Chapter 14

NOTE: This is a translation of a Chinese HP Fanfiction by 墨玉绿

parseltongue

December 24, 1932

Billy left the very next day, carrying a bandaged rabbit and numerous new scars. Just like that, the boy disappeared from Tom's life forever. So it was clear that...which one of them ended up the victor. Tom stood by Harry's side, watching as Billy wailed loudly and Harry stuffed his backpack full of new clothes and treats. Kneeling down, Harry bottomed up Billy's coat, apologizing profusely.

Billy wailed with all his might. His tears soaked the rabbit's fur, as he mumbled to himself, "But... But Tom is the freak"

"I'm... I'm very sorry, Billy." Harry patted the boy's head gently, comforting him for the last time.

Tom stood close-by, watching them in silence. The look of regretful sadness on Harry's face sure damped his triumphant.

Or perhaps, in the end, no one had won, Tom thought darkly. In the battle of hearts and minds, Tom wasn't as experienced as Billy. If that worthless boy even manages to occupy a small corner of Harry's heart, then Tom knew that he, too, had lost the battle.

Tom sat on his bed, tickling the little snake absent-mindedly; his eyes shadowed, as dark as midnight.

He should be happy. After all, Billy was gone. But... that expression on Harry's face as he watched Billy's carriage rode away... that expression lingered in Tom's mind and made him burn with anger. Something stirred within him; from an ugly corner of his soul, a terrible darkness sprouted like poison ivies and blossomed into blood-red anger.

It took Tom a moment to realize that feeling was jealousy. A burning sensation rooted in a deep, unreasonable possessive nature, which he inherited from Salazar Slytherin himself.

Know this, Tom wasn't some stupid kid. In fact, if you were to test him, you would label him a genius. Therefore, it wasn't hard for him to deduce the truth — that Harry favoured Billy, after all. Of course, that was true, because why else didn't Harry even question Billy's accusations? Tom knew that he only got to stay because he was a wizard, same as Harry, and if he wasn't, he would have been the one send back to the Orphanage.

The thoughts only made the child's eyes turn darker.

Tom watched the fire burn in the furnace. His room seemed suspiciously spacious with only one bed. Tom glared at the newly empted space and contemplated his future.

At least, he learned a vulnerable lesson from the experience. Everything Billy had done — the crying, the cute smiles, the obedient quiet acts, the pretence of being weak and vulnerable, even the well-calculated childish fits — everything was done with a purpose. Tom had to hand it to Billy. At least, that moron was a good actor, a master at manipulating emotions. Billy acted just as expected from "a poor, abused orphan", which was enough to gain Harry's sympathy and love.

Tom re-examined Billy's treacherous and cunning plan, and how it almost worked. He was smart enough to recognize that... although power is the most important tool in life, it must be supplemented with strategies and plots and manipulations. Tom's fingers ran along the snake's cold body; he grinned. Now he understood what he needs to become. If stupid Billy Stubbs can do it, then he can do it a thousand times better. Then, after he masters the art of deception, with a perfect combination of power and wit, the entire world would tremble by Tom's feet.

There was nothing inherently wrong with Tom's cool, calculating intelligent...but once he started to learn, started to master playing hearts like instruments... well, there would be no stopping him. Right now, if Harry could read the child's mind, would its dark ambitions scare him? Would its angry thoughts chase him away?... Probably...But, sadly for Harry, he cannot read minds.

Although he had yet to turn five, the child has learnt the value of manipulating and controlling people's heart. It won't be long before he grows into a masterful politician, refined and courteous on the surface, but also cunning and ruthless as he conquers the world from the shadows, using whatever means necessary.

Once again, as history sped down its predetermined track, Tom Riddle grew from a child into something more. Fate hid beneath the veil of the night, satisfied as her chess pieces moved along, all according to the plan.

"Tom... Why aren't you happy?" The little snake asked, twisting its tail.

