Tom

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"Draco?" Goyle paused in the center of the Slytherin common room. He was alone although I knew Crabbe was somewhere nearby. The two were never far apart from each other, and usually in tow behind me.



I had to tell them what happened. Bottling the gritty details inside was no longer an option, especially now that I knew who Tom really was.



I sat in my favorite black leather chair beside the fireplace. I hadn't bothered to start a fire. After Tom had vanished I just came down here and sat alone, struggling to think things over. A few students had passed through but none bothered me. I wasn't exactly approachable on a regular day. Today was far from regular. Steer clear of Draco, he's in one of his moods. Wonder who shit in his Cheerios, eh?



"Sit down, Greg."



Goyle stood stock still for a moment. I never called Goyle or Crabbe by their first names. Their entire names, yes, and usually in fits of rage, like a deranged parent scolding their unruly sons. I probably inherited that from my own mother. But even then it took a lot of anger to call them anything different from the norm. In fact, I couldn't remember a time in our long history as friends where either of the two were Gregory or Vincent. But times were different. Strange and unsettling things were happening, had happened to Draco Malfoy.



A disoriented Goyle quickly moved to the couch across from me, placing his books beside him.



He hesitated before speaking, squinting quizzically over at me, "What happened..."



"Plenty," I stared at a point beyond Goyle, collecting my thoughts, "You need to hear this. I can't keep anything to myself anymore."



"Hear what?" Goyle leaned in closer. I thought for a moment he might take my hand and squeeze it reassuringly, but I knew better than that. We were raised different from most children. Comforting touches weren't a part of our upbringing. We were taught only to be strong and independent. It was all we knew.



"Everything. I haven't told you all that has been going on with... Tom," I glanced up past Goyle as the common room door opened again.



Crabbe stepped in and paused at the threshold, eying us, "What's goin on?"



"This isn't a good time, Crabbe," Goyle said quickly, about to stand and shoo him away for me.



I quickly stopped him, "No, it's fine. I want him to hear this too. Sit down."



Crabbe shuffled over, seeming more apprehensive than Goyle had, "What's this about?"



"Just sit down, shut up, and listen to me," I said.



Crabbe obeyed and took a seat beside Goyle. He was used to my scolding, and the order seemed to comfort him a little.



I took a deep breath, "I want you both to hear this. I need you both to be as mature as humanly possible here. This is serious. And don't you dare tell a soul. Got it?"



Crabbe glanced at Goyle then back at me. After a moment, he squinted at me and asked with all due seriousness, "Did you kill someone?"



I shook my head, "No, it's about that diary, about Tom. You know, that business..."



"Oh, alright," Crabbe brightened up a little, "For a minute I thought I might have to help bury a body. Not that I'd mind, you know. We are, friends, after all."



I ignored him and continued, "Anyway, I don't know where to start. I guess I'll start with the newest clue. Well, not really a clue," I leaned closer to them and lowered my voice in case the walls had ears, which was sometimes possible here at Hogwarts, especially in the dungeons. I didn't need anyone to hear about Tom. It was hard enough to tell my closest friends the entire truth. "I know who Tom is."



"Yeah?" Crabbe smiled briefly but let it melt away to a forced expression of utter seriousness, "So who is he?"



"The Dark Lord," I said.



Crabbe's playful expression caved in on itself, "Y-you're kidding? That's just..."



