AN: I can't thank you enough for all your lovely reviews, they made me so happy! You guys are the best!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.
Warning: Two dangerous cups of coffee, some foul language, the infamous smoking again - hope you've missed it ;)
AN: I'm sorry this chapter took me so long (though I did keep my two-week limit!) and is so short - RL is being a bitch.
AN: I hope the revelations in this chapter will satisfy some people :)
-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-
Sitting in the green leather armchair in a far too boringly decent position for his taste, Harry greedily eyed the two steaming cups of coffee Dobby had put on the table merely a minute ago. To be honest, the tiny little thing gave him the creeps. Having popped into the room with a fully loaded tray his bony arms couldn't possibly be able to carry once he had laid his enormous eyes on Harry, the house-elf had turned into - for the lack of better words - an ecstatic mess. He had been positively glowing with happiness and Harry had almost expected the creature to kiss him, hug him, give him thumbs up or start bouncing at the very least. To his great relief Dobby had popped out of existence the next second - grinning like a Cheshire cat but having fulfilled none of Harry's fears and he suspected he had Tom's intimidating presence to thank for that.
Tom was being funny. Since the Death Eaters had left the room, he'd been very still and quiet and Harry could almost see the hundreds of questions buzzing about in his head. The silence was getting louder every passing second when Harry finally got fed up with it. Having let a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer in his Office materialise in his hand he could feel Tom's watchful eyes on himself as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a snap of his fingers tossing the pack carelessly on the black coffee table.
"Shoot," he invited blowing out the smoke and conjuring an ashtray next to the cups.
"I understand most of your thoughts before the Vow were part of an act - a rather impressive one, I must say. Now, that you have me where you wanted to have me, I hope you won't mind answering the question truthfully. What was it that made you choose the Dark? What made you approach me and offer your alliance?" Tom asked calmly though his gaze was full of curiosity.
"Why, thank you, Tom. It was meant to be impressive. I'm glad you are able to appreciate it despite your wounded-pride-issues," he said with an impish grin and observed the Dark Lord's attempts at keeping himself from gritting his teeth. "You are bound to learn the reason eventually but I will not tell you until it is inevitable. I want us to be honest with each other, mind you. Yet this particular subject is a bit touchy," Harry replied apologetically. "However, I can assure you that at this point I do not seek power. I only wish to ensure my freedom and independence."
"So, you've chosen to become dependent on me," Voldemort stated with a strange glint in his eyes that nearly managed to send a shiver down Harry's spine.
"We are allies, Tom, which means I can't go against you and you can count on my support should you need it. That doesn't really make me dependent on you in any way, does it?" he smirked putting his cigarette away into the ashtray. He poured an almost non-existent drop of milk into one of the silver cups, leaned back in his seat and blissfully sipped on the coffee quite oblivious to the disgusted looks Voldemort was giving him.
"Oh, stop deluding yourself. You need me. Admit it," the Dark Lord snapped sounding mildly irritated and somewhat triumphant at the same time.
Harry couldn't but burst out laughing and had to lay his cup aside because otherwise he would be in danger of spilling the hot liquid all over himself.
"Yes, I do need you, Tom," he admitted between fits of giggles. "And I managed to make it so that while I get what I need from you, you can't use me, which irks you to no end, doesn't it?" he goaded and then having caught sight of Voldemort's indignant look he cracked up again. "This is going to be so much fun, Tom...I'm not sure the honesty thing is really a good idea, though. We'll kill each other...well, I'll probably kill you since you can't harm me - which makes the whole situation somewhat less exciting," Harry continued to snigger as Tom's glare turned outright murderous. He might have promised himself not to tease the Dark Lord about the conditions but he simply couldn't resist, the opportunity had been far too tempting to pass up. "Okay, I'll shut up," he announced conciliatorily once he'd finally composed himself.
For a while Tom seemed to be weighing the option of calling one of his followers back so that he could vent his irritation. In the end he found a sufficient distraction in the cup of coffee on the table and started sweetening it according to his taste.
"Yuck," Harry cringed as he watched the Dark Lord stir the third heaped teaspoon of sugar into the once delicious coffee. Voldemort slowly raised his gaze to Harry and quirked an eyebrow never stopping stirring. He then lifted the cup from the table and leaned back in his black armchair clutching the silver handle somewhat possessively.
"I'm not the one who drinks it disgustingly bitter," he uttered and as if to emphasize his point he took a sip in a very self-indulgent manner.
"Oh, I get it, when you're not high on torture, you must be high on sugar," Harry concluded amusedly. Tom looked very young, especially when pouting - not that the Dark Lord would ever lower himself to such an undignified display of childishness - and the sight provoked a sudden wave of sympathy in Harry.
