Title: Obscurial Pawn
Summary: Harry's not exactly sure how he ended up kidnapped by the Minister of Magic. And he's not exactly sure if it's a good or bad thing, because Riddle seems to be completely dedicated on helping Harry learn how to control his Obscurus. Of course, Riddle's only dedicated because he's intent on making Harry his pawn in his goal to conquer the world, but details.
Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter (Tomarry)
Author's Note: Tomarry Secret Santa crossposted to Ao3 for the lovely Kyrilu on ao3 and tumblr. Prompt: Stockholm Syndrome and Obscurial Harry :) Will be a total of 3 chapters as soon as my writing muse comes back.

Please enjoy! :)

Lucius immediately knows something's up when he's summoned to the Minister of Magic's office. Riddle's usually busy terrorizing the idiots that work for them around this time, and shouldn't be back for at least an hour.

He almost stops in his tracks when he enters, because Riddle is smiling. He's humming cheerily before he notices Lucius, and that already sets Lucius off because the only time he's seen Riddle this happy was when he won the election.

"Is something wrong, Minister?" he asks, and Riddle trains his attention onto him, his smile never dimming.

"I'm going to be gone for the rest of the week," says Riddle, "And I'm going to need to borrow your wife sometime as well."

"For what?" he asks, after a stunned second of shock.

Riddle only seems to hesitate for a second before shrugging, "I've gotten a new charge to take care of. And I may need some advice for clothes and the sort since he won't be bringing any."

"Are – Have you adopted someone?" He pauses, trying his best to rack his brain for any mention the Minister had made about wanting children and comes up completely blank.

"Ah, not exactly," says Riddle. "I've invited Harry Potter to stay at my mansion for the foreseeable future."

"The orphan that lives in Hogwarts? And…invited or - Minister, you can't just go around kidnapping people!"

"I'm the most powerful man in the wizarding Britain," says Tom, his tone dismissive. "If I can't get away with something as simple as this, what's the point?"

Lucius feels the migraine he had just that morning coming back and he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "I believe Potter is the same age and size as Draco. I'll send Narcissa over this evening to take measurements. And I'll take care of the rest of the week, but you can't miss the Ministry's Christmas Ball on Friday."

"Noted," says Riddle. "Perhaps I can bring Potter."

That makes Lucius raise his eyebrows in surprise, "Is he that important?"

"We'll see," says Riddle, and when he turns his attention to packing up the rest of his stuff, Lucius knows he's dismissed.

When Harry wakes, he's disorientated. It takes him a while, as it usually does, to come back from the brink of sleep and the tight, comforting grasp of the shadows, and when he does, he can't help the gasp that escapes him.

Tom Riddle, Britain's new Minister for Magic, is standing above him, his wand held out above Harry as if he had just cast a spell on him. And it takes Harry a moment to realize that he had cast a spell, to remember that the last he remembered was Riddle stunning him. The Minister had kept him under an induced sleep for Merlin knows how long.

"What do you remember?" asks Riddle after a few long seconds, and Harry clenches his eyes shut, not wanting to recount the events that had led him here.

He takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm himself, and he's surprised when Riddle stays silent. He can only remember scraps of what had happened as what's prone to happen when he loses control. The panic sets in a second later as he recalls just what had set him off, and he pales rapidly.

"I'm guessing you remember what happened," continues Riddle. "You attacked Hogwarts students."

The panic starts to build and he starts shaking, and it's taking all he can do to keep the shadows at bay. Every part of him wants to transform – to get away – and Riddle's not making it better when he steps closer to the bed.

"Are you going to send me to Azkaban?" Harry gets out, his voice not betraying the fight that's happening inside of him, and Riddle makes a thoughtful sound.

"You didn't kill them, if that's what you're thinking," he says. "It was fortunate that I was visiting Hogwarts because it was a very near thing."

The relief is secondary compared to the anxiety of the thought that Riddle knows what he is. And that by his words, Riddle had been strong enough to fight him off even when he was in his other "form." Only Dumbledore had been able to hold him back from attacking someone when his other form had its mind set on it.

"Then you know what I am," he says, his tone flat, and Riddle hums, sounding cherry.

