Summary: When two abused souls cry out for each other, not even Time can keep them a part. But time travel is tricky and one can not stay in the past forever without suffering terribly.

Abused by his relatives, a young Harry Potter finds a way to escape for brief moments. He finds himself far away from the people that are supposed to protect him and spending time with another with an equally painful past. But eventually he is always forced to return to his relatives on Privet Drive.

Abused by other children and neglected by adults Tom Riddle has grown cold and is disgusted by the vast majority of people. That is until one day he comes across a softly crying child with beautiful deep green eyes. He is amazed by how this boy appears and disappears from his life and finds himself growing protective of him.

But Time is fickle and one can not stay in the past for very long. Death will come for one or both of them in time.

Disclaimer: All rights to the Harry Potter world belongs to JKR, not me.

A/N: hey guys! I've been arguing with myself for awhile about whether or not I should post this. I gave in. I already posted this on AO3 just in case people recognize RTT. Also! Consider going over to my Tumblr: Ethrildragon. I post a lot of updates and announcements about my writing there.

Reaching Through Time
Chapter1: Innocence

"Tom!"

It was an unusually warm day for late fall; especially on the beach where the children of Wool's Orphanage were running around. While the other children were prancing around on the sand or running around in the shallows, Tom was perched on a large boulder in one of the many rock outcroppings by the ocean.

"Tom!"

That voice again. One that Tom knew oh so well. He smirked ever so slightly as the voice of the young boy called out to him for a third time. Instead of running across the beach to get to Tom, the boy was now standing pressed up against the rocks that Tom was sitting upon.

"Look what I found Tom!"

Tom's shoulder twitched ever so slightly as he continued to ignore the smaller boy that was now attempting to climb up the rocks to join him.

It wasn't a smart idea for one as small as the other to attempt to climb such large and slippery rocks on his own. It was an even dumber idea since the boy was only using one hand what with the other holding something close to his chest.

The older boy watched out of the corner of his eye as the younger struggled and made several faces of concentration and irritation.

Finally the much smaller boy hauled himself up onto the rock that Tom was resting on. Miraculously the boy had never slipped and had only struggled because of his size.

"It's like that shell you told me about. The one with the swirly inside."

The smaller boy held out the thing he had been holding so carefully against his chest for Tom to get a look at.

Sure enough the shell that the smaller boy was holding looked like a conch shell. The problem was though that instead of a smooth curved lip that marked the entrance to the shell, there were long prongs sticking out from the shell opening.

"It kinda looks like a comb." The small boy giggled happily as he continued to hold it out to the older lad.

From what little Tom knew about shells and the creatures that lived in shells, this particular specimen was a long way from home.

Tom pretended to ignore the outstretched shell and turned to look out over the ocean again. He looked at the smaller boy out of the corner of his eye and fought down a smirk when he puffed out his cheeks and scooted closer just so he could deposit the shell into Tom's lap.

With a sigh Tom picked up the shell to examine it closer, much to the glee of the small boy that was watching him with wide green eyes.

Tom held out for as long as he could, with the other boy holding his breath, before he spoke. "It does look like a comb." With that said he handed the shell back to the boy next to him.

It amazed Tom just how much the other boy beamed and grinned, as if the older boy had given him a compliment of some sort. It always amazed Tom how this small boy soaked up any attention he gave him.

"Different types of sea creatures live in shells." Every time the two boys were together Tom always felt the need to share information with the smaller lad. "Are you going to keep it?"

He watched with interest as the younger, smaller boy looked into the opening of the shell. His brows had come together in thought and his green eyes glittered a bit.

"So it's something's home?"

The two were silent for several long minutes after that question.

Home.

It seemed like such an innocent word, but for both boys it had such intense meaning. Neither really knew what a true home was like.

"I suppose so."

The smaller boy set the shell down in front of him and just watched it with wide eyes. "I can't take away something's home! That would be mean!"

When Tom turned his head to frown at the smaller boy he saw tears filling those green eyes that Tom always enjoyed looking into.

With a sigh Tom picked up the shell, stood up, and threw it as hard as he could out towards the ocean. The two boys watched as the shell arched up through the air, carried by the strength of Tom's throwing arm, before it plopped into the ocean at a much greater distance than Tom should have been able to throw it.

It was for the best really. It wasn't like either of them could take the shell back with them when they left the beach.

Tom stood there, staring out at the ocean, for a long time while the smaller boy continued to sit next to him. When Tom finally glanced down he found the tears were gone and the little boy was smiling up at him.

He couldn't understand why the younger boy was so happy, but the smile that reached those green eyes made Tom smile every so slightly as well.

"One day we'll have a home." The small boy said as he stood up as well. He wobbled a little, but was steadied when Tom took his lightly flailing arm. "And no one will take it away." The small boy babbled about having a real family as well and lots of friends that would come and play at their home.

