Prompt by Isys Skeeter

Spoilers: If you don't know the hp books or movies, go read and watch them!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I also do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Pairing: HP/TMR, HP/ OC

Warnings: Slash, Time Travel, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Dubious Ethics, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill

Nr words: 888

Beta:

"Talking"

'Thinking'

–Parseltongue–

Dream / Memory / Letter / Journal / Book / Newspaper

Work Text:

Harrymort Prompt Friday 19 July – we all know those fics were harry wins Stockholm Syndrome.
what about a fic where Voldemort or Tom riddle wins Stockholm Syndrome for harry?

Hand Touch

It had started with something gentle, a trade of looks, hands touching in the hallways… but then it passed to hands grabbing the others under the classroom tables, to sharing the same table all the time, to… then it was the staring. He could sense those eyes following him everywhere and it almost drove him crazy!

And the worst?

Every time he tried to snap at the other to stop? The other would raise an eyebrow and tell him right in the face how he hated him.

For Merlin's shake it was driving him sick to his stomach.

And then it came the time that there was nothing. No touch, no staring, they only sat together because the Professors wouldn't let them trade. He didn't knew what was worse, the touching and staring but 'I loathe the ground you walk on' or the complete ignorance.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to forget the feeling of those hands on his, of those eyes on him. Of that mouth degrading him. But he couldn't. He was hooked! He needed it but he couldn't descend so low as grab the damn bastard's hand under the table. That had to be what the other wanted him to do!

He controlled himself… the best he could. He really did. He was used to be ignored but then he heard it. He had gotten a lover. Was that why he had stopped?

He tried to control himself, he really did. But the bastard had to be Quidditch seeker and be the best in the whole school. And as much as he tried to hate the other, he couldn't help but go to the games and watch Him as he played.

He didn't knew when he had started to get so difficult to think clearly when around Him. Why he couldn't ignore him and move on. Why he couldn't just accept that the touching, the staring and the loathing would just stop. But then as the Quidditch teams prepared to leave the field he saw it. A girl, a red haired Gryffindor chaser, jumping into his arms and kissing him.

He had never felt so cold. As if a bucket of cold water had just wavered over him.

That had been when he realized the control the other male had won over him. Those simple touches, those simple arguments, those simple snarls… he needed them and he needed more than that. And it scarred him more because he knew that the other would never give it to him what he needed.

–HFN–

"What are you doing, Riddle?" a voice snarled behind him.

Tom took a deep breath to control his facial expressions and turned to look at Potter. There was lipstick on the man's lips from where his girlfriend had kissed him.

"Why should I tell you?" he asked back.

Potter sneered and Tom couldn't help but wish that he would smile at him like he had done to the other girl.

"One day I'm going to kill you Riddle." Potter snarled before passing by Tom.

Tom hummed and it was funny because he knew that Potter would do it eventually. Tom looked as Potter walked to his wardrobe and started to rummage through it.

"Leave my room!"

Tom opened his mouth to counteract but Potter turned to him and glared him icily. There was just something about the way he did it that made Tom wishing for more. Tom sighed, turned and started to leave.

"Tell me why you were here in the first place before leaving, Riddle!" Potter snapped angrily.

Tom turned to Potter with a questioning look, first he tells him to leave now he tells him to stay?

"Are you dumb? I said…"

"Can I grab your hand?"

Potter frowned confused. Tom could give him that, it was an odd question but… he saw Potter look at his own hand then at Tom and then at his hand again.

"No."

Tom hummed and turned, leaving.

–HFN–

It hurt.

It hurt like fuck seeing Potter talking with the chit that he had kissed the other day. Smiling at her, with her and even laughing because of something she did. And he knew… he knew Potter had understood his need for Potter there and was doing on purpose to hurt Tom.

–HFN–

Tom looked up from the book he was reading, about witchcraft and how muggles had demised them in XIV century, to the door to see Potter entering the room with a sneer.

"Say it." It was all he said with a cold tone that made Tom's whole body shiver like mad as if it was a caress.

"Can you touch me?"

And then Potter walked the few steps that separated them.

Tom knew this was wrong. Knew that he should be able to take control over this, whatever this was. That he shouldn't let Potter treat him like dirt… but he also knew that Potter had won more than just a touch of hands… he had managed to make Tom addicted to his touch.

Tom was sick. He knew that…

But hell this felt good!

"One day I will kill you, Tom. But until then I will make you understand how much I loathe and hate you."

Potter stated before an harsh trust made Tom see stars.

The End!

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