freezingflames7
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Latest Posts by freezingflames7
Harry James Potter the beauty you are!
nothing is better than crying in your enemy's lap
Don’t you like it when Harry just…
Hey girl I have 48 tabs of tomarry fanfic waiting to be read
concept: Tom Riddle is working on slowly gaining influence and gathering followers in Slytherin. He only shares his heritage with his most trusted confidants. Everything is going well for him until a time-traveling Harry Potter with absolutely no fucks to give strolls into Slytherin house wearing a huge snake Britney Spears style and immediately claims to be the Heir of Slytherin. Harry takes people on tours to the Chamber of Secrets, lets his friends ride on the Basilisk's back, taunts Tom in parseltongue, and Tom loses his mind.
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.
tom, at 3am: harry wake up
harry: *sighs*
tom: harry please wake up.
harry: no
tom: harry
harry: what!
tom: would you love me if I was a worm?
harry: I would feed you to Hedwig
tom: :(
harry: *absentmindedly petting nagini as he writes potions notes*
tom, silently hyperventilating: i want him in a way that actively threatens the survival of humanity
Harry, glaring at Cho and Cedric from across the room: Should we start dating??
Tom, in awe that this is finally happening: Yes. When?
Harry: When what?
Tom: When and where do you want to go out?
Harry, snapping his head to Tom: You thought I meant EACH OTHER??
Gift for @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger. From chapter 64 of draw me after you (let us run) . Loved this whole scene in the latest chapter, such an interesting image
Everyone knows Tom Riddle is an odd child. Some may even say disturbed. Mrs. Cole warned Albus profoundly of the strange things the boy says and does. She seemed especially scared of the "voice" that young Tom hears. Albus is prepared for a monster, he in not prepared for a little boy to tell him that he's in love with the ghost in his room. He is even less prepared to see that said ghost is an unknown Potter. Well.....this is strange.
Aka Harry goes to the past after being killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, unhappy he's not corporeal anymore, and the muggles can't see him. Also, he's apparently haunting Tom Riddle against his will. Said Tom Riddle is convinced they're soul mates and won't hear anything otherwise.
Ghost!Harry: god I wish I was still corporeal
Young!Tom: I will make you an indestructible body so we can be together properly forever and ever
Ghost!Harry: oh…oh no thank you
But in all seriousness - this is a brilliant idea! You could twist it in a MOD way - that Harry might be the master of death but that only applies to his soul being everlasting. His body is still mortal and could be destroyed. In a way, it even mirrors what happened to Voldemort, turning into a wraith, only Harry remains sane and whole.
He’s yeeted back in time and, just out of curiosity, wanders by Wool’s Orphanage one day. No one can see him - he’s tried - and his ability to interact with the corporeal world is…spotty at best.
But then little Tom Riddle sees him, and Harry. Well. Harry is desperate to just talk to someone by this point. It’s been weeks, months, since he’s had a conversation and he can feel himself slipping into something else the longer he goes without human contact.
If Tom Riddle is his only link to humanity (the fucking irony chokes him sometimes), then so be it.
He sticks to the kid, trying to act as a kind of conscious. Trying to impart some good qualities, some restraint, to the future Dark Lord.
His efforts are - well, they’re not not working, so that’s got to count for something?
On Tom’s part, his obsession with keeping his ‘imaginary friend’ with him forever grows steadily by the day.
Minister (Dark Lord) Tom x Personal healer Harry
relent
Harry gaped as he watched Ron disapparate, his heart shuddering and squeezing tight in his chest. The actual audacity. The fucking cheek of Ron.
Harry stood in the middle of the Forest of Dean, mouth agape, as Hermione quietly began to cry. Every molecule in Harry's body burned and his vision blurs; it's not until he feels the hot splash of tears against his cheeks that he realised he had begun to cry silently as well.
Hermione's fingers threaded through Harry's and he held her hand tightly. It seems like it's just going to be the two of them.
It is fine. They can do this.
They’ll have to.
"I guess it'll just be us against Vol – " Harry began sourly before Hermione's hand squeezed tightly.
"Don't say his name, Harry," Hermione whispered. "I don't know why, I can't explain it – but just, don't say his name."
Harry sealed his lips in a tight line, frowning, as they looked at the spot Ron had once stood.
