Wolf & Bunny: A Love Story

Gorgeous ❤️❤️

< lovely >

Love being power and Harry falling in love with Tom Riddle/Tom falling for Harry but it doesn't make Tom a good person.

It makes him so much worse

YES YES YES YES

WIP Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @leafiloaf . Leafi, thank you so much for the tag! 😭 Sending love 💖💖💕💕 Look, when my favourite Harrymort artist tags me for the wip game it doesn't matter that I did the tag game, I’m doing it again!

Rules: Share 7 (or more) lines of a WIP you've been working on.

I wrote a little one-shot of our boy Harry fainting in the forest in Deathly Hallows and waking up. Without his shirt? Where could his shirt have gone? 🤔

Let Harry tell you one thing. He's a bloody good escape artist. Just because his shirt got discarded and his torso is currently exposed to the cold air of the hall won’t stop him from running headfirst to the exit, wherever the exit is — something Harry’s starting to worry about right now.  The burning, long fading mark in the middle of his chest the locket left behind throbbed dully, like its own heartbeat. All the hairs on his arms were up, rising in response to the biting cold, followed by goose bumps spreading along the skin. His empty fingers trembled. There was no wand. Someone took his wand. No weapon. Running bare-chested. Many strange things happened to Harry over these seven years, but this one definitely takes the cake.

At least he still had his trousers, glasses, socks and trainers. The girls and guys at Hogwarts would kill to see this, Harry was sure. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. A warning.  Mid-step, a cloth wrapped around Harry's ankles and wrists, lifting his feet off the floor. Harry pushed his entire body forward, lunging in the opposite direction in an attempt to rip the fabric off of his limbs.  The cloth was unbroken. More cloths snapped around him, like lunging snakes. Two more wrapped around his forearms, one wrapped around his chest, another around his waist, wrapping around his thigh, two more around his knees, and one around his neck. They all snapped tight, and Harry groaned as they squeezed, strangulating his bones with the powerful pressure. The only cloth that didn't squeeze him was the one around his neck, acting more like a rope than a handcuff. The cloths were like scarves. They extended outward, to the source. The ones around him slowly spun Harry around, almost gently, mindful not to break him. Harry followed the path of the cloths, and found they were connected to a robe. No. They were a part of the robe. Coming out of the robe like hidden serpents. His breath stopped in his lungs, caught in his throat in horror at the sight of the hooded, tall figure ten feet away from him. No. No, Harry was supposed to be dead… No… No, no, no, no… Harry felt the beat of his heart, and realized that he was very much not dead. He was alive. He was alive, and it was the most heart-wrenching realization to have in this moment. Harry was alive. And the cloth holding him captive came from Lord Voldemort, who prowled toward Harry slowly, like a slithering python approaching his captured prey. Harry glared at the hooded Dark Lord. 

Voldemort looked at him silently, his ivory face cast in shadow, his red eyes glowing like rubies. He tilted his head like a curious snake. A slow smile curled his mouth

“Going somewhere, my dear Horcrux?”

Harry's breath hitched, his eyes stretching in horror.

No.

No no no no no —

Voldemort reached forward. A skeletal hand cupped Harry’s cheek gently, tenderly holding his face.

Harry wasn't even done panicking before the red eyes enveloped his sight, and darkness swallowed him.

TMRHP Doodles

So, as you know, or don't, an employee got fired from Starbucks and they posted all the recipes online =)

part 1

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.

It became an odd habit.

“Will you accompany me, Harry?”

Harry was well past the point of complaining. Whenever Riddle appeared out of nowhere and knocked on his door, there was little he could say or do to get him to leave.

“Oh, do I have a choice this time?”

He didn’t laugh, per se, but the slight tilt of Riddle’s head and the suspicious gleam in his eyes were as loud as one. He held out his hand, palm up, in answer.

Harry refused the offer with a shake of his head and sighed, “Lead the way, I guess.”

They never apparated to the same place twice. Their surroundings were always unfamiliar and remote and never inspired much confidence in the possibility of Harry returning home safely. But he always did. Riddle made sure of that.

Sometimes Harry wondered if this was his weird way of letting off steam, as though their time together somehow relaxed and revitalised him. It was an insane thought, but the fact remained that Riddle would show up tense and barely controlled and one careless word away from a fight, and he would leave loose-limbed and satisfied. Usually at the expense of Harry. 

This time was no different. Riddle’s fist was white-knuckle tight, and the location was a drab and dreary abandoned manor of some kind. Walls of crumbling stone and floorboards rotted nearly through, making each step taken a delicate dance. The dust in the air was enough to make Harry cough once or twice; the building had clearly been neglected for a long while.

“What is it today,” Harry asked. “Another potion? More rune work? If you try to teach me a dead language again, I will kick you in the shin and finally make good on my threats of moving to a different country.”

Riddle glanced back over his shoulder and raised a single brow. “Do you truly think distance will stop me?” He asked.

No. Harry didn’t even think being universes apart would stop Riddle.

Still, he scoffed and said, “Creep.”

Riddle simply smiled. “I will not subject myself to that again. You are surprisingly ungrateful for having the honour to learn from a being as powerful as I.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, “Yeah. So sorry for not appreciating everything you do for me. Oh, wait—I never asked.”

Riddle hummed, not agreeingly. Never agreeingly. “We will be attempting a discipline you’ve shown great promise in but one we’ve never indulged upon.” 

