#lacie4045-blog

[corvidprompts]

Hi! 18, 34, 39 ?

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

trump, trudeau, a whole bunch of politicians 

i don’t know about punch but i would like to one day be mean to kat von d. who doesnt vaccinate in 2018??? seriously?? r u shitting me

34. What was your last dream about?

i almost never dream and when i do it’s usually super nonsensical and doesnt make very much sense D:

39. What type of music do you like?

pretty much all of it!

[katsitting]

Hi! First I love your writing and for the fic trope thing 15 and 94. Thanks!

Criminal AU + Hair Brushing/Braiding. This is an interesting combination. Since you didn’t give me a ship, I’ll just assume it is for Tomarry. I hope you like what my brain concocted lmao.

Harry spent his nights tucked away in the shadows. Breaking and entering into homes that hadn’t been lived in for months, perhaps even years. It was the nature of his routine--his life in an orphanage leaving him with little options but to turn to stealing. It was the only way to survive when no one had wanted him, when his scar on his forehead and the traumatic deaths of his parents made him into some trouble child no young couple wanted to deal with.

Stealing was how he made his living. Pickpocketing from rich folk in the bustling cities, packed liked sardines, failing to notice when his hands swept through their pockets or purses. It was only until recently that he graduated into breaking and entering--slipping through the cracks of these rich, suburban homes to take jewelry families wouldn’t miss.

It was easy. Easier than pickpocketing, though it definitely involved more work to do. But it was fine, he had all the time in the world when his home was the streets and the vehicles that traveled through the city without ever checking for passengers.

That was, until he broke into the wrong home. He’d miscalculated the time frame of when the sole resident of the opulent home would return. He’d been watching him for weeks, breaking and entering into other smaller towns and getting by with little side jobs to make ends meet in the meantime. This man was supposed to be his big break. 

It was halfway through his job, his back to basement and face focused on the expensive paintings pressed to the walls, that he was suddenly shoved into the open basement.

A scream tore from his mouth, grip falling away from his bag and the paintings. He scrambled to find his balance, to ease the pain of his arms and legs smashing into the wooden stairs on his way down.

A crack splintered through the silence, a pained cry leaving his throat when his ankle twisted on the bottom step, his arm bent in a way that it never should have bent that way.

“It’s rude to steal from others, you know.” A deep, masculine voice said from atop the stairs, his features shrouded by the shadows of the home. None of the lights had been turned on, but Harry didn’t need to see this man to know that it had to be the sole resident of the property. The man lived alone and did most of the chores himself.

Harry released a pained laugh, hysteria fueling his movements even as his shuffling only made his ankle and arm pound furiously in pain. “As is pushing an unarmed thief down the stairs.”

The basement door made a loud bang when the man closed the door, the reverberations making Harry’s teeth rattle in his mouth. 

“Should have thought better than to steal from me, then.” The man said, stepping down the stairs with grace. It was the opposite of Harry’s jerky movements, and Harry wondered if, indeed, he had miscalculated in choosing this house. There was something off about this man, about the way he didn’t sound angry at finding Harry in his home.

“Lesson learned.” Harry said, a pained moan leaving him when the stranger finally reached the bottom of the basement, his foot pushing Harry’s injured ankle to the side. “There. You’ve got me. Just call the cops and get this over with.”

The man was silent for some time, and Harry felt his stomach twist, a strange foreboding settling deep into his bones. The man did not take out his cellphone. He was only watching him, the bit of light from the doorway above the only thing illuminating the stranger.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.” The stranger said, and Harry screamed, thrashing violently when the man suddenly stepped on his injured ankle and began to apply pressure. “You’ll be staying here, with me. It’s been some time since I’ve had guests.”

The man had to be bloody insane. There was no other explanation because the man continued to press and press into his ankle until he heard the tell-tale crack of it splintering beneath the man’s weight. Harry didn’t stop screaming, tears burning at the corners of his eyes even when the man finally stopped punishing him.

“Y-you’re mad.” Harry sobbed, and the stranger tutted at him before there was the sound of something jingling, and a bright light exploded in the basement. A hiss tore from his lungs, and it was after blinking furiously for a solid minute that he looked up to the man.

