himself and he didn't know what it was about near death
experiences, but they just proved to him time and time again that he was
sodesperate for Tom's embrace.
'- fucking Brotherhood, knew we should've– Harry? Harry, are you okay?' He
stared at Tom and a wave of affection hit him.
Tom was still alive.
Without even thinking twice he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tom's
neck, his face awkwardly pressed into the seat of the car but it was okay,
because he could smell Tom, smell the faint tang of sweat and blood and
something else cling to his skin. He was just so, so glad Tom was still alive.
That he hadn't been left behind alone. That he was okay. He didn't voice out
loud what he was feeling, but he supposed it didn't matter. Tom kept his eyes
carefully on the road.
'You're not going to vomit again, are you?' Tom asked, a hint of amusement in
his voice. Harry's face flushed.
'No,' he murmured nonetheless and then added in a sudden surge of courage
though a tremor went through his voice, 'not if you were to kiss me again.'
Much to his surprise Tom drove the car to a halt. He pulled away a bit to see
how Tom would react and when he found nothing but amusement in his eyes, he
reached up and kissed him again.
And somehow it just felt right.
It felt right and like home and safety and warmth, and like things were okay in
this world.
***** And Choice *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 6
                                  And Choice
Turned out that kissing someone while you're definitely not high on pain is,
well, totally awesome.
Harry was acutely aware of how Tom's lips pressed against his own, how his body
fit right into Tom's, how the space between Tom's fingers was just wide enough
for him to effortlessly slip his own between. The days that passed were filled
with nothing short of mindless making out, years of pent up frustration just
slipping away. He was happy. Almost carefree. He hadn't been like that in a
very long time.
If he had to believe what Tom had told him, it had been sheer luck that had
helped Tom survive being left in the woods. Tom had ran off into a river,
swimming to the other side.
Zombies couldn't swim.
He had read the stars and ran his way back, the water having had washed away
most of his scent. The warm summer air had already dried him off and he had
spent hours in the trunk, waiting for someone to return to the car… Harry
hadn't really listened much to his story because he had been too engrossed in
staring at the way Tom's mouth moved when he talked and relinquishing in the
idea that he was not only not alone, Tom was his…
Tom was his Tom. More than he used to be anyway.
Harry was currently sitting on the hood of the car, his legs dangling off the
edge and absentmindedly swinging back and forth – childishly, but for once he
didn't care because Tom grinned at him and his hand brushed over Harry's bare
calves and everything was just so easy and good for him – while he was fixing a
tear in one of Tom's shirts. His bottom lip was caught in between his teeth and
he tried to focus, honestly, but he couldn't help but feel a thrill at the
thought that Tom had nibbled on it earlier and that Tom's tongue had danced
along his own. He felt a dull ache spread through his neck from where Tom had
sucked on a small spot and the other male's eyes almost mischievously flickered
to the long column of his throat every now and then. Like he knew a secret
Harry wasn't supposed to know.
In a way, Harry didn't even need to know. He was too happy to give a damn about
hidden secrets.
When he was done he folded the shirt carefully, its fabric soft and worn. He
felt himself smile when Tom's arms wound around him and he wondered if the tall
man wanted him just as bad, and if Tom was as happy as Harry himself was. It
amazed him how fast it had gone – how they had gone from shared glances and
brushing fingertips to downright groping and rutting and kissing and biting.
Either way, Harry wasn't complaining.
Tom nipped at his ear and Harry shivered, pressing himself more into Tom's
body.
Harry was aware of the fact that they would have to have a talk soon. He didn't
quite understand the relationship between the two of them at all, they needed
to talk about the Brotherhood and how they were going to travel from now on –
they had already been evading the main roads but it was terribly difficult to
see whether or not something was in their territory – and so much more… But
right now? Tom made a soft humming noise and his arms reached out to open the
car and Harry got in without any complaint, the corners of his mouth twitching
up in a knowing smile. Right now everything seemed trivial.
Everything but Tom.
===============================================================================
It was an hour later – maybe longer, maybe shorter? Harry didn't have a clue
–when he was laying on his back, tracing his lips with his fingers with a dopey
smile on his face, feeling pleasantly warm. His hair was messy and his neck
was positively throbbing from the attention it had received. His back was
slouching against Tom's chest, his elbows resting on top of his thighs. The
skin of his partially bared legs stuck uncomfortably against the leather seats
but it was okay.
Everything was fine. Couldn't be more perfect.
The sun seemed to be setting the sky aflame and it was slowly getting dark.
Pretty colors were painting the sky in all kinds of shades of purple and blue
and pink, clouds floating almost lazily outside. It was like watching a movie
and Tom's fingers dancing over his sides made him feel sleepy. His hand dropped
from his mouth and he bit his lip, still vaguely tasting Tom.
'Up for a challenge?' Tom questioned suddenly, his voice disturbing the lazy
state Harry's body had been sinking into.
'Sure,' he murmured with a yawn. To be honest, he would be perfectly content
with staying here in the backseat of this car, just making out with Tom for the
rest of his life instead. Tom's long arm extended and Harry followed his finger
when it pointed to a lone figure in the distance. It was a zombie and it hadn't
spotted them yet. He was wearing a police uniform and was limping – he looked
like a new one. Normally they avoided fights (well, Harry did anyway) but when
he looked at Tom he could see he had a playful smile on his face.
Oh. So he wanted to play?
'Whomever gets his hat wins,' Tom said. Harry blinked.
'Wins what?' he asked, feeling more awake. His hand was already on his knife
and Tom smirked; that was all Harry needed to know. He jumped up and got out of
the car and Tom followed him. They started running toward the zombie and it
looked up. He heard Tom laughing behind him and forced himself to run faster,
knowing a challenge when he got one, and cursing loudly when Tom caught up with
him. Tom threw the zombie off its feet and had planted his foot on its chest
and the zombie gargled and clawed at Tom's bootclad ankle.
Just when Tom bent down to get the hat, Harry slid over the ground on his
knees, gripped it from where it had fallen on the ground, smirked at Tom and
ran away again. He heard Tom yell at him ('You little bastard!'), heard how the
gargling noises suddenly came to a stop and hid behind a tree with a grin on
his face. He had to press a hand against his mouth to keep from laughing or
panting, possibly a combination of the two, and he heard Tom's footsteps come
in closer. His arms had cradled the hat against his chest.
'Harry, you little shit, when I find you…!' He abruptly stopped talking and
Harry blinked, straining his ears to hear. When he heard nothing he counted to
ten, but by the time he had counted all the way to twenty still no reply or
sound came.
'Tom?' he called, stepping away from the tree. Tom was nowhere to be seen and
he swallowed thickly. He cursed and started walking, hearing something rustle
in the bushes. His eyes widened and he reached for a knife. Harry's skin almost
glowed in the weak light of the setting sun, and long shadows danced over the
ground. The trees suddenly didn't look like perfect hiding places anymore now
that the silence was ringing into his ears – its tree branches looked like
claws, reaching out to grab Harry and…
'Fuck,' he hissed. The rustling became louder and he looked over his shoulder
for Tom but he was still nowhere to be seen – fuck fuck fuck where was he? –
and the moment something came out of the bushes Harry turned around and started
running for as fast as he could. Tom could be in trouble, he needed to find him
first. He released a surprised scream when it connected with his back and he
was struggling violently when it turned him around. He nearly stabbed it in the
chest before it knocked his knife out of his hands and – That fucking bastard.
'You fucking-' punch, '- asshole -' kick, 'Tom Riddle!' Tom's body was shaking
in mirth on top of his and Harry aimed a weak punch at his chest again, huffing
when Tom leaned down and pressed his face against Harry's chest.
'Oh – you should've seen your face!' Tom said, one arm curling around himself
to hold his sides. Harry hoped they hurt like hell.
'It's not funny!' he argued even if there was a smile playing at his lips. Tom
snorted and laughed again.
Harry noticed he had never seen Tom laugh like this before. He hooked his leg
around Tom's calf to trip him and Tom stopped laughing when he fell on top of
Harry. He leaned down without having to be asked to and kissed Harry, and Harry
made a muffled noise against his lips before wrapping his arms around him.
Like Harry had said before, kissing Tom was totally awesome.
Harry of course didn't have any experience with kissing anyone else, but Tom's
kisses were hungry, demanding, reassuring and making Harry feel wanted
and amazing. They had kissed not too long ago yet Harry doubted he would ever
get enough of this. Of the amazing need he felt when he was near this man, of
how pleased he felt when his affections were returned.
He moaned softly and arched up, that familiar ache between his legs there
again, throbbing as if begging for something Harry couldn't quite understand.
All he knew was that ever since kissing Tom was something he was allowed to do
it had been happening more and more often. And they should probably go back to
the car, it was getting colder after all and that was when they came out but
shamefully the mere thought of being seen while doing this only spurred Harry
on more. Tom's thigh came in contact with his crotch and Harry abruptly broke
the kiss and moved away, panting and heart hammering in his chest. Tom's eyes
were dark, the familiar blue color almost completely disappeared by his dilated
pupils.
'Tom,' he said helplessly, uselessly. He didn't know what to do. He just hoped
he hadn't weirded Tom out or anything like that and it came as a real fucking
surprise when Tom leaned forward and pressed against his swollen manhood.
'F-Fuck! Don't, you're making it worse!' Harry exclaimed and he stumbled
backwards again. The dead dry fallen leaves felt sticky against his sweaty
hands and he winced when a twig dug into the tender flesh of his wrist. Tom
hummed and gripped his arm, pulling him in close and kissing him again. Harry
made a muffled noise, hips instinctively rocking against Tom. Only when he
heard the sound of a zipper did he realize Tom was actually reaching into
Harry's pants and he mewed – God since when did he start making those noises
and were they actually his to begin with? – and felt his cheeks burn with shame
now that it was finally bared to Tom's eyes. He didn't have to see to know that
Tom's eyes were lingering on it – that Tom was too aware of how hard Harry's
cock was, how it curved slightly upwards, how the flushed head seemed to bob
with every heartbeat and how Harry's balls were drawn tight. The silence was
unbearable and the feel of Tom's breathing made Harry's head swim.
'Am I sick?' Harry finally asked frantically, feeling he should explain or at
least try to save himself out of this, keep from disgusting Tom by explaining
it just wasn't his fault, 'it swells up and sometimes white stuff comes out of
it and oh God I'm infected aren't I? It's gonna fall off and I'm never gonna be
able to pee again and then -'
'Are you serious?' Tom asked. Harry nodded and watched in dread when Tom
pressed his face against his thigh. For a moment he thought Tom was crying with
the way his shoulders were shaking but he realized Tom was actually laughing.
He was fucking laughing at Harry. Again.
'What the hell is so funny?' Harry snapped. His voice had an almost hysterical
tone to it. 'I'm gonna die and you're just-'
'Harry, no,' Tom said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, 'Didn't your
parents teach you?'
'About what?'
'About sex of course,' he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the
world.
'What the hell is that?'
The amusement immediately died down in Tom's eyes. He sat up straighter.
'You're… joking, right?' he said. Harry supposed he should feel accomplished at
having managed to finally shut up Tom but all he felt was shame. Was this
something he was supposed to know about? His cheeks burned and he turned his
head to the side, not capable of looking Tom in the eye right now. Sure,
kissing him was great and he had the tiniest inkling what sex was about but…
Harry noticed with vague, bitter amusement that his cock was softening. Maybe
he should get humiliated more often.
'Hey, come here,' Tom murmured. Harry sat up a bit closer, feeling Tom press a
soft kiss against his temple. 'I'm sorry, I should've known. You were so young
when I found you…' It felt like a blow to Harry's pride, somehow.
'Can't you just tell me?' Harry said, wincing when his cock twitched in Tom's
hand as Tom's other hand ghosted over his ribs underneath Harry's shirt.
'Later,' Tom promised him, 'I'll show you how to get rid of this first,
alright?' He pressed his thumb into the head and Harry gasped.
'No – it goes away on its own,' Harry argued. He didn't want Tom to feel
obliged to do anything and he didn't want Tom to hurt him.
Tom hummed. 'But it leaves you unsatisfied,' he said, kissing down to the
corner of Harry's mouth, unbuttoning his shorts further, pushing them down to
remain at his thighs and trapping them together.
'Doesn't yours ever – oh…' Harry's lids fluttered shut and he shivered when Tom
squeezed him because yeah, that definitely felt amazing, '…g-get like that?'
Tom's skin felt rough on his own sensitive skin and he pulled and tugged in the
most amazing, torturous way that made Harry twitch and writhe. It was
incredibly dirty and intimate and it amazed him that he actually let Tom do
this to him, for him.
'Hmm,' Tom hummed, 'you have no idea.'
'Isn't it bad?' Harry gasped and he mentally applauded himself at having been
capable of forming a proper sentence. It seemed like a huge accomplishment at
the moment, given the pleasure slowly spreading through his body, making him
feel on edge and wonderful.
'The only bad thing about it is that we haven't taken care of it together yet,'
Tom assured him and Harry instantly believed him. Indeed, why hadn't they done
this before? Tom swallowed Harry's other questions with a deep kiss that made
Harry's toes curl, and the teen cried out when Tom squeezed his cock again.
'How does that feel?' the elder male asked him. Harry shook his head. He didn't
know – it felt really sensitive in a weird way, but it didn't necessarily hurt,
it just… it made him ache? Somehow? Ache for more?
'Weird,' Harry finally said, panting a bit when Tom carefully stroked him. Up
and down, up and down... Never had Harry been more aware of a movement of
another person before. He felt like he was completely exposed. Like he was
completely at his mercy and Tom just kept watching him, kept driving him mad.
'Can I see yours?' Something in Tom's eyes darkened, but he didn't comply.
Harry whined. 'Please, I just… need to know if – if….'
'You know I can't afford lying to you,' Tom said in a low voice. And it was
right – Tom had lied to him the first couple of years when they travelled
together and that had only caused them to distrust each other and forced them
into sticky situations. Still…
'Why can't you show me?' Harry whined, 'I won't touch, I just need to see if-
if…'
'Hush, Harry.'
Tom's hand sped up and Harry shamefully was all too aware of the constant drag
of Tom's rough hand over his cock, the way it fit into Tom's hand… his eyes
slipped shut and he moaned, slumping more into Tom, his hips thrusting up in
need. It was like the pressure in him was building, his body going taut, he was
going to burst any minute and it was glorious, absolutely amazing but it felt
horrible as well.
There was no way this was normal. Or good for his health – no matter how good
it felt right now.
'Oh God Tom please stop-' he felt like he was going to lose his fucking mind,
and he wasn't sure if it hurt or not but fuck it just felt so good at the same
time and-
'Are you close?'
'Fuck I'm right here what are you talking about-' Harry helplessly gasped. Tom
must've sensed it, because he placed his hand on Harry's stomach.
'Where do you feel it? Here?' Harry nodded, and oh god holy shit fuck fuck fuck
fuck fuck- Whatever he had been close to, it was fucking perfect. It felt like
jumping off a high building and riding a bike for the first time and he was
drowning but it was the best fucking feeling ever and Harry felt drowsy once it
was over. His body had never felt this lax before. It was okay. Everything was
sort of okay, and sort of cool, and things were alright.
Also, Tom smelt really nice – oh wait, Tom was still there. Right.
'- Harry? Are you alright?' His vision was blurry, but the smile didn't fade
off his face. Had he worried about nothing all this time and had Tom been
capable of fixing it all along? Harry now sort of hoped his manhood would grow
hard again, just so he could feel that again and – why was Tom so calm? Didn't
he feel this too?
'Are you passing out?'
Harry blinked up at him. Tom's eyes were almost shockingly blue in this light,
dark flecks of inky blue sprinkled in a circle around his slightly dilated
pupil, which had a tight ring of turquoise around it. Tom's lashes were dark
and his eyebrows were arched, not in concern but amusement and it just made
Harry feel a huge wave of affection.
Or maybe just a hint of pride at seeing how Tom's lips were swollen and his
hair was slightly tousled from making out with Harry.
'Have your eyes always been this blue?' he asked absentmindedly.
Tom laughed and pressed a kiss against Harry's forehead. 'I'll try talking to
you when you get back down to earth.'
'Hmm. Tom?'
'Yes?'
'You seriously have like, amazing eyes.'
===============================================================================
For a couple of weeks, life couldn't have been better.
Harry was finally capable of doing the things he always wanted with Tom, Tom
kept giving him orgasms (Harry still didn't quite understand what they were but
they were great so it was cool with him) and Harry's hand was healing. It was
no longer swollen and although it hurt to move it too much, Harry now knew it
would be okay again. He still couldn't fight much – running with a sling was
awkward and his hand was still useless, so he settled for shooting zombies from
afar while Tom was fighting them. They hadn't heard much from the Brotherhood
in weeks. Besides the spray-painted messages on the road signs.
Where art thou, Thomas?
We will find you
You won't get far
The messages were often mocking or downright threatening and the worst about
this all was that it made it trickier for Tom and Harry to travel. The
Brotherhood had the main roads in their control and they were looking for Tom
and Harry – Harry had no idea how they had known they had survived but he felt
like they had been spotted somehow. Like someone had seen the two of them and
had told the Brotherhood.
Tom and Harry had decided to travel by foot after they ran out of gas – Tom
wanted to steal a motorcycle but they would have to go to another town in order
to find one that actually worked. Motorcycles were easier to travel by on the
smaller roads, roads that weren't the Brotherhood's.
There was a certain security at holding Tom's hand that Harry didn't fully
comprehend. He knew Tom was only holding it because Harry constantly tripped
over tree branches since he was too busy staring at Tom's face, but that was
beside the point. There was just a sheer sense of belonging, of having a place
and purpose in this world when he was with Tom. Like he wasn't fighting to stay
alive just to survive another thing, this repeating itself in an endless
circle.
Like he meant something.
Underneath their feet twigs snapped and the ground crunched but they kept
trudging forward. They had to to remain unseen and going through the woods was
the only way they wouldn't be discovered by anyone. No one was stupid enough to
risk their lives for a simple walk in nature, after all. How they were going to
steal a motorcycle was something Harry couldn't even begin thinking about.
Tom hadn't said anything in a long time but his face was relaxed so Harry
figured it wasn't a bad thing. Tom didn't look like he was thinking about
anything serious in particular – maybe he was just enjoying the silence or
maybe he was just like Harry too strung on the feeling of skin against his own.
Even if Tom didn't allow Harry to touch him more than that.
It was something that had only recently started bothering him. Ever since Harry
got, well, used to orgasms (or like Tom said, 'coming' which was weird because
where did Harry arrive if he came?) he had wanted to return the favor for as
weird as it was. He knew it felt amazing and he wanted to share the feeling. It
was clear enough to Harry that it was extremely intimate and that it wasn't
something one would normally do with other people, but… didn't Tom want
to come as well?
Harry sucked on his bottom lip in thought, his elbow awkwardly bumping into
Tom's side when he nearly tripped over his shoelaces. Tom stopped walking and
glanced at him before he bent down and started tying Harry's shoelaces for him.
The tips of Harry's ears felt warm but it wasn't because it bothered him that
Tom was doing this for him. It was because Tom was staring at him like that,
and when Tom was finished he pressed a soft kiss against Harry's thigh just
because he could and slowly moved up, pressing a kiss against Harry's hip, his
flat stomach, the center of his chest, his throat, his chin…
Harry shivered when Tom finally pressed a kiss against his mouth and he started
moving his lips. He had picked up on what Tom liked pretty fast – had learned
that Tom would purr when he'd suck on his lower lip and graze his teeth over it
in just the slightest bit, that Tom's collarbones were sensitive, and that…
Harry's hands brushed over the bulge in Tom's pants and Tom carefully moved his
hands away.
…and that Tom never allowed Harry's hands to wander too far. Harry released a
soft huff in frustration and shivered when Tom's hands brushed over his ass,
making him cling to his shoulders and rock back into it.
'Like that, love?' Tom asked, his voice a low murmur. Harry nodded and rocked
himself against the thigh lodged in between his shaky legs, already aching for
some sort of release.
It had been a while since anyone had used terms of endearment to refer to him.
He liked it – liked how easy it seemed to accept it and liked how it reminded
him of home where he had been sweetheart and buddy and mate. It reminded him of
the fact that they weren't just two people now, they were one couple. Maybe
Harry was looking too much into this. The fact that he was able to do this with
Tom after wanting to for so long still hadn't quite sunk in.
His own self-control surprised him when he pushed Tom's hands away.
'Don't be a brat,' Tom said. He tried again and Harry pushed him away again, a
bit more firmly. He frowned and licked his lips, still tasting Tom on his
tongue.
'Why can't I touch yours?' Harry lamented. He had meant for it to sound snappy
but he realized he almost sounded like he was whining and it makes his cheeks
feel hot. Tom ran a hand through his hair and cursed, stepping closer and into
Harry's personal space again. The teen shivered and licked his dry lips but
stood his ground.
'Harry,' Tom murmured, 'it's not that I don't want you to.'
Harry blinked up at him. 'Then why…?'
Blue eyes studied his face for a while as if calculating whether or not Harry
was worthy of the truth. Harry stubbornly lifted his chin and gazed up at Tom,
who brushed his knuckles over his cheek. Harry's arousal hadn't ebbed away just
yet and his skin tingled pleasantly from where Tom's had touched it.
'There's something about you that always makes me lose control,' Tom confessed.
It wasn't very clear what he was aiming at but Harry knew it took Tom a lot to
say these things. The tall male never had been very fond of the prospect of
opening up.
'Lose control over what?' Harry asked softly, patiently. Through all these
years he had learned it was best not to pressure Tom, but he wanted them to… to
what, exactly? He didn't know, but he just wanted Tom to trust him with not
only his body, but his secrets. He didn't know much about Tom's childhood but
he had always hoped that he would find out, one day. In an act of sheer
boldness he reached forward and cupped Tom through his pants again, hearing him
hiss. Harry's cheeks were still warm and he felt his own manhood twitch and he
didn't know why but he just wanted to see Tom, feel the silky head of his cock,
trace the veins on the base of it.
He just wanted Tom. All of him. And the fact that it was so close yet he was
being constantly denied of it was cruel.
'I won't let you touch me anymore if you won't let me touch you,' Harry added
in a quiet threat, one he knew he wouldn't manage to keep in the end. But it
seemed to convince Tom enough because he groaned and thrust himself into
Harry's hand.
'I just know that as soon as you touch me I won't want to stop,' Tom ground out
when Harry tightened his grip. Harry halted and blinked up at him.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'It means that I want to fuck you,' Harry's eyes widened and Tom sneered,
gripping the back of Harry's neck and kissing him so hard he knocked him off
his feet. Had just this bit of coaxing made Tom snap like that, Harry wondered,
or was it just that Tom had been too stressed for too long? They had yet to
discuss how long they had been feeling this way and Harry doubted they would.
Why linger on the past when the future was that much brighter?
Harry released a muffled noise when his back hit the ground and the earthy
scent of rain hit his senses, his skin prickling because of the fallen leaves
and twigs brushing up against it.
'T-Then fuck me,' Harry stammered between kisses even if he didn't know what it
exactly meant, 'fuck me and-'
'You have absolutely no idea what you're asking from me,' Tom almost growled
into his ear, his hips thrusting into Harry's and creating a delicious friction
that made Harry's head spin. He mewed and closed his eyes, his back arching.
'Do you?'
No, he did not. He knew the word, had used it a lot to curse – God his mom
would've smacked him with a table spoon if she would've heard the way he spoke
every now and then – but he didn't know the act of fucking. It sounded so crude
in his own ears, just like killing did. It sounded so blunt. Like it didn't
involve feelings, planning, preparation. It was just an act.
'Does- oh – it matter?'
Tom fumbled with Harry's pants and this time Harry let him, and when the teen
reached out and fumbled with Tom's belt Tom let him as well. It seemed to take
forever before the tall male was finally bared to him and Harry shivered when
he finally saw Tom's shaft, feeling a bit intimidated by the size and width of
it. His thumb and index finger would barely meet if he would wrap his hand
around it.
It was fat and had thick veins running over it, its head not pink like Harry's
but darker than the rest of Tom's skin. A bead of fluid was at the slit and
Harry was too aroused to think anything but dear God thank you I'm not
sick because this was really the best confirmation he could get. Tom was taking
in Harry's expression very carefully and he hissed when Harry brushed his
fingertips over it.
'It means that I'm going to shove my cock into your ass,' Tom said and Harry
jumped, almost having forgotten Tom could talk as well. He tore his eyes off
Tom's cock – God, but it was a wonderful cock and for some reason he just
wanted to hold it and feel its weight and heat in his hand and trace all those
veins covering it – and licked his dry lips.
Inside of him? Was that actually possible? Harry's mouth opened and closed and
he didn't know what to say, wasn't sure if he could answer if he could. He
almost experimentally clenched his entrance on thin air and suddenly he could
picture it – picture himself face down right now with his ass in the air while
Tom would just touch his manhood, his nipples, and then shove his own fat cock
inside of him… He moaned at the mere thought of it and a bead of precome slid
out of the slit of his cock, making him whine in need.
'Do it,' he pleaded. Tom groaned.
'No,' Tom said, 'you're not even eighteen, if you're going to regret it-'
'Shut the fuck up and fuck me already,' Harry interrupted him and he actually
had the nerve to squeeze Tom's manhood tightly in his fist, making the elder
male hiss. He dug his teeth into Harry's neck as if to punish him and Harry
moaned, his hand clumsily jerking Tom off. It felt strange to touch this part
of Tom's anatomy this deliberately without any restriction, even stranger to
jerk off without feeling pleasure, but it was so very painfully arousing,
'Please, fuck me, put it in me, I want it -'
Harry's mouth kept moving a bit in a weak attempt to form words even after Tom
kissed him again, even harder than before, their teeth clinking together almost
painfully. He whined when Tom pinned his hands above his head but kept them
there even after Tom released his wrists, feeling him grip his hips and pull
him up into his lap. Harry ground down on Tom without giving it much thought
and he wrapped his arms around Tom's head, cradling it against his chest while
Tom was sucking and nipping at his collarbone.
Harry vaguely wondered what they looked like. It felt animalistic and
undoubtedly it looked like that as well – he was rutting against Tom
desperately and he moaned shamelessly when Tom's hand wrapped around both their
cocks and pressed them together.
'- no idea what you're doing to me, you're killing me, you're mine and I'm
never letting you go-'
Tom was practically babbling a frenzy of words that Harry couldn't quite catch,
his mouth falling open in a soundless gasp when Tom's free hand gripped his
ass. His nails dug into the thick fabric of his jeans and Harry wished he was
naked, wished he could press his entire body against Tom's without anything
between them and without being stopped by the elder male.
He had never considered his ass as anything remotely sexual. But it was almost
painfully clear to him that Tom had.
'Close,' he murmured, fucking the tight ring that was Tom's fist, his mouth
pressing against Tom's temple. Tom groaned and squeezed him once, twice, as if
teasing him.
And it was all Harry could take.
Harry was unsure if it was his own inexperience or if Tom just had a lot of
stamina but either way, he came long before Tom did and his come coated Tom's
hand. He stared at it in a strange fascination while his entire body seemed to
slump into Tom's and didn't even think twice before sucking his digits into his
own mouth, curious at the taste.
'Fuck,' Tom breathed, Harry's hand shaky around his cock as he tried his best
to work him to completion as well, 'like that? Like sucking my fingers off like
that?' Harry made a soft noise, eyes halflidded from his orgasm. He looked up
at Tom, staring at the way he was utterly debauched, how wrecked he looked and
how Harry had been the one to do that to him.
And the idea that came over him was mad. Absolutely insane. But he couldn't
help but wonder…
He released Tom's fingers and Tom watched him, almost daring him to do
just something and Harry did. He crawled off Tom's lap, his thighs still
quivering, and pressed a kiss against the head of Tom's cock. Tom's eyes
widened as if he hadn't seen it coming and Harry had no clue if what he was
doing was unheard of or if it was pretty common but either way he sucked the
head into his mouth and ran a few kittenish licks over the slit before tracing
a couple of veins with his tongue. The corners of his mouth felt stretched
already and he sunk down, trying his best to take as much as he could.
Tom just lost it. He grabbed the back of Harry's head and groaned, fucking his
face, using his mouth for all it was worth. Harry tried his best to keep it as
wide open as possible and tried to keep his teeth from grazing over his
sensitive skin, a mixture of saliva and precome dribbling from his lips.
It was insane. But so goddamn arousing and he could feel his own cock twitch
almost pitifully, wanting to get hard again.
A loud string of curses escaped Tom's lips again and he finally came – a salty
fluid spurted from his cock into his mouth. Harry had half the heart to spit it
out just to see if it was the same color as his own had been (even if Tom's
tasted a bit stronger) but he could just swallow, hearing Tom groan and feeling
him slip from Harry's mouth. He pulled Harry up and Harry slumped over him,
having no problem being used as a pillow at all. He sighed when Tom pressed a
hungry, passionate kiss against his lips.
Sometimes, Harry thought Tom was trying to kill him.
Harry's back hit the ground when Tom put more of his weight on him and they
broke apart with a final nipping kiss. Harry's stomach still felt funny and he
shivered when Tom tucked him back into his pants, liking how Tom had absolutely
no problems with using Harry as a pillow as well. Harry dragged his hand
through Tom's hair, his chest no longer rapidly rising and falling with every
breath he took.
'When… when's my birthday?' Harry murmured. Even if the knowledge that they
couldn't stay here for too long was clear to the both of them, he felt like he
could fall asleep any minute now. Tom glanced up at him from where he had been
resting his head on Harry's chest. His eyebrows seemed to knit together and he
sighed.
'Tomorrow,' he murmured. He pressed a kiss against Harry's chest and pushed
himself up and Harry's body felt almost abandoned with the lack of Tom's weight
upon it. Harry felt like he was made to keep Tom's body warm, or at least in
this moment. He noted with vague, perhaps morbid, fascination and satisfaction
that his mouth still tasted of Tom. 'I haven't had the chance to-'
'I want you to fuck me, for my birthday.' It was out before he knew it and he
could feel his cheeks grow dark. Tom looked at him in surprise before he
dropped his head on the center of Harry's chest again, groaning.
'You can't just say these things. You're going to give me a heart attack some
day.'
Harry huffed.
'I'm serious.'
'I know,' Tom replied, his voice a bit muffled from where his mouth was pressed
against Harry's shirt. A silence fell upon them before Tom got up. Harry
followed his example, pressing his mouth against Tom's collarbone because he
couldn't reach any higher and then holding his hand out for Tom to take. Tom
blinked, and then snorted as if he couldn't believe Harry was asking him to
hold his hand. He gripped it anyway.
Funny how they went from chasing rabbits to this.
===============================================================================
It was 20 minutes later when Harry happily swung their hands back and forth in
between them, enjoying how Tom's fingers folded completely over the back of his
hand. His other hand throbbed a bit in his sling but that was nothing new. The
pain was duller than it used to be though and Harry could now move his fingers
a bit again. Tom said it was best if he were to keep the sling on for about 3
weeks or so, just to be sure.
The smile faded off Harry's face when he caught sight of the faded scar on
Tom's neck.
Still, even if he felt safe right now, he knew they were far from it. They had
that conversation already; they had discussed everything they needed to. Harry
was now… Tom's boyfriend, for as much as he found the word strange and foreign
on his lips, and Tom was Harry's boyfriend as well. They had discussed most of
what Harry had wanted them to.
But Harry still had so many questions. He knew why they were running for the
Brotherhood – they wanted to hurt them. Which sucked because they totally
outnumbered Tom and Harry no matter how strong or fast or intelligent they
were. But why was the Brotherhood so bad, or better yet, why did they chase Tom
and Harry? Why hadn't they just killed Harry after dumping Tom in the woods? It
just hadn't made any sense to Harry and it still didn't. And he really didn't
want to ruin Tom's good mood right now, because it was hard to get Tom to smile
the way he did now when he looked down at Harry, but he couldn't help himself.
He opened his mouth, ready to form a question, before he closed it again with a
frustrated sigh.
He didn't even know where to start now that he knew that he would… His eyebrows
knitted together in thought and he absentmindedly traced circles on Tom's
knuckles with his thumb, his eyes staring at the ground again.
'Something wrong?' Tom asked him, his voice sounding patient and good-natured.
Harry glanced up at him. It would be so easy to shake his head, smile and
continue walking. It was what he used to do, before they had gotten… like this.
Not only did Harry still have questions about how it could be that they were
attracted to each other, when they were both very male, but it came to his
attention that he really didn't know much about Tom as a person.
Fine – he knew Tom's favorite color was green and he knew Tom's birthday and
that he used to be a huge fan of Italian food, but those were the small things.
He didn't even know the name of Tom's mother.
Tom stopped walking and brushed a hand over Harry's face.
'Harry?' he asked. It was quiet around them – it appeared safe. But it wasn't.
He hoped they would find a safe place to stay before night fell, otherwise
they'd have to climb a tree and wait for morning to come.
'Tom, why is the Brotherhood so bad?' he asked, finally, 'aren't they human
like us?'
His question seemed to surprise Tom and he was certain Tom had been expecting a
different question or maybe none at all. Maybe he thought Harry had been
thinking about his parents. He had been doing that a lot lately, admittedly.
'Didn't your parents ever teach you not all people are good ?' Tom said after a
moment of silence, but his voice held no bite. If anything, he just sounded
calm, informative. 'They're Christian.'
Harry felt himself frown. What was what supposed to mean?
'So what?' Harry asked, 'I mean even if we don't share the same beliefs-'
'No, you don't understand – they're radical Christians. Do you even have any
idea what Christians believe in?'
Harry's frown darkened while he mulled that over. His parents never had been
very religious – they had believed in science, things that could be explained.
Harry had heard people praying before, knew the story of Jesus and Moses and
all that stuff, but… no, he hadn't really studied it or anything like that.
'God?' he asked stupidly. Tom started walking again after nodding, pulling
Harry down when he nearly hit his head against a low tree branch.
'They're the most racist, homophobic, small minded group of people I've ever
gotten in touch with.' Tom's voice was certain and there was no doubt that Tom
firmly believed what he said.
'But we're white-'
'Harry. Honestly.'Tom stopped walking.
'Don't you know that -' he cut himself off. 'No, of course you don't…'
'What? What don't I know?'
Tom sighed and raised their joined hands. 'See this?' he asked, and Harry
slowly nodded. He did see it, he had been acutely aware of it all the time. Of
how Tom's skin felt against his, of what those hands could do to him, how he
had fallen apart at them earlier… in a way, it was extremely intimate to be
holding someone's hand. These were hands that had killed before and wouldn't
hesitate to do so again, and the same went for his own hands. Tom's hands were
rough and large, fitting into Harry's perfectly. Almost innocently. 'This
is not okay in the eyes of most Christians.'
Harry glanced up at Tom. So far, this conversation had only confused him more
and more, but he was glad Tom wasn't irritated by his questions and it made him
feel more confident to continue asking questions. He was going to take whatever
Tom was willing to give him. 'What? Holding hands?'
'Two men holding hands. They hate homosexuality along with a thousand other
things and they support the infected.' Tom paused and Harry let it sink into
him. He didn't understand at all and Tom must've sensed it. His grip on Harry's
hand tightened. 'Do you hear what I am saying, Harry? The Brotherhood supports
who killed your family because they believe that they are here to clean this
world of people who are sinners. People like us – people who don't believe in a
book that states you can kill your own mother if she wears two different
threads.'
Harry's eyes widened, and Tom dropped their hands. He started walking again.
'Why didn't you tell me before?' Harry finally asked, too shocked to say
anything else. Tom shrugged.
'How do you tell a child that there are people who kill others because they're
different? You went through enough already.'
'But Ginny had been wearing a cross -'
'Not all Christians are like this,' Tom agreed, 'some are good people. Do you
remember that last town we stayed at?'
Harry nodded, vaguely remembering the man asking Tom about his home, the man
and the little girl and Ginny... The entire conversation was confusing the
living hell out of him. He didn't know what Tom was trying to get at at all.
'They were all Christians. Some want to do good. Some just want to save
humanity. And some…' Tom trailed off as if he tried to find the right words. It
was obvious to Harry that Tom did not believe that all of those people were
wrong, with reason. Before they had met the Brotherhood, Christians had been
the only ones willing to help them. 'Some just want to see people suffer
because they are not what a book, an idea wants them to be.'
Harry thought about this for a long time. He was too aware of how Tom seemed
angry while telling this, of how his hand had tightened on Harry's.
Harry had always known it was stupid to believe in stereotypes. Not all girls
were wimpy and whiny, he had learned that from getting his ass kicked by a girl
when he had tried to steal some bread a few years ago, not all Muslims had been
terrorists when the world had been normal and he didn't believe right now that
Christians were all like this. So hateful, with such a strange way to see the
world and the way other people should be.
There were good ones, too, people who were clinging onto religion to find
reason to live, not to use it as a reason to harm others. Harry had always
respected people like that – had found that they were strong for being able to
just put their complete trust in a higher power. Who was he to judge when their
God was all that kept them going?
Still, it dawned in on Harry that Gods did not kill people. The Brotherhood was
a strong example of how people with Gods did kill.
'…There were other people like us?' he finally asked. It was completely
irrelevant, but he couldn't help but wonder. When he had been just a boy he had
never seen two men walk hand in hand, never seen them steal a kiss. The angry
look slid of Tom's face for a moment when he glanced over his shoulder at
Harry.
'What do you mean?' he asked.
'Men who… who didn't like women? Like that?'
Tom didn't reply to it for a long time and Harry thought that he wouldn't reply
at all. But then he slowly nodded.
'Yes,' he replied softly, patiently, understanding that there was no way Harry
could have known, 'there were. Plenty.'
'You're saying that like they all got killed,' Harry said even though it did
make sense. Homosexuality – that was the word right? – didn't seem to be very
common and there weren't many people left…
'They were,' Tom said. His grip tightened on Harry's hand. 'People started
killing them along with murderers, rapists, drug addicts, people with mental
disorders, atheists, the disabled… like they were nothing but filthy animals.
