#soulseeker
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"I'm coiled up like the venomous serpent Tangled in your trance and I'm certain You have got your hooks in me
I know, I know, the way that it goes You get what you give, you reap what you sow And I can see you in my fate I know, I know, I am what I am The mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb So darling, will you saturate?
And just like the rain You cast the dust into nothing And wash out the salt from my hands So touch me again I feel my shadow dissolving Will you cleanse me with pleasure?
Nobody can say for certain If maybe it's all just a game When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name"
~Rain [song by Sleep Token]
SOULSEEKER ¦ two sides of the same coin
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i don't think people understand how hard it is not to ship tomarry / harrymort because what do you mean they're borderline canonically soulmates. what do you mean they're PROPHESIED to each other. what do you mean they're literal parallels, had the same childhood circumstances but turned out the exact opposite. what do you mean harry's the embodiment of the light side and tom's the embodiment of the dark even though they're so, so similar. what do you mean they both have common names even though they themselves are anything but common. what do you mean they have uncountable amount of bible references that apply strictly to them, what do you mean harry makes sure to mention tom's the handsomest in the room whenever he sees him and apparently likes their connection. what do you mean their wands share the core of the same phoenix and therefore literally can't kill each other even if they wanted to. what do you mean harry wanted to give him another chance despite everything he's done, what do you mean tom offered him his hand, what do you mean harry killed tom at the same age except the order of the numbers is reversed. what do you mean harry's eyes are the same colour as tom's favourite unforgivable (avada) AND the colour of his house, what do you mean TOM'S eyes are the colour of harry's favourite defence spell (expelliarmus) and the colour of his house. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE EACH OTHER'S OTHER HALF. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HARRY IS LITERALLY TOM'S SOUL??? 😭
NOT TO MENTION THESE THINGS AREN'T EVEN FANON LIKE...? lmk if i missed something though.
#tomarry#soulseeker#harrymort#harry potter#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle#lord voldemort#harry potter and the philosopher's stone#harry potter and the chamber of secrets#harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban#harry potter and the goblet of fire#harry potter and the order of the phoenix#harry potter and the half blood prince#harry potter and the deathly hallows#master of death harry potter#mod harry#tom riddle x harry potter
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au where ghosts exist in all time periods in the area in which they die. time is no concept once you die. ghosts that die years in the future can appear centuries in the past. the more magical or significant someone’s death is, the easier they will appear.
au where harry potter doesn’t survive the final battle of hogwarts. the wizarding world mourns his passing but celebrates the end of voldemort. harry watches as his friends die. he watches magic rip itself to shreds, he watches it recreate itself, and watches it die again.
harry barely remembers who he was and yet he remembers everything with a shocking clarity. a floating contradiction that clashes with every timeline he finds himself in.
harry who, despite being tethered to hogwarts, makes himself scarce. he watches the people he knew long ago grow and die. he watches himself find the joys of magic only to feel a cool shiver when he watches him die. he could interfere, but why should he?
au where harry doesn’t have any say in what timeline of hogwarts he ends up in, but he can decide whether not he wants to make himself seen.
au where harry thinks all the drive within him is gone after lifetimes of watching his parents and his friends grow up and graduate.
au where fate throws harry potter into tom riddle’s timeline. in which harry finally makes himself seen, his lifeless eyes burning with a fire he once thought gone.
au where tom riddle researches ways to defeat death, but not for himself. this time, to resurrect a ghost that looks at him like he’s committed every sin despite tom never meeting him.
curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
#that last line was corny sorry#harry potter#tomarry#ao3 fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#tom riddle#tomarry imagine#harrymort#harry potter imagine#soulseeker
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from my fic (wip) where Voldemort visits Harry in Privet Drive, only to realise he is his horcrux.
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wip, 4k , tomarry (accidental baby acquisition on AO3)
(or) Harry just wants to be taken care of, for someone to take the weight of the world off his shoulders and raise his child in peace.
There was a child running through the store.
Actually, there was a toddler running on their pink onesie through the Herbology store, touching plants and big petals with a care and gentleness people in double digits could not even begin to fathom.
Most peculiar of all, their hair was mostly green, matching perfectly with some of the plants they so softly touched with a chubby hand, except for two strands up front that stood jet black against their honey colored skin.
Finally, they seemed to run out of fuel as they bumped into Tom.
