I know the summary sounds all serious, but this is intended to be a largely lighthearted fluffy fic about a possessive, smitten dragon courting an oblivious human with very little plot. I anticipate it being three or four chapters total, but I am also terrible at judging these things, so *shrugs*. First story I'm posting in this pairing (and this fandom) though I have others in the works.

Unbeta'd at the moment, so please forgive any mistakes.

Harry Potter stared morosely into the fire before him, fingers running over the broken circlet of metal in his hands. Gone. He was gone.

There was a rustling noise off to the side, and Harry's hand flew to the dagger on his belt even as he reached his will out for his magic. He reached out for the wards he had placed around his campfire, finding them still perfectly intact.

Harry had based his wards upon intent, and for the stranger to have walked across them without them repelling the figure or even notifying Harry meant that the man bore Harry no ill-will.

Still, Harry didn't let himself relax completely. Not yet. His trust was harder to earn now than it would have been a year ago.

"Hail, traveler," an unfamiliar voice called out from the same direction the noise had come from. "Would you be willing to share your fire? The night is unseasonably cold."

This much was true, Harry knew. And he would never want a stranger to come to harm because of him.

"I am wary of sharing with strangers," Harry began, loosening his grip on his knife but not his magic, "but I welcome the opportunity to make new friends."

The man stepped forward until he was in the circle of light cast by the fire. His cloak, Harry could tell, was well-made. Sturdy, but clearly expensive. The brooch holding his cloak closed shone in the firelight, the gold turning almost red. Or perhaps that was the large ruby set into it. His boots were dragonhide, and Harry had to fight off a frown at that observation. It never would have bothered him before, and if the reason for Harry's new reluctance was aware of it he would have laughed at him.

This traveler clearly came from obscene amounts of money. And to travel with it, alone and on display like that, clearly meant he was more that capable of defending himself.

Harry felt some of the tension ease out of his spine. Being robbed was a remote possibility, then. Nothing of Harry's could compare to what the man already had.

The man reached out and lowered the hood of his cloak and Harry inhaled sharply, grateful that the darkness hid the heat of his cheeks. He was gorgeous. Aristocratic features, sharp cheekbones, and full lips combined to form a face that stole the moisture from Harry's mouth. The stranger was beautiful. Almost inhumanly so.

"I am at your service then," he said, bending at the waist to offer Harry a polite bow. "Might I ask your name?" he asked as he straightened, dark eyes fixed on Harry intently in the flickering firelight.

Harry had the feeling it was a sign of respect this man rarely deigned to bestow upon others.

"Harry Potter," he responded with a deep nod. "Forgive me for not returning the gesture, but…" he indicated his own position near the fire.

"No offense has been taken," the stranger responded. Harry once again got the strange sense that this was a rare occurrence.

"And what is the name of my newest friend?" Harry asked.

"You may call me Tom Riddle," the stranger answered.

Harry felt the name like a blow against his stomach, and air escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp, eyes falling involuntarily to the object still in his hands. He gripped it tightly, the metal edges biting into his skin helping to keep him grounded. It had been Harry's intention to wallow in his fears and insecurities in front of the fire this evening before putting it all away to carry out his new quest tomorrow. This obviously wasn't an option, what with his company, but his emotions were still raw and close to the surface.

"I had a friend called Tom," Harry told his companion hoarsely.

The stranger sank gracefully to the ground cater-corner to where Harry himself was sprawled. "Had?" he asked.

"I knew him for more than a year," Harry stared into the fire, letting his eyes defocus as he turned his attention inward. "We lived together, though not by choice. Still, the arrangement…he was the best part of it. The only part of it I would want to keep. But I woke up away from where I'd been living one day and by the time I made my way back he was gone."

Harry reached out with his magic for the broken collar in his hands. The magic that had bound him and Tom had dissipated completely, but the blasted thing had kept Tom restrained for so long that some of Tom's magic had seeped into it.

"What do you know of the castle northwest of here, just off the river?" Harry asked Riddle, curious to see what stories had spread.