"Bloody impossible," Goyle mumbled, sitting back against the sofa and staring off in disbelief, "There's no way... I mean, the Dark Lord hasn't even got the power yet to-"



"Power?" I laughed in disgust, "Where do you think Tom's been milking it from? Oh, I don't know, me perhaps? I personally know the Dark Lord's growing stronger. I received a letter directly from him today. He's staying at my estate with my parents. Yes, I know, I didn't tell you any of this before. But I was told not to. Who cares now. I need your help so I'm telling you everything. The Dark Lord is miraculously healing a lot quicker than anticipated. He's growing strong again, and so is my dear friend, Tom. He talked when I saw him, just now. There was this cold around him, this strange but strong magic. He even felt different, as if he was more solid and less ghost-like. They... they aren't one in the same but they're linked somehow. Tom's a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. I don't understand it all, Tom didn't exactly spend time getting into detail on that subject. He's been too busy using me as his personal play thing, and I mean that exactly how you bloody well think it sounds. I have to tell you guys all of it, even that part, so you understand what's happening. The whole situation here has changed. The shit is seriously hitting the fan. If Tom really is who he says he is, which I have no choice but to believe, then I'm in serious trouble."



Crabbe's jaw fell open in a look of cartoon-ish surprise. Goyle didn't appear as taken aback. I had a feeling he knew all along about Tom's sexual interest in me. Instead, Goyle seemed to be thinking things over, working them out in his sluggish, yet bright mind.



"If you don't believe Tom's the Dark Lord, read this. Read the damn diary." I grasped the book from where I had stashed it beside me in the large leather chair and tossed it to the table before my friends.



Goyle slowly reached out and opened it, flipping through the pages to the last written entry. Both boys now crouched over the book reading.



Goyle glanced up, "So he signed his name? How do you..."



"Trust me," I sighed and leaned back against the chair, "I'm in some serious shit, guys. I-I don't know what to do..."



"Something happened while we were out?" Crabbe asked with a surprising amount of maturity. I knew I could trust him not to be an ass about this.



I sat for a moment against the cushioned chair, my eyes closed in thought. Should I tell them? That was my initial intention. I've already started, anyway.



"Tom showed up. In the flesh, no ghost this time. We had a bit of a chit chat. You know, told me who he really was and all. Tom Marvolo Riddle, or the 'memory' of him, as he says. The Dark Lord's young self preserved through magic and what sounded like a sort of soul splitting charm. Something I think even Goyle here will have trouble wrapping his mind around. Tom says the present day Dark Lord only knows some of what his self, the young Tom, does. Tom was sent in order to retrieve my energy and repair the damage done to the Dark Lord, at least that's what I've come to. He devised the use of the Arctic Nether Charm as a way of obtaining it. But Tom didn't want to stop at just the charm."



We sat in silence for a moment before Goyle spoke up, "Go on."



"It isn't exactly easy telling you guys," I reminded them, "I mean, you know I'm straight. Of course you do. I haven't had any control over this-"



"Draco," This time Goyle did place his hand on mine. It felt appropriate, although a tad uncomfortable. I wasn't used to such reactions from my friends. We never really did... speak seriously, so to say. Goyle continued, "It's alright, we know who you are. And you know we won't think differently of you no matter what. Even Crabbe won't joke about some things."



"Yeah," Crabbe mumbled, "I ain't a bastard to my friends, you know."



"Well... alright," I continued, feeling a little better telling them. I should have had more faith in the two boys from the start. "Nothing actually happened this time. We just talked. Or Tom talked rather, I just laid there and listened. Tom gave me an ultimatum of sorts. He said I was a 'rational boy and that 'I should make my own decisions'. I don't think he meant any of it. I mean, he's the bloody Dark Lord! I don't have a say in anything that happens to me at his hands! The young Dark Lord seems to live for head games. So Tom says I can decide if I want to... join him or let the Dark Lord wither and die."



"Oh wow," Crabbe whispered.



"What kind of decision is that!" I blurted out, "I can't let the Dark Lord just waste away! So my only choice is to-"



"Surrender yourself to Tom," Goyle glanced up from the diary where he had been staring, "What does he actually intend to do with you?"



"Well, he hasn't had a chance to fuck me yet," I laughed sarcastically, "I think that's where he's going with this; Fuck toy! I can imagine it now: Draco Malfoy, the Dark Lord's personal sex slave. I can't figure out why he wants me so badly. The old man himself has made no advances on me, not once. And they're one in the same!"



