harry.exe has stopped working ━ hp x tmr | lv

18.

haha. me? double updating? that is rarer than rare.

guys. GUYS. wtf. calm down. obvsly harry is still physically a //child// and therefore there will be no
s e x t y t i m e s . just affection and fluff.  well. for the time being anyways.

and remember kids. this is c r a c k that is somewhat treated seriously so take it with a pinch of salt and quiet the fuuuuuck down :))

if i see mean comments they will get deleted so :)

k. im done. enjoy reading~

Chapter Eighteen: 

"It must have been an accident," Tom murmurs, grazing his thumb ever so softly over Harry's scar. They're locked away from prying eyes, hidden in one of the many study rooms of Malfoy Manor. The colour theme in this room is much softer compared to the rest, it's all rich browns and warm golds. The room is also casted in a dim glow from the fireplace. 

Nimmy and Verde are still arguing. Only now they're slithering around each other on the work desk on the other side of the room. 

"Mhhm," Harry hums from where he's sitting across the dark loveseat, one leg casually thrown over the Dark Lord's thigh. It fits snugly between Tom's own legs. Harry's eyes are half lidded as Tom inspects his scar with curious eyes. The fingers skimming over his mark are like a featherlight touch. He's got goosebumps all over his body and he's so, so warm. He's gooey and floaty and filled to the brim with butterflies. 

Which he shouldn't be. Because this is Tom. Tom -- Voldemort -- who had connected his skin to Harry's own years and years ago and had set it promptly on fire. And that fiery, bruising pain had left an unseen mark, but this, this touch right now, isn't anything like before. 

And it's mind blowing. 

"Still," Tom's voice is quiet between them, filled with something akin to awe, "a human horcrux. How peculiar. How truly curious." He holds Harry's face between his hands and stares down at him with an unreadable expression. There's a slight furrow between his brows but that's all Harry can read from his expression. 

"How do you know about them? About the horcruxes?" Tom questions. 

Harry gets lost in the feeling of being held in the other males hands. His brain just fills and fills with endorphins. When was the last time he had let someone touch him like this? He can't even remember. For a moment he is quiet and then he remembers that he has to answer. With a breathy voice, he asks, "about yours or just generally?" 

Tom's hold turns abruptly bruising. His fingers slip into still white hair and they pull harshly onto whatever locks of hair they can. 

Harry just lets out a long breath, hardly affected by the slight tinge of pain. He watches rage build inside deep red eyes and gets lost in them. Tom's lips curl into a cruel scowl. "How do you know about my horcruxes?" He hisses, voice dangerously low. His chest heaves with effort and his breath quickens. 

Hot, Harry thinks, he's so hot.  

His brain is everywhere but in this conversation. For fucks sake. Just when he needs it--

"Tell me." Tom orders. The flickering flames from the fireplace cast shadows onto his face and make him seem like he's shrouded in the dark. Like he's unreachable. Like he's--