“Perhaps.” The stranger said, and Harry flinched when he crouched in front of him, his dark eyes suddenly too close. If he wanted, Harry could almost breathe in the man’s air, could touch his nose to his. “Perhaps not.”

“You may call me Tom. What is your name?” It was a complete 180 from their earlier conversation. Between the pain in his leg and his vertigo, Harry didn’t respond. Unwilling and unable to.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Your stay can either be a pleasant or unpleasant one. It is your choice.”

Swallowing, Harry gave into Tom’s demands. There was no telling what he might do. He had already shattered his ankle without even flinching. He was dangerous.

“Harry.” He whispered it, unable to rip his gaze away from Tom’s as the man scrutinized him from his beat-up T-shirt and his ratty jeans. It wasn’t the ideal for stealing, but it was all Harry had.

Tom hummed for a moment, then nodded. As if he’d just made up his mind about something that Harry had no understanding of. A smile spread over the man’s features, the first sign of emotion the man had shown since he’d pushed Harry down the stairs, and Harry’s heart stopped. It was pretty, revealing bone white teeth. It made Tom look more alive--handsome even in the incandescent light above his head. Harry did not know what to make of it, not when Tom leaned in to press his hand against his cheek.

Harry tried not to flinch away even when everything about this situation was wrong. His throbbing ankle, his splintered arm. The fact that the man had been capable of incredible cruelty in one moment, and then tenderness the next, made this man dangerous. Made Harry, for once in his life, regret stealing for a living.

“You have lovely hair, Harry.” Harry didn’t say anything, incapable of words when Tom was invading his space, when his fingers slid up his trembling cheek and up to his wild curls. He had washed it three days before, and it was only because of the courtesy of the previous homeowners that he had been able to wash the lengthy curls. They brushed at his shoulders when not tied back.

“Thanks?” Harry flinched when the man’s fingers carded through them, nails scratching over his scalp as a pet owner did a cat. It made gooseflesh ripple up his back, fear clouded his senses because this man wasn’t normal. 

Harry didn’t know how long the man ran his fingers through his hair. It could easily have easily been minutes, maybe hours. The sensation made his stomach twist, the sensation of those fingers running through the strands into unfathomable shapes, dizzying. 

They were silent, neither of them speaking as Tom played with his hair, twining some of the strands between his thumb and forefinger. It was only when the seeming glides turned into harder tugs that Harry realized the man was braiding his hair, making an intricate pattern off the side of his head that he couldn’t make out. 

“There.” Tom said, and Harry didn’t move, didn’t say a word when Tom’s hand fell away to slide down his broken arm and curl his hand around his elbow. “Much better, is it not?” 

Harry swallowed, nodding. Unable to speak, afraid to say the wrong thing, lest Tom in a moment of passion, seize his arm and break his already fragile bones. He had to pick his battles, and this one was simply not one worth fighting.

He would wait. Wait until Tom lowered his guard, distracted by the texture of his hair and his faux subservience before striking. This was survival, after all. 

Harry had learned the streets, and just as he knew how to rob people of their precious things, he would learn Tom too. He would wait, and then escape. 

And if that meant having Tom’s hands twining through his hair, then so be it.

[barthosprompts]

Hi, can you please help me name my character? He's a male in his thirties, overprotective, with real shady morals (kills people), and he loves painting and writing. Thank you and your blog is awesome btw

i can certainly try, 

let’s see..

Adam - Hebrew word for “man” [various] 

Adrian - Form of Hadrianus [various]

Alaric - “ruler of all” [German]

Antony - variant of Anthony [English]

Barnaby - medieval English form of Barnabas [English]

Barrett - “strife” [English]

Bleddyn - “wolf” [Hmong]

Blythe - “cheerful” [English]

Brice - “speckled” [French, English]

Cain - “acquired” [Biblical]

Cairo - “the victorious” [English]

Camden - “enclosed valley” [English]

Damian - “to tame” [English, Polish, Dutch]

Deimos - “terror” [Greek]

Ebbe - “wild boar” [various]

Eelis - Finnish form of Elijah [Finnish]

Ejder - “dragon” [Turkish]

Faolán - “little wolf” [Irish]

Faust - derived from the Latin name Faustus [Lit.]