Crabbe muttered low, "Who doesn't want to fuck you..." Goyle quickly elbowed him in the ribs.



I raised an eyebrow, not understanding the joke, "What's that supposed to mean?"



Goyle just shrugged, "Who knows with Crabbe's sense of humor? So what exactly has happened between you and Tom. I mean, if I knew any of this earlier I would've been more concerned about the Arctic Nether Charm..."



"Well, remember that time in the locker rooms? I told you I blacked out, right? The last time I came to, I was naked. No, I didn't start out that way like I had said. I started the adventure half dressed and now my pants were gone and Tom was on top of me, giving me head. Not that I could feel much of it, my body was seriously frozen numb from that damn charm. Last thing I did before I blacked out for good was push him from me. Glad I had enough in me to do that," I felt lighter just telling them that. Imagine how I would of felt if I was honest with my friends the entire time?



"Damn," Crabbe glanced at Goyle, who sat motionless. They both looked fairly uncomfortable now, unsure of what to say. I decided to go on anyway.



"That was the first thing with Tom, and so far the craziest. But he's been threatening more. I thought I was in for it tonight, the way he was acting. He only gave me the ultimatum. Along with some nice bruises on my shoulders from where he held me down. He seems to like leaving bruises on me.



"That dream you had last night, can you tell us a little more about it?" Goyle asked me suddenly.



"You think that's important?" Crabbe shot Goyle an odd look.



I rubbed my wrist, still not having shown them the bruise. Did Goyle know somehow?



Goyle shrugged, "Might be. I'm having trouble believing Tom is who he claims to be. Knowing more might reveal the truth."



The dream still fresh in my mind, I quickly gave my friends a run through of it. I was careful not to leave any detail out, in case it might help telling them. The only part I left out was near the end, where I started... enjoying it. Good thing they woke me up.



"At least it was just a dream, right?" Crabbe added after I finished.



"I don't know, Crabbe," I lifted the sleeve to my robe, showing them the red mark on my wrist, "I woke with this. That's where he held my wrist in the dream. It hurts too. But it was just a dream, right? Now tell me that isn't surreal? I think... if you hadn't woke me up, things would've gone downhill fast."



"They did," Goyle was staring intently at me, a strange faraway expression on his face.



"What?" Crabbe and I turned our attention to Goyle.



"I had the same dream after we went back to sleep," Goyle's eyes moved quickly away from mine down to his hands, "Sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't think much of it at first. But you said a few things in the library earlier that caught my attention. I had to ask and see if it was the same. And you just recalled my own dream word for word."



"You dreamed about me?" I asked.



"No, no," Goyle shook his head defensively, "I dreamed the same exact thing but instead of being from your point of view, it was from mine."



I frowned, "So the dream had more to it? That's what you said-"



Goyle nodded, "Let's just say it went well past the kissing."



"What happened in yours?" Crabbe asked.



Goyle's eyes re-focused on the current surroundings, on me. I didn't want to notice the dreamy look on his face. It confused the hell out of me.



"What happened?" I repeated the question.



"You really want to know?"



Crabbe and I nodded in unison.



And Goyle recounted his dream...


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"Don't you understand?" Tom was opening Goyle's robes, "No one's going to help you, Gregory. And even if they did, I'm much too strong. I'll always win." He tossed Goyle's robe to the floor in the pool of green liquid at their feet, "You can't save Draco. Your helpless against me."



Goyle struggled to sit up. Tom just held out a hand, as casual as could be, pushing him back to the desk with ease. They were nearly the same height, Tom standing an inch or so taller, but Goyle was much more broad in the shoulders, in the arms, in the chest, he was all around the larger boy. In reality, the Slytherin could snap Tom in half. This, of course, wasn't reality.



"I'll always get what I want," Tom insisted with a grin.