Tom liked that idea. It would be wonderful having a home for the two of them. He couldn't have cared less about having a family or friends so long as the younger boy was with him, but if having a family would make the boy happy then Tom would just learn to be content.

A movement down the beach caught Tom's attention. A woman, probably Martha since Mrs. Cole couldn't be bothered with waving like that, was beckoning and motioning that it was time to go.

Tom didn't want to leave yet, but it was getting colder and the sun was making it's way closer and closer towards the horizon.

With a deep sigh Tom tugged at the smaller boy's hand and the two hopped from rock to rock almost effortlessly until they were on the pebble strewn sandy beach once more.

"I don't wanna go back Tom." A small whimper left the equally small boy and there was a tight feeling in Tom's chest. Quickly Tom knelt down so that the two were almost eye to eye.

"I don't want to either." He said softly and quickly. There was something like a tugging sensation as he grabbed onto the boy's shoulders. "One day I'll find a way so we'll never have to go back!" Tom proclaimed as he held as tightly as he could onto the smaller boy's shoulders.

The smaller boy smiled sadly at Tom, but there was hope there. Hope and trust that only Tom ever got to see.

And then, strangely and inexplicably, the smaller boy vanished.

The two never said goodbye when the time came for the younger to vanish like that. It felt wrong to say goodbye, because goodbye felt too permanent.

"I'll see you soon." Tom said into the wind as his hands dropped and he stood up. "Take care, Harry."

Tom didn't see his green eyed little friend for several weeks after that, but when he did he felt even more resolute about finding a way to keep Harry by his side.

September turned into October. That had been the last trip to the beach for the season since the biting winds were growing colder and the days were getting so much shorter.

Like he usually always did while Harry was gone, Tom reflected on his memories of when the two had first met. The first time Tom had seen Harry some 2 years ago come to mind and he hummed ever so softly as he recalled every detail.

Tom had always known he was different, a freak. He'd been bullied since as early as he could remember and had always been turned away even the few times he did try to integrate and socialize with the other children.

It was just something that he had accepted even if he hated it.

All that changed though when one day he was walking to his favorite tree in the park and he heard small whimpers and quiet sobs.

Normally such sounds disgusted him, only babies or girls cried, but he felt a tugging sensation in his chest. He thought it was curiosity at first, that feeling, so he decided to investigate the quiet sobbing.

Finding the quietly crying child was easy enough, Tom was very good at finding things. The child, when Tom pushed aside the bushes that were hiding the sniffling child, was sitting with his knees drawn up and held against his chest. His face was pressed against his knees and hidden by black unruly strands of hair.

"Stop crying."

The order wasn't harsh, it wasn't mean sounding like when Tom ordered the other kids at the orphanage, it was just an order. The words were bland and emotionless, but at least the distracted the little child that was hunched over and sobbing.

The black haired head lifted up slowly and Tom quickly realized why the boy was sobbing.

One eye was swollen shut and there was a nasty bruise darkening on his cheek underneath it. Tom winced just looking at the ugly color.

Empathy and sympathy were things that Tom didn't normally feel, but at that moment he felt a flutter in his chest and the rage that he was so accustomed to rose up within him. Instead of being focused at the boy though, Tom was surprised that his anger was trying to find whoever had done this to the younger child.

"How old are you?" Tom demanded as he carefully stepped through the bush he had been holding to the side so he was standing closer to the boy.

The boy rubbed at his one good eye with a battered and patched corner of a shirt sleeve that looked too big for the tiny boy. "Fwee."

When the boy spoke Tom noticed he was missing a tooth. Three year old children were not supposed to be losing teeth!

"I'm Tom."

With his name given Tom sat down across from the boy, intently staring at the harm that had been inflicted on the smaller boy's face.

"Hawwy."

The younger boy was having trouble speaking. It was plainly obvious he was in pain, but what could Tom even do about it? Why did he even feel the need to help the boy anyway?

Despite his confusion over these new feelings Tom continued to ask things of Harry.

"Who did this to you?"

The boy hesitated. It was plainly obvious he was afraid of something. His good eye looked around, searching for someone or something that could possibly jump out at him. His shoulders were even shaking.

"No one is going to hurt you." Tom's words were forceful, strong, and would have intimidated a normal person. Instead the boy in front of him slowly relaxed until even his shoulders had stopped shaking. "Who hurt you?"

"Dudey." Tom had no idea what a 'dudey' was. "A nice lady gave me a cookie and my cousin Dudey hit me for it."

Now Tom was starting to understand.

"Aunt 'tunia said it was my fault. I shouldna taken the cookie." Harry looked at his knees in misery as his good eye started filling with fresh tears. "Unca 'ernon slapped me when he found out I got a cookie."

As hard as Harry tried not to cry again a small sob slipped past his lips. He cringed and flinched away from Tom, expecting him to hit him as well.