Silvester - “of the forest” [various]

can you tell i tried to do the entire alphabet then skipped everything after f? no? good. hopefully one of these caught your eye. hope i could help.

[spideypoolfanfic]

Hi, do you any fics about possessive and protective Deadpool over Spidey ? Btw your blog introduced me to spideypool, so I can never thank you enough 😊

I’m happy you found the spideypool fandom :D

There are recs here, here and here

Also : 

Naughty Nurse by HaveMyWeedCookies     

How To Leave Skip Westcott: A Guide by Peter Parker by Sedalin         

When the stork is late  by  HaveMyWeedCookies          

string of pearls [on hold//under construction] by  invisible-inktopus

Bad Ideas by NotEvenCloseToStraight                      

[aokane-eldarya]

Hi! I was just wondering whether it was just me who have problems accessing the familiar shop(if that's its name in english)? Everytime I want to, they show me the phrase '' something went wrong''

Hi @lacie4045-blog :)

You are not the only one with this problem. It’s because of server instability. @tokugawa-lacrimosa gave a tip for that, you can find it HERE

[introvertunites]

Well, first, sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you could give me some advice. I'm terribly shy, so, generally, in public speaking at class, my legs and my voice start shaking, I speak very low without even realizing it. I always screw it up. Can you give me some tips? Or anything at all to make a decent public speaking ? Thank you

Hey @lacie4045-blog, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask about this. I too am scared of speaking in public and I often don’t know how to combat my fear of it. When I have to speak publicly, I just think about some of my favorite things like anime or manga, what I’m going to eat later, those types of things. I’d recommend looking on youtube or Google for some tips. I hope you get the help you need!

[wynnefic]

Hi love, so I've really enjoyed reading that fanfic that you recommended about Steve and Billy, Under the covers (I think?), and I've been wondering whether you could rec me some more that you enjoyed, if that's not a problem of course! Thanks

That’s a great fic, I also liked it a lot :D

I haven’t read as much in the fandom as I wish, but here’s some other fic recs. First a general rec for all of brawlite’s fics and ToAStranger’s. They’ve written some great stuff in the fandom both together and separately. Also some smut recs in this post.

They Don’t Believe In Us (But I Believe We’re The Enemy) by eternalgoldfish

“Fuck,” Steve laughed, spilling scotch all over the back seat of his BMW as he tried to refill his flask. Billy leaned against his side and stole the bottle when Steve was done. He took a long swig, gasp on his tongue when he was finished.

“I didn’t know you were a light weight,” Billy teased, but his hands wobbled as he put the bottle back on the seat. The glass dinged off Steve’s bat. The liquid sloshed against the glass.

“I didn’t know you were full of shit,” Steve replied.

“Liar. We both knew that.”

meet with monsters by lymricks 

Harrington stops. Billy watches all the blood drain out of Harrington’s face and there wasn’t much color there to start with. Harrington lifts the bat again, tries to get to his feet, lands back on his ass. “Billy,” he says again, but it’s desperate now, not relieved. “Billy, behind you!”

Four times Hopper doesn’t arrest Billy and one time he does.

Incident at Castle Byers by flippyspoon

Will learns something about Billy Hargrove and feels a little less alone.

been trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war on my mind) by barbiewrites

Susan doesn’t know Billy.

[runningquill-art]

Hi!! I just found your blog and I'm definitely in love with your art, it's just so lovely and amazing, especially the drawing of Luna! 💛💛

Hi! 😊 Thank you so much! 💙 Oh wow... Luna... That's an old one 😅 I saw in my notes that it was going around again but I never really understood the enthusiasm for this old doodle. 😂 I was considering deleting the part of my blog prior to my current style, but there are a few popular pieces like that, so I guess I'll keep it up. 😊 Thank you for the ask!