After fiddling with the boy's tie for a moment, Tom tugged Goyle's vest off over his head in one quick movement. Goyle cursed in frustration as Tom ripped open the boys shirt, buttons flying every which way. Somehow he managed to slip away from Tom's grasp and stumble across the room towards Professor Snape's large desk. The entire class sat facing him as he stood in the gap between the student's desks and Snape's. But no one seemed to notice him there, standing nearly shirtless and bewildered like a damned fool.



Severus Snape stood up and spoke inaudibly to the class, probably about the potion everyone was mixing.



"Snape! You bloody bastard! Help me!" Goyle yelled as the inky haired man moved to the chalk board and wrote out a long list of ingredients. He didn't hear Goyle. None of his classmates could hear the boy. He was alone in this one-sided fight against Tom.



Goyle nervously turned back to the slytherin-robed boy who remained leaning on the desk beside Crabbe and Draco, tsk'ing with amusement.

"It takes a lot to get through to you, eh Greg? You seem a bit... thick headed."



On instinct, Goyle reached for his wand... which sat in his robes... which lay in a pool of green mystery goo at Tom's feet. Tom laughed again, jumping lightly up on top of the desk where he turned his attention to Draco. Tom squatted in front of the smaller, fair haired boy. Draco didn't seem to notice. But when Tom crouched there, looming over Draco Malfoy, Goyle instinctively clenched his knuckles at his side.

"Don't even think about it," Goyle threatened.



Tom smirked at Draco as the blond boy stared right through his menacing figure, Draco's attention on Snape at the board, "Your friend can't hear you, Greg. Do you think he cares what happens to you? In dreams or reality? His only concern is himself, but I know damn well you care a great deal what happens to him."



Goyle stood frozen, worried at what Tom might do to his friend and even more worried he might not be able to grab him in time and pull him away from Draco. Goyle knew everything Tom said was lies. Of course Draco cared, as did Crabbe. It had always been the three of them against the world. Tom was just trying to get under Goyle's skin.



"He's a handsome devil, isn't he?" Tom whispered, reaching a hand up to the blond boy's face. Goyle winced as Tom slowly brushed his fingers along Draco's pale cheek. Still, Draco didn't flinch.



"You wouldn't touch him if you knew what's good for you," Goyle growled.



"Oh, trust me, I do," Tom leaned towards Draco, parted lips moving stealthily towards his.



Without a seconds more hesitation, Goyle lunged at Tom.



But before Goyle could reach him, Tom quickly pulled away from Draco and leaped down from the desk, easily dodging the charging Slytherin. Instead, he grasped Crabbe's nearby potion at the handle and swung it at Goyle, who was too slow getting out of the way. The large iron cauldron hit the boy's left leg hard. Goyle fell as pain shot through his knee. The contents of the cauldron spilled out on impact, some of it splashing across his legs and his exposed left arm. The potion was searing hot. Goyle lay on the floor in agony, cursing. Not surprising, Crabbe didn't even seem to notice his potion was missing.



Goyle glared up the approaching Tom, trying to prop himself up on his elbows and prepare for another attack.



"You should know by now I don't play nice. And I gotta say, I'm getting a little irritated at you trying to get in my way." Tom straddled Goyle's lap and grasped his wrists, holding his hands over his head. Goyle yelped in pain.



Snape, unaware of anything, walked past them towards the class. Goyle cringed as Snape's foot nearly knocked into the side of his head. The dream was playing on around them. Goyle never experienced a dream like it before.



Tom leaned down over the injured boy, grinning, mocking him. But before he could say anything, Goyle spat up in his face. Tom responded by raising his fist. Goyle cried out as pain shot through the right side of his face where Tom's blow landed. Now his eye throbbed horribly, his nose bleeding down across his cheeks.



This was turning out rather bad.



Tom picked Goyle up from the ground and dragged The Slytherin, half stumbling forward and half still resisting Tom, towards Snape's desk.

