I Bet My Life- Imagine Dragons. This is what came to mind the first time that I heard it on the radio.
He stood in front of the door, thinking back to the very beginning. The very beginning that had started his journey around the world and through the years that had given him so much while tearing his heart, who had been waiting.
He was sorry.
I know I took the path that you would never want for me
In their last year of Hogwarts together, Tom had kept many secrets. Harry had known that Tom was keeping something from him, but he never pressed, and so Tom never told him. But Tom knew that Harry had always suspected something; quite possibly, Harry had known from the very start.
In the beginning, Tom had not been that secretive when he had gazed longingly on the books in the Restricted section that seemed to radiate a dark miasma that had just seemed to pull at something deep within his very soul.
The pull had never truly left, no matter how much Tom tried to ignore it. It had been there since the first time that the Dark had been near. Tom had been entranced; sucked into the vortex that was its seduction. He continued on with his studies; continued receiving perfect grades. But he had always glanced sideways at that one corner of the library.
Harry had always given him a terribly knowing look, but he had never spoken up. He never mentioned it in conversation, instead flitting around between light topics like a butterfly drinking in the summer sun. Tom wondered why Harry had not said anything, but eventually he came to realize that perhaps Harry had known from the very start that it was inevitable that Tom would be lost.
I know I let you down, didn't I?
He had not meant for it to happen that way. Tom hadn't intended to let Harry down. They had been making tentative plans: they would rent a cheap place and venture out into the Wizarding World to make their way. Harry planned on studying to be a Healer. Tom mentioned offhandedly that he wouldn't mind working in politics. Although they had never truly discussed it, the idea had seemed solid.
When they had stood together at graduation, they had shared soft smiles. It seemed like the whole world was out there, ripe for the taking. For a moment, the horizons had seemed neverending, and Tom thought, smiling widely, that they would reach them together.
They had paid the first month's rent in a small cottage not too far away from Hogsmeade; somehow, it was hard to distance themselves from Hogwarts too quickly. Harry had laughed at Tom's reluctance to get any further from Hogwarts, but didn't protest when Tom picked the small cottage over the loft in Diagon Alley.
Perhaps he had known that the tendrils of Dark had latched on to Tom and didn't want to let him go.
One day, Tom, almost as if by accident, waved his wand and his belongings packed themselves. Within minutes, most traces of his presence in their cottage had been erased. And Tom walked out of the door, almost as if in a daze, leaving nothing but the faint echo of his presence, the air that he had breathed out.
So many sleepless nights where you were waiting up on me
When Tom had received his first letter from Harry, it took him over a month to read it. Harry didn't send any letters after that first one. At least, not right away. Harry perhaps knew that Tom needed time. Harry had always known Tom uncomfortably well.
Tom caught an eagle with a flick of his wand and borrowed one of its feathers for a quill. He had run out of quills back in the mountains of Nepal. It had taken him a few months, but he finally had some idea of what to say. The letter was titled "I'm sorry."
Well I'm just a slave unto the night
The tendrils of Dark had pulled Tom around the world. He had heard the siren's call from the deepest caves and the tallest mountains. He had seen the interiors of tombs not yet opened. He had discovered secret repositories of forbidden information hidden in the cleverest of places.
He had learned. That was what the Dark was pulling him to do. There wasn't room for anything else… except perhaps a letter every few months.
Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me
One letter that Harry had sent had asked when Tom was coming back home. For some reason, Tom had felt enraged by that question. The world was his home; his oyster. The ancient knowledge that lay just waiting for him to discover it was home. How could Harry possibly believe that he would go back?
What draw did cold and soggy Britain hold? Even if Britain contained a very special person named Harry?
Tom had replied with cruel words. He regretted them almost instantly after sending the letter, but by then it was too late. Tom cracked open a book made out of human skin.
Remember when I broke you down to tears
The next letter from Harry had taken a long time in coming. When it had finally arrived, it was suspiciously blotched with tears. It was too understanding. It told Tom that it was alright; he could stay away as long as he needed to. Harry would wait. Harry would wait until the Dark had released Tom's soul.
Tom wondered if that was ever going to occur as he killed an innocent girl for a ritual he would not have touched just a year before.
I know I took the path that you would never want for me
When Tom committed his horrors, he sometimes wondered what Harry would think. Surely Harry would disapprove? Wouldn't he look at Tom and think "monster, monster, monster…?"
Because only monsters did the things that Tom found himself doing.
The lure of ancient knowledge was too strong. Back then, when Tom had been lost, morals worked a little bit differently. They didn't bother Tom too much; he was always self-serving, and his fervor for new information only made it easier to skin a baby for the recreation of a potion that an ancient text professed to be from the time of Merlin himself.
The only times that Tom's morals twinged were when Harry made his way into his thoughts.
Tom pushed Harry out of his mind. He was far away; not here now. Irrelevant.
However, Tom could never quite convince himself of that.
I gave you hell through all the years
The letters became less frequent. At first, Tom hadn't noticed. They became shorter...as if Harry couldn't bear the thought of writing him anymore.
I bet my life on you
Tom found the absence, when he noticed, to hurt more than the blood rituals he had forced himself to go through.
I've been around the world and never in my wildest dreams
Tom resolutely did not even ponder going back. Going back was an impossibility. He was now a murderer, a Dark wizard who had amassed the greatest knowledge of Dark magic seen in a millenia. Nobody would want him back.
The world was large and wide, though. There were places that he could hide. There were places that he could hole up in while he planned for the future that the Dark whispered in his ear.
