NOTE: This is a translation of a Chinese HP Fanfiction by 墨玉绿
BETA: the brilliant and awesome AzulticSerpens
Read this warning please! DON'T skip it!.
This chapter contain some suggestive and sexually explicit content. As per regulation, NO explicit content will be posted on ff-dot-net. The following is the censored vision of Chapter 32. The full vision is posted on AO3 (link in my profile), click at your own discretion... although IMO the censored vision works just fine.
October 31, 1939
After two months had passed, Harry's wounds had finally scabbed over. The young man's healing process had been excruciatingly slow, so much that even Joan was frowning over him with worry.
"Joan, I have purchased a house at Godric's Hollow. Please come to visit soon... Again, I cannot thank you enough for everything you've done."
Harry smiled brightly at the young Auror, his splendid green eyes shining with excitement. Although his torso and face were still bandaged—which, oddly, made him looked very young—Harry was rather eager to be free of the sickbed. It was time for him to leave and to start the next phase of his life.
He needed to go home. Soon, someone would be expecting him.
Joan frowned again. She couldn't help but ask, "What's the rush?" — even though she already knew his answer.
"Sorry... It's just... Tom says he wants to come home for Christmas." The young man shrugged as he ran a hand through the messy tangle of black hair, although his smile was bright and joyful with indulgence.
Home — Harry repeated the word in his mind, over and over again until indescribable warmth spread through his veins. That word just made him feel happy, so happy and grateful for this second chance at life, a chance to unite with Tom.
Hermione, Ron, Ginny, George, Fred... everyone knew how much home meant to Harry. They all saw the longing on his face as he stepped into number 12 Grimmauld Place, and the mad desperation in his eyes as he had watched Sirius fall through the veil.
The cruellest thing in the world... was to catch a glimmer of hope before being cast back into darkness.
If he was a Slytherin, in those moments of loneliness and disappointment, perhaps he would have welcomed the darkness, falling through, wielding his power for nothing but vengeance and bloodshed, railing against the world.
But he was a Gryffindor— a brave and naive Gryffindor, who still believed in justice, in hope. Perhaps a Gryffindor's best trait was his ability to hope. They would go to the end of the earth in search of hope and warmth, even if, in the end, that warmth would burn them like the moths drawn to flame. Even if... their journey were plagued by moments of weakness and doubt, they wouldn't stop.
Gryffindors wouldn't give up.
For so long, Harry had longed for a home.
Although he didn't know how long this— his and Tom's —home would last, at the very least, he would do everything in his power to make it worthwhile. He still had hope.
Home was a form of a bond. At least, Harry could hope that this bond would be enough to change Tom, to slow the progress of history... Who knew? Not even Fate could take away his hopes and dreams.
Joan picked up the half-emptied potion bottles from the nightstand. She dumped the leftover liquid down the sink at Harry's insistence.
Perhaps it was childish, but... after two months of the steady intake of foul, bitter potions, he really couldn't take it anymore.
"Your injuries... Harry, are you sure you don't want to go for a check-up at St. Mungo's?" Joan pushed up her glasses. Her stern scrutiny reminded Harry strongly of Professor McGonagall.
Harry gave a dry smile and shook his head.
In this world of the past, only he knew the secrets and flaws of his body.
Five months, here, in the past was equivalent to only one day in the future, in his rightful timeline. If his body's aging process was slowed down in the past, then it was only natural for his wounds to heal just as slowly. Surely, it was supposed to happen like this... Harry didn't think healers at St. Mungo's or anywhere else could help him.
Suddenly, Harry's face turned serious. "Joan, could you do me a favour?"
In front of outsiders and other houses, Slytherins liked to pretend that they were in a class of their own. Classy and superior, obviously. But as soon as the door to the common room closed shut, they, too, fell under decadence and immodesty, acting on wild whims and the lustful impulse of teenagers. Flaunting was in their nature. These rich pure-bloods loved their decadent and outlandish parties, when they could wear the most luxurious robes, consume the most sumptuous food and drinks. Money could buy them an appearance of class and sophistication, and everything else they wanted, even if it was no more than senseless self-indulgence and pleasure. A rite of passage, just some harmless fun, they claimed, although, deep inside, they knew it was just an excuse to act out some hidden desires and to get adrenaline pumping through their veins.
Therefore, the Slytherin Halloween party had become legendary for its decadent and unforgettable ... nature.
"Tom, are you bringing a date to the party?" Ovidius approached Tom's bed, a brand-new dress robe stretched in his arms.
"No," Tom replied simply, bored. He didn't even bother to look up from his books. He never had much interest in social niceties, even though he was exceptionally good at them. See, he didn't even own a proper dress robe.
Recently, second-year students were introduced into the proper Slytherin social circle. This was the first time they were invited to their house's parties, so no wonder Ovidius was so excited.
