Harry was right.
It was morning, and the situation didn't look better in the slightest. In fact, somehow, it looked even worse.
His back was killing him in retribution for its night on the cold wooden floor and Tom was all set to 'chat' with his relatives. Fabulous. Absolutely wonderful. Had he mentioned that Fate hated him?
Tom was still asleep, the thin duvet wrapped tight around him and his hand closed around the handle of his wand. The door opened a fraction, and Harry blinked blearily. Petunia. She glanced at the young Dark Lord, making a sharp, silent motioning movement with her hand for him to follow her. Suppressing a sigh, he did so. The door closed behind them.
"Vernon and I have been talking, and we hope you know that - your friend - being here doesn't change anything," she said venomously. "You are still expected to earn your keep."
"Naturally," he deadpanned, narrowing his eyes. They stared at each other, coolly.
"We're not happy with this," she stated. "Make sure that boy stays away from us. We don't want him here."
"If it makes you feel better, I don't think he wants to be here either," he snapped.
"Don't you take that tone with me," she hissed. "God, you're just like her. Every time she came home from that freak place she would always think she was so much better than the rest of us -"
"Probably because she was," a voice said coldly. They both went still, turning to see Tom leaning against the bedroom door, his arms folded across his chest. Harry winced inwardly. This day just kept getting better, and they were less than five minutes in!
"Excuse me?" Petunia repeated, her voice growing an octave higher.
"She was better than you, muggle," Tom continued silkily. Harry resisted the urge to face palm.
"Tom," he warned tightly. Tom glanced at him, his eyes dark, before turning murderous eyes on his aunt.
"You and your husband will convene in the living room before he goes to work." Harry had the bizarre urge to laugh at the statement, for that was what it was, despite the fact he didn't actually find the situation remotely comical. It was just the look on Petunia's face that got to him; her mouth was partly open but no words coming out in due to the shock of someone having the 'audacity' of ordering her about in her own home.
"You -" she began, spluttering.
"Will speak with you then, after breakfast. I take my coffee black with sugar," Tom replied, not giving her the opportunity to speak. The mouth closed, opened again and then closed once more. Tom smirked. "Well, go on then!" he said impatiently. "If you treat all your guests in such an inhospitable fashion it's no wonder they never return."
It seemed Tom had struck some hidden fear because his Aunt left for the kitchen immediately. Harry had noticed that the Dursleys hadn't had any visitors since the Marge incident…
He arched his brows and Tom winked at him in reply, before turning serious.
"What exactly does 'earning your keep' entail?" the Slytherin heir demanded. Harry shrugged.
"Not much, just chores," he replied. "Come on, let's get breakfast." He started to walk away in the direction Petunia had taken. Left to follow, Tom frowned.
"You know, your tendency to add 'just' in front of words doesn't actually convince or reassure anyone as much as you seem to think it does," he remarked. Harry scowled, subtly quickening his pace a little. All he needed to do was reach the kitchen and then he'd have a valid excuse to avoid conversation…
"Harry." Tom caught his arm, as if guessing what he was thinking.
"For Merlin's sake," Harry growled. "Will you drop it?"
"No." The response was flat, unusually blunt for the master of word games. Harry sighed.
"It's just cooking, cleaning, gardening - that sort of stuff," he said. He rolled his eyes. "You're making too much of a big a deal of this, seriously, it's fine." Tom's jaw tightened.
"And you're making too little," he murmured in reply.
"Careful Tom, you're getting dangerously near to ruining your heartless reputation."
Tom levelled him with a glare so intense that a basilisk would be proud.
They entered the kitchen.
The three Dursley's sat huddled on the sofa, unusually meek and subdued. Any survival instincts they possessed must have kicked in; warning them that the tall, ivory-skinned teenager before them was not someone to antagonise. The very air around Tom was saturated with danger. Harry had always thought that the concept of temperature dropping when someone was really furious was a myth. It wasn't. At this moment in time, he wouldn't have been surprised if icicles started growing out of the carpet.
"You're not the sharpest tools in the box, are you?" Tom questioned.
During their small time in the kitchen, the young Dark Lord had seemed to take an immediate hatred to the other male residents of Privet Drive. Dudley had been thick enough to try and intimidate the Slytherin, because Tom was sitting on 'his' chair and Tom had promptly slammed the blonde's head against the table with the warning not to touch him.
It was only knowing that Tom had lethal loathing of muggles that stopped Harry from laughing - the other hardly needed his encouragement on such matters. Vernon stared at them, puce faced.
"Now look here," he blustered.
"Shut up," Tom ordered quietly, instantly obeyed by the older man; even if temporarily, due to stupidity and speechlessness. "I am not here to listen to your inane blather, nor your objections, only to tell you how this summer is going to go."
Harry shifted uneasily, attracting a glance from the Slytherin heir.
"We will sleep here at night, as I have no doubt that the manipulative coot has some manner of surveillance upon us. Other then that, we will be gone as neither of us have any inclination to suffer your company and have better things to be doing. When we return, I expect Harry's room to be liveable, clean with two beds of excellent quality and all bars and locks gone. You will discard of the junk, or put it elsewhere and not disturb us. Understood?"