"Trapped in the tower is a man. Some say he is a prince, put there for his protection. Some a powerful sorcerer, locked away by another magic user jealous of his power." Riddle answered in a smooth baritone.

Harry's brow furrowed. There was something almost familiar about the voice. But He shook off the notion at once. Riddle, he was sure, had a face he would never have forgotten if he'd seen it before.

"All the tales agree that he is guarded by a dragon." Riddle finished.

"Not just any dragon," Harry said, a wry smile pulling across his lips. "A fierce and incredibly powerful dragon. Vicious and merciless. An exceptional dragon. My friend."

He could feel Riddle's gaze on him, but didn't turn to look. He didn't want to deal with the judgment in his eyes. With Harry's emotions as volatile as they were, he was likely to hex the man. And that was no way to go about making friends. Besides, something told him this was not a man he would want for an enemy.

"You make interesting friends, Harry," Riddle said.

He let out a mirthless bark of laughter. "You're one of them," he replied, twirling the collar in his hands.

"I am," the man affirmed. "And when you come to know me more, you will find I fit the category rather well, I imagine."

"And how will I come to know you?"

"Finish your tale, and I will repay you with one of my own," Riddle answered easily.

"A fair trade," Harry conceded. And talking was helping. Perhaps in telling this story, he could get at least some release from the emotions that plagued him.

"The man was no prince," Harry said with a derisive scoff. He couldn't even imagine what a nightmare it would have been to have been born royal. "Nor was he a sorcerer. A simple wizard, with very little training in his craft."

Riddle's eyes shot to him at once. "How little? I'm sure I encountered the work of this…unknown wizard earlier. The wards around your fire, for example. They did not feel untrained or simple to me."

"A handful of lessons from a friend and his family to give him enough control not to hurt himself or others with outbursts of power," Harry answered honestly. Meeting the Weasleys had been such a blessing on so many levels. "But no real instruction until he was locked up in that tower."

Riddle stared at him, eyes wide and intent, something about his expression almost avaricious.

"The man has no more idea than the townsfolk why he was imprisoned," Harry said, the words bitter in his mouth. "But he is seeking answers, as well as his lost friend."

"Indeed?"

Harry nodded. "The man wasn't the only prisoner in that tower. What people don't understand is that the dragon was trapped as well."

"Was he? Did he not simply act as a dragon will?" Riddle asked, and if Harry had been paying more attention he might have heard the low rumble in his voice. "Protecting what belongs to him?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but it wasn't his choice what he was guarding. And it wasn't his choice to keep guarding it. The jailor took that from him with this," Harry spat angrily, holding up the collar.

Riddle stared at it with barely concealed hatred. "So the dragon is free, then? This Tom of yours?"

"Yes," Harry said, relief and disappointment warring in his chest. "I know he would hate me keeping this, when it's what kept him prisoner for god only knows how long," Harry confessed. "But it's all I have left of him."

The dark eyes flicked from the collar to Harry's face and softened.

"When I woke up…when I woke up not in my tower I was terrified," Harry confessed. Somehow telling a stranger in this compelling darkness, broken only by the light of the fire, seemed natural. Easier than he imagined telling his dearest friend Ron would. As if this man was already a familiar confidant.

"I thought he'd been killed," Harry choked out, voice breaking on the last word. "He's powerful, but not invincible, no matter what he'd like to believe. The odds of his being bested by a swordsman were remote, but they existed. Or perhaps the person who'd imprisoned us in the first place had moved me and done something to him."

"I snuck out of the room I was in, an inn in some nearby town, and made my way here, determined to see if he was still alive and what I could do to help. To heal him and set him free. Only to find no sign of my dragon and this," he held up the metal in his hand. "He managed to free himself."

Harry took a deep breath before continuing, forcing the next words out. The most painful of all.

"I though if he were free…I thought if he had the choice he would chose me. That he would take me with him," Harry confessed, hurt that this had not been true and ashamed that he'd wanted such a thing in the first place. "I guess I thought wrong."

"Oh Harry," Riddle said softly. "I'm certain your Tom has other plans for you."