Tom's dark eyes were glued onto a book. He turned a page and, for a moment, his quill hovered over a familiar topic — the "protego". Suddenly, he looked up. "Do I have to go?"
"Hey! Trust me— you'll want to go to this one." Ovidius shouted excitedly. He wiggled his eyebrows at Tom, then cracked a suggestive smile. "Don't tell me that you don't know what is going on tomorrow?"
"What? The Halloween Ball?" Tom circled something on the book.
"Oh Merlin! You don't know?!" Ovidius gasped.
Of course Tom didn't know. The purpose behind Slytherin's annual Halloween Ball was a house secret, a tradition passed down through many pure-blood families. Harry didn't know about it, and so, Tom couldn't have found out.
Tom looked at Ovidius inquisitively.
"Well, it's..." Ovidius paused. Tom's calm, depthless black eyes were making him feel rather exposed, embarrassed even, and suddenly, he forgot his words. He scratched his head sheepishly. "Ah! Never mind! You'll see soon, tomorrow night—"
Ovidius' secrecy managed to spark Tom's interest briefly, but soon, his curiosity was forgotten and the boy became engrossed in his books again.
He had lots of books to read. He had lots of things to learn. He needed more knowledge. He must get stronger, train his mind, his magic, using every second of every day to grow and expand his power. He needed to grow up.
His curiosity had been completely forgotten until Abraxas Malfoy showed up.
"Here... A small present for you. For tomorrow's coming-of-age ceremony," Abraxas, still dressed rather ostentatiously, placed a gift-wrapped square box on Tom's bed and beckoned the boy to open it.
Tom didn't move. He raised an elegant eyebrow, "Coming-of-age ceremony?"
"Oh yes," Abraxas lazily brushed some platinum blonde hair from his shoulder. A teasing glint flashed in his cool blue eyes. "Now... you must test your will against the seductions and follies of the adult world. I trust you can manage, can't you?"
"Don't play games with me," the slender, tall adolescent snapped. The way his young face hardened with irritation made him seem considerably older.
Abraxas shrugged and said no more, although Tom did not like the knowing smirk on the Malfoy heir's smug face.
There were two ways in which someone was coming-of-age.
First, legally speaking, coming-of-age meant that an individual was old enough to take full responsibility for himself and ready to contribute to society. In the muggle world, one legally became an adult at age of eighteen; in the wizarding world, one earned that distinction at the age of seventeen. Second, biologically speaking, coming-of-age meant that an adolescent's body was rapidly maturing into that of an adult, with all its full-ranging functions and needs.
A sickeningly sweet fragrance lingered in the vast open longue. Its interior was transformed to a luxurious ball room, with champagne glasses, cushions, loud music and exposed bodies everywhere. The light was dimmed with magic, permeating the room with a seductive glow that was just bright enough to illuminate youthful smooth skin, yet dim enough to shroud them in vague mystery. Even second-year girls changed out of their traditional school uniforms, favouring something tighter to show off their rapidly developing curves.
All the higher year students were present, loud and giggling and dancing with each other. Impossibly expensive robes and dresses twirled and swayed with the music. Under the dim lights and haze of alcohol, the voices and faces blurred together into a mass of youthful passion and uninhibited desires.
Instantly, Tom caught on to what was happening.
Coming-of-age ceremony? How interesting.
They were driven by human instincts. No matter muggles or wizards, teenagers would act like teenagers. Maturing boys and girls were naturally very curious about the opposite sex. And, for some, that interest included the same sex.
"What? Don't tell me you never had such urges before?... Not even a wet dream?" Abraxas peeked over Tom's shoulder and gave him a mischievous wink. He patted the boy's shoulder firmly, before abandoning him in favour of a witch in an teal-coloured dress.
Wet... dream... Tom narrowed his eyes as he sat down on an empty sofa, trying to recall his first hormonal experience.
Slytherins were always rather true to themselves, tuned into their own desires and ambitions; and so, sex wasn't such a taboo topic for them.
It happened last year... roughly. Tom didn't even remember anything about that experience. He didn't remember any dream. He wasn't even aware that he was dreaming of something, or anyone, until the next morning he woke up to find his pants soiled.
It didn't bother him. He just shrugged and changed his sheets. It was a very common biological reaction, after all.
Tom summoned a glass of alcoholic drink for himself. He sipped it slowly, calmly observing the party around him.
Obviously, the second-years were too young to participate in anything other than dancing and conversations. Even if some of their bodies might be capable, they were much too young for sex.
This party was certainly lively and extravagant and wildly noisy, but it wasn't enough to impress Tom.
Unless... there were more secrets to this show?
A smirk danced on the boy's lips briefly, as he drained his glass.