"Wrong. I'm actually very happy," Tom answered. The rough Parseltongue sounded strangely alluring as he hissed excitedly. Suddenly, he leaped off the bed and set the little snake down on the duvet. His ebony eyes shone with an odd, almost cheery glow. "You stay here for the night. Do not follow me."

Tom brought his pillow along as he walked down the dark corridor. An excited anticipation bloomed in his chest. Finally, he thought of a way to get close to Harry, although it required him to act like a naive, scared child. As the possibilities tantalized his mind, Tom didn't even realize how easily he had forgiven Harry; even if, just moments ago, he had warned himself against trusting anyone.

"Harry?" Tom called nervously, as he knocked on Harry's bedroom door.

He knew the door wasn't locked, but he wanted to be polite. He heard some rustling noises, and he could almost imagine how Harry just rolls out of bed, half-asleep, and shuffles to the door.

The door opened.

Harry wasn't expecting Tom at this hour. The young man squinted, his hair and robe in a tussled mess, which made him look dazed and very young, unlike his usual considerate self. He stared at the small boy, whose head barely reached the door knob, standing in front of him and he didn't know what to say.

The dark-lord-to-be was dressed in paw-print pyjamas that Harry bought for him. The child clutched tight his pillow, a fluffy thing that was almost as big as himself. He titled his head and looked at Harry expectantly. The child's face wasn't pleading exactly, but, in the moment, Harry thought Tom's large eyes resembled a puppy very much, unknowingly wagging its tail for a treat.

"Tom?" Harry hesitated, raising one eye-brow.

Tom paused. Now what?...

After all, he couldn't pretend to be Billy, who would start to wail like a baby in the situation... Suddenly, Tom remembered yesterday, how pathetic he must've looked when he cried in Harry's arms, then he bit his lips. As soon as he met those bright, emerald eyes, all the lies, that he had prepared, vanished from his head.

The child mumbled nervously. "It is... It is just me left in the room."

It took Harry a second to understand what the boy's asking. Tom's eyes remained downcast and his endearing embarrassment made Harry simile.

"OK, then... Would you like to stay with me for the night?" Harry grinned.

"Ye...yes," Tom answered immediately.

Harry let the child into the room. Tom hugged his pillow tight, its bottom dragging on the floor. Although the child tried to keep his face neutral, his eager, glowing eyes betrayed an uncontainable excitement.

The dim lamp cast a soft, yellow glow in the room, which made its interior feel warm and welcoming. Duvet and sheets were tossed casually on a large bed, as if someone has just startled awake. A pen and notebook were also left on top, as Harry was just working on a new strategy for Dumbledore's army before Tom knocked on his door.

Tom made his way to the large bed. Then, the normally confident boy halted, looking lost as he stood by Harry's bedside. As he waited for Harry's permission, he fidgeted nervously, black eyes excited although his face remained stiff.

Harry walked over. He petted the boy's head reassuringly. Tom looked very much like a scared child at that moment, just a boy who didn't want to be alone at night. Now, things were becoming clear to Harry; it was impossible to see Voldemort reflected in this nervous child.

Gently, he lifted Tom onto the bed. The boy's muscles tensed for a moment, but Harry smiled encouragingly, and pulled open the duvet. Tom slipped under the sheets quickly, his movements as silent as possible, like a snake slithering to its den.

This particular winter was colder than usual. So, Harry prepared by adding several heating charms on his bed. The comforting warmness quickly surrounded Tom and defrosted his cold toes. It felt so good that Tom almost moaned like a satisfied cat. Blood pumped through his veins. His round cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Heating charms," Harry pointed out to the curious child. He helped Tom set up his pillow. Then, since he couldn't get any work done under the circumstance, Harry put away his notebook and dimmed the lights.

"Go to sleep, Tom. Tomorrow will be Christmas and — " As Harry tucked Tom in, his legs brushed against the child's feet. The boy's skin was freezing, like the skin of a dead person.