Two big green eyes looked up at him with slow blinks, mouth opening and closing like they were about to speak. Then, two chubby arms reached up, demanding to be lifted.
Tom stared incredulous at the small child. Where were their parents? Why were they free roaming the store full of plants that could be potentially harmful to such a small kid? And why in the world did they have green hair of all things?
Said kid patted his legs where he could reach, before extending their arms up again.
Tom looked one way, then the other, hoping the parent would appear out of the woods, but no luck.
Finally, he reached down to take the toddler into his arms.
Two big green eyes stared at him intently now that they were face to face. A small button nose stood between two soft full cheeks, small lips pursed as they scrutinized Tom with intent.
Then the imposible happened.
Magic rippled across the toddler's skin like waves on a calm lake. It left Tom's arms feeling electrified.
Their eyes changed, from deep forest green to dark ocean blue, an exact match to his. His skin paled, and his hair grew a tiny bit and turned to a dark chocolate full of tight curls. His button nose stayed, as did the small round face full of chubby cheeks.
A metamorphmagus.
A baby Metamorphmagus.
The baby seemed satisfied with the turn of events, and proceeded to lay their head on his shoulder with a content sigh, small thumb on their mouth.
Tom stood deadly still for fear any wrong movement would startle the child.
The baby sighed again, and nuzzled into his chest and promptly seemed to fall asleep.
Tom blinked.
Then, from around the far corner of the store a harried looking man with the biggest, most familiar green eyes appeared. His eyes were searching the room, somewhere low to the floor like he expected a baby to run from between the legs of the exhibition tables. It wouldn't be far from the truth.
Finally, and without Tom needing to put any input, the man locked eyes on him.
He startled half a step, eyes horrified and cautious all in one. His posture changed from concerned parent to an aggressive stance, defensive almost.
His wand didn't appear on his hand, but Tom feared he wouldn't need it.
He looked half a step away from punching Tom in the face, and the only thing stopping him was the baby asleep in his hold.
"Give me my baby back," he said, voice strangled somewhere between anger and concern "please" he added, almost as an afterthought.
Tom didn't have any reason to hold onto the child.
And yet.
The man before him was beautiful. Tan skin scattered with freakles and moles like galaxies. His hair was long, pushed away from his face on a bun held together with a long wand. His eyes were two green emeralds.
He had the biggest eye bags Tom had ever seen on his life. Deep, purple and dark, pulling down at the skin around his eyes like living weights, sucking his deep green eyes like a vortex. Despite the tan of his skin there was a green parlor to it that spoke of sickness.
His stance remained guarded, but his shoulders were tense and slumped forward, like they couldn't hold the weight of his body properly.
"My baby" he repeated, and his voice trembled somewhere between anger and tiredness.
Tom rolled his shoulders back and squared his spine.
"Why did you let your child run around the store? Are you aware of how many dangerous plants are within reach of their small hands?"
The man bristled at the jab, even as his bottom lip trembled.
"I didn't—" he sputtered, "I set him down for one second to pay and—it's non of your business!" He approached them cautiously and reached his hands out to the child. Tom turned, contrite.
"And how do I know this child is yours?"
"What do you care? Give him back." He reached again, this time slapping away one of Tom's hands with his own.
The moment their skin touched a tingle went down his back, powerful and insistent. The world came to focus for one second, colors brightening in a way they hadn't since he—.
The child was out of his arms before he could regain his wits.
"Teddy, you shouldn't go running like this. What if a bad man grabbed you?" He glared at Tom from above the child's head, green eyes narrowed. Teddy sighed deeply as he snuggled into the man's coat.
He turned, leaving Tom standing alone in the middle of the Herbology store between plants that watched on like gossiping ladies amongs themselves with the shake of their leaves.
Working Borgin and Burke's was both a blessing and a curse.
The owners left Tom mostly alone at the store, a fact for which he was greatful, as he could stand neither man for more than a glance.
The heavy feeling of the dark artifacts nestled into every nook and cranny of the store soothed something in him like a balm, something that had broken and become jaded when he tore his soul open.
He arrived early and went home late, looking to hold onto the heavy darkness of the magic settling in the store for as long as he could.
The man and his little child walked in a random Friday, two weeks after he had first encountered them at the Herbology store.
