6
"You gave me the impression that you hated him, Severus."
The smooth voice echoed in his eardrums as his sleepy mind fought to bring itself to consciousness. He felt like he recognized the voice from somewhere. Why was it so familiar?
"And that impression was true until not too long ago." Severus' acerbic drawl stopped there, not deigning to elaborate any further to the smooth voice. He sounded tense.
He felt hands on him, hooked beneath his knees, cradling him around his shoulders. His head, unsupported, lolled against someone's shoulder and neck. He felt the hands move with him as he stirred.
"Wake up, Harry." The smooth voice said from somewhere above him. "Come now, I know you are listening to us." Ah, Tom. It must be. Harry thought.
Harry roused a little before tensing in realization. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, before peeking out quickly and shutting them again. Tom was carrying him. Why was Tom carrying him?
He couldn't use a levitation spell like everyone else?
"Tom, you are going to give him a heart attack."
Harry heard a scoff and felt the chest he laid against shake with a low chuckle.
"Professor? Why is Tom carrying me?" He said slowly.
"Harry, it's Severus." Harry gave a huff, but didn't throw out the remark he wanted to. Severus paused. "Tom is holding you because he refused to let me."
"How can I expect him to trust his partner if I do not take care of him when he needs it?" Tom said in that smooth voice Harry was coming to recognize him by. Harry figured that it would be impossible for anyone to copy it.
"Do I get a say in this?" Harry asked ignoring the way Tom's words had surprised and touched him. He didn't realize that Tom would be treating their partnership with that much care. He opened his eyes in a slight glare at Tom before closing them again as a light shone painfully bright in his eyes. In the moment he'd opened his eyes, however, Tom had been looking directly at him with a raised eyebrow.
"No." Tom answered without pausing a moment. Harry sighed.
Truth be told, it felt almost like floating; that was how smoothly Tom walked. It felt good to just lay there. Not that he had much of a choice; he doubted his legs would support him at this particular moment.
He heard a whisper pass through Severus's lips and, after a short pause, he was carried into what he recognized through cracked eyes as the man's chambers. Taking a quick look around, Harry saw the door that led to the room he'd first woken up in. Severus's living area was far more furnished than the bedroom he'd kept Harry in. It had couches and chairs, bookcases, and display cases that held small trinkets and potion jars.
Tom made his way over to the long leather couch that sat in front of the large, tall fireplace and knelt slowly to place Harry down onto it, first allowing Severus to pull a blanket onto the couch and underneath the boy to protect the couch from Harry's blood dampened shirt and cloak. Then the potions professor disappeared through a door partly concealed by short curtains into what was apparently his potions lab.
After Tom set Harry down – and used a quick cleaning charm to remove the blood from his robes – he moved to sit in the space between Harry's feet and the end of the couch. He leaned on the arm of the couch casually and looked at Harry silently for a minute and the sounds of Severus moving around his lab floated up to them.
"What was the argument about?" Tom asked finally.
Severus and Tom had already had a nice chat. How and when, Harry had no clue. But apparently, Tom had filled Severus in on what they agreed on. That was, given the fact that Severus had yet to ask about Tom's reference to Harry as his partner and was not outwardly concerned about Tom carefully carrying the boy he'd sworn to kill to go get medical attention. Tom, however, didn't seem to know about his personal issues, and he was happy that Severus hadn't seen fit to tell the man about it. But then, it wasn't that long of a walk to the dungeons. Maybe there hadn't been time. For a moment, he wondered where Draco had gotten to. And then he wondered why the three Slytherins had even been near his common room. And then he began to get too distracted with the endless questions spawning in his head. He focused on Tom's question for the time being.
"I found out that my friends, that Hermione and Ron, were…paid…to be my friends. I think it was Dumbledore. And I get the idea that he didn't feel like paying them with his own money." He finished bitterly. He was too tired to be angry. But apparently, Tom was not. The man's eyes narrowed and flashed red with calculating glint to them. A rather murderous, calculating glint.
"I thought the red-eyed, temper-driven, maniacal madman was gone, Tom." Harry said dryly, closing his eyes to the sight. It reminded him of the graveyard, but he tried to push his mind away from the memory. When he opened his eyes again, his stomach no longer roiled with nausea. It was a start.
He needed to think of Tom as a separate person. As if he wasn't the same man who'd killed his parents, who'd caused the death and suffering of so many. Because, if he was telling the truth, wasn't that the case? If his followers had influenced him so much that he was no longer capable of sane thought, how could he hold the man fully accountable for those actions? How could he compare the two versions of the Dark Lord everyone knew and feared?