Harry gave a half-hearted smile, heart somewhat lighter. "Perhaps after he's checked on his hoard, he'll come back and eat me as he was always threatening to do."

Riddle let out an undignified snort. "You are much too scrawny to make a decent meal for anyone."

The familiar words sent a sharp pang though his heart, but it was easier to ignore this time.

Riddle reached to his belt, and Harry felt himself tensing and tightening his hold on his magic. When the hand emerged from under his cloak, it held not a weapon as Harry had feared it might, but rather a simple small leather pouch. With his magic already poised as it was, he was able to detect the traces on it. An unfamiliar signature, but a familiar spell. The bag was much, much larger on the inside than it was on the outside.

"Have you had supper this evening?" Riddle asked him.

Harry's felt his hackled raise immediately, the scene far too familiar. He would not make the same mistake twice.

"No."

Riddle pulled out a loaf of traveler's bread, a hunk of cheese, and a jar of what appeared to be sliced apples preserved in honey. He offered them all to Harry. "As thanks for your sharing your fire."

The bread alone he would have been able to easily resist. The cheese would have been slightly more tempting. But the apple…the apple was what tipped him over the edge. Trapped as he had been in the tower, which seemed to be able to magically provide him with only the simplest of meals, it had been a long time since he had seen fruit.

Still, he didn't ever think he'd seen fruit like this. More evidence of his companion's wealth – those with coin to spare distained raw fruit.

Harry reached out and took the food before he began casting every detection spell he could think of upon it. When all the results came back clean, he looked up to find Riddle gazing at him, somewhere between amused and offended.

"I don't mean to cause offense. It's just the last time this happened, I ended up in the tower. A stranger slipped some sort of sleeping draught into something I ate. Must have confunded me as well because no matter how hard I try I can't remember their face."

Riddles' lip pulled back in a snarl, and for a moment some trick of the firelight made his eyes seem to glow red. However, both had passed almost as quickly as they appeared, instead leaving an expression of sympathetic understanding.

"Of course. Wariness is only to be expected in such a situation. Indeed, if that is the case you are being remarkably accommodating, given your history."

"I couldn't leave you out there to freeze to death when I could have done something about it. Morals outweigh personal misgivings."

Harry shrugged and took a bite of the bread, satisfied that it had not been tampered with. As soon as he did, his eyes widened. He was hungry he knew. As soon as he'd woken in the inn he'd escaped and, upon realizing how close he was to his old tower, had immediately embarked on foot with no mind toward provisioning himself. And he'd spent nearly a year living on the same food day after day. Still, he didn't think his hunger or the months of bland food were quite enough to explain exactly how delicious he found it to be.

"I take it the bread is to your liking?" Riddle asked.

Harry nodded, tearing off another chuck, ravenously hungry and only just barely holding back a moan.

"Good," Riddle said, and if Harry had been paying attention to anything other than the food before him he would have seen the avid way the other man watched him, an expression of deep satisfaction on his face as Harry ate the food he had provided.

"Now, I believe I owe you a tale of my own," Riddle said. "Some entertainment while you eat?"

Harry paused in his eating. "I wouldn't be opposed," he answered.

"My parents," Riddle began, "both died when I was very young. And as we lived in a remote area, I was left to learn to fend for myself."

Harry stared at him and his obvious wealth incredulously. Noting the direction of his gaze, Riddle gave a smile of smug satisfaction.

"Looking at me now, it is difficult to believe, I know. But I am an entirely self-made man. All my riches I acquired on my own."

Harry was impressed. For a man of Riddle's age to possess as much as he clearly did, and for it all to be of his own doing was an incredible feat. Harry shared as much with the man sharing his fire and watched, captivated, as his eyes glowed with pleasure.

"Thank you, Harry. Coming from a man such as you, that is high praise indeed."

"A man such as me?" Harry asked, confused.

Riddle smiled mysteriously. "Yes," he said in response, but didn't elaborate.

Harry, uncomfortable with the man's gaze and confused by his comment, turned his attention to the cheese.