The child was strapped to the man's chest with a long navy cloth filled with small stars embroidered in silver. There was a green onesie on him this time.
Tom watched the man walk between the shelves in the section where they kept most of their books, a skinny hand running across the spines of several of them without the fear of a curse sticking to his skin. Most of his regulars knew better than to touch.
The child's green eyes were fixated on Tom, a curious look about him.
Tom smiled a bit, and let the magic around his own eyes fall like a veil, dark blue eyes durning a burgundy red like wine.
The child squeaked in delight, arms and legs moving up and down excitedly. His own eyes switched from green to red in a single blink, small mouth stretching into a toothless smile.
The man glanced down at his child with a frown. He found two red eyes gazing up at him.
His mouth opened in surprise, before accusing eyes rose to throw daggers in Tom's direction.
"Don't encourage him! Do you know how hard it is to keep them one singular color?"
"And why would you force him to stay a certain way?"
"People ask questions."
"Oh?" He walked around the counter, steps slow and measured. The man's shoulders slouched, arms coming around the baby. Tom took in the sight of them together, huddled in his store. The man looked as tired as he had the last time they had crossed paths.
Surely a metamorphmagus would not be a cause for concern from the general public.
Then it clicked.
There was only one family, at least in Britain, to be associated with this type of magic.
The House of Black.
If the man was trying to keep his child away from them it meant he had possibly already pulled their interest.
To say Tom abhorred the House would be an understatement.
He had been classmates with both Orion and Lucretia Black for seven years, sorted into the same House, frequented the same circles. And yet.
Yet, after they graduated they had left him behind in the dust.
They strode around Knockturn Alley sometimes, and they looked down at Tom from beneath their noses like he owed them something.
And this man had unwillingly attracted their attention.
He could work around this, if only to get close enough to him to feel alive again.
"You shouldn't have to hide beneath a smoke screen to feel safe," he said, smile gentle and eyes concerned.
The man narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. What good instincts, Tom though, to not be deceived by a kind face in between the darkness, and rather looked at him like the snake that had been provoked and ready to bite.
Tom was willing to lend a hand, however.
"What are you looking for? Maybe I can be of assistance."
The man hesitated, looking down at his child. He pulled at his bottom lip, before sighing and meeting Tom's eyes.
"A book on baby werewolves" he muttered, arms protectively wrapped around his child and eyes averted. Like he waited for a storm to blow over.
Tom's eyes widened, looking down at the toddler with new eyes. There was nothing about him that could call to attention, other than the obvious magic that settled on his skin like a well worn coat.
A baby werewolf.
"You won't find any here" the man's eyes snapped up to him, face pinched. "Britain is notorious for their dislike of dark creatures, and the Ministry has been on a war path to burn any and all books they get their hands on since Grindelwald fell." Tom watched as despair settled around the man, mouth pulling down and eyes closing in resignation.
Then he looked down at their clothes, pristine and well pressed, of a good quality and well fitted. The man was clearly well-off, if alone, going by the tiredness around his whole being.
"There are countries," he started, tentatively "that don't hold the same teachings. Romania. Bulgaria. Hungary, to name a few."
"I don't even—how do you go about—and I only speak English—" the man stammered, thoughts going a mile a minute.
Tom watched the thought sink in.
Going to a new contry where he wouldn't be questioned about his child. The possibility of finding a community of dark creatures where he could blend in and help his kid.
Anonymity. Security. Community.
"I can be of help," Tom insisted. The man's head snapped up to him, suspicion settled into every fine line of his skin. "I speak several languages. It wouldn't be a problem."
"Of course you do" the man muttered. He took a deep breath and let it go, eyes settling once more on his child, where he snuggled into his chest with a stubborn hand on his mouth. The good seemed to outweigh the bad, the suspicion on his shoulders giving away to hope. Finally, his green eyes settled on red. "And what do you get out of it?" Good man.
"I get out of here."
The man's mouth opened in surprise, eyes disbelieving. Then his expression gentled somewhat, an understanding settling deep within his bones.
Like calls to like, after all.
"Okay."
"I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."
"Harry" he said. And left it at that.
There was a tiredness to Harry that spoke of something greater than a simple case of lack of sleep.
His eyes turned vacant sometimes, far away and lifeless as he stared into a void somewhere off to the side. The green tint to his skin didn't leave, and the hollowness to his face stayed no matter how much food Tom tried to pile onto his plate.