[katsitting]

Heey, so for the fanfic ask thing. I'm reallycurious about '1 - 13 - 21 - 46 (the fic is frosting I think? The one about Tom being Harry's co-worker and a creep). Thanks for answering and sorry for the number of questions!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

I was around 12-13 years old when I started writing fanfiction. Those weren’t posted online. I handwrote those, and I am glad that they’re lost to the void.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I think I would be beside myself if I had to write an intense amount of Snape. I’m just not too fond of his character. I also don’t have much practice writing him, so it’d involve a ton of work from my part to nail his character. 

It’s really the idea of writing him that makes him not one of my favorites.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

We can begin with @obsidianpen . I was a lurker long before I delved into the Tomarry/Harrymort fandom, and she was the author I stumbled upon first that left a major impression on me. 

The ability that she has to weave emotional, heart-wrenching stories has always been something I’ve loved about her writing. She makes it easy to see the characters, to understand their motivations and their emotions. It’s never stilted. It’s incredibly rich with descriptions that put you in the shoes of the character.

The next writer is @reneehartblog . Before I found the nerve to start posting my own Tomione stories, I was reading hers (I later died when I found out she did Tomarry, so bless). I’ve been a fan for a while, and I just enjoyed the realness. Rich dialogue, seamless flow between one scene and the next. She was one of the few that made me gather up my sleeves and start to write for Tomione. 

I loved that she didn’t shy away from moral ambiguity, and the reality that even good people make terrible decisions. Despite whatever good intentions they might have.

The next writer is @meowmerson . She is another who I admire in the Tomione fandom. I can’t speak highly enough of her writing and just how she makes me laugh out loud. Her alternate universes are to die for, and the way she makes you relate to the thought processes of the characters is unreal. 

She does humor so well while also balancing the darker, hidden motivations of her version of Tom. He’s a bastard and she doesn’t shy away from it. Hermione, as she writes her, feels like a real person and I wish I could explain how she does it. I, to this day, am still trying to get my characters to feel alive.

The final writer I am going to include is none other than @nocturnememory . I feel many different things when it comes to her. She writes the best damn female Harrie I’ve ever seen. Her Voldemort, though in many ways, slightly different from my version of him, is twisted and morally bent. She does not hide from the serious implications of her stories, and I admire her for that.

She manages to give you a story that makes you want to drink it in without considering your need for air. The metaphors she includes, the imagery, and the effective use of onomatopoeia are some of the best. It brings me back to everything I had learned in my many literature courses, and I feel immense glee seeing just how well she melds them into her story.

(I don’t think I have said with enough conviction how I enjoy her use of Greek mythology, but I do. I don’t think there’s any literary or religious reference that doesn’t just shine through in her stories.)

I could probably go on and on about all of these writers, but let me not. I might scare them with this post. We wouldn’t want that.

46) I really loved your Frosting fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

They would fuck.

How they would get there? Your guess is as good as mine lmao. They’re both boneheads in that AU.

[katsitting]

Hi! For the fandom thing : Hannibal?

I WAS WAITING FOR THIS. THANK YOU. 

Favorite Male Character

Hannibal Lecter. Will Graham is the runner-up. I just love everything about Hannibal. He’s so dramatic, sadistic, and calculating. He is a terrible human being and his character is so complex. I could spend years gushing and screaming about this man because fuck, is he amoral.

Favorite Female Character

Beverly Katz. I love her. She is incredibly intelligent. She is fierce. Reckless. Willing to do what is right. Even if it bit her in the ass in the end. She is precious, and will always hold a special place in my heart.

Least Favorite Character

Mason Verger. My hatred for him is immense and cannot be contained. I  commend the directors for actually making me hate someone this much, and for siding with Hannibal even though he is terrible to poor Will. Jack Crawford is a runner-up, and it’s mostly for how he pushed Will the way that he did. Much of what happened in season 1 could have been avoided had he done that.

Favorite Ship

Hannigram. This speaks for itself. 

Favorite Friendship

Will Graham and Beverly Katz. Their friendship was so glorious. She had his back and he cared about her too.

Favorite Quote

“Killing must feel good to God, too… He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?”--Hannibal.

This was a tough one. I love so many different things from this entire series that I could probably fill this place with quotes. So I picked the first quote I fell in love with from Season 1. 

Worst Character Death (if any)

Beverly Katz. 