"Why would your family hit you?" Tom demanded. "Why didn't your parents stop them?"

Harry looked anywhere but at Tom. "Don have any."

The words were spoken so softly that Tom almost missed them. Harry was an orphan, like him, but instead of being in an orphanage with abusive children and neglectful adults he was trapped with abusive relatives.

"Aunt 'tunia says a freak like me don deserve parents."

Tom saw red. He hated that word. He LOATHED that word. Even at the tender age of 7 he had been called that word so many times.

"You're not a freak."

If Tom could prevent another child from being called that word, he would. If he could somehow curse the word and anyone that used it in malice, he would. As it was the best he could do was comfort this other much younger boy.

"I am!" Harry insisted weakly. "Stuff happens! Stuff flies around and a glass broke and my ouchies go away fast."

Tom felt a chill go down his spine as the boy's voice grew in pitch. All those things that the boy was saying, were things that Tom could do if he concentrated hard enough.

Sure enough now that Tom was really looking at the boy he noticed that the swelling in his eye had gone down quite a bit and the bruise on his cheek wasn't such an ugly purple color. The tooth was still missing though.

"Doesn't make you a freak." Tom hissed out.

Before he even considered what he was doing, Tom rolled onto his knees from where he was sitting and leaned forward.

Having never actually been hugged, on purpose at least, Tom was surprised he knew how to embrace the other boy. When he pulled away Harry looked equally surprised at the kind gesture.

"You are not a freak." Tom insisted. "Say it."

Harry hesitated and his tongue darted out to swipe at his bottom lip. "I'm not a freak." His voice was quite and his words trembled. Again his good eye darted around as if expecting a fist to materialize out of thin air aimed at his head.

Tom disliked how weak Harry was speaking. "Louder."

It took Harry a couple tries, but eventually his voice rose up so it was at a normal speaking level. "I'm not a freak."

With a nod of his head Tom stood up and held out a hand to Harry.

Without a word spoken Harry took the offered hand and was awkwardly helped in standing up. The way he winced told Tom that Harry had other injuries hidden under his clothes.

There wasn't much space at the orphanage, but Tom figured he could share his room since he was the only person that still didn't have a roommate. He didn't feel disgust for Harry the way he did for the other children and if Harry really was like him then the two of them needed to stick together.

"Are you hungry?" Tom asked when a strange sound came from Harry's stomach.

The smaller boy nodded slowly and hesitantly, shrinking inward again in a way that made Tom think that people hit the boy quite frequently.

"Come on then. I'll get us some food."

The others in the orphanage didn't seem to notice Harry or Tom as the two of them entered. Tom led the way, his head held up and his eyes glued in front of him. He looked to be in a sort of trance as the two went into the kitchen and Tom scavenged around for anything he could grab and carry.

Tom was able to grab a couple apples, half a loaf of bread, and even some cheese before he took Harry up to his room.

The apples were difficult for Harry to eat, so Tom took out the knife he kept concealed in his wardrobe and cut the hard skinned fruit into slices for the younger boy. The two ate in silence, Tom nodding encouragingly when the smaller boy hesitated every now and then between bites.

Harry was just finishing up his bread and cheese when he gasped and wrapped his arms around himself. Tom was about to ask what was wrong when he felt a weird pressure in his chest. He felt like something was pulling at him, pulling at something inside him.

"I gotta go." Harry's words were rushed and he was hyperventilating. "Aunt 'tunia is coming back. I can hear her. She's mad." His battered eye was open now and the swelling was almost completely gone. "She hates when I do stuff."

Tom was so very confused by Harry's words. What in the world was the boy talking about? Had he been hit on his head? Tom hadn't seen any blood or signs of swelling, but then Harry's black wild hair could have hidden an injury.

Harry, who had been sitting right next to Tom on the floor, grabbed onto Tom's shirt and held on as if the other was a life line. "Thank you Tom! Thank you thank you tha-"

And then Harry was gone.

Tom had spent days after that wondering if he had simply hallucinated the other boy, his loneliness finally getting to him. It would make sense for a 'freak' like him to create an imaginary friend. He hated himself for this new insanity.

That was until Harry came back one morning, hesitant and hiding at the end of Tom's bed, his green eyes completely healed and oh so very big.

Tom let a small smile grace his lips as he finished up that memory. It had taken a few more visits from Harry for Tom to realize that he wasn't a hallucination. Other people could see Harry, the bullies had tried to gang up on the two of them a few times, and even Mrs. Cole had questioned where Harry had come from whenever the boy was around.

Harry was real.

The small, black haired, green eyed, boy was real and he would appear and disappear seemingly at random.

For two years the two grew close. Tom had become protective of Harry and whenever the boy appeared to him battered and bruised Tom would feel his hatred for other humans grow.

Tom always knew he was different, that he had a darkness inside him, but Harry was different as well and Tom knew, oh how he knew, that Harry was full of light.