"An obscurial. It's absolutely fascinating; no obscurial has been known to live past the age of ten. And you are, what, twenty? The power in you must be staggering."

"What power?" he asks, absolutely dumbfounded. "I almost killed three students!"

"Yes, and what a shame that would have been. But most importantly, it didn't happen because of me. I can keep you in check and as payment, you can learn how to use that power."

"For what? What need do you have for power? You're already Minister for Magic!"

"Of Britain," says Riddle, his tone dismissive. "What use do I have for just one country when I can control the world? You'll be helpful, of course."

"You're – you can't be serious," he says, "You'll put Britain to war?"

"If need be."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asks, already dreading the wizard's answer. "I can go to the papers and – "

"And what? Who would even believe you?" asks Riddle, amusement now clear to hear in his voice.

"Dumbledore would."

"And I have such delicious blackmail over him," muses Riddle. "He kept an Obscurial hidden from the Ministry for how long? Let's see, your file says Dumbledore became your guardian when you were eleven. That's more than enough time to put him away to Azkaban for life."

"The Ministry would've killed me," he says, quietly.

"Possibly," says Riddle. "Regardless, Dumbledore was wrong to keep you hidden."

"Aren't you going to do the same?" he counters. "You're going to leave me chained up in this room and study me!"

"That's a thought," says Riddle, "but no. I'm going to teach you how to use this creature to your advantage, Harry. You've been kept hidden from the world for far too long. Don't you want to do something with your life? Don't you want to stop living your life to this Obscurus' whims?"

"I don't want to hurt people. Because that's what I do. I hurt people when I lose control."

"But you have hurt people, Harry. The Hogwarts students, those Muggle relatives, and possibly more."

"Those were accidental!"

"They don't have to be," says Riddle. "I can teach you how to control this, to aim this destructive power where it can do the most damage to the worst kind of people."

"And who's deciding? You? How can just one wizard judge who is wrong and who is right?"

"Because I'm not just a regular wizard," says Riddle. "I'm going to build a better world, and you're going to help me with that."

"No," says Harry, and he's shaking his head. "I'm not going to help you." He already feels himself losing control, the shadows already curling up from his skin and it takes all he can do not to lunge at the smug smirk-wearing prat in front of him. He hadn't even paid attention to the wizard's campaign, and now here he is, kidnapped and about to be forced to help this man with whatever he wanted.

He has to get away.

"Now I know you're used to running when you're about to lose control, but that was then. When you're with me, you're going to stay and talk it out like a proper adult." Riddle waves his wand, and ropes shoot out of it, tying themselves securely around Harry's body. They're tight, and made stronger than he's ever felt them before, but it doesn't matter.

Ropes can't hold shadows.

He melts into the shadows to the sight of Riddle's sharp brown eyes widening. The ropes fall with a thud onto the bed and the chain that Riddle had attached to his foot while he had been unconscious unclicks as well. He doesn't waste time to see how Riddle takes his escape though, intent on disappearing before Riddle can somehow figure out a way to keep him chained.

He shadows through the wall, looking for a way out without being too destructive. He catches sight of the front door and elation soars through him; he can't wait to get back to Dumbledore so they can't figure out a plan of attack to take care of Riddle.

"You're being rude, Harry," calls Riddle. "We've just begun negotiations and you're already running away. Now, this will count against you."

He ignores the git, already streaking toward the front door when he slams hard into something. The barrier ripples from the point of impact, and he's immediately whirling, looking for another way to escape.

The sound of Riddle's footsteps echo though the hallway and Harry starts to panic even more. He can't stay and fight – Riddle had already proved he knew exactly how to defend against him.

"You won't find a way out," says Riddle. "I've already ensured that all exits are fortified by magical barriers. Why don't you come back down and we can continue our lovely chat? I do have treacle tarts, and I've heard they're your favorite."

When he moves to his left, he hits another barrier, this time rebounding hard enough that it shocks him. He hovers there for a split second, wondering on what to do next, and there's a heavy sigh from beneath him.

"I didn't want to do this," says Riddle. "But you leave me no choice. Remember, if you want to make this civil, it will be on you."

There's a bubble around him. It's made of the same property of the barriers, and when he throws himself against them, he's just thrown back.

