
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10076039.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Tom_Riddle
  Additional Tags:
      Slash_sex, Sexual_Content, Horror, Supernatural_-_Freeform, Mystery,
      Suspense
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-04-25 Words: 1465
****** The Chosen One Knows Not ******
by Mai Warlow [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     During a Horcrux ritual, Tom gets a vision of an intriguing stranger.
     Written for the 2007 Riddle Gifts fest on Livejournal.
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
                           The Chosen One Knows Not
The rising sun's rays splashed through the open-curtained windows, casting a
golden glow on the naked torso and legs of a dark-haired young man. The thin
sheets were wrapped around his shins, and one hand was on his chest as he
slept. The hand slithered down his taut stomach and lightly brushed against his
groin before he shifted on the bed, resting on his stomach.
With a small yawn he woke up, his dark eyes peeking from his pillow. He rolled
back on his bed, taking in his surroundings with a grin for a couple of moments
before sitting up, enjoying the feel of the cool fabric against his bare
buttocks.
Today there will be no work to attend to, and no work tomorrow, or the day
after that. Just the previous day, he had resigned from his job at Borgin and
Burkes, and he planned on leaving London by tomorrow.
There was not one student or professor who was not shocked by Tom's choice of
profession. They had expected him to join the Ministry of Magic at the very
least, and not some minuscule antique shop in the middle of Knockturn Alley.
Don't know me very well, now do they? he thought with a sneer as he drained the
last of his coffee while staring outside his window. There are better places to
be than the Ministry...far better.
Behind him on the floor, the writing desk, bedside cabinet, and half of his bed
were laden with books. He had been researching extensively on the Hogwarts
Founders' lives ever since he was a student at the magical school. A few years
back he had come across a ring left by his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.
However, the ring alone was not enough to satisfy his mission.
Fortunately, he had run across not one, but two other artifacts from Helga
Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The two rare possessions were inside an old witch's
home - a witch who had refused to sell her possessions back to Borgin and
Burkes no matter how much Tom tried to persuade her.
But no matter...he had succeeded.
After closing the curtains, Tom made his way to the bed. He pulled out
Slytherin's locket from a small carved wooden box made of dark wood. He traced
a finger on the S engraved on the locket, imagining his mother wearing it as
she walked the streets of London - homeless, helpless, and pregnant with him.
Setting the locket gently on the bed and settling beside it, Tom pulled out a
small tube that contained an emerald green liquid.
Horcruxes were meant to be created immediately following a murder, but Tom had
come up with a plan to not have his soul ripped completely with every murder.
He did not wish to hastily shove part of his soul into any nearby object. Nor
did he wish to murder just anyone. The murder had to be meaningful, had to be
someone worthy enough to die by his own hands...
He uncorked the tube, and a thin line of acidic green fume drifted to the air.
He took three deep breaths before tipping the contents into his mouth.
Immediately, he felt bitter acid filling his body; it was rising up his
stomach, spreading to his arms and legs...although Tom did not have a mirror
nearby, he could feel his eyes turning bloodshot. He continued to breathe
deeply and slowly, allowing the potion to snip away at the shattered fragments
of his soul.
After the final wave of acid washed over him, he positioned his wand over the
locket. His body shook faintly from the invasion of the potion, but he gave it
no heed. Concentrating, he chanted under his breath, his body rocking lightly
on the bed. It was not long before he gave a small gasp of pleasure; a pearly
white mist was seeping out from his wand and slithering straight into the
locket, and the act of his soul leaving his body triggered a pleasurable
sensation.
Absentmindedly his free hand slipped down his torso. Every little touch sent
enjoyable shivers throughout his body.
Biting his lower lip, Tom averted his attention back to the spell, but emotions
kept flaring inside his body as a fragment of his soul continued to be sucked
into Slytherin's locket.
He was reaching the end of the ritual...his soul continued to drift into the
locket, but he did not require a wand any longer. Tom let out an involuntary
moan; the feelings were intense...blissful...he needed to...
Leaning backwards on the bed, Tom rested against his pillow and headboard. In a
few minutes, the ritual would be complete, but Tom did not wish for the
emotions to run dry once the process ended. He brought a long slender hand down
to his erection.
I am a god, he thought haughtily as he stroked himself. In his mind's eye he
was being worshipped by the entire wizarding world. He was their god, the
omnipotent. Laughing, he continued to pleasure himself, his eyes tightly shut,
his back arched, and his head thrown back.
No one could defeat him...no one could hurt him...he was the master of the
entire universe, stronger than God himself...
I am invincible...
As he climaxed, he suddenly saw before him two eyes that were the exact color
of the potion he had drank earlier. They seemed to pierce him, threatening the
pedestal he stood on.
Gasping, Tom jumped up, but the vision was gone. Stunned, he tried to remember
what he had just seen, but his mind was suddenly deprived. He shook his head
and picked up the locket; the last bit of his soul segment had slipped inside,
and the emotions were gone. He could not even remember enjoying his climax. He
had forgotten everything that had happened just a couple of minutes ago,
whatever that was.
                                      ***
The soul in the locket did not forget. Surrounded by darkness with only his
thoughts and memories for company, Tom obsessed over the eyes that had seemed
to penetrate into his soul. Sometimes he thought he could see the other
features of the face - a boy just a couple of years younger than him.
He did not know how much time had passed. He felt himself being passed from one
location to another, but he neither could see where he was nor who was carrying
him. For many years he felt coldness around him; he was kept somewhere away
from human touch. One day he felt fingers all over him, trying to pry the
locket open. He sneered, pitying the idiot.
Then he felt those hands hold him, and instantly he had the vision again. The
boy was holding him...
...but not for long, and soon Tom found himself in a darkness once more. His
mind obsessed over the boy as the image become clearer. This boy was real; he
was trying to knock him off his pedestal, to look down on him, to destroy
him...
Tom would have none of that...
                                      ***
"Don't struggle like that, Harry," Tom said in a mockingly soft tone, his eyes
burning bright red and a terrible sneer crossing his handsome face. Harry
whimpered underneath him.
Harry was lying on the floor, Slytherin's locket in his left hand, but he could
not move his arms. He was bound all over with thick leather straps and with
Tom's own body. He had expertly wrapped himself around Harry like a snake,
constricting him, squeezing air out of him. Harry had no recollection of how he
had lost his clothes or how he had allowed his body to be violated.
Tom gave another aggressive thrust, and Harry winced. He was being torn inside.
He should fight back...but when Harry looked into Tom's eyes, he was mesmerized
again by his beauty. His long dark hair, the fervently blazing eyes, the
dangerous smirk on his face...years of keeping the attraction bottled up inside
burst, and Harry sank into the man he secretly desired and feared.
Pain was pleasure. With every rip of flesh, with every drop of blood
splattering to the floor, Harry was being loved. He did not protest when Tom's
sharp nails dug into his back, did not yell at him to stop as Tom continued to
thrust into Harry's damaged body...he was being loved by an angel...
Loved...Tom snickered at the word. Foolish little boy. He stared down at Harry,
filling him with illusions of passion and romance as he slowly destroyed him
one thrust at a time...defeating the only one who had ever threatened him...
"They say you would be my downfall?" Tom chuckled. "The Chosen One knows not my
true power."
He kissed the bleeding scar on Harry's pale forehead.
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