His appetite was little and scattered, pulling food in small bits and often taken from Teddy's own plate when he couldn't seem to stomach more solids, still preferring a bottle of sweet milk.
Little by little, as days turned to weeks of filing papers and paying people to forge documents, Harry seemed more and more willing to leave Teddy in his vicinity.
Teddy was fascinated with Tom.
Finally, after three weeks of sharing space and looking for all the possible ways and contries they could land in and would be welcomed with open arms with a werewolf cub between them, Harry fell asleep in his presence.
They were sat together on the same loveseat, and Teddy sat by their feet on the floor, playing with a unicorn plushie Harry had unearthed from the mokeskin pouch he held around his neck.
Tom was bent forward, reading through paper clippings and letters from people he had contacted on several countries, looking for properties away from the main cities and where the largest communities of dark creatures lived.
Before, he'd had no motivation to leave Britain. Nothing to bring back the feeling of being alive and not regretting each step he took, nothing to hold dear to him and make him look at the world with anything less than contempt, grey and dark and dull.
Now, Harry sat by his side, head dropping from time to time as he fought to stay awake, sleep and exhaustion threatening to pull him under.
Finally, his head landed softly on Tom's shoulder, cushioned by layers of soft clothing that had once long ago been gifted by Tom's knights.
Tom stayed as still as he could, flipping pages and letters and letting the cold magic that clung to Harry seep deep beneath his own skin.
Teddy, at some point, grew bored of playing and stood on unsteady legs to reach for Tom.
It was the work of a simple wave of his hand to wrap a warm spell around the toddler and bring him up into his lap, letting the little cub snuggle into his chest and fall asleep as he kept sorting through the mountains of papers.
Harry woke some time later, groggy and heavy but with the quickness of his breath that said he had walked away from a nightmare. His eyes looked through the floor, searching for Teddy, before settling on Tom's form beside him, where his child stood snuggled into his sweater.
He let out a shaky breath, the urgency banishing slowly from his eyes as he took in the sight. Finally, green eyes settled on red.
"Sleep some more, darling" he couldn't help the slip of tongue even if he tried. When he went to protest, he added, "those maternity books of yours say you should sleep when your baby does."
An offended look crossed Harry's features, a pout pulling at his lips, before his eyes settled on the baby so soundly asleep on Tom. A resignated huff left his mouth, as he brought his legs up on the loveseat, and snuggled into the cushions.
His green eyes were heavy as they locked gazes, pupils blown and eyelashes long as they brushed his tan cheeks. Finally they closed, and his body relaxed beside him.
If anyone where to ask, they were a family traveling home.
Harry spoke little to any Official that would ask, seeking the refuge of Tom's shadow and charms to nestle himself and Teddy in. After all, their forged papers could only do so much if the story they had made up fell apart on their faces.
The story went something like this:
Tom was a romanian man who had married Harry, a man of british origins. They had been dislodged by war and famine, but were finally coming home and looking to settle down with their son, Teddy.
They had lived in England for a time, believing they would be safe from Grindewald's war in the home country of the only wizard who had been able to match him. But now.
Now, they wanted a home.
The Officials ate the story up with kind, concerned eyes. After all, they had heard similar stories countless of times.
There was no reason to look any deeper. Not when the two of them looked like a lovesick couple, huddling close in the line of people seeking to enter the country. Not when they stood protectively around a son that could only be theirs, a perfect mix of his parents with a pale face and green, green eyes.
They were let in the Contry and out of the Romanian Ministry faster than they could blink, with a pamphlet that held information on where to exchange local money and get necessities for the first days in the Country. Another piece of paper, smaller, had been slipped into their hands too.
A man with yellow eyes standing guard at the entrence of the Department that held all newcomers had taken one long sniff at their son and had given Tom a piece of paper with the name of a street and a number. He told them to come once they were settled, the yellow around his eyes glowing like a halo.
Their stay at the house they were directed to by the werewolf was brief, but informative.
They were given toys charmed to last through the teething process, clothes that would not rip once the claws came in, charms to hide any unwanted signs that the child was anything but human to the public eye. They were given books upon books that held knowledge both trivial and necessary. From a balanced baby diet to how the phases of the moon would affect his moods.
The witch upfront had been firm but kind as she told them everything they needed to know, things to expect now that they were moving and how the change would affect the baby.