Riddle floats the bubble down, his handsome face marred by a displeased frown. "You're still refusing to change back? Or is it that you cannot?"

He lets Riddle see his face, his green eyes glaring madly at the Minister, and Riddle tilts his head, obviously curious. "Stronger than I thought you were, then. You can have an hour to calm down. And then we'll be entertaining guests."

"Guests?" he asks, his voice normal despite it simply floating in a mess of shadows, and Riddle's smug smirk is back.

"You're going to have to wear something on your stay here. You can't simply think that I'll let you wander around in that for very long."

"How long am I going to stay here?"

"Oh," says Riddle, his eyes now bright with mirth, "Didn't you know, dear Harry? You're going to be staying here for a very long time."

Anger floods him and he delves back into the shadows, angrily throwing himself against the walls of the bubble. It proves useless though, and when he's finally calm enough, Tom Riddle is nowhere to be seen.

Narcissa brings expensive robes and trousers with her when she visits that evening. She's all grace and beauty even when faced with the giant bubble floating in the middle of his entrance hall. Tom smothers an amused snort when Harry glares defiantly back at her when she taps imperiously on the bubble walls, and Tom dissipates the bubble with a snap of his fingers, certain that Harry wouldn't call on his obscurus in front of Narcissa.

He's sure Harry's contemplating it for a second when he falls to his knees, but he stands a second later, looking mutinous as Narcissa starts to take his measurements. Tom can see tendrils of a shadow curling from his skin, but it's hardly noticeable, and if Narcissa did notice something, she was intelligent enough to keep it to herself. (And Lucius, but Tom enjoyed Lucius' harmless rants far too much to mind.)

"He's very thin," Narcissa says to him when she's done and Harry's back in the floating bubble. "He's been at Hogwarts for the last few years, and yet he seems malnourished. I can send for some more Nourishing potions," she offers, and Tom accepts even as he wonders if Harry's malnourishment is a side-effect of the Obscurus. It would make sense if it was – the Obscurus is a parasitic creature, after all.

When Narcissa departs for Malfoy Manor, Tom heads back to where Harry is once again a mess of shadows in a glimmering bubble. He really needs to find a better way to keep the wizard caged, but he's banking on the fact that Harry will eventually negotiate with him. Even as an Obscurial, he's sure the wizard must eat sometime.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asks as he nears the bubble, and in a blink, Harry is once again in physical form.

"Let me out," he says, his voice firm in his demand, and Tom really has to admire the gall in the wizard. He's caged up with no escape in sight and he has the audacity to make commands?

He's lucky that Tom's learned how to be patient from dealing with the imbeciles at the Ministry.

"So that's a no to food?" he asks, and is promptly rewarded from a loud growling coming from the wizard's stomach. "I would prefer not to starve you, Harry."

"Too bad," says Harry, rebelliously, crossing his arms in front of him. "You kidnapped me and trapped me in this bloody bubble, so my death can be on your conscience."

"Well," says Tom, amused at Harry's words, "I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this. You're really too thin to be missing any meals." He dissolves the bubble, and before Harry can react, he casts a quick immobilizing charm.

He catches Harry before he can fall over, hoisting him up on his shoulder. He frowns; Narcissa was right, the boy was far too thin. He barely weighed anything.

"You're a real git," Harry gets out through gritted teeth, and Tom chuckles, amused enough to simply ignore Harry. Harry gets even more annoyed at that, and he's sure if he hadn't frozen Harry, the wizard would be struggling against him right now.

"Can you turn into your shadows like this?" he questions as he pushes the door open to the bedroom he had prepared for Harry earlier in the day, and Harry's silence speaks volumes as he deposits the wizard onto the bed.

"If you ever want to work something out, you only have to say so," continues Tom, a bit of annoyance leaking into his voice. "You're twenty, you should be mature enough to realize the situation you're in."

"Go to hell, bastard," is the only response he gets, and Tom sighs, heavily.

"Dumbledore's already agreed to my terms so if you're hoping for help from him, it's a lost cause."

He can't help the smug smirk when he sees the shock in the wizard's eyes, and he turns away before he can start gloating too obviously.