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

When Will was reunited with his dogs after he was released from prison. I just loved this scene so much. You don’t even know.

Saddest Moment

When Hannibal killed Abigail in front of Will. I could see the heartbreak and agony in Will’s eyes, and it was awful.

Favorite Location

Hannibal’s home. I loved the art. I loved the decor. I loved everything about the place. He has expensive taste and it shows.

[corvidprompts]

What is your favorite character ever ?

oohh. I have. too many

Probably Ichigo Kurosaki is my all time fave, closely followed by Anakin Skywalker and Sam Winchester

[katsitting]

Hi! 4, 18, 44 ? And I wish you a good day :)

4. Do you drink?

Yes, I do!

18. Most traumatic experience

Well, damn. Not taking me to dinner first, you just went all in lmao. 

I won’t share the most traumatic since that’s still rather personal. But I will share another instead. One of the most traumatic experiences for me was going outside and seeing my dog kill a stray cat right in front of me. She wanted to play, but she got too rough.I was holding onto the poor cat in my arms for dear life in shock at the end of it. It was incredibly sad.

44. A random fact about anything

I haven’t finished reading the entire Harry Potter series. Still on Book Five, actually. Hoping to change that this break now that I have some time for myself to read.

[spideypoolfanfic]

Heey, do you have anything with loots of cuddling and fluff ? Thanks

Main rec is here    

Something Else by K_Vader

Lavender bydarksideof_thefandom  

Vivid by LaLunaWritesStuff    

A Spideypoolmas Story by Grinedel             

Sleepy byNotEvenCloseToStraight                                              

[katsitting]

Young love, cold mornings ? 😘😘

young love: have you ever fallen in love? if so describe how you felt

Funnily enough, I was having this conversation with a friend earlier today. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her. 

I don’t think I ever have.

I’ve felt strongly for another, felt a nice flutter when around a significant other. But love. I wouldn’t call it that. I don’t think I’ve felt love in the romantic sense, and I am still waiting for that day to arrive.

That’s not to say I have not felt other forms of love. 

I love my friends fiercely. I hold onto them with clenched fists and refuse to let them go. I value my friendships immensely, and I think the only time I ever had my heart broken was because of a falling out with a couple of friends. None of my failed romantic relationships ever came close to that level of pain. 

cold mornings: what time do you wake up? are you an early bird or a night owl?

I wake up precisely at 5:00 a.m. every morning. Sometimes earlier if I need to get more things done throughout the day. I am not a night owl by any means. I prefer the peace and isolation of waking up before everyone else does and working without interruption. The 3:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. time frame is where my best work gets done.

[katsitting]

White tea, Irish breakfast and Matcha ?

Irish Breakfast Tea(funnily enough my favorite of the breakfast teas): I want to visit Britain. I would love to experience something not American for once. I think this would be the first place I’d go, and then I’d broaden myself out to other areas of the world. 

White Tea: Currently a law student, and I aspire to be a lawyer. 

Matcha: This is a tough one. I haven’t sat down to read a novel in a good while. The last book I read that I remember thoroughly enjoying was Night Watch by Sergei Lukyanenko.

[wynnefic]

Tomarry, time travel AU Thaanks and love your writing btw

Thank you! This is completely pre-slash since the plot got away from me a bit, but I hope you enjoy it!

#1. Tom refuses to regret turning down Dumbledore’s offer ofassistance. He doesn’t have much at all in this world, from the clothes on hisback (donated to the orphanage) to the small pouch of coins in his pocket(donated to the school to fun those students who require assistance), but hehas his pride, and he won’t go anywhere with a man who forced him to relinquishhis stolen treasures. After Dumbledore’s visit, Tom did as Dumbledore asked. Hethrew his small trophies into the rooms of the children he’d stolen the objectsfrom. No personal apology. Tom doesn’t yet know the limits of magic, but he’lldo that much.

Diagon Alley is beautiful, magical, expensive. Tom passesthe cheerful, colorful storefronts and only takes one step into Flourish andBlotts when he reads the sign on their display. Their first year books bundlewould wipe out half his money pouch. He buys his wand first, yew and phoenixfeather, parting with the seven galleons with great reluctance. A wand isnecessary, and he is excited, his hands shaking slightly as he caresses it inhis hands, but Tom is so infuriatingly poor. He has been all his life, but theshame of it never stops stinging.