When they told her they where not planning to stay in the city, and were interested in finding a home somewhere close to a forest and away from the main magical communities, she had been delighted.
She had taken the time to explain all the little communities of dark creatures (and not all exclusively werewolves) that lingered in various villages. Where magic was strongest and what forest lest dangerous for a small cub.
Harry had looked on with a gleam on his eye that said nothing short of his death would stop him from acquiring a cottege at the edge of a forest for his small child to live a happy, healthy life away from anything that would want him dead.
Tom smiled and stood closer to them, his front against Harry's back, a familiar touch between them that had began as a necessity to keep unwanted attention on them. Tom could feel the magic between them like a creature alive, so full and warm and protective, making the world around him sharper, more colourful.
He didn't need the darkness of dark artifacts to sate the hunger that had been left behind by the Horcrux. He didn't need to soak himself in the depths of black magic to feel alive again.
He needed only to stand by Harry and let the world come into focus.
He slept.
He slept, and as such, he remembered.
The nightmare pulled him under with sinking claws, unforgiving and hurtful as they clung to his skin.
The War had come to an end.
By the time all was set and done, Harry was about dead on his feet.
People kept trying to talk to him, to reach him, touch him, faces exhilarated and happy with a joy he couldn't feel.
He grabbed the wand that wasn't his and apparated away.
Andromeda's little house on the hill waited for him, mostly nestled between tall trees and round bushes. Wild flowers had been steadily growing out in the front garden, left unattended and now that it was something closer to summer they were full of little insects flying about.
Andromeda herself sat on a rocking chair out front.
She took one look at him, silver eyes sad and piercing. She stood from the chair with a small bundle in her arms.
There was a tiredness to her face that spoke of the hours without sleep, pulling down bags around her eyes and on her mouth.
She knew.
Her husband was dead. Her daughter was dead.
Now all she had was a child she couldn't care for, and the remains of another child at her doorstep.
She ushered him inside, steps slow and magic sluggish.
Harry could feel her fading even from where he stood on the porch.
He took big steps inside, strides long and determined.
"Give him to me, 'Dromeda." He said, gently, hands reaching for the child in her arms. "It'll be okay."
"You need to shower. And sleep. You cannot hold him like this." The specter of a smile reached her face. She had said those words countless of times in the last month.
"Andromeda. Give me the child." His hands reached insistently for the bundle of blankets.
"I don't have him." Her smile was painful now, sad and revolting all in one. She was turning more and more transparent by the minute.
Harry, alamarmed, pushed past her.
He couldn't be dead.
It hadn't been more thank a fair few hours since anyone not his grandmother saw to him and—there she lay.
She was forever asleep on her day bed, on her side and hand reaching towards the bassinet by her. Inside he could hear babbling sounds and sighs of who could only be Teddy.
"You need to shower. And sleep. You cannot hold him like this." She repeated, like she couldn't help herself.
A new ghost to haunt another house. Perhaps she would pass on properly once Harry got the wits about him to take Teddy.
Perhaps.
He nodded once, assured she would get him with whatever little she could say if Teddy was in trouble.
He took the fastest shower he could manage while trying to scrub all the dirt and blood from his body.
He had died.
He had died on the forest floor before the most powerful wizard alive.
Then he had killed him.
And now Andromeda too was dead.
And he had a child not a month old to care for.
He feed and changed Teddy, burped him and rocket him to sleep in between the spaces of the living room, and when the baby finally succumbed to the world of darkness, Harry set him down gently on his bassinet.
Then he sat by his side and sobbed.
Burying Andromeda, with the amount of cooling bodies in the afterneath would be near impossible. Instead, Harry dug a shallow grave by hand by the altar she had placed for her husband in her garden.
She did not have his body, and therefore could not bury him in the proper way, but she had built a small thing out of wood and magic.
It was where the wildflowers grew the most.
Digging her grave by magic felt improper, too impersonal. So, he transfigured a chair into a shovel and started to dig.
Teddy had been placed in the shadow of a tree nearby, close enough to hear if he cried and far out of the house and the body that was starting to smell, no matter the amount of cooling and preservation charms he wrapped around.
He laid Andromeda Tonks on a bed of flowers, right by her husband's altar, and took it upon himself to build her one too.