Tom raised his eyebrow, and Harry, on a wild train of thought, had to admit that it was more attractive on him than either of the Malfoy men. He clenched his jaw. He knew puberty could screw your brain up, but, seriously? Since when had he ever judged the attractiveness of someone's eyebrow raising techniques? And his ex-enemy? The Malfoys'? He must have some serious blood loss.
"I never said the original Tom Riddle had been the perfect angel, did I? And Dumbledore did always know how to rile me."
"Well that's good news." Harry said sarcastically. Tom rolled his eyes at him, which startled him enough that his breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on nothing.
"Back to the topic at hand, Harry. How did Weasley manage to injure you so badly? I'm sure even I never managed this amount of injuries against your person. Surely you did not sit back and allow him to use your body as a muggle punching bag."
Harry averted his eyes and Tom's own widened. "But you did." He stated. It wasn't a question. "Why?" His tone was demanding.
"Because he couldn't fight back." Both Harry and Tom turned to see Severus walk into the room, two vials in hand and two more floating along behind him along with a small covered container.
"Explain." Tom said. Severus glanced at him, tense, but ignored him in favor of handing Harry the two vials in his hands. After taking them, Harry grimaced. Pain reliever and blood replenishing potions always tasted disgusting. When Severus used his wand to cut through his now blood-soaked shirt, he clutched at the edges.
"That was my favorite shirt." He tried not to pout as the words crossed his lips. It was one of his few nice shirts. Ones that he only pulled out for the beginning of the year and celebrations. He'd have to owl request a new one, but he was low on galleons.
"Then you should have thought twice before getting blood on it." Severus stated flatly. Harry huffed and quietened down, not knowing what to say in reply of that.
Tom sat impatiently, knowing that Severus would only answer him when he was good and ready. Now that Harry was his partner and had called Severus off-limits, the fear of his wrath had been taken away. Severus was taking advantage of that now, although he was testing his limits gingerly. But as the many cuts and scars on Harry's chest came into view, Tom understood why Severus had placed Harry's treatment as his top priority right now.
One set of jagged scars drew his attention especially; the words carved into his skin just above his right hip. Freak. Tom's eyes burned in his ire and his breath caught in his throat.
Severus spelled the still freely flowing blood off of Harry and covered the many reopened lacerations with cream from the little container that had floated into his hand the next moment. Then he began speaking. When Tom began to comprehend what Severus was saying, he wondered why Harry hadn't told the man to be quiet, why the boy just sat there, head turned into the couch, staring at nothing. Saying nothing as the potions master gave his life's secret away.
"He was abused, Tom. After you first tried to kill him, Dumbledore placed him with his Aunt and Uncle and allowed him to be neglected and beaten and starved while his cousin grew fat off his serving of food. He should be a good six inches taller and at least twenty pounds heavier. I only just allowed Harry off bed rest this evening. Most of his injuries from over the summer had not even fully healed by the time he got on the train to come here." Severus turned and met his eyes and, in that moment, Tom knew how Harry had changed the professor's opinion of him so suddenly. He also knew what had happened between Harry and Dumbledore to make Harry agree so readily to his proposition.
"I'll kill that man." Tom hissed.
A slow huffing sound drew their eyes to Harry. What was apparently laughter shook his body, even though it was apparent that the motion was hurting him. One of his larger cuts tore open even as the paste Severus had applied was beginning to stitch it back together.
"Ha-ha- I just -ha- which man?" The boy said through tears, although Tom was sure they were not from the laughing fit.
Tom looked Harry over speculatively, the red dimming in his eyes. "Either. Both. Which do you want more?"
"How should I know?" Harry demanded harshly, laughter abruptly vanishing.
"I must say Harry." Tom began slowly, reaching out a hand to brush the teens shoulder. "I can't believe that you are in a much saner state than I am myself."
"Are you regretting your decision already?" The sharp tone made Severus and Tom exchange glances, bewildered. But Tom narrowed his eyes and shook his head once, firmly.
"Hardly." Tom would have said more, but Harry threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled at it. He reached up and tugged as lightly as he could at the digits, but Harry didn't let them move.
Seeing that there wouldn't be any more sudden moves, Severus leaned forward to apply more paste to the lightly bleeding cut. Tom brooded for a moment. If one thought about it, Harry's abuse stemmed directly from his murder of the boy's parents, and if there was anything he hated above all else, it was child abuse.
"What…can I do to help?" He knew Severus was gaping at him and he had to stop himself from hexing the man. His pride stung, asking that little question, and the other man was hardly helping. But Harry's smile, as he relinquished his grip on his hair and turned to Tom, broke what little the man had managed to recover of his heart.
"Can you just…save me?" He whispered.
"…Harry?" Tom was obviously distraught, not knowing what to say or do. He glanced to Severus, but the Potions Master seemed just as bewildered. They needn't have worried, though.
Harry had fallen asleep.
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