— — — —
"Do you remember, Harry," Hermione began pensively, rolling her wand in her hand, "When Dean Thomas nearly ran into us in the forest?"
Harry looked up from his spot near the fire, pulling himself from his dark thoughts. His chest still ached from where Hermione had cut the locket off his flesh the night before, the searing oval scar shiny and tingling.
“I do," Harry answered at last. He tossed the sealed Golden Snitch between his hands, finger pads gliding over the engraved gold. He used to play with his wand this way, before – before it was splintered into shards. The wound of losing his wand sears hotter than the locket scar, than Nagini's venom-less bite.
"Remember when Dirk said... That he thought you'd run off?" Hermione continued slowly. “Abandoned the wizarding world?”
Harry was too tired to bristle at her carefully chosen words, too exhausted to get annoyed at her slowly leading questions.
After the last twenty-four-hour's events, Harry would very much prefer to not go into the subject of eavesdropping on Thomas and Dirk, as the immediate nasty row that occurred following said eavesdropping had resulted in Ron leaving. Abandoning them in the Forest of Dean.
That's a subject both Harry and Hermione are too raw to broach, despite all of the time that had since passed.
Ron’s cold laughter echoed in Harry’s head. 'I get it. You choose him.'
Harry sighed and nodded.
"I think... I think maybe Dirk had a point," Hermione whispered, brown eyes glazed as she stared into the inky forest.
Harry's head jerked up at that, mouth dropping open. "What are you suggesting?" Harry asked through a rushed exhale, shocked.
Hermione did not look at Harry as she laced her fingers together and gripped until her knuckles grew white. From her seated position on the log across from the fire, Harry could see the dark bags under her eyes, the sallow dip of her cheeks.
They've been in the forest too long, lost as to what their next step should be. They’re starving, scared. Barely no longer children in a world that is too dark and cold.
"It's a zero sum game, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “The muggles are war driven. As are the wizards. Once the muggles discover the threat You-Know-Who poses, they'll deploy their armies. They'll attack. And the wizards will fight back just as hard. Muggle weapons are stronger than any single spell, but magic will disrupt their systems. It'll be a standstill and yet they'll just keep fighting," Hermione whispered, lips pale from cold and fear. "The wizards and the muggles will treat you as nothing other than a threat."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, words heatless. He genuinely didn't understand her point.
"You're... You're a horcrux, Harry," Hermione answered so quietly he barely heard her over the sound of the crackling fire.
Harry's heart froze for a timeless moment and then it near exploded in his chest, beating with the frantic tempo of a startled rabbit.
"How do you – what are you – " He began to stammer, horrified, before Hermione quickly continued.
"It's just a theory," Hermione said sharply, voice growing louder as she began to rally her resolve. "But please, just think about it – the connection you have with him, your ability to speak Parseltongue, Dumbledore's insistence that it has to be you to fight him. I think Dumbledore knew, that he's been raising you to fight Him to the death. That you won't survive this war."
Harry felt something shift inside him, like a cog sliding into gear. The idea fit too well; within a moment, Harry could see it all through the eyes of the new perspective. The Parseltongue, the mood swings he feels and unintentionally acts upon, the dreams.
In his mind’s eye, Harry sees the strange way Dumbledore introduced the horcruxes to him, carefully and gently, leading Harry down a path to knowledge.
"I have to die," Harry whispered weakly. It feels true, like everything Harry has ever been taught, like everything Harry has ever known has suddenly accumulated in this single, morbid epiphany. "I am going to die."
The Snitch breaks open in his hand.
Harry jolts, surprised, and in his shock he drops the small thing on the ground. At his feet, a gold ring with a cracked black rock falls out of the snitch.
Harry looked up at Hermione and was startled by the look of icy anger on her face.
"He charmed it to open when you accepted your death," Hermione stated blankly, appalled. She stood abruptly and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
Harry knew this look – she was attempting to console two opposing thoughts in her head, cognitive dissonance burning her logical mind to the ground. "Dumbledore knew you had to die. He knew. And he made it so that you could only inherit the ring once you accepted it."
A feeling of complete, overwhelming betrayal stabbed through Harry's heart. Was that... Was that all Harry had been to Dumbledore? A martyr to a cause? A weapon, his grand Chosen One?
For the Greater Good.