He was sweating and crying by the time he finished, the afternoon sun unforgiving on his back.
Teddy had not cried once, content to watch the leaves flutter in the wind. Butterflies had come and gone around him, and each time one touched his skin his hair changed color to match the wings.
He took Teddy with him when he finally rose from his kneeling position by the grave, ready for another shower and sleep.
Flowers bloomed at his back, wild and in all the possible colors of the rainbow to match the grave by it's side.
Showering with a baby was challenging.
He had to leave Teddy close enough to hear if he cried but far enough so he wouldn't get swallowed up by the steam of the water, so he compromised.
It wouldn't be the first time he showered with cold water, anyways.
Teddy was a peaceful child, all in all.
He only cried if his nappy had been dirty for too long, or if his tummy hurt.
If he had any say about it, Teddy would never go hungry, or cold. He would never grow unloved or shoved in the spaces between the walls where he didn't belong.
Letters upon letters started banging on the windows, owls upon owls lining up to drop them at his feet.
Harry took an entire day to raise wards upon wards around the house to keep them out. To keep anyone out.
Most of the time he spent walking through the woods with Teddy in arms, pointing out plants and animals and watching the small baby take in the world like it was magical and full of life.
His eyes changed from yellow to green to silver often enough for Harry to expect it now.
Often enough when Harry rocked him to sleep, slow and steady while they locked eyes they would remain as green as the forests outside. Just his exact shade too.
Two months of solitude with only Kretcher's help around the kitchen to get the necessary supplies and Teddy's constant cuteness was enough for Harry to reach a decision.
He had sat one day with all the letters to read them one by one.
His friends, for one, were worried about him. After all he had disappeared right after the battle and so far no one had been able to reach him.
The Ministry, of course, demanded his presence in any and all of his capabilities. The first letters had been congratulating him, the tone praising like he was a god amongst men. Informing him he had been accepted in the Auror Academy should he wanted, there was an Order of Merlin Medal with his name on it and a date for a ceremony that would take place just for him alone. The Hero.
And when no news or confirmation or thanks had left his lips, then. Then they turned angry. They demanded his presence, and to know where exactly had Harry sequestered himself, what he was thinking disappearing from the eye of the public when they most needed him—then they accused him of trying to amass power, the next coming of a Dark Lord and. And Harry was so done.
(No one seemed to remember Teddy).
Harry sat and cried most nights.
The night he read the letters he sat in cold stone silence, Teddy's breathing his only company.
He wanted to get away.
Away from any people he knew, away from anyone who viewed him as a weapon first and a teen second, away from the public and their demands, away from the Ministry and their hypocrisy.
He stayed long enough to save Draco Malfoy's head from rolling on the ground, the witches and wizards proceeding his case dead silent when he strode up the Chamber, green eyes blazing.
They stood silent as Harry laid down the facts. Draco Malfoy had helped him and his friends escape the clutches of the Death Eaters, of Voldemort.
And when the sentencing turned on his favour, he walked right back out.
He dissapeared beneath the cloth of his father's cloak, of Death's cloak, never to be seen again.
He got on the train with Teddy in his arms, the cloak at his back, wand on his pocket and stone around his neck.
He felt hollow.
Like a piece of himself had been ripped apart with bloody hands and all that was left was the shadow of who Harry could have been, once.
His magic begged to be reunited with that which had been his for sixteen years.
So he boarded the train.
#soulseeker#ao3#tomarry#fanfic#tom riddle#tomarrymort#archive of our own#wip#i did this instead of studying#NOT BETA READ#I'm so sorry there's so many mistakes lol
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Don’t you like it when Harry just…

#harry potter#tomarrymort#soulseeker#harrymort#tomarry#the boy who lived#harry james potter#artwork#i still dont know how to tag#why do people do this#tags are hard#ao3#ao3 art#idk#I’ll just go read my fanfic
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Harry most times that he sees a Veela: lol why is everyone acting so weird?
Harry when he sees Cedric: Omg he's so handsome and good looking and attractive.
Harry when he sees young Sirius: How is he this fit without even trying?
Harry when he sees Tom Riddle: Damn. Credit where credit it due. An 11 has entered the room.
Harry when he sees Draco: That soft, gleaming, sleek blond hair tho. Those glittering, pale grey eyes tho. I hate him. But like. I can see.
JK Rowling: I have written a heterosexual protagonist.