"Get up there," he ordered.



Tom shoved him up to the Professor's antique wooden desk. Goyle turned to face Tom, his knee throbbing painfully and his eye nearly swelling shut. But he quickly lost his courage and backed away as Tom approached. Goyle bumped his back into the desk and leaned against it, wondering if it was a smart idea to run again.



"I said get up on the desk," Tom repeated coolly, taking off his own robe and dropping it behind him.



Goyle hesitated then sat back on the surface of Snape's desk. Tom took off his vest and shirt. He moved up to the desk and stood in front of Goyle, staring down at him with cold amusement. Goyle found his own eyes reluctantly drawn to Tom's naked torso. The tall boy was surprisingly toned, pale, flawless, he reminded him of someone...



"Like what you see?" Tom grinned down to Goyle.



Before Goyle could respond, Tom grasped the Slytherin's hand and moved it up to his pale chest, sliding it across his icy bare skin. Goyle tried to flinch away but Tom held the boy's hand firm in his grasp.



"Admit it, you want me."



"No," Goyle hissed, trying desperately to pull his hand away. Tom's thin lips sat in a twisted smile. He forced Goyle's hand down his bare chest, over his smooth stomach to the crotch of Tom's black slacks. Goyle could feel the shape of Tom's stiff cock through the material. He tried to pull away again, unable to free himself from the boy's grasp. Instead Tom held his hand harder against him.



"You want me," Tom whispered, "Or maybe... your dear friend Draco would like to play? I could take him instead, use him... It's your choice."



It took Goyle a moment to realize his hand was still grasping Tom's crotch without Tom's hand making him do it. Goyle pulled away in confusion, embarrassed. He quickly collected himself again, angered by Tom's threats.



"You lay a finger on him and I'll kill you."



"You've made your decision then?" Tom pushed Goyle back on the papers Snape had been grading and what felt painfully like a quill in the small of his back.



Goyle lay unmoving, defeated and staring blank up at the beams in the ceiling as he felt his pants being tugged off. He had lost the desire to run. No one would help if he did. And Tom was more powerful. He was stronger and faster than Goyle. With every second this was becoming more and more apparent. Goyle felt defenseless against him. Besides, if he did protest, what would stop Tom from hurting Draco? Goyle couldn't protect him here, not in this damn dream. Hell, he couldn't even protect his friend from Tom in reality!



Goyle was naked now, lying across the old wood desk with his legs dangling off the front. The idea of it was funny actually, lying there in the middle of Potions on Professor Snape's desk in the buff. His knee still hurt and the burns stung, his eye had swelled to a squint and blood from his nose was drying across his face, but Goyle shrugged it all off. This was only a bad dream. Dreams can't really hurt you. Right?



Goyle felt Tom spread his legs as the boy grasped the Slytherin's cock gently in his fist, stroking it with skilled hands. His touch was icy, yes, but it wasn't terribly bad. Goyle closed his eyes. Hell, if it's only a dream... He began to enjoy the sensations. Seconds later Tom's mouth was wrapped around Goyle's cock. Goyle inhaled sharply at the touch, his hands moving to grip the back of Tom's head, finger's tangled in the strange boy's dark hair. But not to pull him away, to encourage him. The feeling of Tom's hot mouth engulfing the Slytherin was wonderful. Tom's tongue moved fast along the length of him, flicking, sucking, dancing along his skin. It seemed to Goyle that Tom was trying to get him hard quick, and it was surely working like a charm. But Tom pulled away as soon as the boy was erect. Goyle lay back on the desk, gasping and confused.



Goyle sat up on his elbows, his left arm stinging from the burns, "What gives?"



"So you do want me?" Tom asked again, his hand at Goyle's hard cock stroking it gently.



"Well," Goyle watched through his one good eye as Tom's hand move over him, "The way I see it, this is just a dream."



