Tomarry fic collection best read
The best complete tomarry fic. Include one shot
(Open, Unmoderated)
Recent works
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Summary
"Harry." Gone was the hissing tone of Parseltongue. "I'm going to show you how easily love can be conquered, destroyed." And at that moment, Harry believed him.
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After stupidly rushing headfirst into danger (again), Harry now has to deal with the consequences of being held captive by his enemy and try not to lose himself along the way.
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Summary
What wouldn't I do
To place my hand against your chest; to feel your heart beating strong
Your breath is my soul,
Your pulse is my song.A story of obsession.
Series
- Part 2 of Haunted and Hunted
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Summary
(aka 'how to survive endless rebirth with your so-called soulmate')
Harry and Tom’s souls are tied together. Which is why they’re in this endless loop of rebirth.
At some point, they stopped caring and just started fucking with people.
(cracky humor with a hint of seriousness and plot, my specialty)
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Summary
In a world where Voldemort's victory brought forth the golden age of pureblood supremacy, young Harry - an average Durmstrang student - grows surrounded by the same propaganda that has become the gospel truth of the Wizarding World. Injustice is a norm and racism is not only accepted, but actively encouraged. Embracing the status quo becomes harder when Harry finds himself in a train station where the living should not dwell, and a dangerous friend who goes by the name "Tom".
Series
- Part 1 of Train to Nowhere
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Summary
Horror strikes him down where he stands, then. He sways, stumbles to put his back to the living room wall. Harry is woozy in disbelief, watching the two words slashed into his chest in livid red just like the scar on his forehead. ‘AVADA KEDAVRA.’
He knows those words, the first he can remember, his earliest memory. It feels like he hasn’t breathed in minutes. When he comes back to the moment, he finds that perhaps he hasn’t. Harry gasps for air like a fish does for water, and doesn’t find it. His back has slid down the wall somehow and his hands grip his head, hair clenched in fists.
Then he realizes he’s actually panting, a ringing in his ears, blocking out whatever it is people are saying to him. Hermione crouches in front of him where he can’t possibly miss her, palms settling gently on his knees.
“Harry,” she’s saying. “Harry, it’s going to be alright.”
How?
How can it ever possibly be alright again?
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In a world where the first words you ever speak to your soulmate appear once both soulmates have turned seventeen, Harry receives a bit of bad news.
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In which Harry fashions himself into a war bride.