Gellert Grindelwald started it – claiming that if all sinners, all mistakes
would die, this would all end. That if we would clean the world those creatures
would disappear and humanity could live on. And people believed him in the
beginning. We were all so desperate to survive…'
Tom did not continue but Harry understood anyway. An icy feeling settled in the
pit of his stomach.
'Creatures,' he parroted to himself. He suddenly thought of mothers and fathers
and children, innocent people getting killed for being different… he stumbled,
and Tom straightened him up before walking again. 'Why didn't you believe them?
Your parents must've-'
Tom suddenly turned around and Harry gulped at the dangerous look in his eyes.
'Never talk about my parents,' Tom hissed and Harry could just wordlessly nod,
too shocked to defy him. Harry had always been aware of their height difference
but now Tom just towered over him and even if Harry steadied himself and didn't
blush or stutter or even blink it was completely clear to him that although Tom
was his boyfriend right now, rules of the old world didn't apply to anyone
anymore. If they hurt each other no one would know or care.
Harry swallowed thickly and took a step forward right into Tom's personal space
as if daring him to do anything about it. If the moment should ever come, Harry
knew he wouldn't hesitate to fight Tom no matter how much it would hurt him or
how it would crush his heart.
Living without Tom would be torture, killing Tom would be something he would
live to regret for the rest of his life but dying by Tom's hand was no option.
He wouldn't let Tom do that to the both of them. He knew that if he would die
and Tom would be left behind by himself, the world would be an even darker
place and that was not because Harry thought himself to be a hero. It was
because he was the only one who kept Tom from doing things that would destroy
all that was human inside of himself.
It was like the lazy happiness that had spread through Harry was completely
stolen away from him right now. He was straining to keep from saying anything
stupid because he really didn't want to mess their thing up - it was precious
to him. The darkness in Tom's eyes was still there when Harry stood so close
the tips of their toes brushed and Tom sneered, but he wasn't looking at Harry
when he did that.
It came to Harry's notice that Tom surprisingly wasn't mad at him, like he had
thought before.
It took him a moment to figure it out, but it were Tom's parents who angered
him. It had been the mere mention of them that had brought all of those
unresolved emotions back to the surface.
Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over Tom's hand, a silent reminder of
what they had, who they were now. He could go on and on about why he liked
Tom's hands, or just Tom, so he wouldn't start again. Instead he tried to focus
on his own selfless desire to make Tom at ease again.
'I'm sorry I went too far,' Harry said. He didn't feel like he was apologizing
for asking a question - he was apologizing for bringing up things that
obviously bothered the tall male. Tom's eyes averted back to him and he
released a soft sigh, his breath fanning over Harry's face. He smiled and Tom
seemed to relax a bit at the sight of it, and that pleased Harry. 'It's my
birthday tomorrow. C'mon, I wanna wake up in a bed for once.' His grip on Tom's
hand tightened and he started walking. Tom hesitated before he started walking
as well.
The rest of their walk was in silence and when they reached a deserted cabin
and double checked the area and set up traps a couple of hours later, they
shared a single lingering kiss that was neither reassuring or nerve wrecking.
Tom appeared to be calmed down enough to be polite and sarcastic again and it
did Harry good, though his boyfriend's eyebrows were twisted in a dark scowl
when he thought Harry wasn't looking.
Something told Harry their conversation was far from over.
***** And Other Poison Devils *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 7
                           'And Other Poison Devils'
'Tom!'
Tom paused from where he had been running back to the car, a twelve year old
Harry Potter staring at him with scared, wide eyes. He was clutching his little
knee in his hands, scraped up from where he had tripped. Tom heard the grunts
of the infected in the background – if the child didn't get up soon he'd be
dead.
Ever since he had taken the child with him he had been nothing but trouble.
Always slowing him down, always whining about his parents and practically
clinging onto Tom… It'd be so easy to leave the snotty brat behind. Why
shouldn't he?
Harry sniffled and Tom sneered in frustration.
It wouldn't make any difference anyway. Just another child who'd die because of
what the virus had done to humanity. He was disposable. Useless. No one would
miss him and maybe Tom'd be doing him a favor by letting him die and putting a
stop to his suffering. He heard the child cry in his sleep, alright. Heard him
scream and sob and whimper and felt him clutching Tom's shirt when he thought
Tom was asleep.
Weakling.
Tom took another step to the car, hearing Harry scream his name once more. His
voice was tinged with desperation and Tom knew that as soon as he would turn
around he would give in again. So why did he still do it? What was it about
this mere child that had made Tom want to take him with him in the first place?
'Tom please! My leg hurts – help me!'
Tom didn't know and it bothered him.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the zombies were only a couple of feet
away, their arms outstretched, mouths ready to sink into the boy's tender
flesh. Harry was whimpering and tried to scramble to his feet, but he tripped
again and fell flat on his face. It was like watching a lamb in a lion's den.
Tom cursed and turned around, cocking his gun and raising it. Tom shot one
infected and Harry yelled in surprise, sniveling and whimpering while Tom
wasted more bullets on the other infected. Because that was what he was doing,
wasn't it? Wasting time and precious bullets on a child he had no ties with. 
It wasn't like Tom to do this. Tom was no hero. Tom should be considered the
villain – so then why did he even consider coming back for Harry an option? Tom
gripped Harry's arm so tightly the boy cried out in pain (surely it would
bruise, the child bruised too easily), cursing when the boy's legs buckled
beneath him.
'This is the last time, Harry!' Tom snapped at the cowering boy. Another group
of zombies were getting closer and Harry sobbed, body pliant when Tom picked
him up. His thin arms wrapped around Tom's neck and his legs went around Tom's
waist. Tom did not have the time to stop and think about how underfed the boy
was – from refusing to eat, stupid petulant child he was – and started running
again, his hands cupping Harry's bum to support his weight.
Even so, no matter how cruel his words were, Harry clung onto him like he was
his last lifeline. Tom knew Harry would've died a horrible, brutal death if he
hadn't saved him. A sick part of himself gained satisfaction from that too, to
know that another person was completely dependent of him. To know that he was
so strong that he could keep two lives intact in this world where even the most
clever of men had easily fallen, perished.
Tom got into the car and Harry hiccupped, the whites of his eyes bloodshot and
clashing with his vivid green irises. He was still clinging onto Tom, his short
nails even digging into the back of Tom's neck.
'Get off,' Tom commanded him after a moment of silence, a moment of
shared something in their eyes. Sometimes there was that, too - that feeling
that the boy could look straight into his soul. It was unnerving and fucking
annoying. Harry gulped and nodded, climbing off Tom's lap and onto the
passenger's seat. Tom started up the car just in time and started driving, not
a word uttered between the two of them for a long time.
Harry was hugging his knees to his chest, his glasses askew and his hair a
tangled mess. It somehow played at Tom's heartstrings, to see the younger boy
huddled up like this. Sometimes it was difficult for Tom to understand that
other people had feelings as well, that they weren't just made of the stupidity
that Tom hated them for. He drove the car to a halt and sighed, leaning back in
his seat.
'Tom?' the boy asked. His voice cracked – he was barely a teenager. Barely old
enough to even understand what was all going on in this world. Last week he'd
probably just been a kid, playing with his friends in his backyard while his
mom was baking them cookies…
'Come here,' Tom murmured. He had brought the boy with him for a reason after
all, even if he didn't quite know his purpose just yet, might as well make sure
he wasn't falling apart all the time. Harry took his glasses off and rubbed at
his eyes, stubbornly. He was still quivering.
Tom reached over in the backseat and got a bottle of water, tearing a strip of
cloth from his shirt. Harry watched him carefully, sniffling again. Harry
squeezed his eyes shut tightly when Tom reached over to touch him, as though he
was expecting Tom to hit him.
'It's okay,' Tom assured him though it wasn't. Water was precious and now
they'd have to find a river again to refill on that. Tom supposed it was worth
the boy's trust, though. He poured some water over the cloth and it dripped off
his fingers – he used it to dab gently at Harry's knee. Harry winced, but he
kept still, his eyes trained on Tom. Tom glanced up at him and Harry looked
away again, the blush on his cheeks barely noticeable with all the dirt and
grit and tear tracks covering it.
He was pretty, that much was clear to Tom, but Harry had never been a sexual
target of his. He was too young – Tom had been stupid. Hadn't been thinking
when he had taken the boy with him.
Instinct, he reckoned. He had been acting on instinct a lot and he wondered if
it were any side effects. Come to think of it he had been more aggressive than
usual as well... Once Harry's knee was clean he found Harry's ankle was
sprained. Figured. Releasing the slender limb Tom made to pull away, but the
boy's hand reached out to grab his wrist, keeping him from doing so. Tom
glanced at Harry, his eyebrow lifting when the boy smiled hesitantly.
It was the first time Harry had smiled at him and it pulled at his
heartstrings, a strange need and want coming over him. It was odd because Tom
really never had felt attracted to children before. He hated children,
actually. Always so needy and whiny, just like women often were when they
didn't receive the kind of attention they wanted...
But in a few years the boy would be old enough. If Tom would put a bit of
effort and time into it, he'd be strong and worthy of standing by his side.
'Thank you,' Harry whispered. Tom just nodded tensely and started driving
again, too aware of the boy's eyes trained on his face.
===============================================================================
When Harry woke up he was still alone.
His fingers slid over the mattress as if seeking someone next to him
nevertheless, and his eyes remained shut for a couple of seconds as well. He
tried to allow his body to fully awaken - a luxury he didn't very often was
granted. It was almost a challenge to him. Relaxing wasn't one of his strongest
points especially on a day like this.
Today was his birthday. Only one more year left until Harry could call himself
a legal adult.
If laws still counted nowadays, anyway.
'Tom?' he asked rather uselessly, knowing that his boyfriend wouldn't be there.
His voice was hoarse and his lips felt dry. He must have slept with his mouth
open again.
In the beginning of it all Harry had always been upset on his birthday.
Everything reminded him of homemade cake and lit candles and nicely wrapped up
presents waiting to be unpacked in the presence of family and friends. Harry
had come to dread this day but as the years passed it faded away, replaced by a
somewhat giddy feeling.
He heard footsteps and he strained his ears to listen, quickly identifying them
to be Tom's by the heavy thunks and the speed of them. He relaxed into the
mattress again. Before going to bed they had washed themselves by the river and
Tom had promised him to come to bed soon but he hadn't come at all. Harry
wondered if Tom was still upset with him and if so, what exactly had been the
cause of it. Tom wasn't overly sensitive so a small comment couldn't possibly
have gotten to his head like that.
Harry hadn't bothered much with clothes when he had climbed into bed – which he
did after getting rid of most of the dust that had settled on the sheets and
killing off the spiders hiding in every nook and cranny in the room – and his
gun laid on the small dusty nightstand to his right. The bed creaked with every
small movement he made and his cheeks felt warm at the mere thought of how much
noise it'd probably be making soon.
The door opened slowly and he listened as Tom dropped a couple of objects on
the floor. He kicked his shoes off too – Harry could tell it from the way his
footsteps were suddenly a lot softer, barely audible.
Harry didn't want to dwell on the angry expression Tom wore on his face
yesterday, wanting to focus on everything else instead. He could feel
anticipation run through him, making his body feel warm and sensitive. He was
completely naked underneath the sheets and he was already half hard.
The bed dipped with Tom's weight and Harry bit his bottom lip, cock twitching
between his legs. He thought of Tom's, of how it'd be buried inside of his ass
soon.
His entrance clenched on thin air at the mere thought of it.
'Good morning,' Tom breathed into his ear. His breath was minty – he must've
been chewing on mint leaves again. His teeth dragged over Harry's ear and his
hands slid over Harry's body, making Harry wish the sheets weren't keeping them
from having full on skin on skin contact.
'Morning,' Harry murmured. Tom purred from somewhere above him, his nose
nudging the tender skin of Harry's neck before his lips latched onto it and
started sucking. Harry moaned, rocking himself against the bed.
'I've got you a birthday present.'
Harry chuckled and pushed his ass up, rubbing against Tom's pelvis longingly
and hearing him hiss and groan.
'I bet you do,' Harry hummed. 'Did you put a ribbon around it?'
Tom laughed before thrusting down, effectively pinning Harry's entire body to
the bed with his own.
'Depends, would you untie the bow with your teeth?'
'I didn't know you were into that, To- oh…' Harry cut himself off when Tom's
fingers dipped under the sheets, trailing over his biceps.
'You came prepared,' Tom drawled, referring to Harry's state of undress. Harry
couldn't help but chuckle. He had. What was the use of clothes when they'd only
get into the way?
'I figured wearing my birthday suit would be appropriate for the occasion.'
Harry felt the drag of the sheets over his body – could feel Tom's weight
leaving him as the male climbed off him and stood near the bedside. He fought
the initial need to cover himself up – now wasn't the time to be shy, Harry
Potter – and allowed Tom to slowly reveal his skin, every breath he took
heavier, arousal prickling through his entire body. His thighs quivered, and
his cock twitched from it again.
'This should be appropriate for every occasion,' Tom finally decided and Harry
felt the tips of his ears grow hot, bottom lip caught between his lips. This
was normal, and lots of people had apparently done this before them. Harry's
parents had. It was silly to be nervous about something like this when it was
just Tom he was doing this with.
Then again, it may just be so daunting because it was just Tom. Never before
had he felt so strongly for anyone. What if he disappointed the other male? It
was frightening, to be honest, but Harry had never been one to back down from a
challenge. He didn't exactly know what was going to happen – well he'd wind up
with a cock in his ass, that much was clear – but he didn't want to act like a
shitty little brat and ask stupid questions either. Asking questions would ruin
the moment without a doubt.
Tom had already taken his shirt off and Harry licked his dry lips, openly
staring at his body, the fine hair trailing from his belly button into the
waistband in his pants. Although they had touched each other's cocks before
they had never truly taken time to appreciate each other's bodies. Hadn't made
it slow and drawn out yet maybe today they would if Harry'd be capable of
slowing. The anticipation was murderous.
'It's rude to stare, you know.' Harry announced though he was guilty of being
in awe, too. The pale stretch of skin, the tanlines, the slope of Tom's
hipbones and the shape of his shoulders... It was difficult to tear his eyes
away. Almost impossible.
Still, Harry somehow managed. He reached eye contact with Tom and smiled
nervously.
Harry fumbled a bit before he awkwardly placed the pillow in his lap, in need
of at least some sort of decency, and held out his arms to Tom. Tom glanced him
over once more before he nodded, briefly, taking off his worn jeans and his
boxers and walking over to where Harry was seated. He wrapped his arms around
Harry and Harry smiled, feeling childish but enjoying the embrace.
It was innocent. Or at least compared to what they were going to do, it was.
'Harry,' Harry's chest felt warm from where it had been pressed up Tom's and
Harry glanced down at Tom's lips, wanting them on him. 'Are you still sure?'
It was incredibly considerate, especially coming from Tom who normally just did
whatever the hell he wanted. It was an appreciated notion – it was just that
now that he had Tom close he couldn't bear letting go again. Harry had never
had the chance to do this so deliberately. Harry glanced down at Tom's hard
cock and still couldn't quite get over the fact that he caused that. He turned
Tom on to the point where he was aching and leaking in his pants, and it gave
him a random burst of courage. Tom wasn't disgusted by his naked body.
Harry pushed the pillow off his body, grinning and climbing on top of Tom's
lap.
Now wasn't the time for being shy.
'Scared you can't handle it?' Harry dared him. Tom looked a bit surprised, but
Harry didn't stop and think about it too much. Instead he leaned down and
pressed his lips against Tom's, sucking on his bottom lip the way he knew Tom
liked it.
Tom groaned and gripped his hips, and Harry shivered.
Tom's hands felt large on his body. They always had – but never had they been
on his naked hips before. He liked the feeling of them, liked the way the
rougher patches scraped over his own tender skin.
He groaned softly in Tom's mouth when those hands slipped down, cupping his
ass. All softness was out of the window with that – Harry was grinding down on
Tom until Tom grunted something in his mouth and pushed Harry flat on his back.
As soon as Tom was on him again they were kissing hungrily and Harry started
running his hands over precious, beautiful exposed skin now that he was given
the chance. He wrapped his legs around Tom's waist and started reaching out
between them, hearing Tom chuckle breathlessly.
'Calm down, there is plenty of time,' he murmured against the soft skin of
Harry's neck. Harry huffed impatiently.
'Fuck you,' Harry cursed, gasping when Tom bit down and then soothed the skin
with his tongue. That was going to leave a mark and Harry didn't care. If it
were up to him the entire world should see how amazing Tom could make him feel.
'We'll get to that later,' Tom promised him. He kissed the tip of Harry's nose
before his hands started trailing down Harry's shoulders, his chest, his
nipples… a thrill went through Harry and he mewed when Tom sucked one of them
into his mouth, his back arching and his legs spreading. Harry's stomach was
doing backflips and the entire world seemed to exist solely out of Tom, his
mouth and his body and his cock. Harry was unsure if he wanted it to ever stop.
It was both torture and bliss.
'Oh, Tom,' he whimpered, hands running through Tom's hair, feeling him
drag kisses lower and lower. Harry's stomach was positively quivering by the
time Tom had reached his belly button. 'What're you-'
'You're not the only one who likes to use his mouth, sweetheart.'
Harry gasped.
It was true, though. Harry loved using his mouth. It was like he had some
strange sort of oral fixation... He loved kissing Tom, sucking on his fingers,
licking a trail down his throat, sucking his cock… It was just the heavy weight
of it on his tongue that got to him, and the taste... God, the taste. Harry
loved the feeling of the corners of his mouth stretching, the sore feeling in
his jaw. The way his voice would crack after sucking Tom off, too – the burning
in his scalp from the way Tom would tug at his hair. Harry was uncertain if it
was something he enjoyed doing for the simple act of it, or if he loved doing
it so much because he did it for Tom.
Most likely a combination of the two.
'Do it,' Harry said, voice wavering, his legs spreading already. Tom's eyebrow
cocked up and he smirked arrogantly, his fingers brushing over the underside of
Harry's hard manhood.
'You are very demanding, do you know that?' he drawled but he didn't look
offended. Not in the slightest.
'Maybe I wouldn't be if I wasn't so hard and if you weren't so close to my
dick,' Harry countered, not in the mood for playing around anymore. Tom
chuckled and pressed a kiss to the head of Harry's member. The gesture
shouldn't have looked that tender, goddammit.
'Typical,' Tom murmured. He grinned and started mouthing down Harry's thigh
again, having given him a taste of what was to come. Harry whined and his
manhood strained at his belly, his toes curling when Tom started running just
the lightest touch of fingertips over his balls. He thought of how stretched
he'd soon be. Of how Tom would fill him up with his hard cock – hard for Harry,
fuck – and how hard he'd come… Inside of Harry... Or perhaps on him, coating
him with thick strands of seed...
'W-what?' he stammered. His voice wasn't so certain anymore and he gulped when
Tom glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
'How we're still arguing like an old married couple when I'm about to do things
to you that will make whores blush.' Harry opened and closed his mouth, a bit
taken aback by the comparison. Old married couple... Tom must've noted because
his expression softened and he leaned up again, his body stretched in the most
graceful, almost feline-like manner to brush his lips over Harry's temple. Then
he whispered a low and certain, 'I am going to fuck you, Harry'.
Harry's breath hitched and his fingers twitched, the comment doing horrible
things to him.
'I'm going to spread your legs and fuck your little hole until it's wet and
loose and leaking. You'll be so wet and dirty, used... And you will know that
it was me. With each aching step you'll take you'll remember how filthy you
were for me and how you would do it all over again.'
Tom's lips were brushing against Harry's ears, but it were his words that
touched a more intimate, dark part of Harry where Tom's hands could never
reach. He shifted and placed his hands at Tom's hips, gripping them and
grinding himself down against Tom's hard length. Tom practically purred at
that.
'Yes. Do you feel that?' he questioned, slowly rocking himself against Harry,
'That is going to be inside of you.'
Another whimper fell from Harry's lips and Tom hummed.
'You want this. You crave nothing more.'
God, Harry did. He wanted nothing more. If just words could make him feel like
this...
'Fuck me,' he whispered, his voice rough and his eyes dilated. Tom all but
growled against his skin, biting down hard on his shoulder and gripping his
hips. 'Lick me, fuck me, I don't care – just do something -'
It seemed to be all the encouragement Tom needed. Harry made a surprised noise
when Tom was suddenly off him, his hips still stuttering up in that lazy pace
they had set up and he yelped when Tom flipped him over and pulled his hips up,
his ass high in the air, presented for fucking. The slap came hard and fast and
it forced another surprised cry to rip from Harry's throat, and he was quick to
bury his face into the ratty pillow, his face burning while his ass started
throbbing. The pain was sharp, stinging, making his entrance flutter when Tom
parted his cheeks and inhaled a deep breath.
Harry had never been this vulnerable for another person before. Tom knew that,
too. Harry had always been vulnerable to him, always dependent, always growing
and learning but under his watch.
Another smack, this time to his other cheek, and Harry couldn't help the drawn
out moan that came out of his throat this time.
Tom was his leader. He was his teacher, his lover, his friend, his enemy...
Tom murmured something Harry couldn't quite care for and then he felt hot
breath on his entrance and Harry's eyes widened because oh, Tom's tongue was
suddenly there, licking a long stripe from his perineum all the way to his
tailbone, leaving his entrance quivering and sensitive and his hands clenching
into fists. Tom's short nails dug into Harry's ass cheeks, just temporarily,
before he spread him again for as wide as he could and repeated it.
It was strange, but Harry loved it.
'Who'd know you'd be such a slut,' Tom murmured, the word sounding foreign,
stinging like the slaps but arousing like the licks that followed. Harry mewed
and pressed his ass up higher, begging for more. He was practically throbbing.
'More,' Harry panted but Tom didn't do a thing and he whined petulantly, like a
child. 'Tom it's my birthday, you said -'
He choked when Tom dove in again, sucking and laving at his entrance, his words
muffled vibrations. His tongue soothed over his tender skin while his teeth
nipped, his lips sucking. Harry gasped as the tip of Tom's tongue slowly tried
to work him open, Tom's fingers slithering over his sides and he didn't even
think before sucking them into his mouth, his back arching and trying to make
himself as small as possible so he could reach them the best he could. Tom
grunted and his fingers ran over Harry's straight teeth, tracing them before
running along Harry's tongue, deeper into his mouth.
Harry's gag reflex had stopped working a long time ago.
Harry actually whined when Tom pulled those fingers out of his mouth again – he
didn't know why, he just wanted to suck Tom's fingers or cock so bad – and
another sharp sting came over his ass when Tom smacked it, followed by a blunt
pressure against his hole.
The first finger slipped in. Maybe it was the tension or maybe it was that
sudden hand at his cock that started pumping him so torturously slow, or maybe
it was Tom's whispered lewd words or a combination of all those things, but it
was too much. Harry's body tensed up completely, his eyes wide and before he
knew it he came with a soft sob, come shooting from his cock and staining the
sheets.
He was a shivering mess by the time he was done and the worst – or the best? –
was that Tom just didn't stop.
He kept whispering things into Harry's ear, kept pumping him, kept working
fingers into him – two and Harry already felt so full and he could feel his
entrance pulsing around Tom's digits oh God he was going to be so much more
stretched would he even be capable of taking it? – and just opening him up.
Harry's body was just so sensitive and he didn't even complain when Tom rolled
him over, his cock half hard again. He felt like his head was spinning.
It was just so hot, and Tom was so close, and his eyes were just so hypnotizing
Harry couldn't help but stare into them. His chest was still heaving up and
down in a rapid pace, his lids fluttering. When Tom gripped Harry's legs Harry
just draped them over Tom's shoulders. Blood was rushing through his ears,
making him feel dizzy, absolutely high on life.
He felt alive.
Tom's cock nudged at his hole and Harry closed his eyes, taking a few deep
breaths to steady himself.
'Look at me,' Tom demanded and Harry whimpered but cracked one of his eyes
open. Tom wouldn't ask him if he was sure, not anymore. Tom looked like he
couldn't think too clearly anymore and his eyes were dark. He looked wrecked.
Did Harry actually do that to him?
Harry wanted to say something but he couldn't. He hadn't expected to lose this
much control over himself. He had underestimated it and he was surprised.
'Tom, I-'
'Breathe,' Tom cut him off. It was the only warning Harry got before he started
pushing in, slowly, feeling him slide inside of him with each thick inch.
Harry's eyes grew wide and his feet kicked out, toes curling and fingers
fisting the sheets while he tried to fight the instinctual need to push Tom off
him, out of him.
It burnt. God, it burnt. It was unlike anything Harry had felt.
His fingers splayed on Tom's skin and his hand twinged painfully, still tender
and the bones not as strong as they used to be but on their way to becoming so,
remembering Tom's command and focusing on just that.
He couldn't do much else.
'Tom, oh, Tom-' he gasped, practically choking when Tom thrust his hips forward
one final time, snapping what was left of his cock right inside of Harry
without giving him time to get used to being stretched slowly.
Tom was inside of him.
He was actually inside of him, and Tom's cock was hot and throbbing and his ass
felt so weird and full and Tom looked so…
Harry whimpered and shifted. He tried to relax his toes and the grip he had on
the sheets but that proved to be a difficult task. He was sweating – his
armpits were prickling with it.
'Been thinking about this for so long,' Tom murmured, making Harry snap up from
his thoughts. He glanced up at him and his cheeks felt hot. Tom's hand found
his cock and he started stroking Harry, lazily, just enough to make him needy
and achy again. 'Going to fuck you until you can't even remember what it's like
without my cock in you.'
Harry groaned and his head fell back when Tom slowly pulled out, only to push
back in again. Slowly, teasingly. Testing.
'You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to fuck your ass until you can't see
straight anymore?' Tom seemed to force himself to go slow, but Harry could hear
the strain in his voice. It was slowly spreading through his own limbs as well
and it was strange, but Tom no longer felt foreign inside of him when his body
grew accostumed to it – his thrusts were pleasurable, making Harry gasp and try
to move his hips back into Tom's when he pulled out. He was fucking his cock
slowly into Harry, the head always remaining inside, as if he didn't completely
want to break their contact.
Harry spread his legs wider and they wrapped around Tom's waist instead, his
lids fluttering shut. Pleasure coursed through him, spreading like a dull ache
that grew more and more prominent, making him mew and thrust his own hips more
into it. His back arched and he gasped when Tom suddenly grabbed his hips and
started pounding into him and - oh, okay, why didn't they do this earlier?
'How does it feel?' Tom breathed, mouthing along the stretched column of
Harry's throat. Harry could only moan stupidly, the words sending more sparks
of arousal down his spine. He had no words. It ached and it was delicious.
'That's right, sweetheart… just like that. Just fucking take it.'
Harry's hand burried itself in Tom's hair and he kissed him, wet and dirty,
their lips barely meeting and their tongues all but battling. He could feel his
own entrance throbbing around Tom, how it struggled to take it all, feeling
Tom's manhood just pounding into his greedy hole.
Harry jolted when Tom slapped his ass again and moaned into his mouth. It felt
amazing, all of it - so dirty and naughty somehow. He opened his eyes to see
Tom staring at the picture he was making too – undoubtedly staring at the way
he fucked Harry. He gripped Harry's legs and practically folded him in half and
Harry just laid there, letting him use his ass, like he was a mere toy, like he
only existed to get fucked.
He would be fine with that too.
Tom's balls slapped against his ass, a mocking imitation of his hands, so big
and powerful and hot, and Harry whined when he wrapped his own hand around his
manhood. He wanted this to last, really. But he could feel the pressure
building up in him again. Feel it starting at his curled toes and going all the
way through his body, making him feel as though he was on fire.
'I- I'm gonna come,' he choked, stupidly. Tom grunted and just kept thrusting
into him, kissing him again and swallowing Harry's moans.
'Close?' Harry nodded, his eyebrows knitting together while he tried to fight
it off. But the moment he let go of his cock to Tom gripped it cruelly, pumping
him feverishly. 'Then fucking do it. You fucking whore.'
Harry gasped and closed his eyes, but it was to no avail.Tom squeezed him at
the base of his cock again and that was it.
He was done.
He came with a sob and spilled all over that hand but it just. Wouldn't. Stop.
He was vaguely aware of Tom cursing and slapping his ass again but he just
couldn't see or think properly – this was even more intense than any of his
previous orgasms. Tom was just so relentless right now, he kept fucking into
Harry, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded. Harry's legs fell apart and he
let Tom fuck him to his heart's content. He was entirely starry-eyed and spent.
When Tom came he cursed and filled Harry up, right until the brim, hot ropes of
come deep inside of Harry's clenching entrance. He groaned and Harry mewed,
gripping at Tom's shoulders.
Tom cursed and Harry nodded because he knew.
It was intense. He could barely breathe.
Tom collapsed on top of Harry, panting for air. His chest felt warm against
Harry's own and Harry's legs still rested at either side of him, his hands
dragging through Tom's hair without even knowingly doing so. Harry tried to
blink back the black dots appearing in his vision or slow down the fast beating
of his heart. He didn't succeed in either one of those so he settled for
staring at the ceiling and listening to Tom breathing.
'That was…' he started stupidly, his voice wavering. He didn't have any words
to describe it. He had never seen such raw need in Tom's eyes and had never
experienced it this bad himself either.
Tom was still inside of him. He could feel him, still half hard.
Tom chuckled and pressed his mouth against Harry's temple in a gentle kiss. He
seemed to be himself again, no longer taken over by his primal needs. Harry
wondered if sex was always this passionate or if it was just because it had
been them doing this.
'Amazing?'
'Well – yeah, that too, but…'
'Hmm,' Tom hummed and pressed another kiss against Harry's mouth this time.
Their tongues slid against one another lazily, making him moan softly. 'I think
I just blew your mind.'
Was it weird that he felt closer to Tom, physical position be damned? He had
now seen all of Tom. The way he was when he got angry, when he lost control…
Harry snorted.
'Arrogant,' he murmured, yet found himself smiling. He kissed Tom and moved his
hips, unknowingly tightening around Tom's cock. He felt it twitch inside of him
and gasped, whereas Tom looked at him with dark eyes again. 'You – you should
pull it out,' Harry murmured, shifting a bit. Tom growled at him and gripped
his hips, holding him still. 'Tom -'
Harry shivered when Tom's fingers slid over his cock, which twitched painfully
as well.
'No,' Tom grunted. He kissed Harry hungrily again and slowly started rocking
his hips back and forth into him. 'I'm going to keep you full of my come.'
Harry was already becoming too aroused to care much for what Tom had to say.
===============================================================================
It was somewhere late in the afternoon when they were both laying on their
backs, side by side and panting and staring at the ceiling.
There was a pillow underneath Harry's ass to keep it up, and a small trail of
come that was leaking out of him. Harry was tired, almost blissfully so and his
mind was so fuzzy he didn't think he'd be capable of even thinking of anything
to say. Tom rolled onto his side and studied Harry's face, tracing his
fingertips over it until he took hold of his hand and pressed a kiss against
every one of his knuckles, gently for once.
Harry's hole felt properly used and sore and slick with come and saliva, from
where Tom had spat on it a couple of times to ease his way inside of Harry and
had come in him, and on him. Harry felt dirty yet clean at the same time. Dirty
because of the way he smelt and undoubtedly looked, clean because he felt like
a new person somehow.
He felt different. More in tune with Tom.
He turned his head and gazed at Tom, noting the dark glint wasn't entirely gone
but Tom looked like he wasn't going to jump him again. He looked entranced.
Possessive.
Harry nuzzled the palm of Tom's hand and sighed. His limbs were heavy and he
felt like he could fall asleep any minute now.
'You reminded me of my younger brother somehow, when I saw you that night,' Tom
murmured, and Harry glanced up, a bit confused until he realized Tom had been
thinking about the first time they had met. 'He had suffered quite a lot. By
the time he died there wasn't much left of his face.'
How horrible it must be to see your own sibling suffer a horrible death…
undoubtedly, Tom's brother had been attacked by zombies as well. Maybe Harry's
age and situation had reminded him so much of his younger brother that Tom had
tried to pretend, at least for a little while, that Harry had been him. Maybe
that's what had made Tom so bitter the first years they had spent together.
'What was his name?' Harry whispered after a short silence, and Tom sighed.
'Voldemort,' he stated and Harry sat up a bit with some difficulty, not at all
ashamed for his state of undress. They were past that. Tom's eyes strayed to
the pillow Harry had laid on, to the small wet spot of come, but he didn't say
a word.
'That's an unusual name,' Harry commented. Tom's eyes went back to Harry again
as if awakened from a dream. Maybe he hadn't meant to tell Harry this – maybe
his mind was a bit fuzzy as well. It wouldn't surprise Harry.
'My first name is Thomas,' Tom answered, 'I was named after my father – my
middle name isn't common either.'
'I didn't even know you had a middle name,' Harry commented and he blinked a
bit. Now that Tom was finally opening up to him he realized he didn't know much
of Tom at all… And Tom didn't know much of Harry either. They really should
change that. 'My middle name is James. I was named after my father as well,'
Harry added.
'Marvolo.' Tom simply said when Harry blinked in confusion, he added, 'My
middle name. It's Marvolo'.
Marvolo. Marvelous. No, that name indeed didn't sound very common – it was
unlike anything Harry had ever heard before.
'Nice to meet you, Marvolo,' Harry murmured, tasting the name on his tongue.
No, it didn't quite roll off his tongue the way Tom did, but he liked it
nonetheless.
Thomas Marvolo Riddle.
Not just Tom.
'Nice to meet you too, James.' Tom's eyes lingered on him and Harry squirmed.
He doubted they'd be capable of doing anything sexual any time soon but that
didn't mean that look in Tom's eyes wasn't… That it didn't do things to him.
Harry's grip tightened on Tom's hand and he took a deep breath, licking his
lips. They felt swollen as well and everything ached in just the right pleasant
ways.
He could learn to live with it.
Tom's fingers flexed in his hold and the elder male stared at their joint
hands, frowning for just a moment as if struggling to remember something and
then glancing up at him again.
'Stay right here, I got you something.'
Harry stared shamelessly when the other male got up from bed, trailing his eyes
over Tom's broad back and watching him put on his boxershorts. Tom disappeared
into the hallway and Harry strained his ears to hear anything, but considering
Tom wasn't wearing his shoes that was sort of a tall order.
When Tom returned he was holding something behind his back, and Harry moved his
head to try and see. Tom smirked at him.
'Your hand is as good as healed now. I'm sure you will find a way to work with
this.'
He pulled a bow and a container of arrows out from behind his back and Harry
blinked rather stupidly at them, before realizing they were for him. Harry
stretched his arms out, not sure if he could properly walk just yet. Tom looked
amused as he sat down beside Harry, placing it all in his lap. Harry tried to
think of a moment when Tom could've made this all for him before he remembered
that Tom hadn't slept by his side this night. Had he stayed up just to make
this for Harry?
The arrows were all made of wood, the string of the bow looking like what they
used to fish with. It was smooth and simple and beautiful, handcarved with the
utmost care.
'I… was that why you were away last night? I thought you were upset,' Harry
murmured, his fingers running over the string. His heart felt warm – Tom
obviously had pulled an all nighter while making this. It was beautiful and the
wood was so smooth, the arrows sharp and thin, light. Harry felt disappointed
with himself when he realized he didn't know how to use this even though he
should, given that they'd be running out of bullets some day. Bullets were no
longer getting produced after all. One day they'd go sparse and they'd have to
go without them.
'I love it,' Harry announced truthfully. 'But to be honest... I don't even know
how to use this…'
'I'm physically drained,' Tom huffed. He nuzzled Harry's neck and sighed. 'Show
some appreciation, won't you?'
Harry paused, feeling himself smile. Yes, Tom had made this an amazing
birthday; had given Harry everything he had wanted and so much more… He turned
his head, placed his hand on Tom's cheek and kissed Tom's forehead. No matter
what he'd try to do, it wouldn't be enough. Harry wouldn't be able to express
his gratitude just by doing things maybe others had done to Tom in the past.
So he used the only thing he had. The only thing he had to give Tom, that was
truly his own.
'I love you.'
It were three words he hadn't used in years, not since thatday. He wished he
had used them a lot more in his life. He wished he hadn't scrunched up his nose
when his mom had tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead the last night
before his life had changed – wished he had told his dad he secretly thought
his magic tricks weren't lame, that they were awesome.
But things always had to go wrong before Harry would understand these things.
And even if Tom inhaled a sharp breath and didn't instantly reply, that was
fine. Because Tom had already given him something so much more than mere three
words and butterflies in his stomach.
He had given him hope.
Tom had taken him under his wing and had taught him how to survive. He had made
a man out of Harry and had saved not only his life, but his heart. Harry didn't
think he would've even lasted a day without Tom.
He would've been eaten alive by either his own conflicted emotions, or zombies.
Fingers slid through his hair and Harry trailed his eyes over Tom's face,
finding his own straining with a silly smile. He had always known he would stay
at Tom's side for a really long time, or at least until Tom would grow sick
him. He had been content with standing next to Tom, but not with him. But now
they were we and us.
'You mean that, don't you?'
The surprise in his voice couldn't help but make Harry wonder if Tom's mom had
told him she loved him before the virus broke out. Again he found himself
wishing he could know everything about Tom's life and his woes.
If there would be another way to make it clear to the other male, Harry would
gladly do it. Tom opened his mouth, but Harry cut him to it with a chaste kiss.
'You don't have to say it in return. In fact – don't. You've done enough for me
already. Thank you, for everything, Tom.'
There was something achingly similar to confusion in Tom's eyes, but it was so
foreign and fleeting that Harry decided that maybe it had been a figment of his
own imagination. He got up, ignored the tremor in his legs, and glanced at Tom.
'Wanna show me how this works?'
Much to his surprise, Tom sighed, slung his legs over the bedside and pressed
his face in Harry's stomach, his fingers sliding over the smooth skin of the
small of Harry's back.
'Tom?' Harry asked, shifting a bit. His entrance throbbed.
'Just give me this moment, impatient brat,' Tom murmured into Harry's skin, his
lips feeling like a caress, reminding Harry of everything they'd done these
past days. Of the progress they had made – of how Harry used to be this little
boy with this stupid crush on his partner. Tom wasn't his partner or just his