"You're lying," accuses Harry, "there's no way Dumbledore would just –"

"He would if he had no choice," says Tom. "And he's intelligent enough to realize that he was doing you no favors as your guardian."

"He was a great guardian!" protests Harry, but it's feeble and weak.

"Right," says Tom. "And that's exactly why you were wandering the hallways of Hogwarts getting bullied every chance they got."

"I wasn't …" he trails off.

"Then how did those three Gryffindor brutes feel comfortable enough to bully you? You were the esteemed Dumbledore's charge, shouldn't you have been safe?"

"He couldn't have possibly known," says Harry, but his voice is small as if he's doubting his words. "I never told him."

"You shouldn't have had to," answers Tom, immediately. "You're his charge; he should have been able to tell with a single glance. Since you're mine now, Harry, I won't let anyone or anything harm you."

"I am not yours!" is the only thing Harry decides to focus on, and Riddle sighs, sinking down onto the bed next to Harry.

"We can argue that for hours, my little Obscurial, but for now," he pauses, tilting Harry's head up and swiping Harry's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. His magic transfers through his touch and Harry's mouth is pried open automatically and frozen in that state. He touches Harry's throat next, freezing it into place so the potion would go down easier. "They're just Nourishing Potions, Harry," he says, and he places the opening of the flask near Harry's lips, tilting it back and having the contents flow down Harry's frozen throat.

"I hate you," Harry says when Tom unfreezes his throat, still immobilized from the neck down.

"It is a thin line between hate and love," says Tom, unfazed by Harry's harsh words. "If I unfreeze you, will you run?"

"Try me," says Harry, his tone acerbic, and Tom only hesitates a second before finiting the spell.

Harry blinks in shock at that, but surprisingly, he doesn't turn into his accustomed shadows. He simply sits up, looking down at his hands in deep thought. Tom hopes that the wizard finally realizes what kind of predicament he's in.

"Do you want to finally negotiate?" he asks.

There's a long pause, and Harry's voice is small when he speaks next. "No," says Harry, "But I won't run. Just…please, leave me alone for now."

He's almost curled in on himself now, and Tom debates for a long moment on whether or not he wants to listen to Harry's request. Harry's distraught, but his shadows aren't coming out, and Tom only heaves a soft sigh before bowing his head. "You have until sunrise, little Obscurial."

Harry doesn't respond and Tom departs without another word.

Harry waits until there's moonlight shining in through the window. And then he waits a few minutes more, just in case Riddle is still awake.

This is his last chance to escape. After this, Riddle won't underestimate him any longer.

The Minister thinks that he's fortified all the exits with magical barriers.

But he hasn't fortified the ground. And Harry can shadow through any medium, even if air is the easiest, and dirt one of the hardest. He only needs a few seconds through the ground anyway.

It'll be best if he shadows directly underneath the magical barrier, so he tiptoes his way across the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as he can. He's spent all morning in the bubble, contemplating an escape path, so even with only the moonlight, he's able to find his way to the magical barrier.

He only feels a moment of guilt over lying to Riddle – he had promised he wouldn't run, but the guilt's fleeting because staying here isn't an option. He takes a deep breath, his eyes clenched shut as he tries his best to call upon the Obscurus. It's difficult each and every time, because even now, after living with the entity for twenty years, he still doesn't understand it. It's not his to call, even if it comes more readily than the magic inside of him, and it feeds off his anger, his fear, and even his happiness. It drains him, and he heaves a soft sigh as he places his forehead against the coolness of the magical barrier in an attempt to calm him.

It works, and then he's not physical anymore. In almost an instant, he's on his knees outside. He's panting, the transformation taking so much out of him, but he only allows himself a few moments to rest. There's no telling what kind of wards the Minister had on his Mansion, and he really doesn't want to stick around to find out.

His wand's still in there with Riddle, but it doesn't matter. The wand's just a formality with him; it's not like he's able to cast anything more intricate than a summoning charm. His spell repertoire would be useless against Riddle, who was widely known for both his dueling prowess and his vast knowledge.

The moon's large and full, and it lights his way as he stumbles on the rocks that make up Riddle's path from the mass of trees in front. He only needs to hide for a bit to catch his breath and then he can call upon his Obscurus for a way out.