"We have no help. Ron is long gone. We led Vo-ugh, You-Know-Who to discovering the identity of the thief," Harry hissed quietly, reeling, "We're being hunted. I have no wand and no idea where to look for the next horcrux – well, we know where at least two horcruxes are," he said, waving at himself and to the tent where the locket had been stashed. Harry released a barely-human noise disguised as a brittle laugh, a sound he'd never made before. It was high pitched and weak, bursting through his throat without warning. "Hermione," Harry said, turning to his best friend. "I – I'm going to have to die."
Hermione looked as if he had physically slapped her. "No. No, that's not going to happen," she protested vehemently.
"But it is," Harry answered dully, sitting down at the fire. "There's no other way."
Just as Harry said those words, something strange shifted inside of himself. Something oddly feral and desperate, an idea borne from a creature backed into a corner.
"We'll figure something out," Hermione promised solemnly.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, mind whirling with the new idea, breathless. "Yeah we will."
— — — —
That night, after Harry finished his lookout shift and was tucked into his chilly cot, he thought of the people who had supported him over the years. He thought of the names that well wishers carved into his dead family home's miserable epitaph in Godric's Hollow. He thinks of Remus' quiet support and Sirius' wild grin. He thinks of Hermione and Luna and Ginny and Neville and Ron –
The memory of Ron sours the growing feeling of happiness in Harry's heart. Harry thinks of Ron's betrayal, his best friend's cruel words and demanding that Harry do something. As if Harry was supposed to know it all, as if he were failing them. Harry thinks on the fury Ron had expressed that Harry had no plan. Harry then thinks of Sirius' glazed eyes, when he called Harry James. He thinks of Remus disappearing from his life after Sirius' death, of Dumbledore avoiding Harry in fifth year, scared he'd see Voldemort lurking in Harry's eyes. Of Dumbledore hiding secrets from him, that Harry is a horcrux, even after he promised no more secrets. Harry thinks of the Dursleys, being left at their doorstep. Of the teachers who saw his skinny body and bruises and never said a word.
Harry got out of bed and relieved Hermione of her post. She was so dead on her feet that she nodded off immediately.
Harry lifted her wand and strengthened the spells around the camp-site, makes sure no one would ever be able to find it from the outside. He laid Hermione's wand at her side and slipped off into the night, passing through the camp wards. He turned back to where he knows is a warmly-glowing hearth, a spacious tent, his best friend – but all he sees is dark vacant forest. Harry turned his back on his closest friend and walked deep into the Forest of Dean.
Only when Harry had walked far enough to feel confident Hermione wouldn’t be caught in the cross-hairs, Harry parted his lips and whispered, “Voldemort.”
— — — —
The capture was swift and merciless. Harry was taken to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and Harry can only feel relief that Draco Malfoy isn't there to laugh in his face, though the cold look of darkening glee on Lucius Malfoy's face raises the hairs on Harry's neck.
They ask him questions, try to make him speak. All Harry lets himself say is, "Voldemort."
They grow tired of shooing away summoned Snatchers when the tabooed name calls them over and over, and they stop asking him questions eventually. The cruciatus hurts, yes, but it does not make Harry speak.
After, Harry sits in the dank dungeons of Malfoy Manor, fingers pressing against the thick fabric of his battered coat hems. They've searched him for weapons and only found a golden snitch. That had been taken from him, yes, but the ring on his finger wasn’t. Harry wondered why – does it have something to do with how their eyes skate over it, unseeing? Can the ring hide itself from others?
Harry didn’t know but he struggled to care.
— — — —
Harry's scar has always been a better Voldemort detector than any Sneak-O-Scope, than any seer ability or omen. Harry flinched as his scar sears and he looked up through his eyelashes from his dozing spot, seated against the wall in the dank dungeon.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered from the other side of iron ore bars.
"Voldemort," Harry greeted him quietly, eyes flicking down. He has no interest in testing how long his terrible Occlumency wards would last against the greatest mind reader of the millennia.
"Have you come to surrender?" Voldemort mocked, his terrible voice burning shudders of disgust down Harry's spine.
"Never," Harry replied with defiance he does not feel, tilting his head back against stone and glancing up at Voldemort with wry amusement.
"You are pathetic," Voldemort snarled.
"That only reflects poorly on you," Harry countered, laughing.
Voldemort hissed, low and dangerous, and he raised his wand to Harry’s chest.
