Parseltongue

Chapter 9

'What?' Harry tried to bluff it.

Tom's expression told him quite clearly that he didn't buy it.

'You've switched hands…what happened?' he demanded. He edged backwards slightly as Tom walked towards him purposefully, one ivory hand stretched out. 'Let me see.'

Harry pulled his hand back defensively.

'I'm learning to become ambidextrous - I think it would be good for my duelling,' he lied, putting on a slightly indignant, but eager tone. Tom smirked.

'Good for you, then you'll have no problem with me seeing your hand?'

Damn. Busted.

'Why would I?' he inwardly prayed the glamour would hold. He held out his left hand, the one he'd been using. Tom's head tilted, his eyes glittering with curiosity and something more.

'Other hand, chosen one,' he said. Before he could pull his arm back, Tom's fingers shot out, wrapping around his right wrist and tugging. He could feel his magic buzzing under the future Dark Lord's g.

'Don't forget who taught you parselmagic, Harry,' Tom hissed chidingly.

He felt the glamour slip away from under his skin, revealing the marks of his detention. Silence.

___

'Umbridge?' Tom asked, his voice deceptively calm. Harry almost shivered at the pure, deadly menace in the Slytherin's voice. In that moment, he could quite clearly see how this teenager became a Dark Lord. His violet eyes had hardened, frosting over with a vicious conviction.

'Detention. Look, it's -'

'- if you say it's nothing I will probably punch you.'

'Only probably?' he quietened under Tom's glare.

'She could go to Azkaban for this, blood quills are illegal,' Tom continued quietly, a lethal satisfaction in his voice. Yup. Umbridge was screwed. She should never have messed with Tom. 'Although, I must admit that I'm curious on why you didn't bother to tell me?'

'It's not your business.'

'I'm going to kill her.' It was said in such a pleasant, conversational tone, that for a moment Harry was convinced that he'd misheard. Then he remembered exactly who he was talking to.

'I can fight my own battles,' he said stiffly. Tom raised a brow.

'I don't doubt it, however, I don't think you were planning to.'

'Well, we all know that thinking is a painful process for you, so I won't put much in store for what you think,' he snapped. It was a purely defensive retort. Tom was a genius, everyone knew that. He could look at a wall and tell you how many bricks there were a couple of seconds later. Riddle's grip tightened fractionally on his wrist. Tom didn't reply, seemingly ignoring him now. It was slightly irritating. He didn't know why, but it always got under his skin when Tom ignored him. Thank Salazar that it worked both ways. Tom loathed being ignored by him just as much.

'I must not disrespect my superiors,' Tom read. Harry could already see a dozen schemes growing and being discarded in the future Dark Lord's eyes. It was actually frightening how fast Tom's mind worked. He was, without a doubt, a much more dangerous enemy than his future counterpart. He was sane…well, to an extent. 'Why don't you heal it?'

There was a pause. 'Stupid question,' Tom contradicted himself darkly. 'That little golden boy, innocent act you have going, right?'

What could he say to that?

'How do you know that's not the real me, and that the whole Slytherin persona is just an act to infiltrate your inner circle.'

Tom shot him a look, patronising but amused.

'A) You just suggested it, B) You did your damn hardest to avoid me when we met.'

'Yeah, well -' he fell silent, not unable to think of a comeback. Tom smirked.

Then he pulled out his wand, fast: one minute it was in his pocket and the next in his hand.

'Whoa,' he reflexively jerked his wrist back. It didn't really work when Riddle was still holding on.

'Easy,' Tom hissed, stilling his hand for a moment, meeting his gaze. 'I'm just healing your hand. It's annoying me.'

Only Tom could get away with doing something on nice on the count that it was annoying him.

___

Harry winced as Tom stormed ahead of him, his aura entirely black and throbbing. He felt really sorry for Umbridge, and he didn't even like her. No, he loathed her. Which attested to just how much crap she was in for when Tom caught up with her.

'You're not going anywhere near her, do you hear me?' Tom ordered coldly.

'Pardon?' he said, pretending to be confused. The older Slytherin shot him a foul, warning look. He was muttering under his breath - threats, curses and the most painful ways to kill someone. It didn't bode well. For Umbridge, that was. If he was brutally honest with himself, he was quite looking forward to team-tagging her to pieces with Tom.

People parted as they walked, something he'd forgotten. Abraxas' eyes widened.

'What's going on?' Zevi demanded lowly. Cygnus took a different approach.

'What did you do, Potter?' he hissed, perhaps a little too gleefully. They joined the parade. Oh Salazar. Everyone was staring at them. He cringed a little, but with Tom literally dragging him down the hall there wasn't all that much he could do.

'What makes you think I've done anything?' he asked, slightly annoyed at the assumption.

'Harry,' Alphard said slowly. 'Tom's in a raging temper, and from my knowledge when something has happened to get Tom into a visibly raging temper, you are always part of it.'

He may have had a point.

They burst into the great hall.

Game over, bitch.

AN: Aloha! Thanks for all the reviews and stuff. The problem with this fic is that I have the ideas, but I'm not sure how to connect them in a logical, detailed order. I don't have a Beta either. So, I was thinking of turning the story into a series of drabbles, regarding Tom and Harry and the whole story idea…what do you guys think?