best friend anymore, a loss he didn't mourn for instead something beautiful had
taken its place.
Tom was his lover, now. Had seen parts of Harry Harry had deemed ugly and
inappropriate and Tom had worshipped them. And really, Harry didn't need to
hear those three little words. For once he revelled in the fact that he knew
something Tom didn't.
Everything Tom did and said showed Harry Tom loved him too. He settled himself
in Tom's lap and smiled softly, feeling Tom sigh into his hair and press his
cheek against the top of Harry's head. He cherished the thought of young
Voldemort and even if he would never meet the boy he swore to him that he would
look after his big brother.
===============================================================================
They started walking again and they continued walking for a long time. Their
nights were spent with franctic, eager lovemaking – Harry slowly grew
accustomed to simply not being capable of walking without feeling the
remembrance of Tom inside of him. They did it against trees, in caves, by river
sides. Anywhere. One time they even got interrupted by a zombie walking into
one of their traps.
Harry decidedthat shooting a zombie with a hard on was extremely awkward and
something to be avoided.
According to Tom it was nearing the end of August and it meant they really
needed to get a form of transportation soon – Tom had marked a couple of towns
on the map where they should go but Harry had no telling if they were somewhere
close with Tom leading the way. Time seemed to pass both incredibly slow and
way too fast and Harry was often surprised to see the sun both rise and set,
when the time in between felt like maybe a mere hour. His sense of time was
completely off.
Harry glanced to the side, catching sight of a cross with wings marked on a
tree and let go of Tom's hand as if burnt, his eyes wide while his head whipped
around to find any signs of the Brotherhood being near. Tom's eyebrow rose at
him when he turned to look at him again.
'I – Cross,' Harry said lamely, pointing at the tree. Tom stopped moving and
traced it with his fingertips, before shaking his head and grabbing Harry's
hand.
'Good. We're almost there,' Tom drawled. He folded the map and tucked it into
his back pocket and adjusted his backpack.
What on earth did he think he was doing?
'Tom? That's a cross, we're in Christian territory-'
'It's okay. They'll help us.'
Harry stared as Tom glanced at another tree with the same symbol scratched into
the bark and guided them past it, following the trail.
'I don't understand,'
Tom ignored him and Harry thought he heard the sounds of laughter in the
distance. He heard a twig snap and he tensed, gripping Tom's hand tighter. Tom
didn't turn and simply kept walking as though he didn't hear or care.
Tom did, however, react when Harry reached into his pocket and almost threw a
knife at a little girl who ran past them with a careless smile on her face. Tom
made a hushing noise and held Harry's wrists tight, amused while Harry stupidly
watched the girl. His ears twitched when two other kids ran past them as well.
They weren't zombies.
'What's going on?' Harry asked. The little girl giggled and hid behind a tree,
clearly playing hide and seek.
'We climbed a fence earlier,' Tom replied simply. Harry scowled.
'So?'
'We're safe. We're in Phoenix territory.'
===============================================================================
The Order of the Phoenix was the exact opposite of the Brotherhood - they still
clung onto a God both Harry and Tom did not believe in, but they didn't use
their beliefs as a means to harm those who did not share those beliefs.
They continued on through the woods and ended up in a town that was clearly
built long before the outbreak, if the smashed windows and chipped paint on the
buildings were any indication. It looked nothing short of a haunted ghetto yet
there were musicians out on the street, cheerful chatter all around them.
People didn't look as haunted as they had in the previous town Tom and Harry
had been in.
Tom and Harry walked through a small market and Harry watched in awe as
salesmen tried to sell them knitted sweaters and home made liquor. The
streetlights were undoubtedly powered by a generator somewhere. To be
surrounded with so much normalcy... As they trailed behind a tall dark-skinned
man named Kingsley Shacklebolt Harry pressed closer to Tom, still feeling a
need to be on edge. The man had seemed kind enough when he had greeted them at
the sloppily constructed walls surrounding the town but you could never know
for sure these days.
What surprised Harry most was that they were free to come and go as pleased.
Sure enough, there had been the comment about how blessed they had been for
surviving the Brotherhood chasing them down but Tom and Harry had both ignored
that, just like they had ignored the way Kingsley had mentioned they'd all been
praying for more survivors. None of these people seemed violent or forced to do
anything and they seemed to be genuinely devoted to the cause of helping as
many as possible. Harry wondered if this was what religion really was supposed
to be about. Having something to put your trust and faith in when the world was
literally going to hell.
Kingsley led them to an empty house and dropped keys into one of Harry's hands,
not even fazed by the way Tom was holding the other one. Was it because members
of the Order of the Phoenix simply weren't homophobic, Harry wondered, or did
they tolerate it because they needed more people like Tom and Harry who could
fight? The conversation Harry and Tom had about their sexuality still rung
clear in his ears...
'May I have a word with you, mister Riddle?' Kingsley asked. Harry frowned at
how obviously Kingsley was dismissing him and huffed, opening his mouth to
reply and closing it again when Tom shot him a certain look. Tom then glanced
at the house, as if checking it for any possible dangers.
'Yes you may,' Tom finally drawled when he deemed it safe. He released Harry's
hand and Harry frowned at him even as he started moving away.
'Don't open the door for anyone but me,' Tom called over his shoulder. Harry
just remained on the porch, watching as they walked away, Tom's hands stuffed
into his pockets and his shoulders relaxed. He didn't look too worried but
Harry knew something was up. He could feel it.
He only got inside the house when they were both out of view and even then he
lingered in the hallway for a long time. He wanted to get some sleep, honestly,
and his feet ached from having walked for such a long time.
But it was all foreign. This calmth. This safety.
They hadn't even set up traps and Harry hadn't even had the time to explore– 
Explore.
Maybe Harry would more at ease if he'd at least know his surroundings.
He set down his bows and arrows – he had been practicing with Tom now that his
hand was okay again and had been getting better, small targets still proved to
be a difficulty though – and chewed on his bottom lip, looking around himself.
The house wasn't dirty per se and Harry was actually sure a lot of people had
been here before Tom and Harry had received the keys. It was just a bit dusty
but he wasn't one to complain. He had a roof over his head and most likely a
bed he could sleep in and that alone was a luxury.
Harry glanced at the cross hanging from the wall with mild distaste and started
walking up the stairs, checking every room in the house. There wasn't a lot of
furniture and what did stand there seemed to be damaged. Harry flopped down
onto a bed and closed his eyes, stretching his arms out wide. There was a
nagging feeling at the pit of his stomach that he just couldn't quite place.
It shouldn't really worry him that Kingsley had wanted to speak to Tom.
Tom was the eldest of the two, after all, and no matter how much Harry had aged
mentally, his face didn't show it at all. He barely looked a day over 16.
Harry huffed out a breath and rubbed at his eyes.
He knew they were safe here and that these people lived a very sheltered life.
They had built up an existence here. Of course they'd be surprised to see new
faces and fact remained that Tom was handsome. Beauty was hard to come by in
this world, nowadays.
Still the connection between the Order of the Phoenix and the Brotherhood
bothered Harry. 
Religion.
He remembered the disgust on Grindelwald's face when he had asked Harry if he
was a fag. Surely if anyone around here had been as radical as the members of
the Brotherhood, they would have at least said vile things at seeing their
joined hands.
'Tired?'
Harry shot up at the sudden question and threw the knife hidden in his
waistband into the direction the voice came from, narrowly missing Tom's head.
Tom stepped to the side before Harry had managed to get a hit on him and cocked
his eyebrows up in mild amusement.
Harry smiled sheepishly.
'I'm-'
'Predictable,' Tom finished for him. He glanced at the knife embedded into the
wall, piercing the ugly floral wallpaper and casually pulled it out as if it
hadn't just been very close on being in his head instead. 'Your aim has gotten
better, I'll give you that.'
'Why did Kingsley want to talk to you?' Harry got up and didn't botter with
chit-chat. He bluntly ignored the creaking of the bed – it reminded him vaguely
of his birthday – in favor of crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at
Tom. Tom leaned against the doorway and just stared at him for a long while,
before shrugging and sitting down on the bed.
'We're staying here for a while,' Tom announced. Harry blinked.
'What? Why? Tom – it's almost September. You said we had to reach the farm
before winter. We don't have time to stay here.' Harry didn't even know if they
were close to their destination, come to think of it.
'They have motorcycles,' Tom said. 'We need one. A car is too big and fact
remains that the Brotherhood is looking for us. The Order wants to help us if
we work for them for a while.'
Harry narrowed his eyes.
'And what does 'helping' entitle?' he asked. Tom shrugged again.
'They want us to hunt for them. We won't do that, of course – we're going to
stick around until we've figured out where they keep their vehicles and then
we're going to steal-'
'You can't do that. These people are helping us!' Harry hissed instantly, 'They
let us in their town, they gave us a house we can live in for a while! The
least we can do is pay them back!'
It just wasn't right. This kindness felt strange and foreign and Harry was
still unsure if he wanted to trust the people offering them this all (hunting a
bit for them? Were they truly that desperate for food?) but stealing such
valuable objects... No. It wouldn't be fair.
'My my, Harry, when did you become so righteous?' Tom's eyebrows kicked up and
Harry glared at him. 'Didn't you just say we don't have the time to stick
around?'
Harry hated Tom for using his words against him and he could feel his shoulders
slump in defeat after a tense silence, leaning against the wall behind him. He
folded his arms over his flat chest and frowned a bit to himself.
'You're not being fair,' Harry murmured dejectedly. Tom snorted and it pissed
Harry off more than it should. These people were helping them. It was true,
Harry wasn't unfamiliar with cheating other people. He cheated people, he lied,
but he didn't want to hurt other people. Stealing from people... it could cost
those people their lives. Objects were valuable nowadays. A mere box of
paperclips could make a huge difference - could become a makeshift weapon. Let
alone a motorcycle...
'Life's unfair.'
Harry surprised to see Tom standing right in front of him. Crowding him.
'You're being stupid.'
Tom's eyebrow rose. 'Is that so?' he asked. 'I'd like to think I'm quite
brilliant, actually.'
'Not right now. Do you want to have two organizations chasing us, Tom?' Harry's
eyes narrowed when Tom's face remained passive. 'If the Brotherhood is chasing
us we should have allies. The Order could be a great one – we need them.'
Tom remained silent for a very long time and Harry feared he was having one of
his moods again, but then Tom just crossed his arms over his chest as well. He
turned his head away. 'We don't need anyone.'
'Tom,' Harry huffed. The last thing they needed was Tom's ridiculous sense of
pride to get in the way. Tom's blue eyes were back on him at once and if Harry
had been less of the person he was he would've stepped back at the intensity of
his gaze. 'Don't let your stupid pride get us in trouble. It's not just your
own life you're playing with, here.'
When Tom just kept frowning at Harry, Harry got the feeling that they wouldn't
make much progress and he stepped away from Tom, sighing and shaking his head
before kicking his shoes off.
'I'm going to take a nap, my head fucking hurts,' he murmured, more to himself
than to Tom. He could feel Tom's eyes boring into him as he all but collapsed
on the mattress, not even bothering lifting the sheets. The temperature was
getting lower, slowly, with each passing week. The zombies must be having it a
lot easier now. They always seemed to multiply during the winters.
Eventually the bed dipped with Tom's weight and he closed his lids, sighing. He
tried to keep himself from wondering what had happened to his own home. Maybe
it got burnt to the ground. Tom's fingers thread through Harry's hair but Harry
didn't move into it or away. Not even when Tom kicked his shoes off and curled
up behind him, pressing his chest against Harry's back and wrapping his arm
around Harry's narrow waist.
He fell asleep though he couldn't recall hearing Tom's breath evening out as
well.
===============================================================================
It was music that woke him, surprisingly.
Harry didn't recognize it at first, and it actually confused him and had him
reaching for a knife. The blade and his eyes glimmered in the darkness, his
blurry sight aimed at the window where light was outside, illuminating his face
weakly. There were actual lights in the darkness outside, a foreign sight to
him.
'Music,' Harry finally murmured to himself, startling a bit when he heard a hum
somewhere next to him. Tom was laying on his back behind him, arms folded
underneath his head, staring at the ceiling.
He needed some air, possibly some distance between the two of them would be
nice too.
'I'm going outside.'
Tom hummed again, distractedly. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to
Harry and Harry huffed in frustration, pushing himself out of bed and putting
his shoes on.
'Put on a jacket, will you?' Tom drawled and Harry paused to look at him in
mild interest. 'It's chilly.'
'How thoughtful of you,' Harry sarcastically commented. Tom's attention was
finally fully on him and Tom shrugged.
'I just don't feel dragging you behind me if you get sick.'
Figured.
Asshole.
'Don't worry, I can handle myself,' Harry snapped. Still he snatched Tom's worn
leather jacket from where it had been thrown over a chair in the far corner and
put it on and left without saying a word.
When he got outside his eyes were wide with fascination. There were lanterns,
the sky was clear and the moon shone bright. For a moment he just stood there,
inhaling clean air and reveling in the fact that he was alone in this vibrant
town.
The same little girl from before giggled and ran past him and he blinked at
her, deciding that following her wouldn't hurt. As he trailed behind her,
trying not to be obvious, the music became louder and more and more
people gathered around, forming a crowd moving in odd ways Harry couldn't quite
place until he got closer.
They were dancing.
People were actually dancing to music, underneath lanterns. It was something
that Harry wouldn't have cared for in the past, but now he was utterly
entranced by the simple sight. It was something he hadn't thought to ever see
again.
People were laughing and talking, not one of them sparing him an unfriendly
glance as he walked around and brushed his fingers over paper lanterns in
wonder, questioning to himself if this was real. For a moment he could just let
go of all the problems between Tom and himself and be grateful for being here.
It was like a dream.
When he looked to his right he even saw a man selling ice cream.
'Mister?'
It was the little girl. Her tiny hand reached out for Harry's, and Harry stared
at her in mild shock. Normally parents wouldn't allow their kids to talk to
strangers; especially nowadays it was dangerous to let your kids run off. There
was no more police around to try and find your child when it got kidnapped,
after all.
The cross around her neck glimmered, and she had an innocent smile on her face.
Harry felt himself relaxing – why had he tensed up? It was just a girl – and
his eyebrows rose when she grabbed his hand.
'Can I…' she blushed and tugged at Harry's hand, until he hesitantly bent down
to sit on his haunches. He studied her face for a moment; her black hair up in
pigtails, face round and adorable. The Asian girl couldn't be over 10 years
old. 'Can I dance with you, please? You look so pretty and lonely!'
Pretty and lonely. What a strange way to describe him.
Flabbergasted, Harry just nodded and the girl practically bounced around him,
allowing her to lead him into the crowd. Eventually he started smiling and
spinning her around, having some difficulty allowing his body to move freely to
the rhythm of the music until he just relaxed and let go. He didn't know how
long he stood there, bouncing and jumping around with a little girl – Cho, she
had told him, her name was Cho and she was indeed 10 years old but she was
turning 11 in 9 months and that was something she appeared to be very proud of
– but he felt light. He felt… he felt like an actual teenage boy. He chuckled
when she tried to get him to spin as well but decided to indulge her and spun
for her. He heard her giggle and smiled as well, grabbing her little hands
while the music finally went through his entire body, spreading like a fire.
He paused however when he saw Tom standing in the distance, leaning against a
building and talking to a pretty girl. Almost as if on cue, Tom glanced at
Harry and allowed the pretty girl to lead him to the crowd as well, still
staring at Harry as she asked him to dance with her.
It was exactly like last time, when Harry had seen Tom talking to a girl after
Harry had gone out without him. Jealousy flared up in his chest and he felt his
eyebrows knit together in a tight scowl. Tom's eyes just kept boring into him,
even as he placed a hand on the girl's waist and started guiding her. Bastard.
He knew what it did to Harry.
The music slowed down and Cho hugged Harry around his waist, smiling up at him
almost shyly. He started swaying them back and forth, but he could feel the
careless happiness slowly fading.
Tom's eyes stared from over the shoulder of the girl he was slow-dancing with,
cradling her head resting on his chest but his full attention aimed to Harry.
Harry's grip tightened on the little girl's hand and he twirled her around,
hearing her giggle and seeing the lights reflected in her eyes. Cho looked
happy and her hair danced around her face, looking more like a child than
before.
Still, Harry could not focus on it too much. Not anymore.
It was like his bubble was completely bursted.
Perhaps it was the singer's sad voice as well, or the sound of that guitar. He
did not know – it just had been so long since Harry had had the pleasure of
actually hearing music and he had never known how much music enriched life
until it had been taken away. It moved him, made him kneel down when she tugged
at his sleeve and pressed a kiss on his cheek. She giggled and he watched her
run off to her mommy, probably. She disappeared into the crowd.
'But_I_feel_warmth_on_my_skin,_the_stars_have_all_unwind…_The_wind_has_blown
but_now_I_know_that_tomorrow_will_be_kinder…'
Tom released the girl he had been dancing with and this time ignored her pleads
for him to continue dancing with her, walking until he stood in front of Harry.
Harry gazed up at him. His mouth did not feel dry and he was not enticed by
Tom's beauty – instead he tried to see through his skin, tried to see what it
was that made Harry feel this way. So jaded yet so loved. So safe yet so
threatened.
Tom lifted his hand for Harry to take and he did. His fingers slotted perfectly
in the space between Tom's, his hand rested on Tom's shoulder and Tom's hand
rested on Harry's shoulder in return.
Not on his waist. Tom saw Harry as an equal.
'We need to talk,' Harry murmured, following Tom's lead, ignoring the couple of
stares they received. They were safe. No one seemed to hate homosexuals here
and Tom and Harry would kill them before they would even consider attacking to
be an option.
'Tomorrow will be kinder, I know I've seen it before...'
'I know,' Tom ackowledged. Now that the haze was lifted from Harry's eyes, now
that the short period of blissful calmth had passed they had no other choice.
There was still a future they had to think of. They couldn't continue living in
the present without taking things of the past in consideration, in order to
make the future work. His eyes lingered on Tom's lips but he did not dare to
kiss him – not wanting to provoke anyone, he rested his head on Tom's chest. To
anyone else it would've seemed as an innocent, loving gesture but it was not to
Harry. He wanted to hear Tom's heartbeat, focus on it, compare it with his own.
He was fascinated with Tom's body now that he had seen it fall apart under his
gaze.
'I'm still the same,' Tom murmured in an amused tone, his hand squeezing
Harry's. Harry said nothing in return because he had no idea how to reply to a
comment like that when it held so much truth and dishonesty. He was still the
Tom Harry knew, but his body was not. It was different. Harry saw it in a
different light now.
He knew they were surrounded by people but in this moment it felt like the
world solely existed out of Tom and the music. It was a sad song, and the
singer's voice often wavered – with emotion Harry reckoned, everyone here was
suffering from heavy depressions and whatnot – but it also voiced hope for
things that would never be. Tomorrow would not be kinder. A brighter day would
never come because this moment was going to be as good as it would get.
It was in Harry's, perhaps childlike, belief that this would not last though.
It were people like the Order that would eventually gain the upper hand and
build up something more than this small village. A town. Slowly a city. A
country, some day – maybe even a continent. Harry thought that the world would
never be rid of zombies completely, but they could be contained. People like
the Order had weapons the Brotherhood and zombies did not.
Humanity. The ability to look past stereotypes, their own beliefs and the
willingness to help and grow intellectually.
Faith. Pure, honest faith.
Tom's fingers thread through Harry's hair and Harry closed his eyes, his face
pressing deeper into the crook of Tom's neck. What did Tom look and smell like,
he wondered, before all of this started? Somehow Harry could imagine him only
in suits. Some light cologne, maybe.
'What did you like to drink before all of this started?' Harry wondered out
loud.
'Tea. Coffee – mostly tea though.'
'How predictable,' Harry murmured, a small stab at what Tom had commented a
couple of hours ago. Tom laughed this time and Harry closed his eyes, enjoying
the sound of it.
'You?' Harry's eyebrows knitted together. It took him longer than he wanted to
admit to come up with an answer to that – these years he had known that home
had been safe, perfect, but the details… It startled him. How time had passed
and robbed him of the small things – would it, as it would take more years away
from Harry's life, claim Harry's entire memory as well? What would be left of
his mom in a few years?
'I don't-'
'RUN! THEY'RE HERE!'
Tom's eyes widened for just a split second in surprise, his nails digging into
Harry's shirt. The music stopped abruptly and people started screaming and
Harry's head whipped around, his shoulders tensing up. He stumbled when people
started pushing and pulling at him and he couldn't see much past the crowd, but
what he was aware of was a loud noise above his head. They were plunged into
complete darkness, bodies knocking into Harry and breaking them up.
He looked up to see a helicopter – familiar hooded figures were cutting ropes
with people hanging from them. Harry didn't understand at first, watching as
someone fell from the rope and his first instinct was to check if that person
was even still alive, but then he stumbled backwards when that same person
reached out and started ripping a girl apart with his bare teeth. Harry's heart
froze in his chest when it began ripping out her intestines.
It was the singer. Her voice suddenly wasn't as pretty as it had been when she
had been singing now that it was tainted with pained cries and begs and
delirious whimpers. He aimed his eyes back up and dread filled his body,
understanding the situation. Everything had just been so good and nice and
safe.
Until the Brotherhood started throwing down zombies from the sky.
Everything was a complete chaos and Harry ran around blindly, pushing people
away and looking for Tom.
'Tom!' he screamed, his heart hammering in his chest. 'Tom!'
People were trying their best to protect their loved ones. Harry could see
people clutching each other's hands, heard them scream when one of them got
caught. It should've been heartbreaking but Harry didn't care for it at all.
He needed to get to Tom. Now.
Harry yelped in surprise when one got dropped in front of him and he stabbed it
in the forehead before twisting its neck, blood raining down on him. He
couldn't see who was human and who was pretending to be.
Harry pushed people away and tripped over a dead body, cursing and trying to
get up. He yelled when something grabbed his ankle and he kicked his feet out –
in the flashing lights that came from the helicopter he saw a zombie staring up
at him, its eyeball hanging only from string-like nerves from its socket, one
corner of its mouth tattered and torn. Harry's heavy boot connected with its
forehead a couple of times before it cracked and it moaned in pain and released
the grip on Harry's ankle, giving him enough time to wedge his knife in the
side of its skull. It didn't move anymore.
He scrambled back to his feet and ran into the crowd, trying to see his lover
towering over the crowd like Tom normally did but he couldn't. Another body
knocked into his again and he stumbled, turning around and seeing the girl Tom
had been dancing with staring at him with scared eyes for just a split second
before she ran away again.
'Tom!' Harry yelled. 'To-' Someone grabbed his elbow and Harry cursed, spinning
around and almost slamming his knife into Tom's chest. Tom's face was covered
in blood and his hair was a mess and in this brief moment, when his eyes were
so wild and his grip so icy cold, it was almost as if Tom was one of those
zombies. Maybe it were only a few split seconds but it seemed like screams and
the noises ebbed away; Harry was lost, felt like he was losing his mind in this
seemingly endless bloodbath. He wondered if he looked even remotively similar
to the mess Tom was right now.
He wished he could feel relief. But this was far from over.
He gripped Tom's hand without even thinking twice - it was slick, so slick with
blood - and they ran through the crowd. Harry's heart constricted painfully in
his chest when girl that had been dancing with Tom was now brutally ripped
apart – three zombies were feasting on her limbs. She was still alive and
screaming for help.
But there was nothing they could do, anymore.
Tom shoved and pushed through people, things were exploding, fires were
starting, people were wailing. There were too many things going on and all
Harry was aware of was the security of Tom's hand and he knew in that moment
that if he would let go of Tom, something would get to them both.
Tom ran into a direction, but Harry had already come up with a plan. He tugged
at Tom's hand and Tom immediately turned around and started following Harry
instead. Harry would later on marvel at the trust Tom had put into him. Trust
that he wouldn't have put into Harry a few months ago.
Harry ran into a house and locked the door behind him, hearing a woman cry and
a child scream in front of it. He gripped Tom's hand and they ran further into
the house, hiding themselves in a cupboard underneath the stairs. They could
barely fit and Harry slid down the wall, cradling his head in his hands.
And it was gone like that. This small place of goodness, destroyed by some
crazies dropping off zombies from the sky. Harry thought that these men weren't
just at all. Not in the slightest bit – they were vicious, cruel, ugly.
'We're going to stay here until morning,' Tom whispered harshly, and Harry
nodded. He felt Tom's knees brush his own when the older man sat down as well.
Without thinking he moved to sit on Tom's thighs, so that Tom could stretch his
legs and so he could feel the secure warmth of Tom's skin. Tom's arms wrapped
around him and Harry hid his face in his neck. Was this what growing up was
like? Harry didn't know, but he suddenly felt old, much older than he really
was. He decided that whenever Tom said something or someone was evil or
dangerous, he would never doubt it again.
His arms wound around his boyfriend's neck and he held him close. The smell of
blood was still so prominent, making him feel lightheaded, but all he could
truly focus on was pressing his body against Tom's to ensure he was
still there. Too many times had Harry thought he had lost Tom. He didn't want
to feel like this anymore.
'Need you now,' Tom murmured, nipping and sucking at his skin. Not biting down
like he usually did. Harry nodded numbly, fumbling a bit with his pants. He
needed confirmation. Needed to be ensured they were both okay.
Tom unzipped his fly and released his cock and Harry pushed his pants down his
thighs, not enough to be capable of spreading them but enough to expose his
ass. He cried out when Tom instantly pushed two fingers inside of him, his own
manhood twitching.
Harry closed his eyes tightly and sobbed. He just needed an embrace. He was so
shaken up. He needed to be loved, he needed to feel Tom – needed reassurance.
Anything.
Tom added a third finger, allowing Harry briefly to adjust to it before a
fourth and then he pulled away again, leaving Harry's entrance bare and aching
to be filled. Harry would never understand how easily he got so needy.
'Bend over, I'm going to fuck you from behind,' Tom murmured. There was barely
space but Harry did as told anyway, too emotional to protest.
He could've lost Tom tonight.
Tom slid inside of him and Harry whined in pain, the tight ring of his ass
fluttering, feeling Tom press a hand against his mouth where he bit down at the
tender flesh of it in order to keep from making too much noise. His asshole was
gripping him tight, desperate to hold him inside, hold him where Harry needed
him most. Tom instantly started thrusting, his chest pressing against Harry's
back. It was entirely fucked up – Harry could hear people screaming and
fighting for their lives yet all he cared for was Tom fucking into him, the
slight burn only an addition to the almost desperate need going through him.
Tom's free arm curled around Harry's torso, pulling him close and cursing.
Harry thought he felt something wet press up against his sides – blood. It
smelt like blood and they were both drenched in it.
Tom was pistoning his thick cock in and out of Harry's ass in a frenzy and
Harry mewled, arching back into the male's thrusts, offering his ass up, the
slippery pump and retreat of Tom's dick inside him so dirty, the flesh hot and
slippery, determined.
Harry moans were muffled, whimpered words of encouragement going unheard. He
loved the feeling of that big manhood pounding into his willing, tight asshole,
but most of all he just loved it because it was Tom's. The thrusts were never
quite even, always erratic and frenzied because they didn't have time for
teasing. They had almost lost each other, again.
Tom's hand sliped from his mouth and curled around Harry's cock, jerking him
off harshly, nipping at his ears.
'You're taking that cock so good, sweetheart,' Tom murmured into his ear, his
words slurred and filthy and Harry pressed himself more into Tom's hips. Sweat
rolled down his face. 'You're so good to me.'
Harry mewed again and reached behind himself, kissing Tom hungrily on the mouth
and tasting blood there. He was starting to come – he could feel it building
up, felt himself twitching and shivering. Just one flick of Tom's wrist and he
was done, coming so hard he nearly passed out and forced Tom to kiss him again,
to swallow his cries.
Tom came not much later, holding Harry in his lap and filling him up with come
again. Harry whined pitifully – Tom never did pull out any time soon after they
both came. As if he wanted to keep Harry full with his come.
Harry slumped against Tom's chest and let himself be caressed; Tom was vaguely
murmuring something in his hair. He couldn't quite understand but he thought he
heard the words loveand fucking much. His mind couldn't find a way to string
those words together in a proper sentence so he just remained there, Tom's body
serving as his bed and his own serving as a blanket to Tom.
Harry reckoned they both wouldn't find a perfect fit like one another anymore.
===============================================================================
When Harry woke up he instantly pushed himself up, eyes wide in the darkness
the cupboard brought upon them and hyperaware of where he was and why he was
there. Vivid images of last night came back to him, making his head ache and
his hands reach out to nothing in particular, finding them clutching a piece of
fabric. What had happened outside? Was the Brotherhood still out there and if
so, how were Tom and Harry suppose to leave? He already had the need to pee -
he couldn't stay here forever. He felt his body tense and cursed under his
breath, shifting and still not letting go.
'Relax,' Tom murmured and Harry's head whipped around, seeing Tom's eyes stare
up at him in the weak lights poking through the cracks. He relaxed his fingers
and realized he had been fisting Tom's shirt – he could feel his skin through
it. Tom's expression wasn't unreadable: he looked kind of sleepy. He looked too
relaxed for the situation.
'Tom?' he whispered, needing to ground himself somehow. He needed information,
but he dreaded to ask it of him. He was unsure if information that could make
Tom look so relaxed would have the same effect on him. Tom sometimes seemed to
be a complete stranger to him.
Tom shook his head but understood anyway. 'The screams died down eventually.
There were a lot of gunshots but it's been quiet for a long time– it should be
safe now.'
Harry opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. His legs ached
because they had been in the same position for such a long amount of time and
he was thirsty, but he was still alive and that was more than apparently a lot
of people could say. He had a hard time imagining the vibrant place of last
night in ruins, and the mental images he came up with were sickening. The
thought of that pretty girl Tom had been dancing with came to mind again, how
she had been torn apart only seconds after Harry had looked her in the eye.
That could've been him instead.
Tom and Harry were used to zombie attacks. But they've never been a part of
such a big, planned one with so many victims; Harry vaguely wondered what it
had been like in the major cities, when the virus had just broken out and no
one had known how dangerous it had been just yet. It could've been so easily
contained, too, if everyone had acted the same like the Order had last night...
He shifted and Tom hissed, as though he was in pain. Harry blinked at that and
touched the same spot on Tom's arm again, feeling Tom's fingers grip his wrist
tightly and keeping him from prodding too much. He was wounded. It felt wet,
like it was bleeding and needed stitches.
'You're hurt,' Harry whispered. Tom grunted and shifted, releasing Harry's
wrist again.
'It's fine,' he ground out, and then, his voice somewhat gentler as if noting
that Harry did nothing to deserve his foul mood, 'Nothing I can't handle.'
Harry decided not to push it too much and he bit his bottom lip, slowly
nodding. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wondered if it would be safe to
leave their hiding place. He couldn't hear much from the outside world, just
like Tom had said, but was silence better than screaming and gunshots? Was it a
better indication of safety when in reality zombies simply didn't speak and
only screamed when they'd been hungry for too long and were aggressive?
'This is how they took over other places,' Tom murmured suddenly, snapping
Harry out of his thoughts, 'they destroyed blockages, stole their weapons. Made
people believe that they'd only be safe with the Brotherhood.'
Harry got how the Brotherhood gained the upper hand, honestly. Like he said
before, people simply looked for something to cling onto. Their spirits were
already broken from losing so many loved ones and everyone was so traumatized
that Harry doubted there was someone out there who didn't suffer from mental
disorders. It was so much easier to follow up orders when you no longer thought
thinking for yourself could make a difference in the world. In a twisted way,
Grindelwald was a genius. Harry was certain that if the world had still been
normal, he wouldn't have gotten this far. He seemed to have lost the very
essence of religion, the purpose of it, completely.
If he hadn't he wouldn't have attacked a place of so much goodness. Vibrance.
Life.
'But they're not.'
It was stupid to say that because it was so obvious but Harry supposed he never
had been a very subtle person. Tom's hand reached out and brushed Harry's hair
from his eyes and Harry looked at him again. The male was staring at him with a
strange expression in his eyes, and it made Harry shift. He didn't know that
look at all and he was unsure if he liked it. He looked tired, but in the same
way so very awake. He looked like he was hurt physically though other than that
wound on Tom's arm Harry couldn't find a thing that was wrong with him.
'Tom?'
'How do you know you love someone, Harry?'
Harry blinked before he reached forward and grabbed Tom's hand, guiding it to
his own chest right over Tom's heart. The question was strange. Not at all
unexpected, however. He had the feeling Tom had never had someone to truly love
and even then he had probably said it never out loud. Relief flooded over him
and he closed his eyes temporarily.
'You have to feel it here. And if you feel it long enough there you'll know it
up here too.' Harry's lips briefly brushed over Tom's temple, his hands sliding
down Tom's chest to settle at his waist, holding him close for a brief moment.
He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.
He could feel it in his heart too, if he focused on it. Thinking he lost Tom
again… it had gotten to him. He didn't think that having sex at that moment had
been appropriate but it had been so much more than sex. It had told him that
Tom was really there. He hugged Tom's head to his chest and took another deep
breath just to steady himself. He knew they had to go outside.
But he dreaded to see what was left outside.
Tom's arms wound around him too and they just held each other for a moment
before deciding to head outside. When Tom was outside, he instantly ripped a
strap of cloth off his shirt and bound it around his wound, obscuring it from
view.
It burnt and sent tingles through the entire limb and Tom could feel his
eyebrows knitting together in a dark scowl.
===============================================================================
Harry's expectations were nothing compared to what King's Cross looked like
right now.
Houses weren't entirely burnt down, though there was still smoke coming off
them. He could still spot small fires somewhere in the distance, people running
around with buckets of water. The ground was littered with small belongings –
he could spot a broken watch, a shoe amongst the blood spatters and gore.
It was the smell that got to him.
The smell made him gag and bring a hand up to cover up his nose. It smelt
of death all around, burnt plastic and flesh and blood and rotting. Some of the
lanterns flickered pitifully and when Harry looked to his left he saw the ice
cream cart was pushed over, white melted ice cream leaking from it.
The music had made place for yelled commands and cries of pain and sobs every
now and then. Tom's fingers wound around his wrist, holding him tightly when
Harry made to walk to the large white sheet with lumps underneath. It should've
anchored him down to the reality of the situation, that they both did this to
King's Cross, but all it served to do was make Harry grow irritated.
Therefore, he ignored it. He started walking toward the white sheet, watching
as members of the Order poured gasoline over it. He flinched when the flames
started and another wail tore through the sky and he paused when he saw Cho's
little hand clutching a cross, peeking out from underneath the sheet.
Harry suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
He had been holding that hand last night. She was still a little girl and all
Harry had cared for was finding a grown man last night, who could've fended for
himself whereas she couldn't have. It dawned in on Harry, for the first time in
years, how wrong Tom and Harry had both been to even think coming here was a
good idea.
These people had invited them in their town. These people had offered them a
home and a fair deal.
And this is what came from it.
The flames hadn't reached Cho not quite yet and Harry numbly, almost
robotically, bent down and took the necklace from her hand. He looked over his
shoulder when the woman cried again and saw she resembled Cho – without even
thinking twice he walked over to her.
'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice cracking with deep regret.
Pretty and lonely.
The words rung in his head yet he could only apply them to this woman who
stared at him with pained, bloodshot eyes. When Harry glanced down at her he
realized she looked sickly pale but he was uncertain if that was because she
was sick, or because she felt sick right now. Harry understood the need to burn
the bodies to ashes – if the Order wouldn't, 90 percent of those bodies would
rise again and destroy what was left of this place. But that didn't mean this
woman could see that.
She was kneeling on the ground so Harry kneeled as well, watching as she just
kept staring at him with wide brown eyes. There was dirt caked to her face as
well – Harry didn't even want to know how he looked himself. Harry clasped the
necklace around her neck, his eyes lingering on hers. He vaguely remembered
Ginny having done the same and his fingers briefly brushed over the cross
around his neck.
'Harry.'
He broke eye contact with her and looked at Tom. Tom had torn off a strap off
his shirt and had bound it around his arm, keeping it out of view. Maybe he had
stitched it himself already. Harry didn't know how long he had sat here,
staring at this woman. Undoubtedly intimidating her.
Harry nodded tightly and got up. His legs shook a bit and he didn't reach for a
knife this time, when she gripped his wrist.
'Thank you,' she rasped. Harry just nodded again and started walking to Tom. He
couldn't even figure out where he wanted to begin with talking to Tom about
this all. What was there left to say or do? Maybe the best would be to just
grab their things and leave this place. Try to move on again.
Harry shouldn't have been surprised at seeing the members of the Order of the
Phoenix behind Tom. They all wore the same white marks – a cross with wings,
Harry figured – on their shirts and their eyes were aimed mostly at Tom,
judging him. Harry's weary eyes slid over their faces, and then back to Tom,
who stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.
The girl with the pink hair was yelling and screaming, her eyes red and her
cheeks wet with her tears. She abruptly gripped a knife, charging at Tom who
instantly grabbed his gun. Kingsley was quick to stop her.
'Let go!' she screamed. 'Let go! This is all his fault!'
Harry gripped Tom's hand and stood before him, the need to protect him
overcoming him even if Tom was almost twice his height.