"I raised myself," Riddle continued. "It was difficult when I was smaller, but as I grew it became easier and easier to see to my own needs. After a number of experiences when I was young, however, I was wary of people," his eyes flashed with a sentiment stronger than wariness, but Harry said nothing. "I didn't seek out company for many years. But knowledge has always been one of my truest passions, and in the search of it I found myself in the company of those who had known my parents. They taught me the ways of the world that I had yet to figure out for myself, and answered what questions I had."

"To my dismay, I came from a very prestigious lineage that many thought had died out long before. I was welcomed into the world with open arms. Once I had proved myself worthy of that lineage, of course," Riddle's smile at this last comment was sharp enough to draw blood. Harry imagined that it probably had in the past.

"Still, I am largely a solitary creature, and so I set off in search of more obscure, arcane secrets and to grow my wealth even more. One of those most recent adventures ended…badly," Riddle said, mouth twisting into an angry frown. "I am still recovering, and I have yet to address the grievance. Still…" and his dark, intense stare fixed on Harry, "the journey was more than worth it, as I discovered a treasure more valuable than I had ever dared hope for as a direct result."

Harry felt trapped in the gaze, unable to do anything but stare back.

"I believe the one responsible for my injuries and the sorcerer who placed you in captivity are one in the same," Riddle said after a long moment spent simply examining Harry. "Will you permit me to accompany you as you search for him? I have resources which could be useful on our journey, and am more than capable of holding my own in a fight."

Harry had no doubt whatsoever that was true. And company wouldn't go amiss, both for his sanity and his safety. To trap a dragon, the man would have had to be powerful indeed.

"I need to find Tom first," Harry told him. "Just to see for myself that all is well. Once he's been found, then I'll seek my answers about my captivity."

"Very well," Riddle responded with a deep nod. "I'll accompany you, if you have no objections." Taking Harry's lack of response for the affirmation it was, he continued, "In the morning, then, we'll begin the search for your Tom."

Riddle agreed to take the first watch, and Harry cast a series of progressively more aggressive wards over his conjured bedroll, still wary of his new traveling companion. Riddle watched on, clearly amused, but said nothing.

Harry tossed and turned for long than he would have liked, but the events of the day soon caught up with him and sleep claimed him.

He woke to the sunlight piercing his eyelids, and he sat up sharply. He turned to where his companion had last been, ready to curse him for not waking Harry for his watch when he finally noticed what was saturating the air.

Magic. But not just any magic. Familiar magic. Tom's magic.

It hung in the air, clearly responsible for his late morning, and, he assumed, Riddle's failure to wake him, but that wasn't what held his attention. Placed neatly on top of his pack was a folded piece of bright green fabric, and atop that was something that glittered in the sunlight, all of it saturated with Tom's powerful magic.

Harry made his way over and reached out with unsteady hands to pick up the items in question. A green cloak, he realized as he let the fabric slide through his fingers as it unfolded. He knew the color would match his eyes perfectly. The material was soft, almost silky to the touch, and he could feel that the fabric had been imbued with magic. Magic to repel water, to keep in the heat and dispel the cold, to direct gazes elsewhere when he so desired. But strongest of all was the magic that protected the wearer from harm.

Fingers trembling, he turned his attention to the brooch that would hold the hooded cloak closed. A dragon forged in silver, wings flared in flight, red rubies for the eyes. Forged from the heat of Tom's fire and the will of his magic.

Harry pulled the cloak on, helpless to do anything else in the face of such thoughtful, heartfelt gifts. The protective magic flared and settled, and Harry's eyes burned with the strength of his reaction to the indisputable proof that Tom cared.

He turned, only to find Riddle staring at him, face impenetrable.

"Gifts?" he asked.

"From Tom," Harry answered, reaching up to run his fingers along the brooch.

Riddle's eyes traced the movement avidly before coming to rest again on Harry's own.

"Harry," Riddle said, staring at Harry with an intensity he didn't understand, "what do you know of the customs of dragons?"

Please review. Seeing those notifications puts the biggest smile on my face. Come find me on tumblr, if you so desire. The username is the same (without the underdash). You can find a link on my profile. I'm always eager to talk about my stories and will post the occasional snippet.