Harry closed his eyes, the magic burning so luminescent at the end of Voldemort's wand, so bright, that Harry can see it through his closed eyelids – soft relief echoing in his mind, it's over its done he can rest now –
The wand lowered. Harry opened his eyes in surprise. He's... Alive.
"Relief," Voldemort said abruptly, head tilting eerily in a mockery of a human behaviour. "Why do you feel... Relief?"
Harry closed his eyes once more. "Because I know without a shadow of doubt that if you try to kill me, you'll just fail again. And again. And again. Like every other time. In fact, I'm safest when you try to kill me," Harry jibed back, unsure why Voldemort has stopped. But Harry found himself unwilling to play games with the monster. The quickest way to return to course is to insult Voldemort.
For the first time in Harry's life, the monster does not let his wounded ego get in the way of thought.
"You want me to kill you," Voldemort said. There is a strange quality in his voice, contemplation perhaps. "You, Harry Potter, are many things, but you are not a coward. You would only willingly come to me for one reason: self sacrifice." Voldemort spat the words as if they burned his thin lips as he spoke them.
Harry jolted, surprised, eyes opening as the words hissed to him grew near. Harry flinched back in horror as he realised Voldemort was right there, directly in front of him not two feet away, crouched and boring his hellfire red eyes into Harry's wide, blown pupils. Voldemort had melted through the bars of Harry's cell silently, a ghost with no presence.
'What is your secret, Harry Potter?' Voldemort hissed.
'Not everything is a conspiracy,' Harry replied sharply, his running mouth barely audible over the sound of his thundering heart in his ears.
'Nagini was correct – you can speak Parseltongue,' Voldemort whispered, his vertical pupils dilating, 'But you are no Slytherin ancestor.'
Harry felt his heart freeze in his chest, terror race through his blood – did he figure out – could Voldemort know he is a –
There's a rough, jagged glass-shard scrape of Voldemort's mind brushing against Harry's own and it catches his thoughts, brutally sharp in its cruelty, diving deep into Harry’s mind with reckless need to understand.
'It cannot be,' Voldemort breathed, red eyes flaring bright, reptilian pupils lost in sea of fire.
Before Harry can respond, can attack, Voldemort strikes out, presses his fingers against Harry’s forehead, pain searing burning agony, and all Harry knows darkness.
modality t/w: dv, murder
Harry was not sure what happened.
One minute, Harry was absentmindedly folding laundry, tucking and stacking his relatives’ clothing into three neat piles. He was daydreaming, imagining escaping the Dursley household. He would leap onto his broom, would fly off into the great unknown by himself and never ever have to see their miserable faces again. Then again, it was his last summer at No. Four Privet Drive; the building anticipation of finally getting to leave this forsaken place was becoming near painful.
The next minute, without warning, Vernon Dursley flew into the laundry, flesh puce and spittle spraying, crowding Harry against the wall and lurching forward to grab Harry’s biceps with punishing strength.
“You stupid, stupid boy,” Vernon hissed, nails digging through fabric, hands bruising.
“W-what?” Harry stammered, eyes wide, alarmed at having been yanked from his daydream so abruptly. Harry’s mind raced over the last few days – he hadn’t done anything!
“You told your little friends to watch you, didn’t you?” Vernon raged, his grip tightening as he yanked Harry's smaller frame too close for comfort. “I saw them! Standing out there! As if they had a right to be on my driveway, on my private property! You think you can intimidate me? You think I’m scared of your lot?” Vernon screamed, shaking Harry harshly.
Harry gaped at Vernon, eyes wide with astonishment and horror. He could smell it now – the hint of whisky on the furious man’s breath, the crazed whites of his eyes rolling. Vernon did not drink often, and it was for good reason. He was a terrible drunk.
“Uncle Vernon,” Harry answered lowly, desperately attempting to remain calm, staring up through his eyelashes at the hysterical man. “I didn’t ask them to be there, but they are. For everyone’s protection, including yours.”