'They're just stories, Tonks! There's nothing you can do!'
Harry's grip tightened. He could've understood if they would've just blamed the
pair for this mess. Truth to be told Tom and Harry were responsible, weren't
they? The Brotherhood had been looking for them. They had been fine with the
Order of the Phoenix, probably, because they served the same God. The only
differences had been that the Order was only violent to zombies.
'What stories?' he asked softly.
'You monster!' the girl named Tonks continued, 'they're looking for you, you
could've saved all these people!'
'There's nothing he could've done, if you want to put the blame on anyone then
just put it on me because it's my fault the Brotherhood is chasing us to begin
with!' Harry snapped back at her. The look in her eyes wavered before she shook
her head and choked out a bitter laugh. She was losing it. It strangely
reminded Harry of Tom, when he had found Harry last night... Come to think of
it, why had his mouth tasted of blood?
'You don't even know, do you? You don't even know what he is.'
The members of the Order glared at her, willing her to shut up, but she didn't
seem to care.
'Tonks-'
'He has the antidote! The cure!' She wildly interrupted a middle aged man with
red hair, her own whipping around her face when she turned to look at him.
'Enough, Nymphadora!' A man with ugly scars on his face approached her, his
cane making soft noises every time it connected to the ground. He was limping,
still Harry found him intimidating; his blue eye (he was missing one) cold and
his hair blonde and shaggy. Tom's arm curled possessively around Harry's waist
– did he actually growl? – and Harry pressed himself more into Tom's side, hand
hovering above a knife hidden in his waistband. 'Attacking these two won't make
Remus come back and you know it!'
Tonks released a soft sob and wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her
face into Kingsley's chest who patted her back.
Harry's eyes stared at her, ready to strike if she would start attacking again,
but it never came. She just remained there, suddenly looking so much smaller.
Her knife dropped to the ground with a soft thunk.
'You.' Both Tom and Harry rose their chins defiantly the moment the one eyed
man stood before them.
'Not you. The tall one,' the man said dismissively to Harry. Harry bristled and
felt his cheeks heat up in frustration, scowling. 'Come with me. We need to
talk.'
'You can do it right here,' Harry snapped. Tom's eyebrow rose. 'This is about
me too. I'm with him. Either you talk to the both of us or you don't talk to
him at all.'
The man snorted. 'You're just a shitty kid, you think you can order me around?'
Harry thought he heard the redheaded woman gasp Alastor!, but he couldn't be
too sure. He just kept glaring up in his eye, seeing his own face reflected in
it and he was briefly shocked at the amount of blood clinging to his skin. When
he moved too much it would fall off his skin in thick, dry, brown flakes.
'Well you're just a shitty old man, think you can boss me around?' Harry
retorted. He was surprised when the man named Alastor snorted and clasped a
hand around his shoulder, hearing Tom growl again. His nails dug into Harry's
hip.
'Fine. But I'm gonna shoot yer head off if you get in the way.'
Just like that. Like Harry's life was disposable.
Tom snarled at him and was about to make a comment but Harry just pressed a
hand against his chest, a soft plea for him to hold his tongue. Normally Harry
would be in Tom's position. Normally he'd already be yelling every obscenity
known to man. But the secrecy, the confusion... Harry needed to know things. No
matter how bad his body shook with the need to harm.
'Why do you think he has the antidote?' Harry asked icily, finding the idea
alone preposterous. If there had been an antidote the world wouldn't have been
in such a pile of shit, why couldn't these people see that as well? It was
clear to him that these people obviously believed it to be true but this Tonks
person had outed it, like it had been some sort of secret. They had discussed
this behind Tom's back.
And then it dawned in on Harry. If the Order thought this to be true, then they
weren't just 'good' people. They were 'good' people with a goal - to gain the
antidote and thereby the upper hand. More control meant more people drawn to
the safety that accompanied it. They hadn't wanted Tom and Harry to stick
around to hunt for them. They had wanted Tom to stay until he gave them the
antidote.
The Brotherhood had just been more direct. If Tom were to die then the antidote
would've disappeared and the zombies could've continued purifying the world.
Tom had known this and had wanted to use them, play along, until he got what he
needed. 
Harry had been left out of all of this.
To his surprise it was Tom to answer.
'The virus was created with the purpose to build the perfect army,' Tom spat at
Alastor's feet and the older man sneered at him, while Harry turned to look at
his boyfriend. He looked personally offended. 'No God involved at all. Just
humanity and science.' 
Fair enough, Harry had expected so much but why would they think Tom of all
people had the antidote? Harry knew a lot of people knew of the both of them -
they had kind of built up a name with the way they constantly survived against
all odds. He had heard of the stories about them, most of them being a load of
bullshit. Were they so desperate that they started believing in those lies as
well?
'What do you mean?' Harry asked. It wasn't a direct answer to his question but
Tom was getting to it, at least – explaining things that Harry needed to know
in order to understand the answer. It wasn't like Tom to be vague, not now.
'The virus makes your cells regenerate very quickly, makes you heal very fast.
Unfortunately that also means that the brain cells get regenerated too quickly
to build up information – if that goes on for too long something just snaps,
just like that –' Tom snapped his fingers and Harry jumped a bit at the sharp
noise, '- and you won't even remember your own name. You'll turn into something
that is dependent of its own basic instincts.'
It was the first time he had gotten such a specific answer. He had always known
it was bad - goddammit Harry had lost his family because of it - but he had
never heard this. He supposed it could make sense though Harry hadn't really
been taught biology at school just yet. He would've started his first year of
high school after the summer the virus broke out.
'How do you know all of this?' Harry asked. Tom looked down at him, before he
averted his eyes again. It was the first question he left unanswered in a very
long time.
'Tell him,' Alastor snapped. Tom scowled at him darkly but did as told. Harry
vaguely wondered why he would listen to this man.
'My father was the one to create the virus. He killed my little brother while
using more and more of his DNA and cells to experiment, and after he was done
he started using me for the antidote.'
Harry's eyes widened in shock.
Tom's aggressive reactions when Harry tried asking him about his family. What
Tom had said about his little brother on Harry's birthday.
By the time he died there wasn't much left of his face.
The rest of the Order didn't seem surprised and Harry reckoned that was because
they had already known. Underneath all the shock he felt betrayed somehow, at
having these strangers know about this all while Harry himself,
Tom's lover, hadn't. Of course these people had done their research and knew
these things. But Tom should've told Harry, goddammit.
Harry felt betrayed and for a moment he just couldn't say a thing.
'You're Tom Riddle,' the girl with the pink hair finally said, and Harry turned
to her, almost forgotten she was there at all. The tears were now falling
freely from her eyes again, 'you're the only one test subject who didn't mutate
or went berserk.' Tom dragged his eyes up and the expression in them was
absolutely murderous. Harry's throat tightened up and he looked at him. 'Your
blood could save millions of people – the antidote is right there, in your
veins. Your DNA merged with that of them, we saw the test results. We know what
happened with your brother - he didn't die naturally, they had to put a bullet
through his head!'
By the time he died there wasn't much left of his face.
It slowly came to Harry.
Tom's constant need to kill. His need to fornicate – procreation, Harry
reminded himself – and his need to feed. The need to keep what was his – Harry
– safe, untouched.
Tom's entire life was based around those basic instincts. Everyone's lives had
been these past 4 years, mostly, so maybe that was why Harry hadn't noticed
this before. But Tom's bloodlust was bigger than anyone's. Tom's sexual
cravings were – the way he didn't pull out and had that fascination with
keeping his come inside of Harry even if Harry couldn't get pregnant. The way
he got aggressive when Harry got in his personal space or in the driver's seat
without being told to.
The way he had looked when he lost Harry in the crowd. Harry would never forget
that look in his eyes. It had been borderline insane. The taste of blood in his
mouth... Oh God. That was it, wasn't it? Harry thought he was going to be sick.
It hadn't been Tom's own blood on his lips at all. The madness had gotten to
Tom.
He had been eating.
But what also dawned in on Harry was the possibility of an antidote.
He could've saved Harry's parents. Moms, dads, kids, lovers. He could've saved
them all.
But he let them die.
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
The way Tom drawled the words was too careless and Tom's face was a mask of
indifference. Harry's stomach lurched when he looked at those lips. He had
kissed those lips right after Tom had been doing that.
So that's why Tom sometimes gave Harry his portions of food and never seemed to
lose weight.
'Those are all myths. I know what my father did, I know what my brother died
for and I know what I have given my own blood for. It is not my blood that
makes me strong, it's my knowledge and my strength and Harry.'
He was lying. He was a liar and Harry hated him and his head was spinning as he
remembered all the strange things about Tom he had never questioned before.
He could've saved mom. Why hadn't he?
The girl opened her mouth again, but eventually she closed it and looked away
with an angry look in her eyes.
'Come, Harry. We're leaving.'
Tom held his hand out to Harry and Harry took it almost automatically. He
didn't want to act like a child, not in front of all those people. All he could
think of now was that these were hands that hadn't just killed out of necessity
- they had killed for pleasure. They had ripped skin apart and those lips of
his? They had been stretched over skin before those white teeth of his had
ripped chunks out of it.
Once they were out of view Harry shoved Tom away.
'Don't even think about it,' he simply hissed when Tom reached out to him
again. Tom's face hardened.
'Fine. Be like that, ungrateful brat,' Tom hissed in return like there was
nothing wrong. Like this was some small stupid fight. Harry paused and before
he even knew it he was charging forward, fists balled at his
sides. Ungrateful? How many times had he saved Tom's ass? How many times had he
brought danger upon himself just to ensure Tom's safety? He punched Tom square
in the jaw but didn't manage to do anything else; Tom gripped his wrist so
tightly Harry could swear he could feel his bones grind together.
He grit his teeth and snarled at him.
'Go right ahead. Break it,' he dared him. Tom's eyes narrowed and his nails dug
into tender skin. 'In the end you're nothing better than your father, killing
people that easily and -'
The slap came unexpected, and it made Harry stumble on his feet and snapped him
out of his angry state all at once. His eyes grew wide and his cheek instantly
began stinging. It was nothing compared to the physical pain Harry had endured
these past years. He has had it all – the infected wounds, broken bones, split
lips and bruises. He could handle a slap; it was absolutely nothing.
But it was the first sort of pain Tom had ever inflicted upon Harry on purpose.
Without pleasure following it anyway.
'Never compare me to that man,' Tom said to him, his eyes dark, eyebrows drawn
together. Harry slowly lifted his head again, lips trembling. He surprised the
both of them by barking out a small laugh. His cheek ached with it and he could
feel a bruise forming already.
He felt hollow. Absolutely hollow. The creatures he had been running from? He
had been killing them by hiding behind one of their own.
Tom is a liar. He is a liar. And why did he keep Harry around? Did he decide
it'd be fun indulging Harry by running from things that wouldn't be capable of
harming him at all?
'Or what?' Harry dared him. It suddenly just felt like he had nothing left to
lose. 'Tom you're one of them! Don't think I didn't taste the blood when you
kissed me last night!' Harry should've been concerned about how he was outing
the nature of their relationship, their sexualities. He should've been thinking
clearly. But he couldn't. He felt sick and jaded and betrayed and used.
'Don't push me, Harry,' Tom growled. His voice was low, like a growl, and his
blue eyes were mad. Absolutely mad. He was losing it again. Harry wondered what
would happen if he'd push that temper. Would Tom kill him and then eat him as
well?
'Forget it.'
He turned around and started walking away. Most of all, he felt heartbreak. He
loved this man. He supposed that if he hadn't, it wouldn't have hurt this much.
He needed to be alone and think.
'So you're just going to walk away?' Tom called after he had taken a couple of
steps. Harry shrugged and briefly looked over his shoulder.
'It seems that that is how you like to handle your shit, isn't it? Violence and
walking away. Great job, Tom. Truly. Your dad would be proud of you.'
'You son of a bitch,' Tom sneered. 'You filthy – you have no right of comparing
me to that man! I am nothing like him!'
'You sure do a shitty job at proving me, Tom!' Harry whirled around again and
Tom shoved him in the chest, making him stumble. Harry continued to stand,
pushing Tom in return. It barely made a difference.
'I don't have to prove you anything! I owe you nothing!'
'Then why are you still with me? Just go, then! If you don't want to be a part
of my life then just get the hell out of it and leave. Me. Alone!'
The words were out before Harry realized what he had said and his breaths came
out in pants, his chest heaving up and down, his hands and lips quivering. A
tense silence fell upon them and Harry realized that everyone could've heard
what he had said. From up this close, Harry could see the betrayal in Tom's
eyes, the surprise. Harry already regret what he had said and he could tell Tom
did as well, but they were both far too proud to admit it.
'Is that what you want?' Tom finally asked, quietly, though his voice had never
held this much emotion. Anger. Hurt.
Harry said nothing in return.
'Is that what you want, Harry?' Tom repeated. 'Do you want me to leave you here
with these people?'
'What I want never makes a difference, you always do whatever you want,' Harry
said icily. He had to angle his head up for him and Tom had to look down on
him.
Tom always looked down on Harry.
Bitter resentment bubbled up in Harry's chest and he took a deep breath, his
nails digging into the palms of his hands.
'Go, if you really want.'
'Don't think I won't,' Tom threatened him. Still, he didn't move away from
Harry.
'Then what are you waiting for, huh?' Harry's voice trembled and he felt
himself choking up. He had been taught throughout these years that Tom meant
safety. Security. It was like his body wanted to lean forward instinctively,
wrap himself up in Tom's arms to hide. Tom had always been so intelligent. He
had always known what to do. It was so cruel that Tom was right now the problem
and that Harry couldn't ask guidance of him at all.
'I guess that whatever it was, it certainly wasn't worth it.' It was an
extremely low blow and it was horribly hurtful, making Harry's heart constrict
in his chest and he bit his lip to keep from saying anything else. Tom stared
at him and looked like he wanted to add something else but Harry just turned
around and started walking away, hurt gnawing at his chest.
'No, I guess it wasn't,' he murmured to himself. He didn't look back, and Tom
turned around and walked away with an angry scowl on his face.
***** See They Don't Give A Fuck About You *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 8
                    'See They Don't Give A Fuck About You'
Harry Potter, age 17 and new member of the Order of the Phoenix, did not need
Tom Riddle. Harry Potter was strong and independent. A lover? What would he
need a lover for? He could do without Tom. He was fine – he still went hunting,
slept well. He was fine.
And so what if Tom was all he could think about? So what if it felt strange to
walk streets by himself andso what if it felt like he was missing a piece of
himself? He was pretty much an adult now. He could handle himself. He was smart
and did enough to keep himself and the Order alive. People were grateful for
his presence and Harry was useful and valued.
He didn't need Tom.
Not at all.
'Sweetheart, you're doing it again.'
Harry glanced up from where he had been skinning a rabbit to Molly, who sighed
and offered him a tired smile. The elderly woman had been hanging a lot around
him recently, always touching his shoulder and trying to give him support he
didn't need. He was okay. And he sure as hell didn't need her God either.
'What?' he asked and when he noticed the rude tone in his voice he winced.
'What is it?' he repeated, voice gentler this time. Molly sighed again and sat
down next to him, ruffling his hair.
'You're frowning again.'
Harry relaxed his face and went back to the task at hand, feeling her hand rest
on his shoulder. Her body heat spread through his shirt and sweat dripped from
his brow, but he was unsure if he was bothered by it all. He didn't think he
could be bothered by trivial things when so many other important things kept
running through his mind. Had he been repeating their last conversation in his
head? Sure he had. It'd be stupid if he wouldn't have. Harry wasn't heartless,
after all.
It just shouldn't have been that easy for Tom to leave.
'Do you miss him?'
'I'm fine,' Harry insisted, feeling offended by the question. Who the hell asks
those kinds of things anyway? It was none of her business. This was between Tom
and him. No one else.
…Or was it?
'You don't look fine.'
'I said I'm fine!'
He turned his head and glared at her, taking in the shocked expression on her
face and instantly feeling guilty. Harry made a frustrated noise, slumping his
shoulders and dropping his knife to the ground before resting his forehead in
his hands. This hurt. He was frustrated, confused. Lonely. He hated himself for
not hearing out Tom's side of the story and he hated Tom for walking away that
easily.
'It's his fault. Not mine. I have nothing to do with him anymore.'
And how disgusting did those words taste on his lips. Harry's mind seemed to
enjoy torturing him – making him remember all the finer details of
the good times he had with Tom. Distance made the heart grow fonder, they said.
Harry supposed they were right.
But he was still convinced that he was fine.
No matter how much his heart ached in want, it didn't change how Tom had lied
to him. It wouldn't change what Tom was right now. The Order had explained it
to him though admittedly he hadn't been listening that well. Apparently Tom was
still human. Mostly.
Harry had seen his test results. Tom's father, the man who had created Tom had
first inserted the virus into him and then the antivirus. Tom's little brother
had changed into a zombie – the first version of the antivirus had been too
weak. He had been shot in the face and the autopsy photos had sickened Harry.
Half of Voldemort's face had just been blown off and his skin had been pale and
waxy. Like it had been melting off his bones, indicating he had been a test
subject a long time before his death.
The second version of the antivirus hadn't been strong enough to be capable of
fighting the virus either. Instead it had allowed the virus to merge with Tom's
own DNA – changing him, somehow. The antivirus had taught Tom's body to cope
with it and the Order had said that Harry should see it like maybe a split
personality. He was struggling every day with the virus that had been injected
directly into him. When Tom lost control, the zombie took over. Like it had
done that night, and who knew how many times before?
Molly's kind brown eyes rested on his face and he realized he felt tired all of
a sudden. Must be the sun – he had been out here for a couple of hours. Maybe a
nap would do him good… Preferably, he'd like to wake up when everything was
okay again.
When his heart would stop aching.
'He hasn't left the area, you know,' she finally said and Harry froze at that.
'Kingsley ran into him yesterday. He was hunting.'
Harry's jaw tensed.
'So? I don't care,' he murmured. He wrapped his arms around himself and winced
when Molly reached out and touched his cheek, the one that Tom had slapped. Was
it strange that Harry didn't want her to touch it because that could take away
the remembrance of Tom's touch?
'Yes you do. I can see it. Harry – nowadays you can't afford being stubborn. We
both know how dangerous it can be. What if he dies tomorrow?'
'He won't.' Tom was a survivor. He wouldn't die that easily. Harry was
convinced of that. It would take a lot to take Tom Riddle down and a bit of
loneliness wasn't going to do the trick.
If he's lonely at all, without me around.
'And what if he gets hurt?' she asked softly. Harry snorted.
'Like he'd ever get bitten,' he said, bitterly amused at her stupidity.
Ridiculous. Tom could spot a zombie from miles away and he could kill one in
mere few seconds. Tom was a strong person, he would manage.
'It is not my blood that makes me strong, it's my knowledge and my strength and
Harry.'
Harry winced at that memory. No, indeed it was not Tom's blood. Stupid how
Harry had believed that.
'He could've told me,' Harry argued, feeling ridiculous for having had his hope
settled on Tom's blood. Stupid – how had he even expected it to work? Inserting
Tom's blood in someone else's body and hoping it would work? Like some kind of
disease? It would only work for Tom anyway. It had merged with his DNA after
all. Harry was pretty sure that trying to merge your DNA with that of a
complete stranger wouldn't have a good outcome.
'I don't think you've tried to understand Tom enough. He didn't grow up in a
loving family like you. His father did experiments on his own children. His
brother died. Isn't that enough for you to make clear that Tom has difficulty
trusting other people?' Harry opened and closed his mouth, but he didn't reply.
His cheeks suddenly felt warm in shame because no, he hadn't thought of it. He
had been so focused on the thought of Tom and Harry – them, that he had
forgotten all about the fact that when separate, they were two persons. Not
one.
Even if Harry didn't feel like one whole person at the moment.
Still, Molly couldn't say this all out of the kindness of her own heart. No...
There must be a reason why she spent so much time by his side...
'You want me to find him,' Harry murmured. His voice was monotone. Molly
nodded.
'I do,' she said. He turned his head to look at her.
'What's in it for you?' He secretly already knew what she wanted. And he knew
that the Order wanted this of him too. That was the only reason why they kept
him around.
'We need his blood, Harry.' Molly released a bitter laugh. 'That sounds
strange, doesn't it? But we only require a small amount, enough to do research.
We have all the things we need. He wouldn't even feel a thing.'
They wanted Harry to lure Tom in and betray him. Like he had betrayed Harry.
The worst was that a bitter part of Harry wanted to do this, too, just to get
even with him. She patted his knee and smiled sadly at him. 'You will get him
back and we will be able to save our people. Everyone wins. God has a plan for
you, Harry Potter, and this may be it. Don't make the same mistake I made with
Ginny.'
Harry blinked up at her in surprise. Ginny… Was Ginny actually Molly's
daughter? A part of him wanted to ask questions, but in the end he didn't. He
had more important things to worry about so he nodded wordlessly, a heavy
feeling settling itself in the pit of his stomach. He wished he could tell
Molly that he didn't deserve her kindness – that Harry had allowed Ginny to get
caught and used by the Brotherhood. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth
and began gathering his things.
Even if she was kind, Harry felt resentment to her, too. 
God has a plan for you…
Is that so? Then Harry doubting him would undoubtedly be a part of his plan as
well. He started wondering where Tom was, though he was unsure if he was ready
to face him yet.
===============================================================================
That night when Harry was alone in the shower – cold because warm water was
still too much of a luxury – he cried. He cried for his parents and for Tom,
for the loneliness in his very soul. He pressed his forehead against the tile
wall and sobbed, his hands shaking fists at his sides.
He was fine. He was Harry potter, 17 years old, 18 in a year from now, he had
seen things people wouldn't even dare to dream about. He was strong and
independent. It was a mantra he had been repeating in his head for the past
couple of hours and he honestly believed it to be true. It had to be. He
would've died a long time ago if it hadn't been.
Still his mind went back to all the things Tom had said, all the times they had
kissed, the times Tom had tried to fight the animal inside of him for Harry.
The time he had asked Harry how to know when you loved someone-
I love you so fucking much.
Harry choked on his spit as his mind suddenly put it all together. Tom had told
him he loved him that night. He had just been too stupid not to listen. Too
stupid to not hear him out. Too caught up in his own opinion. And now? Now
Harry actually thought he was going to be capable of betraying him? Who was he
trying to kid? It was over and done with. Tom wouldn't have been capable of
leaving him that easily if he had felt even half of what Harry had felt for
him.
Unless he did it to protect you.
Did he? Harry didn't know. He felt numbed. He could recall Tom walking away,
always, when he got mad. Now Harry just wondered if he had done it all those
times because he hadn't wanted to hurt Harry. If he had done it because he knew
what he got like when he lost control over his rational side.
If he had left all those times not because he was a coward, but because he
would've killed Harry otherwise.
Harry stepped out of the shower and dressed himself robotically. Where were his
glasses? He couldn't recall ever taking them off. Maybe they were in the
bedroom. He leaned against the sink and closed his eyes tightly, trying to
breathe properly. His nose felt stuffy. He couldn't remember when he had last
cried and his eyes hurt - everything hurt. Harry stared at his reflection and
winced at how pitiful he looked.
He wasn't fine at all.
Harry closed his eyes tightly and tried to think of his possibilities. The
Order was kind, but not his home. The Brotherhood? It was completely centered
on Grindelwald. Take their leader down and the rest would follow. Those people
could join the Order. Harry tried to think like Tom even though he knew he
wouldn't care for the remaining people. He'd only care for Grindelwald, who had
shamed him. Who had chased him down like he had been a mere rabbit.
Harry needed to find Tom before he got to Grindelwald. An aggressive Tom wasn't
an intelligent Tom, and the last Harry wanted to happen was for Tom to actually
get hurt. He wouldn't allow the Brotherhood that pleasure and he selfishly
didn't want to go through the pain of having to lose him for good. They were
only apart temporarily, Harry thought to himself.
Harry opened his eyes and stared at his reflection again. So what was he going
to do?
He was going to find Tom, run away with him, kill Grindelwald and never talk to
another human being again. Everyone was only in it for themselves in this
world. It was time for Harry to take on that state of mind as well.
Harry rubbed the tears from his face and walked out of the bathroom, naked,
slowly dressing himself. Now that he had a goal set out for himself he could
try to distract himself from all these emotions he didn't need right now. He
needed to be strong.
For Tom.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel water clinging to
his hair but it would dry soon enough. Harry tried to list the things they'd
need. Motorcycle. He had seen one of those around town. If he'd tell the Order
that he was going to look for Tom they'd let him have one and just go without a
doubt. They were that desperate and it still didn't weigh well on his mind to
betray these people.
But then he remembered that they wanted him to betray Tom.
And suddenly it didn't feel so bad anymore.
===============================================================================
Surprisingly it was Tom to find him first.
Harry had been at the outskirts of town, sitting in a tree and trying to come
up with a plan when his eyes caught sight of movement. Harry moved quickly,
grabbing his bow and arrow and aiming it to where the movement came from but
then he froze, watching as Tom came in view. Their eyes connected and Tom just
stared at him, gaze never wavering. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he lowered
his weapons again.
Tom sat down right where Harry could see him, wordlessly, legs crossed. His
gaze was not begging nor apologetic, but it wasn't threatening either.
Technically speaking Tom could come and get him right away.
But it seemed like he wanted Harry to take the final steps.
For a moment Harry gazed at him. He hadn't actually thought he'd never see Tom
again – it would've been a mere matter of time. Still it felt like a relief to
see him here.
When Harry jumped out of the tree it was ungraceful and he got up instantly,
marching over to where Tom was sitting, dropping to his knees and then wrapping
his arms around Tom so hard and holding him so sudden that he knocked Tom over.
Tom released a soft grunt while Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to be a
man about it all. He didn't seem to be capable of instantly apologizing,
though. This had been all his fault after all.
'I'm so sorry,' Harry started, 'I just – God, I'm so glad you're okay.' Harry
pulled away and placed his hands on Tom's cheeks and Tom let him, his eyes
boring holes into Harry's skull. Harry didn't care very much. 'I'm so glad you
didn't leave yet. Grindelwald – we can take him on together. Okay? You're not
doing this alone. I won't let you. I was stupid, and I need to hear your side
of the story and I-'
'How did you know I was going after Grindelwald?' Harry stopped talking. God,
Tom looked so tired. So weary.
'Because I know you,' he admitted. He shook his head. 'These past days… it has
been hell. Without you. They wanted me to convince you to give your blood and I
don't want to do that, I don't trust them -'
'They what?' Tom bristled.
Harry shook his head. 'It's okay, I – I ran away today. We don't need them.
We're going to kill Grindelwald and then we're going to find a nice place to
live and be happy. Together.'
'It's not okay!' Tom snapped. Harry paused, a bit taken aback.
'Why not?' he asked. Was Tom still mad at him?
'Because I am done!' Tom finally snapped, his eyes dark and so expressive it
almost hurt Harry to look into them. 'I am done being chased down! They have
absolutely no fucking right and I am going to kill that bastard and then I'm
going to burn down King's Cross!'
Harry moved a bit from Tom away, his eyes wide. He had expected Tom to be
angry. But like this? So aggressive and out of control? 'Why are you so
angry now, Tom? They've been at this for weeks.' Harry tried to keep his voice
down even though he personally felt like going on a murderous rampage now as
well. It took Tom a while to reply and when he did his voice was quiet, low.
'Time isn't on my side anymore.' It was all he said yet it seemed to take Tom a
lot of effort to do so, and it made Harry grow wary. He shifted from his
position on top of him.
'Then why did it take you so long to come for me?' Harry asked. 'Didn't you
want me anymore?'
Tom's grip tightened on Harry possessively. 'Don't be ridiculous. I was
plotting. Right now I was just thinking to myself that if you would still be
angry I'd simply knock you out and steal you away.' Harry's eyes widened. Tom
would've… he would've kidnapped him?
'You would.' The moment he said it he knew it to be true, too. Tom was too
obsessed with him. They were both too caught up with one another. Tom really
did leave to protect him, the other day. Tom said nothing but the look in his
eyes was enough and Harry's eyes slid over him, his eyebrows drawn in
confusion.
'The Order told me about what they did to you,' he murmured. Tom's eyes just
bored into him, feeling like a caress in its own intensity. 'About what he did
to you.'
'I'm fine,' Tom instantly said, almost defensively. Harry fought the need to
snort – they were just so similar. Too prideful. It'd surely be their downfall,
one day, but now all it did was amuse Harry.
'I know you are. You're a strong person – strongest person I've met,' Harry
reassured him, smiling. Still there was one thing on his mind - one thing he
hadn't been capable of asking the Order, partially because he hadn't been too
sure if their reactions would endanger his safety and partially because he just
hadn't been sure if they would've had an answer for him. 'But I have a
question. It's about me.'
'What is it?'
'They… the virus is in you. You lost control that night and it took you over.
It was because you were desperate, right?' It wasn't the question Harry wanted
an answer to so he continued talking. 'The Order told me that your body and the
antidote, the antivirus, had been a perfect match and that the virus is
harmless inside of you. That a bite from you wouldn't infect someone and that
only if they were to take in your blood directly it could be dangerous because
it's not sure how much of the virus is in it. They want your blood to do
research because they're convinced the answer to all their prayers is right in
your body.'
He paused, to see if Tom was catching his drift.
'You're asking me if it's sexually transmittable,' Tom finally concluded. Harry
said nothing in reply but he did shift awkwardly, nodding slowly while Tom's
blue eyes gazed at him, feeling naked somehow. 'Do you have any strange
cravings? Aggressive tendencies?'
Harry's eyebrows drew together in thought. Yes, he had been more snappy than
usual, he supposed. He just wasn't sure if that was because of Tom's absence or
something else. 'Give me your arm,' Tom murmured. Harry instantly stretched it
out and Tom reached for a knife.
'How long does it normally take you to heal from a cut?' Tom asked him. Harry
bit his lip and shook his head.
'Two weeks, I guess.' Harry didn't even mind when Tom brought the knife down to
the limb, trusting Tom not to hurt him more than necessary. He hissed when Tom
slid the knife over his skin, slowly, blood bubbling up at the surface. A
hungry look slid over his lover's features.
'This'll be gone tomorrow if I infected you,' he said, voice suddenly low.
Harry looked at him in mild confusion before he realized his blood was
affecting Tom. Tom was usually quite capable of controlling himself because he
wasn't surrounded by a lot of people bleeding at the same time. However, that
night in King's Cross… it had been a bloodbath. Tom looked like he still wasn't
as strong as he usually was. Harry held out his wrist.
'Take it,' he said. Tom looked at him with dilated blue eyes. 'You're hungry,
aren't you?'
Tom pushed Harry's hand away with a scoff. 'I'm not like them,' he said,
sounding insulted but even so his eyes lingered on Harry's eyes just a bit.
'I'm not a monster.'
Harry blinked at him. 'I – I didn't think you were,' he stammered. He reached
behind him and started rummaging through his bag, taking out the loaf of bread
he had stolen. Maybe Tom wouldn't be this irritated if he had a full stomach
again and besides, it wasn't like Harry couldn't go hunting or something. He
had just taken it with him because it had been such a long time since he had
had actual bread. He had never thought it to become a luxury, some day.
'Here, at least have this then.' He smiled playfully and Tom's eyebrow rose
when he held out his wrist again. 'You can dip it if you'd like.'
'Insufferable brat,' Tom grunted. He tore a chunk off and started eating
anyway, and Harry watched him for a while. Tom looked like he had gone through
hell – underneath his eyes were dark rings, his skin was sickly pale, sweat
clinging to his brow. His hair was messy as well and his cheeks were gaunt, as
if he hadn't eaten in a while. Harry wondered why. Tom had taught him how to
hunt and which plants were edible, so it couldn't have been that Tom hadn't
been capable of finding any food.
'Tom, are you hurt?'
'I'm in perfect health,' Tom suddenly snapped and Harry blinked, taken aback by
his sudden outburst. Tom released an aggravated growl and ran a hand through
his hair. He seemed so out of control. So different somehow and Harry could
feel his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. Tom shoved the bread back into
Harry's backpack and then got up, patting his pants to get rid of any of the
dry leaves clinging onto it.
Harry's eyes scanned over Tom's frame, looking at him a bit closer. He didn't
have any wounds, safe from –
His arm. His arm that he hadn't wanted Harry to touch.
'Tom let me see your arm,' Harry said, standing up as well. Tom sneered at him
and stepped away when Harry stepped closer, making Harry feel frustrated. 'Let
me see your arm!'
'Get away from me before I hurt you, Harry!' Tom snapped. The tone in his voice
was nothing but threatening but it didn't help keeping Harry from stepping
closer at all. If anything, it just made Harry feel concern above his
frustration. Tom usually never hid his wounds from Harry and Harry secretly
already knew. He could feel it somewhere in his gut that whatever Tom was
hiding underneath that bandage, was going to be something that would break
Harry's heart.
'I love you.' Harry said calmly, his voice trembling. Tom's eyes lingered on
him, as though looking for a reason for him to lie. But Harry wasn't lying to
him. Harry reached out slowly as if approaching a dangerous animal, his fingers
brushing over the makeshift bandage. Tom's hands clasped over his own when they
got too close but he wasn't threatening anymore.
'Harry don't,' he said. No, this time he was almost pleading Harry. But for
what? The need to reassure strangely overcame Harry so he began doing exactly
that, hoping for the best.
'We're going to kill Grindelwald, together,' Harry murmured, 'we're going to
bring the Brotherhood down. We're not helping the Order.' Tom's hands relaxed
and Harry slowly started working on the knot, keeping his eyes on Tom's. His
eyes were bloodshot, making that beautiful blue stand out even more. 'We're in
this together. We're going to grow old together.' He slowly unwrapped Tom's
arm, but still didn't look at the wound. He could practically feel the heat
radiating from Tom's body and he was reminded of how tall Tom was and how far
he had to lift his chin to be able to look him in the eye.
'I'm not like your dad.' Tom's eyes narrowed at him and Harry regretted having
compared him to that man. He was still bitter over that. 'And neither are you.
We can trust each other. Okay?'
His hands were shaking so bad he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath.
Tom's lips brushed over Harry's forehead and his hand rested on Harry's
shoulder, a comforting weight. When Harry opened his eyes again Tom nodded
tightly. They glanced down together although there was no doubt in his mind
that Tom had already studied the wound, had poked and prodded at it.
The moment Harry caught sight of the bite marks, the world just stopped. Harry
vaguely felt himself sinking down, his eyes wide, his chest hollow. Absolutely
hollow.
'You've been bitten.' It was all Harry could choke out. Tom just stared at him,
suddenly looking so tired, so sick. He didn't say a word.
But Harry didn't need confirmation to know it's true.
'It doesn't have to mean anything. Normal people would've turned by now.' Still
those words didn't seem reassuring at all and Harry's throat felt tight. The
antivirus wasn't stopping the process and it wouldn't any time soon, either.
Tom had been at his limit with his first dose of the virus.
The antivirus was only slowing the process down. Allowing Harry to watch Tom
wither away.
'I- How?' Harry choked out. This wasn't like Tom. They had survived
for four years without getting even so much as a small scratch from a zombie.
Tom had fought for both their lives in that first year, when Harry hadn't been
fully independent just yet. The memory of Molly Weasley asking him what
if? rose suddenly and he remembered how he had felt amused at her stupidity.
How he had believed Tom to be some sort of superman.
But what Tom failed to acknowledge, most of the time, was that Tom was just
human above all. So painfully human and mortal.
'I lost control,' Tom murmured. 'The blood – the smell… it got to me. There was
a girl at my feet… she was dying anyway. She hadn't been bitten but there had
been a pipe through her body, accidentally undoubtedly.' Harry just stared,
remembering the crazed look in Tom's eyes. The taste of blood in his mouth. 'I
couldn't think anymore. So I sat down by her side and she gripped my hand. You
know what she said?' Tom released a dark chuckle and Harry kept silent. His
entire body was shaking. 'She asked me for help. She asked me to kill her. And
there was so much blood, I was suddenly so hungry, I… I ripped off her fingers
with my teeth. She was still alive by the time I ripped chunks of flesh out of
her arm.'
Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He pressed a hand against his mouth
and closed his eyes, taking a deep steadying breath. The tone in Tom's voice
was almost cynical when he continued. 'And then one of those fuckers – it just
sat down across me. Eating from her as well. Ignoring me like I was one of
them.'
'Tom, sto-'
'And I remember that that feeling of possessiveness overcame me. I had found
her first. She was mine. So I pulled the pipe, the one that was still warm with
her blood and sticky with her intestines, out of her stomach and I stabbed it
into his chest. And then he bit me.' Harry's eyes strayed over to the wound
again. There was dark green puss flowing from it, the skin around it tattered
and shaded in colors of blue and red and purple. Tom's veins were bulging. 'It
wasn't a deep bite. He didn't even tear off a chunk of my flesh like I had done
with her.'
'But a bite, no matter how small, is all that it takes,' Harry whispered,
repeating the exact same words Tom had told him four years ago.
Harry didn't have a lot of fears. He didn't fear zombies because he knew he
could kill them. He didn't fear people because he knew he could outsmart them
and then kill them. He no longer feared the dark because darkness was fleeting
in its own existence. He really only had one fear.
Losing Tom.
For a moment it was hard for Harry to breathe. His mind tried to work properly,
tried to come up with a plan. Like bringing Tom back to the Order. Letting them
research him, use him as a test subject for the antidote again. But Tom would
never do that. Tom would never comply. They both knew they'd put a bullet
between his eyes the moment they saw his arm. And with the state it was in
right now, there really was no point in even trying to hide the wound. His
entire arm looked fucked up.
Infected.
Harry had once seen a girl getting her leg amputated when she had gotten
bitten. She had never changed. That'd be the only thing Harry could do… wasn't
it? Harry almost automatically, numbly, reached for the knife strapped to his
leg. His eyes were dazed, as if stuck in a dream.
'What are you doing?' Tom asked. Harry didn't reply. His eyes were firmly set
on Tom's arm. It'd be the only way. He wasn't going to lose Tom. He'd rather
have him have just one arm than – 'Harry what are you doing?'
He was so fast on his back all of a sudden, with Tom's boot painfully poised at
his wrist that he felt disorientated. He looked up – Tom's arm was bleeding.
Had Harry done that? He didn't seem to be capable of registrating anything at
the moment.
'Let go!' he yelled, suddenly thrashing around. He wasn't going to let Tom fuck
this up. He wasn't going to lose him. He just wasn't! 'Let me go, I'm only
trying to help you, I -!'
Harry released a choked breath when Tom's forearm suddenly pressed into his
throat, cutting off all of his air. Harry wheezed, his nails digging weakly
into Tom's skin, trying for some release. When he looked up and into Tom's eyes
he saw that he had the same look in his eyes as he had that night he had gotten
bitten.
He looked crazed.
'Cutting off my arm is not going to help either one of us,' Tom growled and
Harry's heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird, ready to crack his ribs
open. His body felt so heavy all of a sudden and he thought he was going to
die. Tom was going to kill him. 'Do you want me to bleed to death? You stupid
idiot, it wouldn't make a difference!'
'Tom-'
'You just never listen to me! You fucking-'
'I'm sorry,' Harry choked, tears finally spilling from his eyes. It had been a
ridiculously childish idea. The infection had already spread through Tom's
entire body and he was right, so right. He would only bleed to death if Harry
would manage to get rid of his arm. Tom abruptly stopped talking while Harry
struggled for air, 'I'm sorry, I love you, please – you're choking me, I -'
Tom instantly let go and Harry rolled onto his side, his fingers spasming and
grabbing fists full of dry leaves, feeling them crumble beneath his hands. His
lungs sucked up precious air while tears still rolled down his face and he
could already feel the bruises forming on the tender skin of his neck and his
throat. Tom's hands had completely folded over them, effortlessly. He slumped
onto the ground and lied there shivering, convinced Tom would kill him now and
just rather having it over with. He sobbed softly and flinched when Tom's arms
wound around him.
But he wasn't killing Harry. He was holding him to his chest now, pressing his
face into the space between Harry's shoulderblades. The cut on his arm, despite
it having been deep, no longer bled.
'Why do you have to make this so difficult?' Tom whispered harshly into Harry's
ear and Harry just curled more into himself, feeling weak. He didn't feel like
he had a reason to be strong anymore because this was real. Tom wouldn't be
able to miraculously get himself out of this. This wasn't something Harry or
Tom could kill or cheat. This was it, for them.
Tom was going to change and Harry was going to be alone for the rest of his
miserable life, to never be the same again.
Tom pulled him up and Harry just turned around in his embrace, holding him,
hugging his head to his chest. Strange how they always wound up trying to kill
each other when they really needed each other most.
'I don't know,' Harry whispered, his voice trembling. He took his glasses off
and rubbed at his eyes, closing them, just breathing Tom in for a moment. His
entire body was shaking as well. How stupid of him to have actually thought
he'd be capable of growing old in a world like this, let alone with another
person. Why couldn't people just have left them alone? Why did Grindelwald have
to have it out for them?
They sat in silence for a while. Harry didn't know how long, to be exact. Maybe
hours, maybe minutes. Eventually Tom got up and offered Harry his hand and
Harry took it without a word. He felt numbed. Everything seemed to pass him in
a flurry of colors and feelings and sounds and smells.
Harry's arms wound tightly around Tom when he sat down behind him on the
motorcycle. The noise it produced was loud, almost painfully so, but even so
they were away so fast that it didn't even matter if they drew attention. Harry
found himself wishing they would be capable of fleeing this problem as well.
Leave it behind. Start over.
They eventually found a safe place to sleep once they were out of Phoenix
territory and Harry kept watch while Tom's head was pillowed in his lap. The
tall male was asleep, but he made soft noises in this state, as though he was
in pain. His eyebrows were drawn together as well and Harry absentmindedly
stroked a hand through Tom's hair while making hushing noises, bow and arrows
at his side.
His mind wasn't completely working. Oh, he was aware of it all though – he knew
what he was doing right now and all of his senses were wide awake. He could
clearly feel the bark of the tree he was leaning against digging into his
tender skin and he could feel the goose bumps that rose on it as well. The
finer hairs on the back of his neck were standing up straight. But there were
no thoughts that came upon him.
It was completely silent. Around him, and inside of him. Harry wasn't calm. He
was just too shocked to come up with anything useful.
Harry thought of the passionate nights they had spent. About the feeling of Tom
sliding inside of him, thick and secure, his arms warm and loving. He leaned
down and pressed a kiss against Tom's slightly parted lips and Tom's hand
reached up, brushing through Harry's hair. 'You're awake,' Harry whispered. Tom
hummed, his eyes half lidded when he gazed up at him.
'So it seems,' Tom drawled. His voice was hoarse and in the moonlight it was
easier to pretend that he wasn't sickly pale or had dark circles under his
eyes. The signs were all so painfully clear to Harry right now and he felt so
ridiculous for having thought it had all been just because Tom hadn't been
eating right. They'd gone days without eating in bad times, and Tom had never
looked like this before.
Harry's fingers brushed over Tom's temple and Tom's eyes glimmered in the dark
before they closed again, an approving purr rumbling low in his throat.
Like a cat, Harry mused. He wished Tom could've stayed like that for the rest
of his life.
'How long have I been asleep?' Tom asked. Harry sighed.
'Since noon.' Harry's body felt a bit sluggish and his leg was asleep from
having been in the same position for so long. He had watched the sun set by
himself – strangely content with Tom sleeping on him though there had been no
telling in what state he'd wake. Tom usually never took naps. He either slept
at night or didn't sleep at all – he was too restless to just drift off like he
had done this afternoon.
Tom's eyes opened again.
'Why didn't you wake me?' his voice sounded genuinely interested, not at all
judging. Another thing that proved that he was changing, Harry supposed. Tom
went from being tender to being aggressive so quickly.
'You looked like you needed it. I didn't… I didn't want to put too much strain
on you.'
I wasn't sure if physical effort would speed up the process or not.
Tom had seemed so weakened after a bit of walking. He hadn't complained once,
of course not. Tom wasn't one to complain. He was stronger than that. He'd much
rather grit his teeth and just walk around with a rotting wound on his arm than
take breaks in between and dab a piece of cloth against his infected skin.
Harry could admire that in him, but right now he just found it to be terribly
frustrating and hurtful. He didn't like not knowing what to do or what to
expect and especially now wasn't the time for secrecy. Tom sat up and Harry
tried to help him up, but Tom swatted at his hands.
'I'm not that old, Harry,' Tom said, mildly amused. A painful twinge went
through Harry's chest.
But you'll never get old, either.
Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and Tom sighed, resting his head in the crook
of Harry's neck. Harry could feel his breaths brush over his skin. He wondered
how many breaths Tom would continue taking as a human being and felt his heart
crack some more.
'Been a long day,' Tom murmured. Harry nodded. It was. He couldn't bring
himself to speak, not yet, his throat burning, his heart aching.
'We should… Do you have any plans yet? For Grindelwald?' Maybe having a normal
conversation would distract him enough. Maybe it'd help him keep his mind of
what was going to happen. Maybe… It took Tom a moment to reply. His hands
rested loosely on Harry's forearms, holding them. Harry wondered what for.
'We're going to kill a member of the Brotherhood and take his cloak,' Tom
murmured. 'You are going to infiltrate the Brotherhood. Try to get Grindelwald
alone. And then we're going to kill him.'
'Why me?' Harry asked. Tom shook his head and chuckled darkly.
'I'll be near, it's not just you doing all the work. I would've rather done it
myself. But it appears…' Tom took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as though
speaking too much cost him a lot of effort. Harry glanced at him in concern.
'…that I do not have a lot of self-control as of now.' He had nearly killed
Harry this morning over something he normally would've just kicked Harry's ass
for. Harry didn't need this to be told to him to know it to be true.
'I'll do it,' Harry finally said. He tried to force down his memories. Tried to
be strong about it. There'd be no use in crying now. They were going to have to
focus on killing Grindelwald. Still, something in Harry told him that killing
Grindelwald was going to be a lot easier than the other things he had to think
of too. 'We'll take him down. And then -' Harry stopped talking and turned his
head away, biting his bottom lip and taking a sharp breath to keep from crying.
He didn't want to cry. He just…
'Look at me, love,' Tom murmured. Harry hesitantly did so and Tom smiled and
brushed his fingers through Harry's hair.
'You don't have to be strong right now.' Harry nodded and he sobbed into Tom's
mouth when the elder male kissed him, tears finally falling.
'Love me?' he choked. Tom nodded.
'Of course I'll love you,' Tom whispered. He pushed Harry down gently and
pressed another kiss against him, just at the center of his chest. His hands
were slow when they slid down Harry's body, gently peeling his clothes off his
body until there were no more things between them anymore. 'Always.'
Harry sniffled while Tom worshipped his body, exploring him, taking care of him
and making him feel wanted and okay. When Tom coaxed him open he remained
still. When Tom slid inside of him he didn't squirm away.
Tom's rhythm was completely off so Harry eventually pushed him onto his back
and started riding him, slowly at first, taking his time while Tom's hands slid
over his wracked frame. He leaned down and pressed his elbows against the
ground at either side of Tom's head, caging him in, warming his lover's dying
body with his own. He was only vaguely aware of the slow, slick feeling of Tom
entering and leaving his body constantly.
'I love you,' Harry whimpered. Tom slowly thrust up as well, meeting him
halfway.
'I love you too.' Hearing it and now knowing for sure that Tom loved him, that
he hadn't imagined it only broke Harry's heart further. In a few weeks from now
Harry was going to be alone. He was going to have to learn how to live without
Tom.
Tom sat up and Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close,
crying into his hair. Tom took control again and started thrusting into him,
making him gasp and whimper and moan, still clutching his lover to his chest as
if he was trying to tear him from death's hands as well. He wished he could
hide Tom somewhere safe. He wished his embrace could be enough to keep the
future from coming.
It didn't take Harry much to come. Just two more thrusts and he was done,
feeling Tom come inside of him as well some time later. This time it was Harry
to hold Tom close, to keep him from slipping out of him – this time it was
Harry desperate to keep himself filled. He kept his arms and legs wrapped
tightly around Tom and clung onto him. Holding him in his loving embrace.
'It's okay,' Tom whispered and it took Harry a while to realize he was still
crying. He didn't seem to be capable of stopping now that he had started
because it was all just so unfair. First his parents, now Tom... He would have
nothing left to live for without this man. His entire life was built around
him.
'It's not,' Harry weakly protested. He was sitting naked on top of another man
in the middle of nowhere, and still it was the least of his worries. 'I'm going
to lose you.'
'Don't say that,' Tom murmured. His fingers splayed on Harry's skin, like he
wanted to touch him for as much as possible.
'It's the truth, isn't it?' Harry said, his voice choked up and broken and just
so small. He felt like a child. He felt like no matter what he did, everything
and everyone was going to be taken away from him. 'You're going to-'
'Stop saying that!' Harry abruptly stopped and he closed his eyes, more tears
rolling down his cheeks. He was shaking so bad and Tom's eyes softened again,
probably having noticed the effect he had had on Harry when he had raised his
voice to him. Harry couldn't handle it right now. He didn't want to fight Tom,
not now.
'Don't… just don't say that,' Tom murmured, his voice softer, his hands big and
caring and gentle while they thumbed Harry's tears away. 'You know I'm never
going to leave you. Not completely.'
'Don't make promises you can't keep,' Harry choked out. Tom shook his head.
'I'm not. I promise. You're my other half…' Tom kissed Harry's temple and
rocked them back and forth, back and forth, until Harry's sobs died down. Like
he was a child. Harry practically was one right now. As the years had passed he
had gotten older, sure enough, and he had done things most people wouldn't
believe, and Harry liked to believe that he was very mature for his age. Fact
remained that he was only 17 and he couldn't handle these things. At the end of
the day he was just a kid who would've been in his senior year of high school
if all of this hadn't happened.
Harry had never even witnessed someone actually turning because Tom had already
killed them before they had had a chance. How was Harry even supposed to see
that as an option? What did Tom expect him to do?
'You're my other half,' Harry parroted. He believed it, too, and was willing to
believe everything Tom was telling him now. At this point he wouldn't even care
if it had been all lies to make him feel better because they only eased his
pain just a fraction. Tom nodded.
'Yes. We complete each other,' he said. 'I'm not going to leave you. I chose
you that night. You're it for me. You're my Chosen One.' Harry's lips trembled
while Tom looked at him with sudden tired eyes. He needed to rest again.
'You're mine.'
'Are you-'
'Say it.' Harry blinked, a bit taken aback at the demanding tone in Tom's
voice. He rubbed at his eyes. 'Say you're mine. Promise me that no matter what,
you'll be mine.'
Harry nodded, his lips trembling. 'I promise,' he whispered, quick and eager to
reassure his lover, 'I'm yours. I promise.'
Tom stared at him for a long time before he nodded and pressed his face into
Harry's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
'And I'm yours,' Tom murmured distractedly. Harry stroked his hair again and
eventually Tom fell asleep, his breathing shallow, loud, or maybe it seemed
that way because Harry was paying so much attention to it. Harry closed his
eyes and released him, gingerly putting on his clothes. He double checked their
traps and then pressed himself against Tom's chest and held him, lifting Tom's
arms and draping it over himself. Tom made a soft, pained noise and gripped him
tighter, his forehead sticky with sweat. Harry was unsure if that was from
their earlier love making or because he was having one of his fevers again. He
tried not to think too much of it.
They didn't have much nights left in which they could do this after all.
===============================================================================
The following morning Harry woke up with Tom's chest pressed firmly against his
back, Harry's head pillowed on one of Tom's arms while the other, the wounded
one, was draped loosely over Harry's waist. Harry blinked the sleep wearily
from his eyes and found himself grounded to reality all at once. They'd been
holding hands in their sleep - Harry could see it from the way Tom's own hand
was curled upward and Harry's arm was apparently stretched toward it, his
fingertips pressed into the palm of Tom's hand.
It appeared that even in his sleep, Harry had been desperate to feel Tom
against himself.
Harry's eyes slid over his own wrist, taking note of the angry red line there.
The cut was still there and it meant the virus wasn't sexually transmittable.
Harry felt strangely disappointed.
Harry moved a bit and Tom made a soft, groan like noise, pressing his face in
between the narrow space between Harry's shoulder blades like he had done
yesterday, when Harry had been crying. He didn't know why but it made him feel
oddly emotional again and when he turned around Tom was gazing at him with half
lidded eyes. His eyes looked almost violet in this light and it sent a shock
through Harry's body.
Tom sighed and pressed his forehead against Harry's and they lied there for a
moment, Tom's eyes already drifting shut again. Harry actually had to nudge him
a couple of time before he got up, clutching a hand to his forehead and leaning
against the tree. He looked like he was about to throw up. When Harry asked him
if he needed anything Tom just shook his head and they started their day like
nothing was wrong. Like yesterday hadn't even happened.
They took down their traps, shared a lingering kiss. Prepared for killing
Grindelwald.
They had decided to go to the nearest Brotherhood camp, which was also the
largest. Tom expected to find Grindelwald there because he had only recently
attacked the Order, and may very well be planning on another attack seeing as
Tom and Harry hadn't surrendered.
They killed the first person wearing a cloak they spotted after scanning the
area for about an hour or so. It was a boy with white blonde hair and it had
been a clean kill. Harry had shot an arrow through his right eye and he had
dropped dead almost instantly and Tom complimented him on the shot too. Harry
hadn't had it in him to smile.
They had decided to get Grindelwald by night because then most men would've
been in their tents, with their women. Trying to impregnate them.
Tom had stolen the boy's car and had parked it somewhere outside the camp,
where they could load Grindelwald's body into it. Harry had expected to feel
some sort of adrenaline, excitement of some sort. But all he felt was regret at
having to spend time away from Tom's side.
They made love in the car again. It didn't take either one of them long to come
– Harry had been rising and falling on Tom's lap in a rather fast pace, knowing
that it would take Tom too much effort to be the one in control this time. Tom
had dug his nails so hard in Harry's hips that he had bled and bruised. Harry
didn't care. If it were up to him he'd be marked by Tom for the rest of his
life.
By the time they'd been done Harry had been slumped over Tom, his face pressed
into his damp neck. Harry had pressed a lingering kiss against Tom's lips
before he had climbed off him and had left, knowing that they should just
finish now that they had started already. There was no telling if the
Brotherhood already knew one of their members had been killed though Harry was
certain that they wouldn't have blamed Harry or Tom. For all the Brotherhood
knew the duo still used knives and guns as their weapons.
It wasn't hard for Harry to walk into their camp. He had no clue where Tom was,
but he knew he was close. He could feel his eyes on him.
Surprisingly it was Grindelwald to find him first. Harry knocked into him and
stuttered apologies, and before he knew it he was being dragged off to stand in
front of another tent. Had he screwed up already? He didn't quite know and he
didn't quite care either. It should've made him care, though. Harry did have a
knife on him but he was in unknown territory right now, they'd so very easily
overpower him and with Tom's bad health there was no telling if Tom would
actually be able to help him out when in need.
'Draco, good to see you're back. Your father has eagerly been awaiting you,'
Grindelwald said and Harry had no clue who he was talking about until he
figured that the kid he had killed earlier had probably been named Draco.
Funny, how he referred to someone of his own age as a mere kid. Harry felt so
much more mature.
Harry nodded and remained still when Grindelwald went to fetch a man. He
thought he heard something move in the bushes and when Harry turned his head he
saw Tom's eyes glimmer in the darkness. He looked like a predator already.
'Here's your boy, Lucius. No need to worry, see? We've trained him well,'
Grindelwald murmured to the tall blonde man walking next him. Harry vaguely
wondered to himself what this Draco person had been told to do. He didn't
really care about that either and thought with dark amusement that no, they
hadn't trained Draco very well.
Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself and glaring up from underneath his
mask when the tall blonde man named Lucius walked up to study his face. Harry
heard a vague whistling noise and then suddenly Lucius choked out a mouthful of
blood and dropped to his knees. An arrow was wedged through his throat.
Grindelwald instantly spun around, cursing and his eyes widening when he caught
sight of Tom who was suddenly right behind him. Harry hadn't even seen him
moving.
'No, he's my boy,' Tom finally drawled. He rammed the back of his gun into
Grindelwald's temple and they instantly started dragging him off into the
woods.
Harry hadn't thought this to be hard. Grindelwald hadn't seen them coming,
after all, still convinced they had been hiding somewhere. But he hadn't
thought it to be this easy either.
Harry found he hated Grindelwald. He hated him more than anything for the
damage he had done to Tom and Harry, he hated him for being the indirect cause
of the gaping wound on Tom's arm. Teeth bared in a snarl, Harry sneered and
stomped his foot down on Grindelwald's face, hearing a sickening crack. Tom
gripped his arms and pulled him back in his chest while Harry cursed at him,
feeling unreasonably angry.
This man had just taken away his entire future. Thanks to him Harry's lover was
going to die and he had raped those women in the camp too. This man had
killed Cho.
Pretty and lonely.
The words suddenly rang in his head and Harry struggled in Tom's arms, breaking
free and all but straddling Grindelwald's chest, fisting his shirt and punching
him in the face again and again. His fists were aching with it, too, but he
didn't seem to be capable of stopping.
He hated him. He hated him with every inch of his being.
'Harry!' It was Tom's voice that made him blink up and he allowed Tom to pull
him up. Grindelwald was a bloody mess on the floor, he was sobbing in pain. He
deserved it. He deserved that and so much more. Harry sneered and made to move
forward again but them Tom pulled him back into his chest, holding him there.
'I know, love,' Tom said and Harry realized he had been saying it out loud. He
hadn't meant to. Why did his cheeks suddenly feel so wet? 'Just remember the
plan, beautiful,' Tom murmured in his ear.
'I knew it,' Grindelwald finally sneered, snapping Harry out of the somewhat
calm state Tom had worked him into, 'knew you two were a couple of fucking
fags-'
'Sucks to be you,' Harry said, voice quivering while his body was tense from
restraining itself, 'sucks that you get to be killed by two fucking fags.'
Grindelwald looked at him with a disgusted look on his face, his facial
expression twisted into one of pain when Harry kicked him in the ribs for good
measure. Without this man, Tom would've never been bitten.
Grindelwald was moaning weakly in pain until Harry got enough of him and tore a
piece of fabric off the cloak, shoving it into his mouth to shut him up. Tom's
eyes averted to him but Harry didn't say a word and continued dragging him off.
They loaded him into the back of the car like he was some sack of potatoes and
Harry pressed a gun against his temple. It was unloaded, but Grindelwald
needn't know that.
They drove off into the darkness.
===============================================================================
When they stopped again they got out of the car on a dirt road, Harry nudging
Grindelwald with his gun and forcing him forward just like he had done with
Tom. The only difference between Tom and Grindelwald, was that Grindelwald
wouldn't make it out alive.
They shoved him face forward into a tree and wrapped barbed wire around
Grindelwald, cutting open his cloak and revealing his pale back. Tom smirked
and held the knife out to Harry.
'The honor's yours, dearest,' he said.
'You will burn in hell!' Grindelwald intervened as though that should scare
them off. Harry shook his head, feeling repulsed beyond measure by this man. He
didn't even want to touch him and Tom shrugged and started cutting the symbol
of the Brotherhood into the man's back, dragging the knife over the wound
longer than necessary. Just to humiliate him.
Zombies could smell blood from miles away. Tom knew that. So did Grindelwald,
Harry could tell by the look in his eyes. He could tell that Grindelwald knew
he was going to die.
Tom had worn that same look in his eyes when Harry had found out about his
wound.
Tom was being strong now but Harry could see the sweat on his brow. The slight
tremble in his hands. The antidote in his veins? Yeah, it was still there. But
it didn't stop the process at all. It made it painfully slow and it just
dragged it out. Made Tom slowly lose his sanity. Made him feel his intelligence
slipping away.
Tom was slowly forgetting about things. Forgetting about traps they had set up.
Harry had even had to take over the steering wheel because Tom blacked out a
couple of times. Sometimes Tom got so aggressive Harry had to hide, because he
feared the infection was going to make Tom forget Harry was his lover.
'He's one of them too,' Grindelwald said, snapping both Harry and Tom out of
their thoughts. Grindelwald's swollen blue eyes aimed at them and he laughed.
His teeth were stained with his own blood and Harry felt repulsed. 'Your nancy
man is going down with me, boy.'
'Shut up,' Harry snapped at him, feeling his body tense up again. Grindelwald
laughed at him and then spat at his feet, a weak imitation of what Tom had done
a while back.
'Told you you'd get what you deserve.'
'Shut up!'
'Harry-'
'What are you gonna do when he's turning, huh? Are you going to let him kill-
' Grindelwald stopped talking when Harry grabbed the knife from Tom's hands and
stabbed it right in his back, a cry of pain falling from his lips. Harry's eyes
were wide and he backed up in Tom's chest, hands shaking. He grabbed the knife
again and then took Tom's hand, all but running away.
They hid in the car. Tom wanted to stick around to watch and Harry didn't have
it in him to protest. Harry listened to Tom breathe; heard how it was labored,
almost panting from the small effort.
His heart ached and he pressed his forehead against Tom's shoulder when the
screaming started. Tom just watched, cold glee in his eyes when Grindelwald was
starting to get torn apart. He had an almost hungry expression in his eyes and
when the screaming died down the zombie started limping again, right past them.
When Harry glanced up his eyes grew wide.
Fiery red hair. A frame at his own height. Tattered clothes that barely kept
her body from view, fingers missing, bloody remains of what used to be her
smooth cheek attached to her jaw and cheekbone and teeth bared for the world to
see. Harry was not aware of Tom's chest pressed up against his own or the way
more zombies were coming anymore. Harry did not even know his own name, for a
brief moment. He just could say one word.
'Mom?'
 
