Parseltongue.
Voldemort was surveying them both intently, scarlet eyes glinting in the glittering gloom of the Ministry Atrium. Tom stared back just as impassively, his jaw hard.
Harry tried resolutely to ignore the agonising pounding of his head, remaining as composed as he could. Then the snake faced man smiled; a ghastly, lipless smile that held no ounce of genuine warmth or mirth.
"The Prophecy," he stated softly. "Give it to me."
Tom's eyes flicked to him, the anger in them burning like an inferno. Harry resisted the urge to wince…he may have forgotten to mention that. Great, now he was pretty much doomed whether they got back to Hogwarts or not. Oh well. He felt a surge of anger. It wasn't like Tom had asked, Harry had done nothing wrong whatsoever.
"Don't bother Harry, the paradox will reassert itself soon enough from whatever he's done."
Now Harry was resisting the urge to scowl. He felt like he was being squabbled over in a custody battle. Again. It was becoming too familiar an occurrence.
"I wasn't planning to," he said tightly. It was slightly creepy to watch the flash of annoyance in both Voldemort's and Tom's expressions, albeit presumably there for different reasons.
Voldemort's wand twirled in his hands, but he didn't cast. Yet. Crimson eyes found their former counterpart's once more.
"Go back to Hogwarts, Tom. I have no desire to harm you," Voldemort ordered coldly. Tom merely smirked, venomously, arrogantly, back.
"As if you could," the young Dark Lord goaded.
"This does not concern you, child!"
"Oh, it really, really does," Tom hissed. The grip that Tom still had on his arm tightened. Harry was almost certain he was going to have bruises. Voldemort glanced at him with unadulterated hatred, scarlet eyes lingering on the fingers around his arm, then back at Tom once more. God, Harry's head was killing him.
"Because of him?" Voldemort laughed, mirthlessly. "He is nothing."
"Then why are you so intent on killing him…?" Tom replied delicately, his tone deliberately designed to provoke. Voldemort's eyes flashed with fury. The wand was pointed in their direction now, ready to cast.
"Why are you so intent on protecting him?" The elder spat in return. Harry figured that now would not be the best time to say 'because I'm awesome.' Tom shrugged, shooting him a look that told him that he'd guess exactly what Harry had just thought.
"Because it would be a waste of time to let the moron die. Because I'm bored. And because winding you up is hilarious," Tom replied flippantly. Voldemort sneered. Harry bit his lip.
"Flattering," he snorted, unable to stop himself. "And there was me thinking it was because you loved me. I'm gutted. Truly," he drawled.
Tom smirked at him. Harry's mind suddenly caught up with who exactly he was bantering in front of. Crap. He glanced at Voldemort.
"Not you, obviously," he said. "Not my type. Kind of scaly." Dear god, he really should shut up. If Voldemort looked murderous before hand, it was nothing compared to the apocalyptic rage on his snake like features now. Despite himself, Harry felt a chill of terror run up his spine. He'd seen what this monster was capable of.
"Oh, and he amuses me," Tom remarked. "Did I mention that one?" The smirk on the other's lips vanished. "So get out of the way."
"Give me the prophecy," Voldemort returned, icily. Harry tightened his grip on the orb, despising it more than he could possibly have thought. He didn't want it, but Voldemort did. That meant he had to keep it safe on principle, because however much he loathed prophecies, he hated Voldemort more.
There was a moment of quiet, though Harry was almost convinced that everyone in the general vicinity could hear his head screaming at being so close to both Tom and Voldemort in a bad mood. He swallowed down the blood in his mouth - now was not the time to collapse. They started to duel.
Finally, they had managed to force their way to a floo.
Voldemort was an extremely proficient dueller with more experience than both of them combined; but neither he nor Tom were incompetent fighters. Not to mention, they had two on one, and Voldemort couldn't actually afford to do Tom any damage for obvious reasons.
Harry fell through into the Slytherin Common Room, feeling bruised and battered. Tom landed impeccably on his feet as usual, without a speck of dust on him. Smug git.
"Harry!" His head snapped up to Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna. They all looked slightly uneasy in the snake pit, and a little worse for wear. Nothing bad though, nothing serious. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, climbing to his feet.
"Alright?" he asked, just to check.