“How fucking dare you, you ingrate,” Vernon roared in Harry’s face. Vernon slammed Harry against the wall as Harry choked on an inhale, the breath struck out of him. Harry frantically, fearfully recalled what had happened the last time Vernon was drunk, remembered the loud slapping of flesh, snapping of bone –
Harry felt panic swell as a knot in his throat, felt his nerves tingle painfully up his spine. If this were anyone else, Harry would have squirmed until he had shoved them off or cast wandlessly, but there was something so… So oddly terrifying about Vernon, something instinctive and cowering that had been beaten into him from a young age. Harry knew he should fight back, and yet he froze - don’t fight back it will make it worse just stay still don’t move don’t move - and Harry felt the bones in his arms now beginning to creak with the pressure of Vernon’s grip. Harry’s lips parted on a wordless, silent cry, rational thought telling him to call out for help but a childhood of experience and instinct keeping him silent - don’t move don’t move stay small and quiet -
“I’m going to kill you, you miserable little snot, you ruined everything, everything!” Vernon was babbling, one hand yanking off Harry’s arm and wrapping around Harry’s neck with unrestrained strength as he pinned Harry to the wall. “Your whore mother getting herself knocked up, that stupid bitch, and your fucking useless father – ”
Harry felt a loud keening whine of panic and horror well up in his chest, Vernon’s purpling grip sealing off his throat and his weight crushing Harry’s chest.
Shit, Harry thought dazedly, realising that his Uncle was actually going to suffocate him. After all this time, it wasn’t going to be Voldemort who got to him – it was going to be muggle Drill Salesman of 1994 Vernon Dursley who murdered The Chosen One. If Harry could breathe, he would have laughed in hysterical disbelief. The world was beginning to blacken a bit at the edges.
Are you going to let him kill you? A voice hissed in Harry’s mind, surprising Harry out of his numb, detached shock. Harry stared at Vernon through unseeing eyes, mind burning as the oxygen in his blood evaporated. A muggle. How pathetic, the voice continued, laconic and lazily amused.
It was as if a bolt of energy revitalised Harry - what on earth was he doing, why was he not fighting back -
Voldemort, Harry recognised distantly, struggling against his uncle’s tight hold.
He will kill you, Voldemort replied, somehow sounding so very far away despite being in Harry’s own head. Harry didn’t reply, weakly struggling against his uncle. Harry realized he was very close to death – he hadn’t breathed for too long.
Help, Harry felt himself think weakly, not even sure to who he was calling out. Harry knows Voldemort won’t help, the idea near laughable, but he’s hoping that the guards outside the house might hear his magic’s weak cry for aid.
Disgusting. I will help, if only because my supposed equal dying by muggle hands is too pathetic an ending to bear, Voldemort replied dryly.
In the moments between a heartbeat, Vernon seized as if electrocuted and jerked back from Harry. Vernon turned a horrid pale shade, choked loudly once, and fell over backward like a stiff plank of wood, a loud slapping thump vibrating the floor as he collapsed. And then Harry was gasping for breath, barely holding himself up against the wall as his weak knees bore the brunt of his weight with abruptness. Harry blinked the spots out of his eyes, tears tracking down his cheeks, inhaling in rough gasps through his bruised throat.
Harry’s gaze flickered down dazedly to Vernon Dursley on the cold tile of the laundry, Vernon’s eyes glazed and expression muted in half-horror.
Harry shuddered as he looked down at the dead man at his feet, a strange and shameful feeling of overwhelming relief coursing through his veins. Vernon was dead. The bully of his childhood was nothing more than a cooling, hollow shell of a corpse.
Dumbledore left you with these people? Voldemort hissed through Harry’s mind, a monster lurking and pacing in the shadow of his consciousness. The voice turned amused, victorious, Ah, but I know where you are, Harry Potter.
Harry pushed against the wall and leapt over Vernon’s body, racing for his bedroom. He could feel it, the enchantment breaking down around him. His mother’s love no longer protected him here; it finally recognized that despite his blood coursing through his relatives’ veins, there was no love here.
I am coming, Harry Potter, Voldemort warned, a cold, high-pitched laugh echoing endlessly in Harry's head, and then Voldemort was gone from Harry’s mind.
new headcanon just dropped, tom prefers the middle seat on planes
Tom: I can't love anyone more than I love myself.
Harry, exists: ...
Tom: What a relief that the Horcrux in you is a convenient loophole.
