On the Path
Theme: #77 (stony; stolid; resolved)
Written for the LiveJournal community 30 houshin
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters mentioned below or the series from which they originated.
Notes: Set in the same universe as Gold and Ashes.
The picture was ordinary enough in wizard terms, though the colors were faded with age and the edges more than a little ragged. Nevertheless, the magic that had originally helped it develop had continued to endure and an invisible wind still ruffled the occupants' clothing as a lone bee drifted lazily in and out of the frame.
Despite this, the couple depicted barely moved. Rather, seated on the ground with their backs supported by one of Hogwarts' outer walls, they leaned against each other and slept. Dark-haired and handsome, the boy held his blonde companion close with one arm, and though Harry had never seen those features so relaxed, he recognized them almost immediately. A glance at the back of the photograph confirmed his suspicions, the words scrawled in curved, feminine handwriting:
Tom Riddle & Usagi Tsukino (1944)
Harry wasn't quite what to make of the photo, found between the pages of a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook abandoned in the Room of Requirement. He had seen Riddle wearing a number of expressions – the intense hunger when he desired something, the glee that served to dehumanize his features, the cold calculation as he considered how to use someone to his advantage – but never anything like this, an unguarded look of a truly restful sleep. He looked like just another young wizard worn out by his studies and taking advantage of the warm weather to lounge around with a friend.
He looked, Harry thought uneasily, much like himself.
It was hard to imagine that Tom had ever had a normal day in his life. From his own admissions when he emerged from his diary in Harry's second year and the memories shown to him by Dumbledore, it seemed that nearly every action he made and every thought that passed through his mind was devoted solely to furthering his personal goals. To see him like this made Harry strangely uncomfortable, and he wondered who this girl was to put such a look on his face, to be allowed to lounge so intimately with the boy who, according to Dumbledore, had never had a true friend in his seven years at the school.
Looking at the picture, at the sleeping visage of the teen, Harry remembered that, even at that young age, he had already taken to calling himself Lord Voldemort, had already killed his uncle and Myrtle, and was on the path that would eventually lead to the death of Harry's parents.
In the end, he realized despite the peaceful expression on his face, this stolen moment had probably meant nothing to the boy the world knew as Lord Voldemort.
There was a creaking behind him as someone climbed down one of the tower staircases, and Ron's voice, low and sleepy, drifted towards him. "Harry, are you coming up anytime soon?"
"Yeah." Harry gazed a moment longer at the photo in his hand before crumpling it up and throwing it into the fireplace, watching as it blackened and burned. He raised one hand and rubbed at his scar. "I'm right behind you."
All reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.