They all murmured that they were, relatively so. His head pounded even more, the black spots still dancing in his line of vision. Duelling on an extreme migraine type thing wasn't an experience he felt any desire to repeat, and it wasn't fading either. God, he was so tired. "You guys should get to the hospital wing," he said.
It was phrased like a suggestion, but it wasn't really. He could feel Tom's eyes on him, sense the fury flittering beneath the Slytherin heir's calm exterior.
"Are you coming?" Hermione asked, with a glance over him. Her gaze was filled with concern. He smiled, briefly.
"What, into her clutches - you've got to be joking!" he teased. Ron laughed. "I'm fine, don't worry," he added, to reassure her. His head gave a particularly vicious pound, as if to spite him. He could taste copper in his mouth again, along with bile. It wasn't pleasant. God, the world seemed to be spinning.
Still, he zoned it out with sheer will power, leaning back slightly against one of the common room sofas to ground himself. After much cajoling and reassurances, and an awkward little perception that he wanted them to leave on Luna's behalf, his friends finally departed for the Hospital wing.
All the while, he could feel Tom's temper rising and stewing in silence. The second the door shut, hands were gripping his shoulders tightly.
"What were you thinking?" Tom demanded, shaking him roughly. The Slytherin's around them started, the tinge of fear in their eyes suggesting just how terrified they really were. The Slytherin Heir did look rather livid and the ornate snakes on the wall and furniture were starting to come to life - a sure sign of just how incensed Tom really was. Harry hissed slightly in pain.
"Get the hell off me." He gave a shove to punctuate his words, and Tom stumbled back a few steps in shock, before his eyes narrowed. A distant part of Harry's mind wondered absently if pushing an enraged Dark Lord was really a good idea.
As Tom took two advanced steps forward again, Harry reached for his wand, only to feel something cold lock around either of his wrists. He glanced down, spotting a cobra twirling through the wooden underarm of the sofa. He suddenly regretted putting himself against it. Crap. This really wasn't good. Tom stopped before him, arms folded.
"You really think you can push me on my own turf, Harry?" he asked softly, dangerously. Harry shifted, or tried to.
"I just did," he smirked, tauntingly. The cobra tightened around his wrists, and he was almost certain that his fingers lost all blood circulation. Tom's hand closed simultaneously around his throat, yanking his head forward.
"Considering the urge I have to crucio you right now," he murmured. "You really should watch your tongue. Answer the question."
"Felt like getting adrenaline kicks," Harry spat. "What's it to you? I'm not one of your bloody death eaters."
His vision was beginning to blur, his mind screaming in pain. Tom's close proximity wasn't helping.
"No," Tom smiled, chillingly. "If you were you'd be dead."
"For what crime?" he breathed, outraged. He could NOT be bothered with this right now. Slender fingers left his throat, trailing to take the Prophecy out of his hand. Tom held it up, his eyes hard and as cold as liquid nitrogen.
"Treason," Tom replied coolly. "Idiocy. You almost got me and my 'bloody death eaters' killed tonight because of your stupid stunt."
"Yes, because that was my plan all along," Harry sneered. "I didn't drag you with me." He pulled at his wrists, but the snake didn't budge. God, his head.
"No, I just had - what the f*** is wrong with you?" Tom demanded suddenly. Harry blinked.
"What?" he asked incredulously. He wished Tom would settle for one conversation topic, he felt like he was going to throw up and holding one conversation was difficult enough at the moment, let alone two.
Tom's hand shot out, catching his jaw and turning his face this way and that in an inspecting manner.
"You look like your about to collapse," Tom snapped, before he suddenly went still, his expression closing "The mind link," he stated. It wasn't a question. The hand dropped.
"I'm fine," he snarled. "Except for having to put up with your schitzophrenic mood swings." The world was slipping beneath his feet, his ears were ringing. Tom's head tilted to one side.
The next second, there was nothing but blackness.
A/N: Um. Hi. So…I hope this is okay and that you enjoyed it. It's a continuation of the chapter "Ministry" if you didn't guess by the title. Sorry about the lack of fight scene, I'm absolutely terrible at writing them you see. If anyone of you would like to write it,. PM it to me and I'll slot it into the chapter =) Thanks for the reviews. Mucho love - The Fictionist