#2. It’s that very wand that Tom clutches in his hand whenhe turns the corner into Knockturn Alley. He’d spent four hours in DiagonAlley, compiling a list of prices and eavesdropping on conversations. He’d alsogotten himself one set of secondhand robes and found browsing and listening tobe much easier when he could blend in with the crowd. There is nothing he cando about his height and his youth, but he can slide a serious, confident lookon his face as he walks onto the street that witches warn their children of.

The first few stores hardly differ from their Diagon Alleycounterparts, but the further Tom goes, the more disquieting it is. KnockturnAlley is a gloomy, dirty street, narrower than Diagon and less crowded. An uglywoman with warts all over her face calls out to him and Tom hurries into a shopto avoid her. She’s gone when he exits, five minutes later and now thoroughlyeducated on the quality of the store’s flying carpets, but there is a commotionthere instead. The woman had managed to offend someone else, someone morequalified with a wand than Tom is, and there is spell-light flashing throughthe street as Tom hurries to leave the scene.

He cries out as one of the spells hits him, but neither thewoman nor the creepy man she’s dueling with notice.

Tom bites his lip to keep his tears inside, but he’s hurtand alone and only eleven years old. There are no adults who will care if hedoesn’t return tonight. Mrs. Cole will be glad to be rid of him and Dumbledorewill hardly investigate if he doesn’t show up at Hogwarts. Tom is used to beingalone, he is, but sometimes… Sometimes he wishes there were more to life thanthis.

He’s shocked as hell when moments later a young man stormsout of the shop whose windows Tom is leaning against.

“You just hit a child, you bastards,” the youngman yells at them as he storms forward. “Didn’t you see him?”

They did not in fact see him, but neither do they seem tocare until their wands fly into the young man’s hands and they’re interrogatedon which spells they used. Tom watches with wide eyes as for the second time inhis life he sees dramatic spellpower, this time in defense of himself ratherthan the burning of his belongings. He likes this time better. He likes it alot. When the young man spins around, his green eyes flicker with something ashe sees Tom’s face. Tom makes sure he looks artfully pitiful, but it’s almostas though he’s seeing something else.

“Ah, hell,” the young man says as he helps Tom up.“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. My name is Harry.”

“Thank you,” Tom replies, stepping into the shopafter him. He’s still clutching his arm and it hurts, but he nearly forgetsabout the pain as he looks around. There are snakes everywhere in shimmeringcontainers and in the open. Snakes wrapped around the beams of the ceiling,snakes hidden in the leaves of a tree growing in the left corner, regularsnakes and three-headed snakes and ones in all different colors. “I’m Tom.What is this place?”

“It’s a snake shop,” Harry says without reallyexplaining. Instead he tugs Tom along to the back room, which has half thesnakes as the front room. They’re mostly lounged on rocks under the glow of anartificial sun, only looking up at Tom for a moment before returning to theirbusiness.

“Do people really need so many snakes?” Tom asks,barely remembering to focus on the young man so that he doesn’t hiss hisquestion.

“They’re good companion animals, familiars, and wizardsuse snakes in all sorts of ingredients. Pull your sleeve up, please.”

Tom does. “You killthem?” He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Snakes are dumb animalsfor the most part, but still, some of Tom’s better conversations have been withsnakes. They’re independent and noble; they don’t try to steal his breakfast ormake demands from him. Much better than any rabbits or cats the other orphanshave taken a liking to.

“The former owner used to, but now that she’s lefttown, I changed the rules on that,” the young man says as he removes hiswand from his pocket. “I’d never kill a snake if I could avoid it. I haveanyone who buys from me swear a vow to not knowingly do harm the snake.”Harry crouches in front of Tom and presses his wand against Tom’s arm.“I’m going to clean the area first. It might sting a bit, but you need totell me if it hurts.”

“Okay.” Tom watches with interest as Harry presseshis wand against Tom’s wrist. Blue sparks circle his skin, twirling around hisarm until they reach the gash on his upper arm. The whole area is cleaned ofdirt and blood until all that remains is the broken skin.