"So that makes you not care," Tom smirked, "Since it's a dream it's alright if some boy is sucking you off? At least I'm not beating on you anymore, right? No harm done here, you're safe in your own dreams..."



Goyle lay back down, "Mmhmm..."



"Shows what you know," Tom whispered and let go of Goyle's hard cock. He grabbed the boy's waist, sliding him back to his feet on the floor. Tom quickly turned Goyle around and pushed him forward on his belly across the desk. Goyle's injured knee banged against the side of the wooden desk, causing him to let out a string of frustrated curses. Tom grabbed Goyle's neck from behind and forced the boy's head down to the desk with a thud. Goyle heard Tom unzip his pants and slide them to the ground behind him. In a sudden panic, Goyle struggled to get away from Tom, wriggling beneath his grasp. But Tom kept his hand at Goyle's neck mashing his face to the desk, his grip inhumanly strong. Goyle felt Tom's stiff cock slide down along his bare ass. It felt oddly damp, probably from spit. The panic rose in Goyle's gut.



"You or Draco, Greg," Tom hissed through clenched teeth, forcing the boy to hold still.



Goyle cried out in pain as Tom forced the tip of his hard cock inside the boy's tight arse. It hurt like hell, much more than he assumed it might, having never actually tried the act before with another boy. Tom didn't stop after seeing Goyle was in pain. If anything, he forced his thick cock further inside the Slytherin. Goyle's body protested in agony as Tom slowly pulled out again. He grasped the boy's shoulders now and held him firm to the desk.



It's only a dream, dream's can't hurt you.



"You're right Greg, they can't," Tom hissed in his ear as he thrust inside him again, "But I can. I have my ways."



After a few minutes, Goyle found it didn't hurt so bad. Either he was growing numb or starting to like it. Tom was moving slower now and Goyle found his body moving in rhythm with the other boy. Goyle's cock was pressed up against the edge of the desk, rubbing against the smooth polished wood with each thrust. Goyle wasn't sure if Tom knew this or not. And Tom's hard cock inside him was hitting just the right spot. Every time Tom thrust Goyle felt it for a second, like a surge of ecstasy parading along his battered skin. He was going to come.



Goyle spread his legs wider, inviting Tom into his ass.

"Think you're gonna get off that easy, do you?" Tom growled in the boy's ear.



Tom's hand moved back to Goyle's neck, pinning him down to the desk. His free hand plucked a small ornate dagger, a letter opener, from Snape's desk. Goyle froze at the feeling of the sharp blade at his back. Tom cut just enough to make him bleed near the boy's shoulder blade. Goyle winced in pain as the letter opener moved away and started again beside the first cut. Goyle's body was shaking now from pain, but his cock still pressed hard against the edge of the desk, the friction sending waves of pleasure through his tormented body.



"How many cuts should I make, Greg?" Tom grunted as he continued to thrust into the boy's tight arse, "I think I'll just cut til you come. Hope it takes awhile, I can do this all night."



The third cut was deeper, slower, agonizing. Goyle could feel blood trickling down his back. Snape was up at the chalk board again in front of them. Goyle glanced up at the man through tear edged eyes and was surprised to see him pause for a moment and frown in disgust down at the Slytherin. Goyle quickly looked away, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment and hatred.



"I think I'll do four now," Tom started another cut.



Goyle closed his eyes and focused hard. Tom's cock pushed further inside the boy, jabbing the spot that sent shivers along his skin. At the end of the fourth cut, Goyle came. His orgasm was strong but he bit his lip and kept from moaning. Goyle didn't want to give Tom that satisfaction, hearing him cry out.



Tom knew the boy had come, but didn't stop fucking Goyle. The cold, sharp blade of the letter opener was still at his back.



"Oh, I'm sorry," Tom hissed in Goyle's ear, "Did I say I'd stop when you came? I meant when I came."



Goyle did cry out as the fifth cut lined his back. And the sixth. And seventh.


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