"Dad," Dudley whined. "You can't let them get rid of my stuff." Petunia's lips were tightly pressed, her eyes wild.
"And if we say no?" she dared haughtily. "Your kind can't use magic over the holidays." Vernon seemed to be bolstered by this reminder, and puffed up his chest. Tom spoke before the walrus had the opportunity.
"Then I'm sure social services would be most interested to know of the goings on under this roof," Tom smiled, chillingly. "They don't much like child abusers in prison from what I've heard. But I'm sure you can take your chances…?"
Petunia blanched.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she tried. Tom raised his brows.
"Your knowledge is neither here nor there to me, I know the signs of abuse when I see them." His voice was icy. Harry tried to remain as still as possible, wanting to shrink as the Dursley's gaped at him, menace in their eyes.
"Surely a smart lad like you doesn't believe the boy when he goes telling tales?" Vernon seemed to straighten, smiling smarmily. Harry felt his rage rising, smouldering in the air in a polar opposite of the chill radiated from Tom. The Slytherin smirked, a sinister curve of the lips.
"Hardly," he replied. A look of satisfaction began to spread across Vernon's face. Harry felt his heart sink a little. This was how it had always gone before, why had he somehow expected Tom to be any different? He really needed to kick the habit of wishful thinking.
"But Harry doesn't go around telling them very often." The smile vanished. "Actually," Tom's head tilted in mock thoughtfulness. "If I were you, I'd be on my knees thanking him right now as he is the only reason you are not on the floor writhing from the pain I wish to inflict on you." Dudley's eyes bugged. The Dursley's all looked at him, fearfully now. Harry felt distinctively uncomfortable. "So, do you understand?"The Dursley's agreed immediately.
After that the summer passed a long a lot more smoothly. The Dursley's did everything Tom had demanded, leaving them in peace and fleeing when they entered the room.
Harry found himself, not pleased exactly, but relieved. Of course, the fearful glances they gave him unnerved him to no end - a fact Tom had laughed at - but apart from that it was the best summer he had ever had.
They didn't necessarily do much, but he saw a lot more of the UK and got some life experience. Got a tour of pureblood England; introduced Tom to cinema. When Tom wasn't terrifying the crap out of his relatives he was good company. They talked about anything and everything for hours on end. It was kind of nice. He'd never really had anyone to talk to over the summer before, and Tom was an interesting conversationalist. They still bickered, had several notable fights (that weren't his fault…) and went off on their own to get away from the other at times, but he was…actually content.
He should have known it would have been too great to last.
Tom was far too curious about his life.
The Slytherin had been unaturally quiet all day, his eyes dark and brooding. They had just come out a restaurant when it seemed the other was finally incapable of holding his tongue a moment longer (Harry had been ignoring the signs of trouble all day, knowing it was more likely to make Tom tell him.)
"You know, I would think that in all this time it must have somehow come to even your mind to tell me about the cupboard under the stairs." His tone was light and conversational. Too light.
"What?" Harry asked. "I thought you knew about it. The door's not exactly hidden." Some small part of his brain reminded him that it wasn't probably the wisest move to antagonise an already furious Dark Lord when alone with him on some random side street.
Tom glared at him, his fists clenched.
"I was reffering to the part where you lived in it,"he replied tightly. Harry silently contemplated how to deal with the other's obvious ire. Tom took a step towards him, eyes glittering in the darkness. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't come up," he said simply.
Tom didn't look satisfied.
"I'm going to kill them."
Harry paled. Crap. That was exactly why he didn't tell Tom.
"No, you're not!" he said. "Absolutely not. There my family."
"They're scum," Tom spat, rounding on him. "You're not their family, stop protecting them. They don't deserve it."
"I said no," Harry's eyes flashed. "That's an order."
Tom looked like he was about to slap him. Literally.
"An order?" he whispered harshly. "You forget who you're talking to, Potter. I do not follow your orders."
"Tom," he snapped. "For god's sake. Just leave it. We go back to Hogwarts tomorrow anyway. It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters," the Slytherin hissed. "They gave you a cupboard for your bedroom and you somehow neglected to mention it!"
"Leave it," he insisted. "Because I'm not going to let you freaking torture them." Tom suddenly looked frighteningly composed.
"And nothing I say would persuade you otherwise?"
"No."
"Okay then," Tom shrugged. Harry stared at him, nonplussed.
"Okay? That's it?" Wow.
"Yes, that's it. I'm not going to waste my time changing your opinion on this. As you said, we're going back to Hogwarts tomorrow anyway."
"Okay then," he agreed, eyeing the other suspiciously. It wasn't like Tom to relent so easily. He was going to have to watch him closely. Tom held out his wand for the Knight Bus, before flashing a dazzling grin in his direction.
"I mean, it's not like I need your permission."
Shit.
A/N - So, I hope it's okay and that you liked it. Fate's Favourite should be up next, I don't know. Depends if you guys would really prefer another one updated instead. Thanks for the reviews :)