Suddenly, it occurred to Harry that Tom walked over on his bare feet. Soft skins barely produced any noise against the cold, hardwood floor as he entered the room.

"Tom, come here. You are as cold as ice, " Harry inched closer to the boy. He scooped up the boy's feet, then push up his pajamas and pressed the small feet against his bare stomach, so his body heat could sooth Tom's freezing skins.

Hopefully, Tom wasn't too surprised by the presumed intimacy. Harry once saw Aunt Petunia warm Dudley's feet like this, and he remembered it. Because that was what parents do for their children, right?... They took care of them.

Although Petunia was never good to Harry, she loved her son very much. And that small act of maternal devotion always stuck with Harry, because no one ever done it for him.

It was an act that carried all of someone's love and concern. Tom stiffened. His feet tickled against the warmth. The young man's stomach was flat and his skin soft likes silk. In an instant, the comforting heat spread from Tom's feet to his head, as if he was submerged in warm water. He could feel Harry's stomach heave as the young man breathed softly beside him.

Suddenly, although he didn't know why, Tom's eyes welled up.

He buried himself in the duvet. Its soft and fluffy surface rubbed against his face, and a familiar scent filled his nostrils, the scent of soap and sunlight, and oddly nostalgic like the faded smell of the old cloak and scarf. Tom felt like he was back in his nursery, although this bed was a million times better than all the damp, moldy, broken things at the Orphanage.

Gradually, his feet felt better. Tom hesitated, then pulled his feet from under Harry's pyjamas. Harry turned to look at him. The child's face was downcast, and his head pressed against Harry's chest. Harry rubbed Tom's head, deliberating messing up his hair, then wrapped one arm around his thin shoulders.

Earnestly, he made a promise to Tom,

"Tom, I want you to be honest with me, like today... You can ask me for whatever you want, because... you don't have to endure anymore. I hope you can be straight-forward with me, because I'm not a smart man. I'll need your help to become a good parent."

For a long while, Tom stared at the buttons on Harry's pajamas, and then he nodded slowly.

Harry grinned. He retracted his arms and closed his eyes. As he was about to fall asleep, suddenly, Tom asked quietly.

"Are you going to send me back? Like Billy?"

"Never. I'll send you to school, though, if you don't mind." Harry ran his fingers through the child's smooth hair, as he reassured the boy.

Tom poked his head from under the duvet. Even in the darkness, his eyes glinted bright, as black and shiny as the starry night. Face serious, he stared into Harry's calm green eyes, then asked carefully,

"You will not abandon me?"

"Never. I'll never abandon you," Harry repeated. Suddenly the gravity of the child's question struck him. He paused, green eyes contemplating, expression solemn; then an unexpected sadness washed over him. Harry smiled, but the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"I'll stay with you, Tom, for as long as you need me."

I will... but, very soon, you'll be one who wants to get rid of me. To kill me yourself.

"Go to bed," Harry ordered. He shut his eyes, brows-furrowed, and turned away. Something in their conversation clearly bothered him.

Tom watched the young man's expression closely, as the man feigned asleep. For a moment, the boy just sat there quietly, watching Harry with a fiery intensity, his face ponderous and unreadable. Then, the child lied down next to the young man, and shut his eyes.

After Harry fell asleep, Tom opened his eyes again. Under the moonlight, famed by thick eyelashes, his large eyes seemed cold and hard like the purest, darkest obsidian. The child stared at the sleeping face next to him. He watched as Harry's breathing slowed and evened out. Then, he pushed away the pillow, which he dragged all the way from his own room. Quietly, he inched closer to the warm body and rested his head against Harry's shoulder. As the heat of the man's skin seeped into his own, Tom closed his eyes, then sleep claimed him easily.

As the night spread and grew, all along the streets, dim lamps lit up one by one. Today was December 24th. 'Twas the night before Christmas, to all the children of the world and to their loving families — "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Here is a wonderful fan art done by Popuyund. Check it out and applaud her artistry.

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