"I know how it feels not to be taken seriously because of your age. How does the fact that you are seemingly in your teens go with your ambition to conquer wizarding Britain?" he asked softly in case it was a delicate matter.
Now, it was Tom's turn to laugh. It was low, dark, utterly enticing and had a dangerous edge to it. Harry couldn't get enough of the sound.
"Do you think you look sixteen because of your genes?" the Dark Lord then inquired, his eyebrows raised, his tone amused and incredulous.
Harry merely cocked his head to one side in silent invitation not bothering to respond since Tom was clearly making a point.
"You've obviously aged faster then other children. Have you never wondered why?" Voldemort asked evidently wanting some feedback this time.
"Well, there have always been so many weird things about me that I just counted my mature appearance as one of them," Harry obliged not quite sure what Tom was getting at.
"And it is one of the weird things - as you so aptly put it," the Dark Lord prodded though Harry refused to take the jab. "All these weird things can be encapsulated into one word and that is magic."
"You are telling me, that kids in the Wizarding World age faster then muggle children?" Harry queried sceptically.
"No, idiot," Voldemort retorted impatiently and had a smile tugging at Harry's lips. "I'm telling you that magic alters the body."
"Pardon my obtuseness, Tom, but you've lost me there," Harry admitted mock embarrassedly, glad Voldemort had had enough sense to become a Dark Lord and not a teacher.
Having heaved a sigh Tom explained:
"Ordinary wizards first mature physically so that their bodies are prepared to accommodate the amount of power they actually possess once they are ready to accept it. That usually happens between one's mid-teens and mid-twenties. However, when there is too much magical potential in a wizarding child, the magic can surface in an outburst. The released power starts adjusting the body immediately – therefore, the child ages faster. In these rare cases the accelerated aging process ends at twenty-five, twenty-six years of age because that is when the body is fully mature and can't possibly grow in any way to accommodate more power. Mental maturity is also to be expected sooner – about seven or eight years after the outburst. In any case, the magical outbursts themselves are turning points in these 'special children's' lives. They either become very powerful or…"
"Go mad," Harry completed in a hollow tone. "I thought it was common for wizarding children to have magical outbursts," he remarked thoughtfully after a short pause.
"And it is. Yet these outbursts tend to happen under very different circumstances, are of a very different nature and have very different consequences. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about," Tom implied smirking knowingly.
"So, you are saying that these 'special children' are rare but still exist and are accepted by the wizarding society? That according to the standards of the Wizarding World I'm not...weird?" Harry asked ignoring the Dark Lord's insinuation.
"No, Potter, that's not even remotely what I'm saying," Tom said chuckling quietly. "People like us are usually not accepted well by the wizarding society. Besides, you are very weird according to my standards and I'm afraid that's saying something."
Harry snorted. Yes! There it was, sense of humour.
"You say like us… That would mean that according to your own standards you are weird. Not exactly the greatest proof of your sanity, is it?" Harry teased light-heartedly but knew the matter was in fact very serious. Eventually he'd have to decide what to let on and what to keep to himself. And it all depended on whether he would be accepted or considered a threat to the society should he reveal the real extent of his power. Eventually, he'd have to decide which parts of himself would become Harry Potter as the Wizarding World would one day know him.
"By no means do I consider myself weird or completely sane," the Dark Lord assured with an amused smirk. "We both once were 'special children' though that's where our similarities end and your weirdness begins. I have never seen anyone use wandless magic like you do, I have never heard of a 'special child' reaching mental maturity at thirteen and I have never met a wizard so perfectly in control of his magic," Voldemort concluded and to his bewilderment Harry could hear respect and awe leaking through his carefully dispassionate tone.
"Oh, a surprisingly successful attempt at self-analysis you have there... Not completely sane. Hmm, a bit of an understatement for sure, but you're getting there. I believe in you, Tom," Harry informed in a very shrink-like manner and took great pleasure in watching a corner of the Dark Lord's mouth twitch. "I suppose I reached what you call mental maturity in September - that would make me twelve at the time. Does that bring me closer to a common 'special child' or to being weird?" he then inquired on a more serious note.
"Being weird, most definitely," Voldemort replied trying to conceal his surprise. "That would put your magical outburst into your fifth or even fo-"
"So, your point is that with the amount of power you possess you will soon be in your mid-twenties appearance-wise?" Harry interrupted hastily taking another cigarette out of the pack and lighting it since the first one had long since burned away. Having seen Tom's nod he concluded bitterly: "That solves your problem I guess."
"Believe me, I find it very easy to forget how old you actually are," Voldemort said and if he had meant to sound comforting, he screwed up royally, because his voice was low and smooth and spoke pure sex - and it did manage to send an excited shiver down Harry's spine. He drew on his cigarette somewhat desperately and to his horror found his hand was shaking. Damn, he would have to be alert around this man.