Fic recs <3
Apologies... this is about a month and a half late (and tumblr won't let me reply to the asks directly or add links 🙃) but here is my list of tomarry/harrymort fic recs! It's quite long so click to read >>
As a general rule: Tomarry fics in blue, Harrymort fics in red. I don't remember all these fics and some are hard to classify so.... some may be wrong
anyway, enjoy x
Authors that you should read:
ObsidianPen; No Glory, Mine/Hauntingly, Blood and Gold (for Tomione fans)
Child_OTKW; Consuming Shadows, you belong to me (i belong to you) (and check out their tumblr too)
Slexenskee; crawlersout (femHarry), yebisu, Cheap (Bad) Dance Moves, grandloves (this could be) (femHarry) and more!
MaidenMotherCrone; Diagnosis, euphoria, political animals, how large the teeth, The Fairest Saga and more!
MayMarlow; The Train to Nowhere, If Them's the Rules and more!
Lomonareen; His Darkest Devotion, His Twenty-Eighth Life, Genius by the Numbers and many more!
Paimpont; To Kill You With a Kiss, To the Waters and the Wild (as far as I remember hasn't got to the ship part yet but I love it so read it) and more!
The_Carnivorous_Muffin; When Harry Met Tom (femHarry), Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus (femHarry), October, The Unwinding Golden Thread and more!
Maeglin-Yedi; The Darkening of Your Soul, The Necromancer, To Live Is The Rarest Thing, Between Thought and Reality and more!
asterisms; Let's talk sugar, Hands up, it's a hold up, a boy so pretty (such a pity), tempor · al | ary, (i wanna) cut to the feeling and more!
NeuroWriter14; For Your Entertainment, Do Not Go Quietly into That Good Night, But I Can Break You and more!
RenderedReversed; The Game, Invisible Man, Seventeen Years and more!
TreacleTeacups; The Untouchable, Byzantium (femHarry), Last Son of Black and more!
DreamerMichiyo; Guardian Angel, The Call of A Vampire, Offer of Immortality and more!
wynnebat; The Hell Is Your Son and Other Stories series, Snake Shop, The Emperor and the Star and more!
Athy; my first real introduction to this pairing years and years ago from these fics Again and Again, Meddling of a Mischief Maker, Rebirth
More Tomarry Fics
Wear Me Like A Locket Around Your Throat by VivyPotter
Why Hari curses the Black Ancestral Home by 1000percentDoneWithThisShist (femHarry)
Hem of Your Garment by adVENTitiious, Cathartic
The Impossibility of Parallels by Angel_of_Mysteries
The Dark Lord Inside by Melodramaticx
The Magicweaver by Anonymous
Before the Storm by Ars_Matron
Field Theory by machiavelli
Blurring Reality by Terrific Lunacy
When in Rome: The Duology series by XblackcatwidowX
The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by relic_crown
It's A Masquerade, Darling by ChubbyPanda15
How to prevent a War by CrazyJanaCat
she walks in beauty series by mayfriend
The Portrait by DariaSilver
The Divine Right of Kings series by darklordtomarry (alarminghella)
What Souls Are Made Of by Emeralds_and_Lilies
Words Fail by NeaMarika
Animus, Anima: English version by Maiathoustra
I must be your favourite, right? by FlyingLizards
Trapezing Through Time by lothtor
Rewritten by goodmorninglove
To Be Set Free by Merrinpippy
love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by ToAStranger
The Spellmaker by SonnyGietzel
A Memory of Shadow by Insidious1604
The Problem With Soulmarks Is by LadyAramisGrey
Stab Right Through by The_wig_is_a_metaphor
The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds
The Sun by clammyhands
Fire Born by wickedlfairy17 (femHarry)
More Harrymort Fics
Mi Aedijekit by local_doom_void
End Without Sorrow by Aerlinnn
Children of the Revolution by AlexisVV
The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles by samvelg (femHarry)
Rebuilt by Terrific Lunacy
In Somno Veritas by ansketil, ladyoflilacs
Your Name on My Heart by whitedandelions
Love in the Dark by ShoulderTallAbyss
draw me after you (let us run) by ToAStranger
The only sound is the overflow by Cartonsofcartoons
for love is always with you by cordeliawrites (femHarry)
The Wand Chooses by DreamerEye
Fault Lines by SofiaBane
The Emerald Connection by TheLastNero
Flight by Miraculous, RedHorse
Appetence by elysian_drops (femHarry)
A Snake Named Voldemort by orphan_account
Resurrect The Living by fascinationex
The Devil's Tithe by Shihane
Death is but the Next Great Adventure by TheObsidianQuill
The Consequences of A Binding Ritual by teecup_angel
harry.exe has stopped working by inksmachine
In Death, Standby by Sophisme