Again, Harry says, “Tell me if this hurts too much. Itshould heal the wound completely, but if it doesn’t, I have some healing powdersomewhere around here that’s good against scars.” At Tom’s agreement, hecontinues, and Tom’s skin stitches closed before his eyes. He hadn’t beenworried about a scar and there hadn’t been any need to, anyway; his skin iscompletely healed when Harry returns his wand to a back pocket.

“Amazing,” Tom murmurs as he tugs at his skin. Ithurts a little, the skin new and raw, but nothing like it had earlier. “Ididn’t know magic could do this, too.”

“It’s not all flashy lights and fire,” Harryagrees. He tugs Tom’s sleeve down and warns him about a cleaning spell, whichtakes the blood from his shabby robes, but frowns at the tear across hissleeve. “I don’t know any sewing spells, but I’ve got some thread lyingaround somewhere.”

“You’ve already done so much,” Tom demurs even ashe shrugs the robe off. If Harry’s offering, then he’ll take it.

Harry gives a tiny huff of laughter as he takes the robesfrom Tom. Underneath, Tom is wearing his best outfit, but he knows it screamsmuggle to a proper wizard. Especially one from Knockturn Alley. He tenses,wondering how to explain, when Harry says, “It’s alright. Do you want tosit with the snakes while I mend this?”

It’s a suggestion more than a question, but Tom doesn’t mindit so much coming from someone who’s already helped so much. He does as Harryasks, taking a seat on an empty rock and hissing quietly with the snakeslounging there. He’s never had a whole conversation with a group of snakesbefore. The most he’s ever found were two snakes, and they hadn’t liked eachother much anyway and had found themselves in the same area by accident. Thesesnakes are friends of a sort. Or at least very used to each other, idly hissinginsults but not truly arguing. Tom quietly asks them about Harry, glancing backto make sure that Harry is busy with searching for the thread. He wonders ifHarry has the talent, too. Dumbledore had said the ability to talk to snakes israre in the wizarding world, but it would make sense for someone who works withsnakes to be able to speak to them.

The snakes confirm it, praising Harry for being intelligentenough to understand and speak to them. He arrived a few months ago when theformer owner still operated the shop. The snakes refer to her as cat-lady,although Tom can’t get a proper reason for why. Ever since Harry replacedcat-lady, things have been much better. They’ve been given the option of beingreturned to the wild or to just stay here instead of being sold, though Harryis in the process of setting up a large snake habitat somewhere outside ofLondon. The shop no longer smells of death, which pleases the snakes greatly.

Tom knows full well that some people aren’t what they seem,but the longer he speaks with the snakes, the more he believes that Harry mightbe as kind as he seems. It’s an odd thought.

#3. “I’ll walk you out of Knockturn Alley,” Harrysays once Tom is clothed again. He flickers the lights off as he guides Tom tothe front of the shop again.

Tom glances back and frowns. That’s not what he expected.“You can’t.”

“Can’t I?”

He won’t be maneuvered around like a naughty schoolboy. Hehasn’t done anything wrong. He’s allowed to be in Knockturn Alley no matter howmuch some people don’t like it. “I need to buy my school things andKnockturn is cheaper than Diagon.”

“Knockturn is dangerous. I know you don’t fullyunderstand the wizarding world yet, but you have to have learned that earlier.There are wizards with no morals here, dark wizards, ones who wouldn’t thinkanything of taking you away. There are vampires and werewolves and hags, whicharen’t dangerous as a whole, but the ones who visit Knockturn are rarely up toanything good.”

Tom shivers. That’s all well and good and terrifying, buthe’s on a mission. “I know. I’m staying anyway.”

Harry’s bright green eyes watch him seriously for a longmoment before his mouth tugs up in a small, rueful smile. “I neverlistened much to adults when I was eleven, either. Alright, you can stay inKnockturn, but you’ll have to stick with me the whole time. Do not leave myside or go off with any strangers and listen to me.”

“I’m not a baby,” Tom grumbles. He doesn’t mentionthat Harry is nearly a stranger too. Harry is stupidly kind, so he can beforgiven. “I’ll listen.”