Me: Have you tho?
#like for real. she messed up so bad lol#Harry Potter#hpdm#drarry#h/d#guess you could read this as#tomarry#if you wanted#soulseeker#tomarrymort#my post#Harry Poter g#drarry g
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harry/voldemort arranged marriage to end the war but the wedding party goes crazy
valentines gift for my one and only love @aitafrog as per corpse server shenanigans. this was very fun and i hope you like it! also my only entry that is exactly 250 words (are you proud flakky?)
cw: (comedic) violence ____
To begin with, it had been tense — faces that looked like they were sucking lemons, eyes that darted from Harry to Voldemort as if waiting for the ball to drop. Then, it had got violent, and the wedding had gone to absolute shit.
Voldemort stepped smoothly to Harry and handed him a glass of something bubbling. Harry stared at it.
“Champagne,” the skeletal man said in leu of a greeting. “Made by Veela in Burgundy.”
Hesitating a moment, Harry took it. His fingers brushed a little with Voldemort’s and he ignored the connection that thrummed between them at even the briefest contact. He looked away, turning to the chaos of the hall as Ron’s fist connected with Rookwood’s nose.
“This was meant to stop the fighting,” Harry said. “Not make it worse.”
“They are not killing each other, at least,” Voldemort replied. He tilted his head. “Unless… no. Lucius is not dead, simply unconscious.”
Harry hid his snort with a mouthful of champagne. When he glanced up at Voldemort a moment later, the man was looking at him with something fond in his expression.
“Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord murmured. His fingers reached forward before hesitating. “May I?”
Harry took another sip of champagne before nodding. His throat bobbed as Voldemort pressed a skeletal finger to the web of white lightening on Harry’s forehead. The action was gentle.
“Would you like to go upstairs? To my quarters?”
Harry nodded again. Behind him, Bellatrix aimed a high kick at Hermione’s head.
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this reminds me of tomarry/harrymort. not because of i strictly see tom/voldemort as a top but i just think it'd be funny if their dynamic was like this in a fanfic lol
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my favorite type of tomarrymort is actually Voldemort at the ripe age of 70 discovering feelings of true love compassion towards Harry and suddenly acting like a giddy teenage girl who writes about her crush with added hearts in her diary
#Dear diary– today my beautiful Harry gazed at me with his virescent eyes#unfortunately i could not appreciate his beauty fully as he then cast a disarming jinx on me#Dear diary today i have learned that my dear Harry enjoys eating treacle tart#i have ordered lucius to buy all the treacle tarts in the world from local shops to expensive bakeries#Dear diary today i have not seen my lovely Harry today so i was left picturing him in the wedding dress i commissioned to his measurements#dear diary i have also been thinking about the future names of our children and how my amazing Harry would look all knoc-#OKAY THATD ENOUGH DBDJDJJD#tagged tomarry because of the diary thing lolol#tomarry#tomarrymort#harrymort#harry/tom#soulseeker#harry potter/tom riddle#harry x tom#harry x voldemort#lord voldemord#tom marvolo riddle#harry potter
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Not my usual kinda post but I FINALLY found the name of an incredible Tomarry fanfic I read back in January!!
Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men by mads999:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323864
I felt inspired to redo a fanart for the fic I made in January but never posted 🤍!!!
The original from Jan 31 vs the March 7 rework:
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au where auror harry potter ends up in the marauders time period, right by the beginning of voldemort’s rise.
harry potter who avoids hogwarts by all means (the memories are too painful) and instead tries to take down voldemort and his death eaters by himself.
harry who drops his last name in favor of the common muggle last name “evans” to completely separate any ties to the potters (for their sakes.)
harry evans who keeps his distance from his mom, the marauders, and snape because he knows if he sees them he’s going to ruin something.
instead, harry evans catches the attention of the potter family (who is convinced he is a long lost heir), the blacks (who start to suspect he is a new up and coming dark lord), dumbledore (who believes the same), and the dark lord himself (who is intrigued by this mysteriously strong man thwarting his every move.)
i timetravelled to when my parents were still kids to destroy the dark lord but i became his lover instead!?
#harry potter#tom riddle#harrymort#soulseeker#ao3 fanfic#tomarry#harry potter fanfiction#tomarry imagine#harry potter imagine#can u tell ive been reading isekais#time travel
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