Hidden in Plain Sight by Shadow Riser
The Art of Hidden Personas by whitedwarf
*BONUS* Fics that I live/laugh/love with emphasis on the laugh
Harry Potter and the Greatest Show by shadowscribe
Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed by maquira
Full circle by tetsurashian
Heir Apparent by MonsieurClavier
Dark Livestream by Anna_Hopkins
Ribbon Tied Right by Snowy_Rain
A Dead Man's Guide to Reliving Your Youth series by Spork_in_the_Road
The Definition of Insanity by Anacharis
Foolish behavior by Anonymous
Eternal Hilarity by Luxis
Shorter Fics (<25,000 words)
Sound The Death Knell by Tsume_Yuki (femHarry)
dead before midnight by maquira
Burnt Ice Cream by Rhodium
Don't Fuck With Florists (They'll Fuck You Up) by MayMarlow
Saved by Hufflepuff Friendship by whitedandelions
Relativity. by Ideasofmarch
Opia by Acnara
And six seconds by Acnara
Matchmaker, Matchmaker by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Aconitum by VivyPotter
But For You, I Did by duplicity
Nemo by Phnx
The Rigmarole Dance by cannibalinc
I haven't actively searched for tomarry/harrymort fics over the last year, so if you know of some newer ones then please rec them in the replies! And any others that you think need to be read ~
(authors, lmk if you want me to remove your fics of this list)
Harry meets his imaginary best friend when he is six years old.
Tom has been around since Harry cracked his skull open and nearly died when Dudley pushed him off a swing set.
“You should kill them,” Tom says.
In his peripheral vision, Harry eyes the man leaning his hip against the Dursley’s kitchen counter. At first, it had been very strange to see the tall, mysterious stranger in black haunting the Dursley’s Very Normal household. Now, though, it was simply an occurrence Harry found himself used to.
“I’m not going to kill them,” Harry sighs, exasperated. “I burnt the bacon. I should know better by now. I’m ten!”
They’ve had this conversation before. When Harry showed Tom his cupboard under the stairs, Harry thought the man might murder the “muggles” himself. But, as promised, Tom couldn’t be seen by anyone – not even Dudley! And he was rather like a ghost; he could walk through walls, not be heard by anyone other than Harry even when ranting and raving, but sometimes he could knock something off the shelf if he really put his mind to it.
“Starving a child is not acceptable behaviour, Harry, even should that child burn the bacon,” Tom replies, examining his nails with arch superiority. “I repeat: you should kill them.”
Harry shoots Tom a sunny grin. “Your solution to everything can’t be to kill someone,” Harry advises wisely.
“Why not?” Tom shoots back, expression mulish.
“Because then where would I live?” Harry replies, eyebrows raised imperiously.
“Anywhere but here,” Tom answers prissily.
Harry knocks his grin up another notch and turns back to the new batch of bacon, ignoring the three frozen Dursleys sitting at the kitchen table, watching their nephew with wide eyes as he talks to thin air, flipping pancakes and turning crisp bacon without a care in the world.
Harry: No. Voldemort killed my parents.
Tom: He killed mine too. See? We already have so much in common.
Harry, at the Slytherin table, making no noise and pretending he doesn't exist:
Tom and his Knights, studying his every move:
I need to say this again so I don't go insane
By now we have seen multiple decapitated Palestinian children and decapitated Palestinian journalists on our phone screen, heinous crimes that Israel committed in broad daylight with the pretext of the same being done to some Israeli babies that we now know for a fact have never existed.
Israel as a whole and its ongoing accelerated genocide are built on lies that have claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians for over seven decades.
i like the idea that the horcrux in harry's scar was a jealous son of a bitch and got way too happy when his other counterparts (horcruxes) got destroyed. you can't change my mind. imagine harry feeling gleeful after destroying a horcrux.
Harry: I feel warm and fuzzy. Is that normal?
Ron and Hermione: No.
Scarcrux: [cheering like a madman in Harry's mind & soul]
Year 2 wouldve been so cute if someone came up to Harry, maybe extremely nervous, but it's because a lil garter snake by the woods was hurt and they wanted Harry to ask why it refused to eat the rats they were giving it until the snake could hunt again
You can't leave. I won't let you.
~“ We Parselmouths belong together.”~