#4. He knows not to go alone with strangers who show toomuch interest in him. But Harry isn’t a creepy old man; he’s barely older thanTom is, a teenager rather than a proper man. He could almost fit into the groupof teens that sometimes sits on the corner of his street and jeers at theorphans as they head home from school. Almost, but not truly, because there isa hesitant sort of kindness in Harry’s expression that Tom’s rarely seendirected at him. He’s familiar with the way some become obsequious when Tom isparticularly charming, and he knows fear and anger when Tom forgets himself orgrows tired of the charade of being friendly to those who are beneath him. Hispatience grows with his height, but those at the orphanage are more familiarwith his true self than he’d like. They’ve known him too long to fall for hissmiles.

Tom knows he has no excuse for the mess with Dumbledore,though. He’d panicked, plain and simple, at the thought of Mrs. Cole finallyliving up to her threats of sending him to an asylum. Once Dumbledore hadrevealed he was a wizard, Tom was high on the euphoria of a sudden connectionand the fact that he wouldn’t have to flee the orphanage to avoid being placedin a straightjacket.

But he is Tom Riddle. He will make do on this pauper’ssatchel–in which there is more money than he has ever held in his life–and hewill build a better life for himself with everything he has. And everythingeveryone around him has, of course.

Tom is not so proud that he won’t accept Harry supplementingTom’s money pouch with his own, which Harry does without even any prodding. It’sbaffling.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom asks as theypick up Tom’s potions ingredients from a tiny little shop on the corner ofKnockturn and Nocturne. “It’s not just because you’re scared I might getkidnapped.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry admits. Instead of facingTom, he picks what’s labeled as a boomslang skin from the shelf and inspectsits quality. “I didn’t have my parents either when I first found myself inDiagon Alley,” Harry explains. “I did have help in the form of thekind man who delivered my Hogwarts letter. With him there, I wasn’t so scaredor lost. I’d like to carry his kindness forward if I can.”

Tom wrinkles his nose. “That’s so sentimental.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little sentiment,”Harry breezily replies.

Tom thinks Harry has more than his fair share of sentiment,if he’s this kind to every orphan he encounters. But maybe it evens out; Tomcertainly has less than what people believe should be his share.

#5. Once everything on the list has been bought, Harry walksTom back through Diagon Alley. He looks oddly wistful as they pass themenagerie. With a deep breath and an uncertain look, he asks, “Will yourorphanage allow you to have a pet? It’s custom for wizards to bring one toHogwarts with them.”

In truth, Tom doesn’t know. He wants one. And he can bullyMrs. Cole into allowing him to keep one. But the problem is money, as it sooften is. He would need a self-sufficient pet in case he couldn’t afford tofeed it and unfortunately there isn’t a convenient hunting ground in the middleof London. A cat or an owl would have to compete with city cats for mice.Although getting an owl would be pointless; Tom has no use for one. Hecertainly isn’t going to go around sending letters to Dumbledore or Mrs. Cole.A toad would certainly be pointless.

But a snake… He would like a snake. “Could I choosefrom your snakes? And keep it with you until Hogwarts?”

“You don’t want to keep it with you?”

“I can’t afford it,” Tom admits. “We don’thave much at the orphanage.” He’s been playing that card all day, butthere’s still something sad in Harry’s eyes at those words. He’s easilymanipulated, this man, but Tom hasn’t needed to lie.

“You can pick out whichever you’d like when youreturn,” Harry promises and removes a knut from his robes. “Here. Buysome floo powder from Tom at the Leaky and you won’t need to go throughKnockturn to get to my shop.” At Tom’s expression, Harry chuckles and hasthe gall to pat his head. “Be good, Tom.”

“Maybe,” Tom allows, and vanishes through themoving bricks.

Muggle London is utterly dull as the noise of Diagon Alleyand the Leaky Cauldron fades behind him. Tom trudges back to the orphanage,plans spinning in his head as he considers Harry’s kindness. There is a limitto it, there must be, but so far Tom has not reached it. He wonders just howfar he can press. And, as he thinks back on the many beautiful snakes in thatshop, he dreams of his future familiar.

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