***** Like I Do *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Chapter 9
                                   Like I Do
Harry stepped out of the car almost robotically, his eyes glassy, like he was
caught in a dream. She caught sight of him instantly and she limped forward
when he stretched his hands out toward her. It felt like Harry's tears burnt
his cheeks.
It was her. It was actually her.
‘Mom,’ Harry said again, as though it should bring back the intelligence in her
eyes. Bring back the mischievous glint she used to have in her eyes when she
tricked Harry’s dad. She had once thrown a pie in James' face – Harry
remembered that day. Remembered the smile on his own face, the ache in his
stomach from laughing so hard.
His parents had been so perfect together.
Kind of like how Tom and Harry were now.
His mother looked positively morbid, tattered, dead but so painfully alive at
the same time and she still was so beautiful no matter what state her face was
in. One of her kind eyes, eyes that had looked eerily like Harry’s when they
had been in a healthy state, was rotting away in its socket.  Her eyelashes
were clumped together with dark pus and sticky blood while her hair was a
tangled, disgusting mess.
But it was still his mom. His mom, who was now coming so close to him. Her
hands reached out and Harry realized she was still wearing her wedding ring. It
glimmered when it got caught in the moonlight, just like her healthy eye did as
though highlighting the few things that still made her Lily.
Harry choked. He stood there, completely frozen.
How long had she walked around on this planet, hungry, hurt, cold, lonely?
Where was Harry’s dad? Was he somewhere around or had someone killed him
already?