For the life of him, Harry couldn’t think of a single thing in which he showed great promise. He also couldn’t think of a time when Riddle didn’t indulge whenever he damn well pleased. “As vague as ever today,” Harry prodded. “Don’t hold back; share with the class.”

Riddle stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran straight into him. With a careless wave of his hand, the double doors to their left opened.

And inside was a pristine duelling arena. 

Harry’s mouth parted, but he couldn’t find the words. This was damn impressive. 

The stone walls were just as decrepit here as they were throughout the manor, but their ruin spoke of wide-cast spellfire and magic dark enough to leave its mark. Of a frazzled mind with enough wherewithal to make it to the duelling room but not enough to cast a protective barrier. It had ample light from shattered windows, but not a single shard of glass could be found across the decorative tiled floor, its pattern still polished to a dull shine.

They walked in - or, rather, Riddle walked in, and Harry followed behind him, content in his rapture. He wouldn’t truly ever get used to wizarding homes and their larger-than-life rooms. Harry would have been none the wiser passing by those double doors; they didn’t look nearly grand enough to hide such a gorgeous arena. But that was magic, he supposed.

It was clear they’d stopped. Harry wasn’t sure how long it had been with as taken as he was by the stage next, admiring its long dark floorboards that came together in a sort of v pattern that repeated. Harry was so hung up on trying to remember the name of it (Houndstooth? Plaid? No, it was something with a C-) that he hadn’t realised just how close Riddle had gotten.

He felt a chill travel up his throat before he processed the movement. Riddle’s hand was just beneath his chin, ice-cold fingers a hair’s breadth away from Harry’s skin. With a muted gasp, he froze and locked eyes with him, which wasn’t very hard to do. Riddle’s were already fixated on him. 

Their silence was thick enough to suffocate. 

Riddle curled his fingers into his palm slowly and brought his hand to hover just before the round of Harry’s face. He could sense that creeping cold reaching out again with the phantom feeling of Riddle’s knuckles pulling a slow line down his cheek, stopping at the corner of his lips. Riddle moved back then and gestured at them, “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies, Harry.”

His teeth made an audible click, the sound making Harry wince when it echoed in the hollow space. To save himself from further embarrassment, he grimaced and blessed Riddle with one of his rarely used meaner smiles, “Come that close to me again, and I’ll bite that finger off.”

Riddle pulled back even slower and tilted his head to the side. He raked his gaze over Harry’s face, down his body, and on his pass back up, he shrugged and said, “Now, now. That’s no way to handle your disputes, is it?”

Like a static shock, Harry finally realised what was happening. 

All that anger brewing like a potion in his gut dissipated. His shoulders fell - he wasn’t sure when they’d hiked so far up in the first place - and he huffed out a laugh. “I know what you’re doing,” Harry said.

Riddle looked at him with all the innocence of a Nundu. “Oh? Am I doing something, Harry?” He asked.

Harry breathed through the kindling trying to catch a new spark. “You know what you’re doing,” he started backing away. Riddle’s eyes followed him keenly as his steps took him up the middle of the duelling stage and back down to the other side. He wasn’t running away, just trying to get some distance. “You always know what you’re doing. And I am not falling for it—you won’t manipulate me into this.”

“Surely I’ve no understanding of what you’re implying.” Riddle’s polished shoes tap-tap-tapped their way right after Harry, but he stopped on the stage. He looked down on him from above. “But if I did,” Riddle continued, “I’d tell you you’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

Harry shook his head, this man… “You can’t be serious?”

Riddle folded his hands behind his back. His smile was sharp. “When have I ever been anything but?” He asked, and Harry scoffed. 

He wavered for a moment, maybe two, and finally climbed back up the steps to the duelling stage. Riddle, the asshole, looked far too pleased. He turned to face Harry, and they were so close that he only had to look down ever so slightly.

They hadn’t been this close in a long, long time. It was just Harry’s luck that it was happening twice in one day. Fourth Year came to mind as the last time Harry was forced into this proximity. Forced because, unlike now, he hadn’t ever chosen to be in Riddle’s space. Or company. Or attention. 

They stood in silence. Riddle’s grin grew teeth with each passing second. Harry knew what he wanted, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to instigate it—invite it any more than he already was. 

Then, Harry heard an echo of words, a lost encounter in the back of his memories. It pulled a smile on his lips, smaller than Riddle’s but no less there. “A wizard’s duel, then?” Harry teased. “Wands only — no contact?”

At the sight of Harry’s smile and the sound of his teasing, Riddle’s face fell flat. His eyes narrowed. “Your focus should be here, Harry.” He paused and said, “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of some minor distraction. Would we?”

Harry smiled a little wider, “Jealous? How very like you.”

Riddle sneered, “Do not speak of me as though I am predictable.”

Now Harry gave in to the temptation to roll his eyes. They, unfortunately, knew each other very well. Riddle was the most predictable person Harry had ever met, and he knew it—if only because Harry was the most predictable person he had ever met. 

“Fine,” Harry conceded. “Ten paces, right?” He turned to begin his count, but Riddle stopped him by the scruff of his shirt. 

Non too gently, he yanked Harry back. Cold breath puffed against his ear in semblance of a laugh. “And we bow, Harry,” Riddle murmured, causing a wave of shivers down Harry’s spine. 

Harry glared over his shoulder and spat, “Make me.”

Tom and Harry dont fuck with pet names like “baby,” it’s “the light of my life, the flame of my soul, my only and dearest kindred spirit” or nothing