Would I come running home to you
One day, Tom had wondered what Harry was up to. By now, Harry was probably a great Healer. Harry had been no slouch when they were together at Hogwarts. He had probably graduated St. Mungo's program with honors. Knowing Harry, he would go around and heal people for free if he could.
Tom wasn't sure how he had managed to become friends with someone who did enough "good" to equal his "bad."
Perhaps that was why he thought of going back. Maybe Harry, the Healer, could fix something that Tom was pretty had been broken for all his life.
Or maybe it wasn't as broken as he thought?
Tom told himself to stop daydreaming about his heart; he knew what a heart looked like. He had held many in his bare hands, after all. There was nothing romantic about it.
I've told a million lies but now I tell a single truth
Tom had lied for so long that sometimes it was hard to tell the truth. It was hard to tell someone the truth because that would mean that they would know what went on inside your head. That they would know who you really were. And that kind of knowledge was dangerous.
As Tom learned Occlumency and Legilimency to the best of his ability, he thought back that he had never really lied to Harry except with omission.
He wasn't sure what to think about that.
There's you in everything I do
Tom had been traveling down a long road, feeling like stretching his legs instead of apparating as far as his sight could see. The spring air felt fresh and chilling against his skin, the sun warming it through the layer of cold the air had wanted to bestow upon him. Birds were chirping. They hadn't felt his aura yet.
He heard a scream.
Something made him turn towards that scream. Something made him break into a run off of the road, into the woods. There, he had found a little girl who had fallen into a creek. For some strange reason, before thinking on his actions, he had saved her.
He thought of Harry.
Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me
Tom had thought back guiltily to his harsh words. He hoped that Harry didn't take them to heart; surely Harry knew how Tom had a tendency to cut into people's very souls with his words?
Tom shook his head a little, pursing his lips. It had been years and Tom could still remember everything about Harry from the way that his real smiles were always slightly crooked to the exact shade of his green eyes. Green eyes the color of the Killing Curse; how could Tom forget when that curse was his frequent companion?
Remember when I broke you down to tears
Tom had never thrown away a single letter of Harry's. Tom carried with him little but an expanded backpack. Despite Tom's skill in all kinds of magic, magic held limits, and through the years of his travels Tom had collected quite a large haul of fantastically cursed objects, relics, and books. However, Tom had always found room to store the box filled with Harry's letters.
On particularly lonely days in the wilderness, Tom would take out the box and sit, staring at it for a long time, running his hand lightly over the same paper that Harry had touched, long ago.
I know I took the path that you would never want for me
Tom remembered how Harry had tried to steer him into lighter paths. When Tom became dazed as he walked past the Restricted Section, Harry always chivvied him further along towards the small section on cooking located nearby.
When Tom's fingers itched to grab one of those books, Harry's fingers closed around his hand and Tom's fingers stilled.
Harry had looked at him with that soft gaze, despairing and hopeful at the same time, as Tom sat looking out the window of their cottage in the direction of Hogwarts for hours at a time.
I'm sorry, Harry, Tom thought, not for the first time.
I gave you hell through all the years
One day, the letters stopped coming. No longer did Tom see that ruffled snowy owl, on its last energy reserves, descending slowly from the sky. Tom was alone for a very long time.
I bet my life on you
Tom had never feared the dark before, but knowing that Harry didn't want him anymore had shaken him more deeply than Tom cared to admit.
Don't tell me that I'm wrong
Tom knew that, already. There was no point in repeating it.
I've walked that road before
That thought came up often enough in Tom's mind as it was.
And left you on your own
Alone, without Tom. Left Harry back in Wizarding England, surrounded by friends and other witches and wizards and civilizations, but still alone.
And please believe them when they say
Tom wondered what everyone else was telling Harry. Were they calling Harry a fool? Were they telling him that it was only to be expected from Slytherin's heir? Were they telling Harry that he was better off now?
Perhaps if Harry believed that, everything would be okay and Tom would be washed of his numerous, bloody sins.
That it's left for yesterday
Sometimes, Tom felt like it was only yesterday that he had made that fateful decision.
And the records that I've played
One day, the music of the Dark had settled down. The frantic melodies which had been haunting Tom for years quieted somewhat, calming. The urgency was gone; Tom had learned. The song was telling him now that Tom was ready; he could return, having seen the world already. He was ready for the next step, of course, but he had to be intact to do it.
It took a little while for Tom to understand what the Dark was telling him that he was missing.
Please forgive me for all I've done
Tom stood in front of a familiar door. Harry hadn't moved away from that little isolated cottage in all the years that Tom had been gone. A small design was painted on top of the door, which looked the same as it had when Tom had left it except for the color being slightly faded. The design marked the house as being the home of a Healer. Tom smiled sadly. It seemed that Harry had completed his Mastery.
The windows had windowboxes attached to them. They were simply filled with red poppies, looking like tissue paper precariously balanced on thin stems. Poppies, the flowers of endless sleep. Tom wondered if Harry was being poetic.
Tom shook his head slightly. No, he was getting distracted. He was back, now, to the home he hadn't even realized that he had. For home is where the heart is, right?
Tom knocked on the door.
I bet my life on you
A pause. Seconds slipped by slowly, yet also unbearably fast. It was all in one instant of time.
The door opened, and Harry was there.
I bet my life on you
"I'm back," Tom croaked, clutching tighter onto one of his backpack straps.
Harry simply looked at him for a long moment before smiling slightly.
I bet my life on you
"Welcome home."
I bet my life on you
Tom stepped inside.
Dedicated to ajazminisaflower for guessing correctly on the identity of an unnamed character in my other story, The Magicweaver.