His mom was now close enough to touch and Harry stretched his arm out as well.
It wouldn't matter if she would sink those teeth of hers into Harry's skin, if
she'd tear a chunk of flesh right out of him. He had nothing left to lose.
Harry would just much rather fit in with them, lose everything that made
him Harry than have to live through losing someone again. Their fingertips
brushed and just when his mom reached forward to bite him, arms wound around
Harry’s chest and he was pulled away from her.
‘No!’ Harry screamed, fighting and kicking and screaming. His mom screamed as
well and started running toward Harry as if wanting to rip him out of the hands
that were carrying him back to the car. ‘No – let go, I – MOM!’
‘Don’t make me do this Harry,’ Tom hissed into his ear. Harry didn’t listen at
all and when he actually elbowed Tom in the stomach Tom just lost it. He shoved
Harry behind him and Harry tripped over his feet, frantic when Tom cocked his
own gun at her, his elbows banging painfully against the dirt road. Harry shot
up but he was too late – by the time Harry pulled Tom’s hand down the shot had
already been fired.

His mom dropped to the ground.
Dead.
Tom had just used one of the few bullets they had left to kill Harry’s mother.
To save Harry like he always had in the past.
Harry dropped to his knees next to her, his entire body shaking, his mind in a
complete state of shock. He wanted to speak but he had no words to say. Nothing
could possibly explain what was going through his head right now.
For all these years, Harry had wanted nothing but someone to love. Harry had
learned to value that what he hadn’t been able to in the past – things had been
taken from him, other things Harry had willingly given to others. His help, his
love. His passion. But nothing seemed to last.
Everything, everyone was going to die eventually. Disappear forever.
Harry reached out and touched her hand.  
The last time he had seen her she had been so beautiful, and she still was,
but… his hand reached out and his fingertips brushed over the ring on her ring
finger, knowing that his father’s name would be engraved in it. Hot tears
prickled in his eyes.
Who knew how many people she had killed, eaten?