As the dance went on, the music had changed from classic jazz to thundering rock. The boys and girls, who had began the night with some self-control, were sufficiently drunk enough to throw all caution to the wind. Some danced on as they removed their cumbersome robes. Some sixth and seventh years had wandered off to some dimly lit corner, climbing onto soft cushions together, lips and hands exploring each other's bodies eagerly.
It felt like the air was turning hot and heavy. A smell of musk, mingled with muffled moans and gasps, was spreading throughout the ballroom.
Tom stood up. He walked around the dance floor, to where some prefects were gathering up the other second-years. He strode through the crowd with a casual indifference. His young face was beautiful and arrogant under the dim lights, and his brand-new dress robe fitted his slender frame perfectly. Aesthetically, he was the perfect Slytherin, a young prince amongst unsophisticated juveniles.
He caught a lot of eyes, but no one approached him.
Second-years Slytherins were not suitable targets. They were too raw. Other arrangements had already been made to entertain the newest members of their society.
Tom watched the naked Veela kneeling by his feet, taking in her long blond hair and pale skin that was glowing under dim lights. Compare to his classmates, Tom seemed very nonchalant, his narrow black eyes cool and emotionless.
So this was the so-called secret of the party? They were provided with a chance to try their very first sexual experience in a semi-public place — nothing too difficult, just...a sampling of the forbidden fruit.
The handsome boy licked his lips and smirked again. Suddenly, his eyes flared bright with a devious confidence, which at first glance, made his smile seem more alluring than even the Veela girl in front of him.
All men found a Veela's pheromones impossible to resist — it wasn't love, just primal instinct... but just as effective, nevertheless.
Immediately, Tom felt a strange warmth rushing to his lower belly. It made the blood in his veins burn hot, and suddenly, he felt a lust for blood rising to his throat.
"Come here," the boy beckoned the waiting Veela with one finger, his voice commanding and cold.
But... sometimes, things tend lose their seductive allure once they lost the shroud of mystery and forbiddenness.
Tom sunk into the sofa as the Veela climbed on top of him, her hot tongue pressing against him eagerly. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly he felt rather empty. Even the suggestive wet noises of lips sucking on skin seemed monotonous after a while. Once the burning curiosity died down, he felt nothing in his mind, not even a primal need for release.
Still, the slick, hot tongue was enough to excite his senses, yet it did not feel good, just waves upon waves of prickling heat and confusion. It was just rather... empty.
"Leave," the boy's command was cold and dismissive. He suddenly felt agitated and pushed her off him rather unceremoniously.
Disgusting, Tom pursed his lips and quickly cleaned himself up. He gave a mocking glare to the groaning bodies all around him, before heading for the door.
This so-called forbidden fruit... it wasn't so sweet after all.
The Slytherin dormitory was utterly silent. No one had returned yet. They were all too busy drowning in a good time of booze and lust. After all, Slytherins were meant to indulge and enjoy life.
Hands clutching in his pockets, Tom walked slowly from the ballroom back to his dorm, enjoying the cold night's wind caressing his cheeks. He felt calmer, his hormones and hot blood having since cooled down.
As he walked out of artificial dim light and into serene moonlight, the silence of the empty halls had done wonders for Tom's mood. His mind was clear again. Suddenly, an unexpected image jumped into his head.
The boy stiffened.
Why would he be thinking about Harry at a time like this?
As soon as he entered his room, his eyes were immediately drawn toward a letter on his desk, with few brown feathers scattered about it.
Obviously, Tom did not expect mail at this hour.
He ripped opened the envelope and a photograph fell out.
It showed a square brick building, which looked rather similar to their previous house at number 15 London Street, lit aflame by the setting sun. A man was standing in front of the house, a head full of messy black hair, grinning widely, with plasters covering his face.
It was Harry. He pointed toward the house, then smiled and waved at Tom.
The boy's eyes focused on the young man's face, and for a moment, they seemed to glow with unreadable emotion. He couldn't help but reach out to touch the man in the photograph, but the little figure managed to evade his fingers.
Happy to report that I've found us a house. Obviously, the building behind me is our new home. Joan was kind enough to help me take this photo. I love it.
Also, happy Halloween to you.
Yo! Guys, READ this bloody warning. I know you skipped the warning (I know I tend to...), but read this one, please!
Are you reading? Good.
So I just want to clarify — this fic does contain some sexually explicit contents. Few chapters here and there. (So far... maybe about 6ish?) So I'll give the warnings for those chapters in the beginning of each chapter. I should probably go back to the first chapter and add the warnings there too... I should do it, when I'm not lazy.
And also, NO explicit content will be posted on ff-dot-net. It will be replaced with a censored vision and the full vision is posted on AO3 (link in my profile). Please, only read at your own discretion.