He's almost to the edge of the trees when he hears a low-pitched snarling. He whirls immediately, and nearly falls when he sees what's towering over him. It's ghastly in the moonlight and Harry immediately knows what it is. He's learned about it many years ago, but it's not easy to forget the image of a werewolf.

It's even more terrifying as it gets closer, and although it hasn't made any outright hostile moves yet, its nose continues to twitch as it sniffs the air close to Harry.

He wonders briefly if the werewolf is hesitating because it can sense the Obscurus in him, but his thought process is immediately cut off when it leans back and howls. The sound travels and makes his ears ring, and Harry starts and then stumbles, falling and hitting the ground hard. The werewolf stiffens immediately at the sound of the thud, and before Harry can attempt to do anything, there's the sound of two other werewolves fast approaching.

The werewolf gets even closer, its wet muzzle grazing the side of his neck, and he holds still, absolutely and completely terrified. He has absolutely no idea what a werewolf's bite would do to him – his body's already occupied by a very parasitic entity and he has no clue how it will interact with the werewolf's venom.

He should've known that Riddle was crazy enough to keep werewolves around his property.

And almost as if his thought had called him, the werewolves are being magically lifted into the air. "He's a guest," says Riddle, as if the werewolves can actually understand him. And oddly enough, the werewolves run away as soon as Riddle places them back down. A second later, and the Minister is there in all his glory. He's wearing nightwear, but the cloak on his shoulders more than makes up for it with its expensive cloth and extravagant cut. He's offering a hand to Harry, and Harry's hand is shaking as he places it within Riddle's gloved one.

"Did you know?" he asks, when his teeth stop chattering in fear.

"That you would try to escape?" clarifies Riddle, a slight frown on his face. "I had my suspicions, but I was preoccupied with the full moon."

"You keep werewolves as bodyguards," his voice flat, and Riddle shakes his head, amusement clear to see.

"Not exactly, Harry. You see, the Wizarding World is unkind to Magical Creatures. I find it bewildering. Magical Creatures are more kin to us than the Muggles, and yet the Ministry cater to the Muggles more. It's simply baffling."

"But keeping them here? Where they may attack just anyone?"

"Ah, that is a story for another time. Let's get you back inside…" he trails off, and then chuckles. "You're quite the pickpocket, aren't you, my little Obscurial?"

Harry's holding Riddle's wand, even as his hands shake from both the cold and the aftermath of a near-death experience. "You can't keep me here against my will," he says. "I can transform right now and break the wards and without your wand, you can't use your bloody bubble to contain me."

"Oh?" asks Riddle, not seeming concerned at all. "And why don't you?"

"Because I owe you a life debt," he says, with a grimace. "Even if they're your pet werewolves, you still saved me from a bite."

"They wouldn't have bit you," says Riddle, "I would never have let them."

He stares at Riddle in disbelief, but forges on. "I want to talk to Dumbledore. Through floo or a letter, it doesn't matter. And I want some free will here. I'll stay and learn from you, but you can't keep me in that bloody bubble and I want to see the outside sometime."

"You're not negotiating very well, Harry," says Riddle, but he doesn't seem as if he's about to make any hostile moves. "It doesn't seem as if I get much out of this."

"That's only because you want to keep me locked up," snarls Harry. "I'm not a pet, Minister."

"Never said you were," answers Riddle, easily. "You're the one seeing yourself less of a wizard because of your Obscurus."

"That's –" he cuts himself off with a groan and then continues. "And if – if you're successful in teaching me how to control the Obscurus, I'll follow three commands from you within reason."

"Even if I ask you to kill?"

He flinches at that, before nodding. "But only if they've done horrific things. I've already hurt so many people by accident, if I can learn how to control it…then maybe it's not out of the question to do this."

Riddle's eyes are gleaming in triumph as soon as he finishes, and Harry wonders immediately if he's made a mistake. But Riddle seems to have no intention of letting him back out, and the air feels charged as Riddle takes Harry's hand within his.

"Swear on your magic, Harry," says Riddle, his words a command, and when it's over, Harry feels the Vow link into place around their joined hands.