He slipped the ring off her finger and fisted it tightly, a sob tearing from
his throat. The ring was cold, not warm by her body heat like it had been all
those years ago when she had held Harry's hand and it had been pressed against
his skin.
When Tom hauled him up to his feet Harry yelled at him and started punching him
in the chest, pushing him away… Anything he could do to hurt Tom. Tom did
nothing to fight him and eventually Harry just collapsed into him, fisting
Tom’s shirt and helplessly biting his bottom lip to keep himself from uttering
words that he had been meaning to spill for such a long time now.  
It wouldn’t be okay to act like a little boy right now. He knew that, he knew
that he shouldn’t cry, that it wouldn’t do any good.
But then again, he couldn’t see any good in his loved ones dying either. That
wasn’t keeping them from doing so.
‘It’s okay,’ Tom murmured, rocking him back and forth in his arms. And Harry
knew that Tom had done it to protect them both but Harry couldn’t help the
resentment that overcame him.

His heart ached and he choked.
Tom would be leaving him too. Tom would be like that, one day. Harry would have
to do that to him soon.
Tom’s hand found Harry’s fist and gently unfolded his fingers from where they
had been fisting the ring in between, kissing his forehead. Harry watched as
Tom took the ring and slipped it on Harry’s ring finger. It was a perfect fit.
‘Don’t remember her like that,’ Tom murmured, ‘remember her for the things she
gave you, not for the things she just attempted to take from you.’ His fingers
wound through Harry’s hair and Harry wondered if Tom was asking Harry to do the
same for him.
Harry just cracked. He couldn’t stand it.
Every day they had been confronted with how fragile their lives had been, but
they had always been able to get away before things got bad. They got hurt,
sure – they’ve had their fair share of broken bones and cuts and bruises and
whatnot. But this? It just shouldn’t end like this. They were supposed to grow
old with each other. That’s the only thing Harry had wanted.
Still wanted.
‘I wanna go home,’ Harry sobbed, ‘I wanna go home and I want my mom and dad and
I just want you to be okay.’

He didn’t care that he was supposed to be an adult now, and that crying for his
mom and dad at this age simply wasn’t acceptable anymore. He wasn’t able to
feel shame right now.
Tom said nothing for a long amount of time, until he finally pulled away with a
tired sigh.
‘Let’s bury her and talk.’
===============================================================================
They took her body with them, driving a couple of miles away just to make sure
they wouldn’t get attacked by the other zombies who were surely drawn to the
place where they left Grindelwald because of all the screaming and the scent of
blood, and then buried her under an oak tree. Tom’s arm had been around Harry’s
shoulders, his hands comforting on Harry’s skin, warm and big and secure. Safe.
After that, they started driving again and Tom parked the car somewhere in a
clearing. Harry set up the traps because he knew Tom would forget where he had
put them, and because Harry just needed to do something with his hands. Sitting
around and doing nothing was killing him. He couldn’t stop the gnawing pain in
his chest from growing even if he wanted to.

Being near Tom only made it worse.
He returned, they exchanged a couple of words. Harry headed out again and
killed a rabbit and got them berries for desert. It was a decent meal, he
supposed. Taking care of his own body seemed so unimportant when his lover’s
was in the very process of dying right next to him.
They didn’t do much talking at all. There was a strange type of tension in the
air – it was different from when they were having one of their fights. Normally
it was Tom who was brooding and fell silent, but not this time.
This time it was Harry, hiding everything inside right until he was going to
burst and then maybe hiding it for a little longer.
Maybe, Harry thought to himself, this wouldn’t be so hard if it wouldn’t be so
drawn out. Maybe it would’ve been easier to accept if it would
justhappen already, if the moment would be there already. If Harry wouldn’t
have this gnawing sense of hope somewhere inside of himself, would it hurt
less?
He didn’t know. But knowing these things wouldn’t make a change anyway.
They got back into the car, car seats pushed down. Standard procedure that
allowed them to lie next to one another. They stared out in front of each
other, only their hands touching, silence thick in the air.

Harry wondered what it felt like, feeling your body change and die. He wondered
if Tom gradually grew more used to the pain, if he hid it or if he simply
didn’t feel any pain anymore. It was hard to say.
‘I’m going to die,’ Tom finally said, his voice soft. As if he had just reached
an understandment with himself.
Harry didn’t say anything to acknowledge it. He didn’t know how Tom felt about
death. If Tom feared it, if he welcomed it after being in pain for so long.
Maybe a bit of both. He wondered how Tom felt about an afterlife.
‘I’m going to die and then I’m going to come back as something entirely
different from what I am now.’
Tom had always been so poetic. Trust him to say he was pretty much becoming a
zombie in an almost pleasant way. Like he was just getting a new haircut, or
something like that.
Harry remembered the first time Tom made love to him, and he remembered
wondering to himself why people would ever fight if they could make each other
feel so loved, so wanted, so cherished instead. What had Tom’s father wanted to
achieve by creating such a horrible virus? Couldn’t he have foretold that it
would ruin mankind?
Harry turned his head to look at Tom only to notice Tom had been looking at him
all along.
Words failed him. Harry was struck by the look in his eyes - it was so
understanding, so intelligent. It was like for a moment Tom was himself again.
Like Tom was in perfect health right now.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Harry whispered, wondering if he had ever told Tom this
before. He couldn’t recall saying it before, but that didn't make it any less
true.

Tom looked mildly amused by that and he smiled, just a brief upturn of the
corner of his mouth. His eyes glimmered in the light and Harry thought that he
could live for forever in this moment.
Tom’s thumb brushed over the back of Harry’s hand and Harry glanced down at
their joined hands. His mother’s wedding ring glimmered in the light and
without even thinking twice Harry took it off and put it on Tom’s pinky, the
only finger where it fit.
‘My dad put it around my mom’s finger to show her he loved her,’ Harry
whispered, feeling so eerily calmed by Tom’s acceptance, ‘I… please keep it? So
that-’
‘Yes,’ Tom instantly said, ‘yes, of course. Come here.’
Harry rolled over to lie on his side and Tom reached an arm out, holding him
close and kissing his scarred forehead. He closed his eyes when Tom’s fingers
brushed over the side of his face, the touch fleeting and gentle, almost
nonexistent but so very reassuring by the way it was Tom’sas well.
‘Talk to me?’ Harry asked. Tom paused from where he had been caressing Harry,
before he continued moving his fingers.
‘About what?’ Tom asked in return. Harry shrugged. He loved the sound of Tom’s
voice; maybe it would be able to lull him to sleep. Harry hadn’t been capable
of sleeping very well lately and maybe he would just get a few hours of rest
he'd feel better again. Stronger.

Maybe if he woke up again, this would all turn out to have been a bad, horrible
dream.
‘What would life have been like if everything was okay? If we would’ve… been
together in a normal world?’
Tom chuckled, little huffs of breath fanning over Harry’s forehead. Harry
pressed himself more into Tom, liking how Tom was acting more like his old
self. His body was tall and secure, curling so nicely around Harry's. Almost
like a blanket.
‘We would’ve been a mess,’ Tom stated. ‘Undoubtedly fighting all the time over
stupid things.’

Harry froze.

Before all of this happened, before they had decided to settle down, they had
been working pretty well together but whenever Tom got irritated Harry did tend
to avoid him for as much as that was possible, not having wanted to deal with
Tom's bad moods and his temper. Harry supposed that if he really hadn't been
secretly afraid Tom would leave him, he would've snapped at Tom more often as
well. 

In a way it made sense to think that if they would've been together in normal
life, they would've made a horrible couple. A horrible, wonderful couple.
‘Like what?’ Harry asked softly. Tom snorted. His fingers started tracing
random patterns on Harry's skin, making it tingle in the wake of it. Harry
should feel tired after everything they did - accomplished, even. They had just
brought down the leader of the Brotherhood and undoubtedly changed the lives of
hundreds of people, probably for the better as well.

Harry didn't feel a sense of victory at all. He just felt awake and completely
aware of Tom, of his slow breathing and of the scarce amount of his skin that
was exposed to the open air.
‘I’d get pissed at you for making a mess out of the apartment we’d be living
in, and you’d probably get annoyed at me for always bringing my work home. We’d
be one of those couples no one else would just get, but it’d be okay. We’d be
so caught up in one another that we wouldn’t even care.’
Harry smiled softly at the thought, brushing his fingers over Tom’s, silently
encouraging him to continue. He closed his eyes and tried to envision it. He
tried to envision a world where things such as Harry making a mess out of their
apartment would actually matter; a world where they weren't constantly in
danger for their lives and a world where they could just go to sleep and not
have to worry about getting attacked. Harry tried to envision what their
apartment would look like but honestly, just the knowledge that it'd
be theirs already made it sound amazing.

It had been so long since he had stayed at one place for a while. The map
indicated that they were getting closer and closer to the abandoned farm they
had been intending on going and hiding for the rest of winter - it'd only be a
couple of days worth traveling. 

A place of their own sounded absolutely amazing and more than what Harry could
ask for.
‘We’d have a nice apartment somewhere in town on the top floor of a tall
building so that you could look down on people. I know how much you like
looking at people.’
Harry did like looking at people from afar, just studying them, trying to
understand what made them tick. Harry often tried to figure out their past just
by looking at them. He never did quite succeed, but it was a fun game
nonetheless. It kept him busy when he was bored and Tom used to join him, in
the past.

Harry remembered the stories they had sometimes come up with (Harry had only
been 13 years old when they started doing it) with a smile on his face. The
nicknames they started giving zombies had pretty much come from that.
‘Would we have any pets?’ Harry asked softly, allowing himself to fantasize.
It’s been so long since he had actually allowed himself to do so, allowed
himself to be just a kid. It was strange, kind of like trying on a suit that
wasn't his size but close to it.
‘I don’t know, would you like one? It’s your life too, you know,’ Tom said,
nudging Harry in the side. Harry laughed softly.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so.
‘Maybe an owl?’ Harry asked. He had always liked owls - their soft hooting
always comforted Harry at night and he often envied them for being capable of
just spreading their wings and flying away from everything. When he had been a
kid he used to draw them all the time. They had always been his favorite
animals. They were just so mysterious and beautiful, their eyes always
glimmering in the darkness.

Tom chuckled. 
‘An owl? I don’t believe they make good pets, though,’ he said, his fingers
resuming to running over Harry's skin again. Harry could feel how Tom's lips
were still curled up in a grin against his own scarred forehead. 
Harry shrugged, not really caring. He wouldn't keep her in a cage - an animal
like that should be able to be free as well. He'd allow her to fly whenever
she'd want to.

‘A big white one. She could deliver letters…’ Tom laughed and Harry briefly
opened his eyes to look at him, feeling himself smile. ‘Are you laughing at
me?’
‘I’m sorry. You may have all the owls you want, as long as you clean up their
mess.’ Harry wrinkled up his nose and pressed his face in Tom’s chest again,
finding comfort in the beating of his heart.

This was nice. It's been so long since they had actually just talked, and Harry
couldn't remember the last time they have had a conversation like this, if
they'd even had a conversation like this at all.
‘Can’t we hire someone for that?’ 

Tom laughed again. Harry could hear the sound bubbling up in his torso, too,
vibrating in his throat.  He liked the sound of it.
‘Maybe that someone could clean up after you as well. I feel sorry for that
person already.’ Tom merely moved to the side when Harry poked him in the ribs,
smile still on his face. Harry kept smiling as well. He felt warm for the first
time in days. Funny, how Tom always did that to him. 

A wave of affection overcame him and he shifted, gazing at Tom. His fingertips
reached out and traced the straight bridge of Tom's nose. He liked how soft
Tom's skin felt against his own, how smooth it was.
‘Could we have a big bed?’ Harry asked in a whisper, as though speaking too
loud would ruin this rare moment of happiness. He rolled on top of Tom, his
chin resting on Tom’s chest, gazing up at the male. He tried to ignore how cold
Tom felt and toyed with the thought of warming Tom up with his own heat.
Tom hummed.
‘The biggest bed money could buy,’ Tom confirmed, running a hand through
Harry’s hair. ‘With lots of pillows and soft sheets.’

Harry could picture it, too. Large windows, white curtains. A king sized bed
with maybe black or white sheets, and a mountain of pillows on top. The last
time he had slept in a bed it had been hard and dusty and not very comfortable,
but theirs would've been different. They would have the kind of bed where their
bodies would just sink into, the kind of bed they just couldn't leave because
it'd be so goddamn comfortable. A bed where they could just close their eyes
and fall asleep in without having to wake up with any sore limbs.
It'd be a bed where Harry would maybe bring Tom breakfast sometimes, if he
would learn how to cook a nice meal. A bed where they would make love, a bed
where they could stay in when it'd be a rainy day and they had nowhere they
needed to be. A bed where they could lie, limbs tangled, just sleeping. 
Harry loved sleeping with Tom. Just sleeping - nothing special. Feeling him
breathe and move in his sleep at rare occasions, their bodies pressed against
one another. Tom's arms around him.

It felt like home and safety. 
‘I think that that would be my favorite room in our apartment,’ Harry admitted
honestly, tracing Tom’s face with his fingertips and resting at his cupid’s
bow.
‘You’re such a hormonal teen,’ Tom observed, the corner of his mouth kicking up
again, this time in a cocky smirk. ‘Or am I simply that irresistible?’

Harry opened and closed his mouth, feeling strangely flustered. It wasn't like
Harry still got easily frustrated or embarrassed around Tom - he liked having
sex with Tom and he wasn't ashamed of his own body, and he liked talking to the
tall male. He just supposed that feelings... Feelings were still difficult for
Harry to grasp.
‘It’s not just the sex – it’s… It’s being close to you,' Harry slowly started,
frowning a bit to himself. 'You always make me feel so loved and warm and I
haven’t had that in years.'

Harry felt his cheeks burn and started feeling ridiculous for saying these
things out loud.

‘When I’m with you like that it just feels like everything falls into place.
Like my body was made to be with yours, to have you inside it. It’s stupid.’
Tom stared at him for a long time, his eyes almost searching, demanding in
their own intensity. Harry struggled to keep from looking away.
‘I don’t think it’s stupid,’ Tom finally said and Harry licked his lips. ‘I
feel the exact same way.’
===============================================================================
Tom’s health plummeted two days later.
It happened so fast and so sudden Harry had trouble fully understanding what
was happening, let alone accepting it.

They had just been washing up by a small creek when Tom had suddenly sunk
through his knees, clutching his chest. He had insisted he had been alright,
but he could no longer walk straight. From the sound of it, Tom even had
trouble breathing.
Harry supported Tom’s weight, feeling numbed, his heart a clump of lead trapped
in his ribcage.
They had to keep moving on – it was becoming cooler and cooler with each
passing day, zombies were more often out in the open now that the heat of the
sun was growing weaker. There were only so many zombies Harry could kill before
they’d overpower him. He only had three arrows left and he was usually very
good at physical combat, but Harry wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Tom once
he'd start fighting.
Tom rasped something in Harry’s ear and Harry stopped, adjusting Tom’s arm
around his neck and tightening his grip on Tom’s waist. Tom was bigger than
him, and even though Tom tried to walk he dragged his feet and
leaned heavily on Harry,  and Tom weighed more than Harry did. It was difficult
to keep moving on and Harry's muscles trembled with the effort but he told
himself he could do this. He could bring Tom into safety, even if their car had
ran out of gas. He'd find them a safe place to sleep. Tom just needed some
rest.

He'd be fine.
‘What?’ Harry asked. His voice was trembling, as were his hands. He felt like
he was going to be sick.
‘I said you should leave me,’ Tom replied. His voice was no longer certain – it
was hoarse, fleeting, weak.
Everything Tom had never been.
‘No,’ Harry instantly replied. It wasn’t an option to him because no matter
what, he'd be there for Tom. He had promised himself that - that they'd stay
together until the bitter end.

But the end was nowhere in sight. Harry was certain of that. Tom wouldn't die
because the antivirus was supposed to slow the process down and dammit, this
wasn't happening now!
Out of all the things Tom could do, he started laughing. The sound was lost and
not joyful at all – it was cold, like all emotion had been drained from him
already. There was sweat on Tom’s forehead and his skin was paler than it
usually was and his eyes were bloodshot, those brilliant blue irises of his
turning violet. Red was slowly seeping into his blue eyes, making them grow
darker by the minute.
‘Now’s not the time to try to prove me a point,’ Tom murmured. His bottom lip
was bleeding from how hard he’d been biting it – still, he had yet to complain
about being in pain.
‘Shut the hell up,’ Harry demanded, but it was weak, just like his legs were.
He felt like crying but he didn’t, because Tom was strong too, and because they
were going to make it goddammit. They were supposed to grow old together. Harry
refused to live a tragedy and refused to become one – they were going to make
it, Tom was going to stop being so goddamn stubborn and –
‘Harry.’
Harry stopped walking and looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him through half-
lidded eyes. He had the audacity to smile.

Harry had never seen him this defeated before.
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not!’ Harry snapped, and those stupid tears were stinging in his eyes
again because he didn’t want Tom to become one of them and he felt so helpless
and he was going to be alone, and living life without Tom simply wasn’t an
option! ‘Why are you being like this?!’
‘Don’t fight with me, not now,’ Tom said. His voice wasn’t demanding nor
threatening, almost pleading in its own weakness. Tom had never backed down
from a fight before.
Harry lowered Tom in front of a tree, allowing him to lean his back against it.
He closed his eyes tightly and turned his back to Tom, wrapping his arms around
his frame. A hollow feeling overcame him, like all happiness was
sudddenly being drained from his entire being and like Harry was never going to
be happy again.

He bit his lip hard.

Who was he even trying to fool? This was it. It was happening right now, the
both of them knew it.
Tom was dying. And after he died he was going to turn into something Tom and
Harry had both spent years trying to eliminate for good.
‘Come here, Harry?’
Harry turned around and stubbornly rubbed at his eyes, trying to ignore the
tears running down his cheeks. He sat down on Tom’s legs, looking him in the
eye as if daring Tom to tell him he shouldn’t. Tom just smiled at him and
brushed the hair from Harry’s eyes. 

His skin was cold, unpleasantly so. Just like the skin of Harry's mom had been.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Tom told Harry even if he seemed to be experiencing immense
difficulty keeping his eyes open, and Harry’s hands balled up into fists. More
tears ran over his cheeks at the memory of when Harry told him the same thing.
‘I love…’ Tom’s breath got stuck in his throat and Harry stared at him,
watching as he struggled to form words, not because of his emotions but because
the monster was already trying to rob him off his intelligence, ‘…love…’ he
trailed off, but Harry understood. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth
against Tom’s temple. His tears dropped on Tom’s face and it was almost like
Tom was crying himself when they rolled over his gaunt cheeks.
‘Maybe the antidote still works,’ Tom offered. Harry froze on top of him.
‘Maybe I just… water – maybe I need water.’
He cradled Tom’s face in his hands. Tom stared up at him, the faintest hint of
a smile on his face. ‘Could you please get me some water?’
Harry’s mouth moved. How was he supposed to deny his dying lover what he needed
most? Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to figure out how long it would
take him to go back to the creek, get water and return.
30 minutes, at most. Because he had been supporting Tom’s weight earlier he’d
been slowed down a lot, but Harry was a lot faster by himself. The question was
– would Tom be safe?
Initially, Harry didn’t want to leave Tom by himself. He opened his mouth to
say that, too, but Tom weakly lifted a finger to Harry’s lips. He smiled
softly, the corners of his mouth trembling at the strain.
‘Don’t protest. I need…’

Tom trailed off again, a strange look of frustration overcoming him. The sight
played at Harry's heartstrings because Tom wasn't supposed to be weak - he was
supposed to be the strong one of them, the one that Harry had always looked up
to. 