Having cleared his throat, trying hard to ignore Tom's smug smirk Harry reminded:
"If you have any more questions, ask away. I haven't got all day."
"I can't but wonder what happened to your scar," Voldemort observed giving a significant look to his forehead, not bothering to hide his amusement over Harry's reaction. Harry couldn't care less.
"It healed. I suppose it might have been a side-effect of my magical outburst, considering what you told me," Harry replied thoughtfully leaning forward to tap the ash off into the ashtray.
"Interesting," Tom uttered contentedly as if he had just been given the last missing piece of a puzzle. Harry froze in his motion and his eyes shot to Voldemort's face. The realization and shocked satisfaction he found there did not appease him in the slightest. Tom knew. Not all the details, not all the circumstances, but still...the Dark Lord knew his secret.
And it was Harry's fault entirely. He'd let himself get distracted and had revealed too much. Had it happened in front of anyone else, Harry was sure he would have nothing to worry about. He had given away too little information for anyone to work it out - hell, he himself couldn't see how it could be done. But Tom was a genius and had been studying magic for quite some time. Moreover, Tom had been a 'special child' himself and even if the whole theory had been new to him, Harry had caught the hints, no problem - very different consequences indeed. He couldn't but wonder what Tom's story was. Wretched childhood, Severus had said... Unfortunately, that was not his biggest problem right now.
Was this what Tom had been going for all along, unsettling him with his suggestive glances and remarks to get some dirt on Harry? As pathetic as it was, it had worked apparently. Harry stubbed out the cigarette with more force than necessary and flopped back into the armchair.
"Stupid..." he muttered under his breath swinging his legs over the armrest. Tom's laughter drew his attention from his self-accusing thoughts.
"You are far from stupid, you must know that. It is quite understandable that you've let your guard down having played me so masterfully. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone since it is in my own interest to keep your reputation unblemished. I look forward to the day you find it inevitable to share the whole story. You have my attention now, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, saviour of the Light," the Dark Lord assured chuckling at the irony.
That little speech made Harry snap on guard immediately. If there was anything suspicious in the world, it was Tom voluntarily giving up blackmail material. Yes, to drag Harry's name through the mud wouldn't be the smartest thing to do in his position but that wouldn't stop the Dark Lord from holding the knowledge over Harry's head as a threat. Voldemort had had absolutely no control over Harry. And what had he done with the perfect piece of information? Threw it away! Now, that screamed ulterior motives.
Was Tom trying to get on his good side? Did he want something from Harry? Did he need a favour? That didn't make sense. If he needed something, he could have forced Harry to do it threatening to reveal his secret. Or had he read Harry well enough to know that he would rather have the whole world loath him than let himself be deprived of his freedom? That sounded more likely.
Now, that he thought about it, Voldemort hadn't complained about his teasing throughout their conversation, not even once - and some of it hadn't been all that mild. Was Tom actually trying to get to know him? They were allies after all... Was he striving for a good working relationship? That sounded awfully innocent. Yet also very logical...
No, Tom was probably analysing him. Harry had made sure that the conditions were in no way definitive and depended solely on his own decision at given moment. He had been aware how restrictive an irrevocable Vow that made you choose between keeping your word and dying was and had seen to wording it so that the Dark Lord couldn't find himself in a hopeless situation. There would always be the possibility of persuading Harry - and Tom had apparently come to realize this.
Which meant that Voldemort was now searching for weaknesses he could use to his advantage once he truly needed something and Harry wasn't willing to comply. Of course when he had found one he had immediately tried to cover it up so that Harry wouldn't notice and he would be able to use it later - well, too bad.
Tom was analysing him. And how else was he supposed to do that than by letting the conversation flow naturally? Harry feeling threatened was the last thing he needed. He wanted him at ease, spontaneous... And that was what he would get. They were bound to spend a lot of time together since Harry planned to take part in the management of the Dark from now on and he wasn't about to tiptoe around Tom in fear of giving him ammo for later. He would deal with the fire when it came.
As for the fact that the Dark Lord now knew his secret, it was no use crying over spilt milk. He'd meant to tell him eventually anyway. In the end, apart from his reaction to Tom's suggestive remark, nothing worrisome had really happened.
-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-
AN: Thanks for reading! This chapter was full of hints and insinuations, I can't wait to read what you make of them! Just what is Harry hiding? How did Tom work it out so easily? And who else knows apart from Tom and Harry? Please, review and let me know what you think :)
AN: If you are confused, don't worry, all should be explained in the next few chapters ;)
AN: There's another chapter with Tom ahead of us (which will be longer, promise) and then...who knows? Well, I do but that's not the point... The point is, enjoy Tom while he lasts ;)