It physically hurt Harry to see him like this.
‘I – yes. Okay. Yes, I’ll… I’ll get you water, okay? I’ll go right now, I
just…’ Harry stammered, stumbling over his words in his haste. He rubbed at his
cheeks and sniffled, and Tom nodded weakly. Harry nodded as well and pressed a
kiss against Tom’s forehead, pulling out the knife that had been strapped to
his leg and placing it on Tom’s lap. He doubted Tom would be able to do much to
defend himself should he be attacked, but at least he had a weapon now.
‘Will you be okay?’ Harry asked. They hadn’t run into a zombie just yet and
even though the sun was shining bright, Tom would still be in the shadows
because of the trees. There was no telling if he’d get killed.
But what other option did Harry have? They’d left their possessions behind at
the creek – Harry hadn’t been capable of carrying their backpacks and
supporting Tom’s weight at the same time. He hadn’t been strong enough. Maybe
if he just got Tom some water...
‘I love you,’ Tom murmured. Harry nodded and pressed his forehead against
Tom’s, trying to keep himself from embracing Tom because he knew he wouldn't
want to let go again once he'd start. He pressed his trembling lips against
Tom’s in a soft kiss, a kiss that promised he'd be back as soon as possible, a
kiss that told Tom that Harry loved him too, a kiss that Harry wished to have
lasted. But it didn't.

Nothing would last. Harry had found this out the hard way.

Harry turned around and started running before he could change his mind. His
sides soon felt like they were on fire and he could barely breathe but he
forced his legs to keep going, to go faster and faster, his hands shaking with
the effort when he finally reached the creek and filled their bottles of water
as quick as possible. Harry grabbed their backpacks, glad no one had touched
them, including animals (raccoons were horrible; they destroyed everything in
their wake) and then he hurried back. If he would've had a watch he would've
known he had returned in only 20 minutes.
But when he got there, Tom was gone.
He dropped their backpacks and started calling Tom’s name, fear gripping his
chest. The knife lied abandoned on the ground next to the tree Tom had been
resting against. 
===============================================================================
Tom watched Harry from the bushes he had dragged himself into, and he pressed a
hand against his mouth when he coughed. His fingers were coated in slick, dark
blood when he lowered it again and his stomach lurched at the mere sight. It
wouldn't be long now...
He closed his eyes and lied back down. His breathing evened out, becoming
slower and slower while his lover desperately called his name. 

Funny.

He had never expected to care so much for that shitty brat, but he supposed
Harry was Tom's shitty brat, wasn’t he? He had always been so amazingly
trusting, such a quick learner, so eager to please…  A burst of pain went
through Tom's chest, and Tom dug his nails into his own skin, eyes squeezing
shut in concentration. If he would make a noise now Harry would find him, and
the last Tom would want was to be seen dying.

Tom had lied to make Harry go and distance himself from Tom because Tom had
known that Harry would never be capable of killing him if he turned in Harry’s
presence.

'Tom please, where are you?!'

The tone in Harry's voice played at Tom's heartstrings and he struggled to keep
from answering it, knowing this was for the best. 
Shit, Harry had gone through enough already. And really, this was all Tom’s own
stupid fault. He had been the one to have gotten bitten, he had lost control.
He fucked up and now he was paying the price.

Harry cried out Tom's name again, dry leaves scrunching underneath his feet as
he took a few steps forward, trying desperately to find him.
Tom didn’t think he would’ve been able to let Harry go if Harry had been in his
place. If Harry had been the one to die.

He knew Harry had only left him for a short while because Harry was naive and
undoubtedly had thought that if he'd just listen to Tom, things would be okay.
Harry always had heavily relied on Tom to guide him through things, because Tom
had always been the older one. The physically stronger one.
Death had never really been something real to Tom. He knew he was mortal, yes,
at the end of the day he was only human. But he had spent so much time avoiding
getting killed that he had forgotten he wasn’t invincible. He still grew tired
and hungry. He was no god – he was intelligent enough to see his own death
coming, but too arrogant to accept that it was truly going to be the end of
him.
Because this was it. It was dawning in on Tom that he really was going to die,
and it had started to dawn in on him when he had shot Harry's mother.

One day, he was going to be like her.
Tom kind of wished he had shot himself in the head as well, he would hate for
Harry to allow himself to get bitten by him. Selfishly, Tom thought to himself
that that would be the only way for them to be together forever in this rotten
world. But was it a world living in, Tom wondered, if he'd be unaware of
everything and anything anyway?

He had always known that those creatures had lived solely on instincts. Not
emotions. Tom had seen what happened to Voldemort, how crazy he had become and
how he had started eating, always just so hungry and out of control, killed
like a worthless animal.
Tom didn’t want to be like that.
Harry screamed his name again, his voice broken, sounding like it had been when
he had started going through puberty.
Tom wondered what life would be like when all he had to think of was eating and
fucking. For a while he had lived his life like that, with Harry, and it had
been the best period of his life. No worries about tomorrow, no bills to be
paid, no parents to be pleased. Just him and Harry.
Another shot of pain went through his limbs and Tom closed his eyes, his bottom
lip tasting metallic, like someone had shoved a handful of coins into his
mouth.
Tom didn’t see his life flashing before his eyes. In fact, he was now just
aware of Harry’s presence and the twigs digging into the sparse amount of his
skin that was exposed. He was not to be saved anymore and he came to peace with
that.

Harry would survive, the kid was too goddamn stubborn for his own good, and Tom
wouldn’t really die right now either. He would just…
…slip into eternal oblivion to everything. Remaining young, becoming tattered,
his skin becoming worn but not wrinkled. Until someone would decide to put a
bullet into his head. And then it’d be over.
Harry…
‘Tom!’ Harry called again. His voice was raw with emotion and Tom bit his
tongue to keep from scolding him. Didn’t he know better? Hadn’t Tom
specifically told Harry to never call his name unless Harry was in real need,
that Harry would attract unnecessary attention otherwise?

Tom's sight was blurry and he had to blink a couple of times, sternly, before
the black dots dancing in his vision disappeared somewhat. His body was
fighting it, Tom could tell – he just knew it was fighting a losing battle.
Tom had always thought he would die at an old age. That anyone who’d get bitten
was a complete fool because it was so easily avoided.
Ironic.
Tom had never felt so strongly for anyone but Harry before. He hadn't even
loved his little brother this much – Tom had practically raised both boys, had
saved Harry simply because…

Why, exactly? Tom could not recall much of the event, actually. Now that he
thought hard about it Tom found names slipping from his grasp. His father, what
had been his name again? When was the last time Tom had genuinely smiled? He
could not remember.
He felt tired all of a sudden, but he forcibly kept his eyes open.
Ah, yes. He remembered now. He was no pedophile at all – Tom  had been many
things in his lifetime, from a murderer to a savior to a lover, but never a
pedophile. He hadn’t felt illicit attraction to Harry and he had hated him the
first couple of days they had been together.
Tom had just needed something to anchor himself to reality. Something to keep
himself busy. He had not been intending on saving a child – Harry had crossed
his path. They had found each other. Harry had been in need of someone saving
his life, and Tom had been in need of someone saving his mind from leaving him
completely. Tom had been in need of something to keep himself busy.
Tom had told himself he would get rid of Harry as soon as he had proved himself
a bother.
But Harry never had been. Not truly.

In a way Harry had been Tom's Chosen One...
How many times had there been perfect moments where Tom could’ve left Harry to
die? He did not remember. Had Tom been in danger himself? Undoubtedly. But he
couldn’t remember those times either. His eyes slipped shut and it took him
great effort to open them again.
What had been the moment about Harry, for Tom? Maybe that time when… no, wait,
he didn’t know exactly. Probably that first time he had done something by
himself. The first time he had manned up. The time Tom hadn’t been able to come
up with something to save them out of a sticky situation and Harry had taken
him by surprise. Harry had been 15 years old, maybe 16…?
Tom's breathing was incredibly loud to his own ears, but Harry did not seem to
hear. Or maybe Harry had left? Could be, Tom couldn’t see and didn’t try to
either lest he’d want to give away where he was. That’d really, in Harry’s
words, suck.
There were a lot of things Tom didn’t know anymore and everything seemed to
slip away so fast it was almost frightening. It probably would’ve bothered Tom
if he hadn’t been in so much pain right now…

Did he even have a middle name? Did Tom have family? There had to be more to
Tom than Harry. Harry didn’t define him, didn’t define –
Who? Who then, who did Harry define if all Tom had left, even when he tried
really hard, was his first name? Tom squeezed his eyes shut in frustration,
another burst of pain shooting through him.

Something in his body seemed to draw tight and he thought of
passionatenightsHarry’slipshisownhandsorgasmsthefeelingofjumpingoffbuildingskillingeatinghungercoldsosoverycoldwhywasitsocold? until
something just snapped. His body shook and his eyes rolled underneath his lids.
He panted and Harry's voice was somewhere in the distance, he couldn't hear it
anymore. Darkness seemed to take him over completely and the pain was so strong
Tom didn't even know if he was screaming or not. It was like his entire body
was on fire, like his bones were being snapped in half and then rearranged
again, like his skin was expanding and stretching too far.

And then it was over.

He took his final breath as Thomas Marvolo Riddle and his heart stopped beating
all together.

And an hour later, his red eyes opened again and all he was aware of was hunger
and a gnawing feeling of being incomplete.
===============================================================================
Days passed after that.

Harry remained huddled up in the safety of his hiding place, having returned to
the farm because he had stupidly hoped that maybe Tom would show up, one day.
In the first few weeks, Harry had spent every waking moment looking for Tom but
he grew distant and cold when he no matter what, he didn't find his lover, and
the weeks quickly turned into months. Maybe seasons even came and went away.

Time was hard to grasp when all you could feel was pain.
It began to rain and later on snow as time passed. Harry lost track of what
month he was living in by the time the sky began to clear up and flowers began
to grow again. Apples were growing at the apple tree just outside the house he
was inhabiting now and even though Harry had been looking forward to eating
fruit for so long, it now just tasted bland on his tongue when he had no one to
share this with. 

Harry had never been alone for this amount of time, and it was more than he
could take. Harry still went out hunting, killing small animals so he could eat
them, he still took care of himself. It just felt like it was without purpose.
It felt like he wasn’t really alive anymore.
Like only half of himself was left.
The hours that passed were filled with dread, worries and mental images of Tom
ripping people apart with his bare hands, images of Tom having lost his
intelligence so much that he had easily gotten killed by another person. By
people like who Tom used to be himself.
Harry tightly closed his eyes and curled into a tighter ball, the sheets
scratchy and the mattress hard.
There were days where Harry resented Tom. Resented him for making Harry leave
in the first place, resented him for leaving Harry all by himself in this
world. Resented Tom for making Harry love him and for putting those stupid
images of them living together in an apartment in Harry's head.
There were nights where Harry hated Tom for changing his life. For saving him
that one day. Often Harry wished he had died before he had started developing
these feelings.

All of his nights were cold and lonely, and this one wouldn’t be very
different.
===============================================================================
When Harry woke again, he woke to the smell of fresh meat. He knew it was a
dream – it had to be, his mind had to be playing cruel tricks on him again.
There was no one in the house and no one would've been able to go past all of
Harry's traps unharmed. The only person who knew exactly how to avoid the traps
and how to recognize them was Tom, and he was dead.

Tom couldn't know Harry was here. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He
was a mindless zombie now and he wasn't Harry's lover anymore.

Harry had often dreamt of all the possibilities – dreamt of Tom’s arms around
him, his lips against his own, slipping inside of Harry. It never happened and
it always left Harry empty, aching, lonely.
Harry got out of bed nonetheless because the smell made his stomach growl
hungrily, his feet connecting with the floorboards. They creaked under his
added weight and he listlessly grabbed his knife and walked downstairs. His
movements were slow and sluggish. He wasn't fully awake, or maybe he wasn't
awake at all. It could be that Harry was sleepwalking right now.

It didn’t surprise Harry that Tom was standing there, in the kitchen, meat in
the small frying pan Harry had used only last night. Tom had often graced Harry
with his presence in Harry’s dreams, almost cruelly so. Like he was demanding
Harry to keep from forgetting him.
Harry walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Tom, automatically,
because it was okay to do so in his dreams. He didn’t cry, didn’t smile, didn’t
do anything but breathe him in. He was too tired to do anything but feel Tom's
body against his own right now and he didn't want to put any effort into
feeling anything as well. He'd wake up in tears later, Harry was sure of that,
but right now Harry just wanted to feel Tom.

In a way, he was grateful his mind was capable of creating this realistic image
of Tom. He didn't think he could bear forgetting any small details about Tom,
like the little scar on the back of Tom's hand that he got when they'd been
climbing over a fence a couple of years back.
Tom froze and only moments later did he wrap his arms around Harry in return.
He started rocking them back and forth when Harry started shaking because of
how unfair this all was. It was unfair how real this dream felt, and it was
unfair how Tom had left him.

Harry wished he could hate Tom for it. But this was only proof that he
couldn't.
‘Don’t fret, precious I’m here,’ Tom murmured softly into his hair. Harry just
clung onto him tighter and willed himself to believe that the lie he created
could be reality, because it would be so much easier to him. When he pulled
away, Tom's knuckles brushed over his cheek. He murmured sweet nothings into
Harry’s ear.

Tom's body felt cold and against his own, like it was made out of marble.
When Harry looked up, Tom’s eyes weren’t blue and his skin wasn’t just pale.
His eyes were a dark shade of red, and his lips were painted red with blood as
well, some of it dribbling down his chin, dripping on Harry's forehead. His
skin had a greyish undertone to it, like he hadn’t seen the sun in a very long
time.
Harry looked at the kitchen counter and saw the mangled body of a dead bird
lying there, ripped open and its insides missing.
Harry’s lips moved, but he couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t come up with anything
to say. His dreams never took this turn. Dream-Tom never did anything to
anyone, he should be just there for Harry, making Harry remember him.

But he felt so real right now. The smell of blood did, too.

Tom just kissed him and Harry gagged. He tasted of blood.

This had to be a nightmare, right?
‘Go back to sleep.’
 
***** Mad World *****
                          Counting Bodies Like Sheep
                                   Epilogue
                                   Mad World
Fifteen years it has been since the virus broke out and mankind was slowly
restoring itself once more.
Towns were slowly being built up, weapons of mass destruction wiping out
nations where zombies reigned. Now more than ever women were carrying children,
bellies round and protruding, men protecting them like they were sacred beings
because women were the only ones able to give birth to new life in this world.
Food and products were more valuable than money nowadays. People no longer put
their faith in people who spoke in the names of Gods – the Gods had abandoned
mankind once. If they existed, they would probably do so again one day in the
future.
Best to abandon a sinking ship before it takes you down with it.
It was mainly youth that ruled the world, new political systems were being
developed and history books were now full of stories of the so-called
apocalypse. There were pages filled with writing about heroic tales about the
people who helped rebuild this world; books on the Order, on the Brotherhood,
on heroes of the war against the undead. What had happened had been unlike
anything else.

The world had forever been changed by the selfish acts of only one man.

People had slain the most unholy things, prevailed against the odds, seen all
horrors to be seen out there. They had grown cold and distant and those who had
grown old were no longer envied. They were only pitied for what they may have
experienced or had to do in order to obtain that old age.

Entertainment was no longer cheap and all things luxurious (like real butter
and chocolate and, above all, soap) were to be cherished, because they were
still so rare to come by and bore such a high price.
Beauty images no longer existed. They served no purpose in a world where you
were lucky to have all of your limbs still intact, in fact it only brought
trouble. Women often scarred themselves and their children in the face to ward
off anyone who would want to take advantage of their looks, of their youth.
This was now a world where crimes such as rape went by unpunished, sometimes
even encouraged, and there was only so little people could do to protect
themselves against others. 
It was not wrong to try to help rebuild this world, after all. And men hungered
for flesh in a way that was almost more terrifying than the way zombies had
hungered for it.
Countries were being restored one at a time, people now more willing to
cooperate than ever. Wars would follow soon enough, though. There was only so
little amount of peace mankind could handle before deciding to stir up the
fire. Mankind was not familiar with the saying let sleeping dogs lie, because
there was always something more to be obtained, something more valuable in the
hands of others and that just couldn't be.
Some say it had not been basic human instincts that had overtaken the infected.
Some say that it was mankind’s integrated greed, implanted in their heads by
society.
Rodolphus Lestrange didn’t know and to be frank, he did not care either. He was
just doing his job, had gone through some shit and now he was guarding the
outskirts of town even though it was useless. There were no zombies around but
hey, if he could do this for free food then why the fuck not? There was nothing
else he could spend his time on. His friends were dead, he had no books, his
wife had gone insane after all the blood and pain of losing their family.
Rodolphus Lestrange was, along with more than half of nowadays’ society,
bitter, traumatized and cruel. An expert at surviving but mentally dead,
awaiting death and no longer fearing it just like his crazy wife who hungered
for blood of those who did so much as look at her in the wrong way.
After having lived so long in the mentality that every day could be their last,
most people nowadays didn’t even see death as such a big deal anymore.
They were fine with dying as long as they wouldn’t come back.
Rodolphus had been dozing in and out of sleep for a while now, the wooden chair
he had been slouched on not entirely uncomfortable. The sun was dying at the
horizon, bleeding colors in the shades of red and pink and yellow into the blue
sky. It had been pure coincidence of him to have glanced up, truly, but the
sight instantly made him tighten his grip on his gun, his heart pumping lazily
in his chest.
There was a boy walking alone only a couple of feet away from Rodolphus, his
shoulders hunched and his posture defeated and broken.
He wasn’t wearing shoes, his short, black hair was a mess and he was covered in
blood. He had a bow and arrows strapped to his back, but he didn't look like a
fighter at all. In fact, he looked lost, drugged maybe. His glasses were in
crooked and his fingertips were twitching by his sides. Drops of blood followed
his wake and the scent of it combined with clean grass hung around around him
like an impenetrable bubble.
Rodolphus stood up, frowning a bit. He cocked his gun in case it was a zombie,
but the short boy walked right past him, his head hanging low, his expression
obscured by his hair. He looked like he had gone through hell and back, like he
was not even aware of Rodolphus' presence.
Zombies were nowadays hard to come across, so many of them slaughtered
throughout the years. Every now and then one of those fuckers would show up and
really, one bite was all that it took to screw up years of work and rebuilding,
but now people were prepared.
Now they knew what to do against them.
‘Boy,’ Rodolphus called carefully and he kept aiming his gun at the boy’s
head. The boy did not reply, he just kept walking, kept shaking, moving as if
stuck in a dream. He was dazed, or so he appeared. Utterly traumatized.
The boy’s jeans were tattered, his waistband ripped. He was limping and
Rodolphus felt disgust rise inside of him as he thought of the possibilities of
the cause of his limp – the boy had impressive hickeys on the back of his neck
and he had bruises the shape of fingers on his wrists.
Crimes went unpunished, people still too busy recreating the life they used to
have to be bothered with caring for others. Molestation, rape, murder, abuse
and theft were nothing but common. It were not just women who fell victim of
the lust of men - often young boys did too, when men were looking for a quick
fuck. Boys couldn't grow pregnant after all.
Common or not, it didn’t mean that Rodolphus found the acts acceptable.
‘Hey, boy,’ Rodolphus called, his eyes still following the boy. The boy dragged
his feet a bit. It was only when the man pressed the barrel of a gun against
the side of his head, that he froze completely.
His shoulders twitched and his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath he
took. His feet were bleeding, too, leaving behind bloody trails. Had the boy
been raped and robbed? Rodolphus' head started to reel and he felt disgust at
the civilization of nowadays.
‘Where are you from?’ he asked. The boy did not answer him and Rodolphus
studied him. He couldn’t be a day over 17 – he had bruises on his attractive
face, too, his bottom lip split. He was covered in so much dirt and blood that
Rodolphus wasn’t able to tell what the natural shade of his skin was.
‘I can’t help you like this, boy!’ Rodolphus impatiently snapped. He gripped
the boy’s collar and pulled him close, the worn fabric ripping at the rough
treatment.
The boy’s collarbone was exposed to him all at once and Rodolphus’ eyes
widened. Right there, at the junction of his neck and shoulder, he had a large
scar, looking like it had been reopened again and again.

It was in the shape of human teeth.
‘Jesus Christ,’ the man breathed, backing a step away and the boy kept his face
aimed at him. His eyes were closed and he stepped toward him, but Rodolphus
wavered now, no longer willing to help.
The boy was turning into a zombie. It couldn't be any other way - the boy had
been attacked and now he was walking around aimlessly, probably no longer aware
of his own existence or that of those around him.

Rodolphus deeply regretted ever calling out to the boy.
‘Stay away from me,’ Rodolphus warned him. The boy didn’t say a word. His
shoulders were still shaking and his head was lowered again. ‘I’m warning you,
I’m going to blow your brains out if you don’t get the fuck away from -’
He fell silent when the boy started laughing, his bloodcovered hand raising.
Rodolphus shot it but the boy was unimpressed – his hand started bleeding but
he regardless took off his broken glasses and dropped them to the ground.
When he opened his eyes, his irises were bright, greenish yellow.
‘Sir,’ the boy whispered, his voice sounding strange, like it had not been used
in a long time. Rodolphus swallowed thickly and backed another step away. The
boy no longer looked damaged, he looked like he was perfectly aware of
everything and why had Rodolphus ever even thought that this dangerous creature
had been in need of help? Shock overcame him and he realized the boy had
tricked him.

The boy had been waiting for Rodolphus to give him a reason to hurt him. 

‘You should not have done that.’
The boy’s yellow eyes were cold, emotionless, like a cat’s. Rodolphus cursed
and shot the boy again, panicking when he shot the boy in the stomach and
he still didn’t die. He didn’t even have the sense to shoot him in the head –
he didn’t understand.
The boy pressed a blood coated hand against his stomach and marveled at the
sight of his own blood for a moment before he lowered his hand once more to
rest by his sides.
He laughed again and Rodolphus thought that he had never heard a more
terrifying sound than that.
The boy should’ve collapsed or in the very least feel pain. Rodolphus knew that
– only zombies were capable of just carrying on after being shot, but zombies
could not speak, zombies did not have eyes like this boy. Zombies
didn't pretend they were hurt to draw attention, zombies didn't look for
reasons to harm others.

They just did.
‘You’ve made him angry now,’ the boy breathed, looking utterly insane,
debauched. Rodolphus' head snapped to the side when he heard a sound, fear
gripping his heart.
‘Who?’ he hysterically snapped, his eyes shifting over the area, trying to find
where those noises were coming from. ‘Who is angry? What are you?!’
The boy hadn’t been bleeding at all, Rodolphus realized. This wasn’t the boy's
own blood he was bathed in.
Something in the bushes moved and Rodolphus shot blindly at it, and his head
whipped around when the boy was suddenly standing so close to him. He tried to
shoot him again but he was out of bullets and he cursed, backing away.
His blood ran cold when he felt another body behind him, tall and strong. A
hand clasped around his shoulder, a golden ring glimmering in the weak light of
the setting sun. Rodolphus released a choked sob, his entire body now shaking
in fear.

He somehow knew. This was it.

Rodolphus didn't fear death because he had always thought that it would come to
him without good reason, merely out of necessity. But this... he had done
this himself and that terrified him. These creatures could think for themselves
and they were going to enter the town Rodolphus had been supposed to guard.
They were going to be among people.

They were going to slaughter the entire town.
‘I only wanted to help,’ he said, his voice pleading when he thought of all the
process that would be lost if they were to infect and kill people, ‘please, I –
you looked hurt, I never meant – I was scared.’
The boy cooed and Rodolphus shivered, taking halting, shaking breaths as the
boy reached out a bleeding hand to brush over his cheek. He barely reached
Rodolphus' shoulder and he looked young, so vulnerable. So beautiful.

And then it hit him, right when Rodolphus studied the boy's face and realized
why the boy had looked so familiar to him. This was Harry Potter. Harry Potter,
who used to be Tom Riddle's partner. Harry Potter, who had betrayed the Order
and who had taken off with the one man who could've cured all the infected -
why hadn't Rodolphus recognized him? This was the boy they had been looking for
for years now, because the Order had known that if they were to find him, they
would find Tom Riddle. His picture had been spread all over the country.

And standing right behind Rodolphus, couldn't be anyone else than Tom Riddle.
‘You only wanted to help,’ the boy named Harry whispered, soft, like a prayer
and God, how had he stayed this young? He should be in his early thirties right
now but he looked like he was still a teen. Rodolphus nodded and tears rolled
over his face. He was fucking scared shitless.

If Potter was like this, then Rodolphus didn't dare to imagine what Riddle was
like right now. Riddle had always been known to be a cruel man and after he had
had a fight with Potter in front of the Order, no one had seen him again. The
Order had always said that Potter was a naive boy, willing to believe
anything... But those yellow eyes, they spoke of wisdom that surpassed the
boy's age entirely.

They spoke of death and Rodolphus knew that he was about to die.
‘You can help,’ Harry continued to whisper, his beauty haunting, his whispers
deafening, his eyes penetrating. Rodolphus nodded again in the hopes of warding
off the pair from town. He briefly thought of his wife and how she had set
someone's house on fire because she had been convinced that person had gotten
infected and chills ran down his spine. If these two wouldn't destroy town,
then she would when provoked. ‘Yes? Do you want to help?’
‘Yes – please, anything. Please.' Just don't go into town.
The hand on his shoulder tightened and he inhaled a sharp breath through his
nose. He needn’t look to know that the Riddle was twice the boy’s height.
Harry smiled sweetly, looking so devastatingly innocent.
‘You can help us by stilling our hunger.’
Rodolphus opened and closed his mouth, unsure if he understood that right. Was
he to hunt for them? He hesitantly nodded and the boy took his hand. Rodolphus'
gun dropped to the ground and he watched as Harry lifted their joined hands,
not a sound to be heard except for Rodolphus' wavering breaths. He was shaking
like a leaf. Fear, he reckoned. The boy certainly knew how to induce fear in
others.
The pain was excruciating when Harry suddenly dug his sharp teeth into his skin
and Rodolphus screamed when Riddle bit him right in the throat, tearing out a
chunk of flesh and leaving him to choke on his own blood. It all happened so
fast and there was so much pain, his skin being ripped off straight from his
flesh and air becoming hard to come by. Rodolphus' legs no longer were willing
to carry him and he collapsed, but their hungry mouths followed.
His body was still twitching when they continued eating off him, feasting off
his body.
One would say they were savages, others would say they were nothing short of
the monsters they had spent all those years killing.
They just thought they were sustaining the lives they so desperately had fought
to protect.
Once their hunger was stilled they both glanced up, red locking on yellow.
There was something poetic about the bitemark on the boy’s collarbone –
something poetic about how their positive emotions, their love, had driven them
to become exactly that what they had hated for so long.

Was it still love if they were no longer human, though, had it turned into a
dark, strong sense of belonging? Neither knew. They had both died for one
another, quite literally, and they had returned to each other too. Why question
what was there when they could spend their time enjoying it instead?
Harry lunged forward and kissed his lover eagerly, greedily, with a hunger he
had only acquired in the year that had passed after his own death. Their bloody
hands linked and they sucked the blood right off their tongues, teeth sharp but
never puncturing, not their lips, not to hurt each other. Never.
Tom took Harry's face in his hands and then licked the blood right off his
chin, hungrily lapping at his fingers. Always hungry. So, so hungry for
everything. Always eager to fill whatever void was inside of them.
The younger boy shivered and then mouthed at the man’s throat, the cells in
their bodies already regenerating, working fast to keep their skin young and to
mend their wounds. Harry could feel his own body pushing out the bullets from
his wounds already.

Life was good for them. They ate, they fucked, they traveled. They weren't
picky when it came to food, sometimes settling for human flesh, sometimes
settling for animals. It depended on what crossed their path.

They slept when they were tired and fucked until either one of their bodies
gave out. They repeated this process day by day, never quite sated, incapable
of becoming so. Tom thought it was the virus. Harry thought it was his human
heart that refused to beat for anyone other than Tom.

The virus empowered them, weakened their sense of pain, heightened their sense
of smell. Harry saw humans now as nothing but food, playthings. He often
wondered to himself why Tom had returned to the empty shell of a person Harry
used to be before turning into whatever they were right now. He had been so
weak, so worthless.

He couldn't for the life of him recall why he had thought the taste of blood
was disgusting those weeks, months (Years? Harry lost track of the amount of
time that had passed and now that their bodies no longer aged and death wasn't
an option for the near future it was difficult to bring himself to care) ago
when it was so delicious on Tom's tongue right now. The taste was rich, thick,
metallic in all the right ways. 
The teen purred when his other half, his partner in crime, his lover, his
teacher, his protector kicked over Rodolphus' chair and pressed him right
against the tree, clawing eagerly at his chest and mouthing at the long column
of his throat.
His name was Harry Potter.
He destroyed the few homes people had created, no longer in search of his own. 
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