Chapter 20
Harry was in the Graveyard again, tied to the headstone of Tom Riddle sr, blood trickling hot and sticky down his arm and pain wracking his body as Voldemort circled his Death Eaters in a dark, serpentine glory. Those scarlet eyes burned into him, full of hate and a jarring ice.
He could remember the words as if they'd been spoken yesterday...thirteen years of disappointment...and then another Death Eater stepped forward, falling to their knees before the Dark Lord. Harry couldn't see his face.
"We beg your pardon, my lord," the man - it was a man's voice, strangely familiar. "Please forgive us. It won't ever happen again...we are at your mercy...please..."
Voldemort reached down, gripping the Death Eater's jaw harshly, tilting his head up, about to speak and as he did the mask melted away...
Green eyes...submissive posture, a dark mark clearly branded...begging...
"Begging, Harry? Such a good pet..."
And red eyes moved over to him, against the headstone. And then hands were closing on him too and...
Harry woke up with a jolt of horror and a scream of denial on his lips, eyes wide with horror, gasping down air, thrashing against the grip holding him down.
"Get off me!" he snarled, hardly coherent, doing his absolute best to lash out, more animalistic than human. The grip only tightened, shifting on top of him to stop him twisting, keeping his legs from kicking like he was trying to, hands shoved above his head and pressed down into his pillow.
"Calm down," a cold, firm and authoritative voice ordered. "Harry - calm down right this second-"
He didn't calm, that voice just made it worse, and the next second his head was whipping to side, stinging as his attacker landed a sharp slap across his face. The shock of that jolted him a second time, and his vision started to clear and...bloody hell.
Slytherin dorms. Right. He was having nightmares, it was just a nightmare.
Tom Riddle stared down at him, expression unyielding but with a hint of curiosity. Harry swallowed, concentrating on breathing, shoulders still tensed beyond measure though he stopped thrashing.
"You can get off me now," he said, flatly, voice a little hoarse. The grip tightened for a second, painfully, before releasing him entirely as Riddle shifted his weight away...only to yank him up off the bed too. He blinked, tiredly, exhausted almost beyond measure.
He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he got here! Unless one counted being comatose, which he didn't.
"You can also stop manhandling me," he continued, trying to pull back from the grip which had transferred to his shoulders, eyes narrowed and flashing dangerously.
It had been a week since he began trying to infiltrate Riddle's circle and act the part of the groupie. He hated every single bloody second of it. It drove him mad to pretend such subservience and devotion, to try and be like one of the Death Eaters. It sickened and terrified him - the very thought.
Of course, one of the worst parts was that it all the excruciating forced...not docility so much, Riddle wouldn't believe that so easily...but good behaviour was just pointless now with the way he was acting. He could see Lestrange glaring at him pointedly, but he couldn't concentrate on that now.
Though the nightmare was immediately fading and becoming indistinct in his memory, the lingering nausea and dread remained, and the same anger and defiance resurfaced viciously.
He blamed it on the lack of sleep.
"I could, you could also stop whining and squirming," Tom returned matter-of-factly, a gleam in his gaze, cruel and hungry for knowledge and power. Harry nearly shuddered. "There's a good boy..."
Harry snarled at that, temper beyond strained from playing relatively nice all week, and he shoved Riddle away. To his vindictive satisfaction, the other boy nearly overbalanced with the vicious ferocity and strength of his push, before unfortunately catching himself instead of crashing into one of the bedposts like an idiot.
The next second, a smirk crossed the other's lips, making Harry want to groan, as much as he flared to the implicit challenge.
"Now, now," Riddle purred, tsking, "that's not very friendly. And you were doing so well, my dear. Careful now..."
Harry's jaw clenched furiously, and he glared back ferociously.
The rest of the Slytherins in the dorm seemed very much awake now, all vestiges of sleep scattered from the corners of their eyes and countenances as they all seemed to gain a collective mob mind of huddling defensively beneath their duvets - like children scared of the monster beneath their bed, not exposing anything but heads and slices of hands.
Lestrange mouthed 'apologise' to him, but in the haze of sleep deprivation and fears Harry barely even noticed it.
"You're an arrogant twat," he snapped. "It's bloody hard to be friendly when you're so damn insufferable!"
"Oh, you mean you don't just love my company?" Tom returned, but there was an even greater viciousness to him now, sharpened like the edge of a razor. "I'm hurt, really...but this just proves you're after something." Harry could almost feel an echo of 'but so is everyone', though Riddle didn't say it.
Harry's posture turned rigid, and it seemed Tom was just after a chink, a scrap, for he stepped forward again, using Harry's exhausted confusion to promptly shove him out the dorm room in the same manner Harry had pushed him earlier.
He just about managed not to fall headfirst down the stairs, and Riddle was next to him seemingly in a flash, arm slung around his shoulders in a mockingly chummy way - though it was a tad too tight a hold for true friendliness, dragging him along.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry near hissed, shrugging the arm off, only for a wand to dig into the back of his neck.
"Taking you to get some dreamless sleep potion."
Whatever Harry had expected...that wasn't it. He expected interrogation, mockery, torture. His eyes narrowed.
"And I'm supposed to believe you on that?" he was highly sceptical. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm a prefect," Tom replied, not missing a beat. "This is what I do, I look after the students in my care."
"Ah, yeah, that's suddenly showing up after two months is it?" Harry returned, sarcastically. "You might need to shine up your altruistic love of your duties a bit."
Tom levelled him with a flat look.
"I assumed you'd deal with it, considering you seem to be independent otherwise." There was a hint of mockery there now, but also a deadly seriousness. Those intent eyes seared into him. "Clearly you just have no regard for your own health, and I do actually prefer not waking up to your screams every single night when we're all trying to sleep. It's much more fun when I'm the one making you scream and all that...though I suppose it's plausible that I still am the cause considering the assumed nature of your bad dreams...or good dreams, depending on what slant you want to take on it." The other flashed him a smirk, and Harry tried not to gape, spluttering at the latter insinuation.
"Screw you, I don't need your help," he growled, tugging away. Riddle sighed, sounding far more long-suffering then he had any right to be, before he offered Harry an altogther too kind smile.
"Yes, you do, and if you refuse to co-operate with me I will ensure that its Miss Pierce who is need of my help." It was said very matter of factly, coldly.
Harry's expression was icy, hard. He didn't think he'd ever despised the boy in front of him more...which was saying something.
"It's none of your bloody business-"
"-It is if I can't sleep because of your screaming," Riddle rebutted, and Harry tried not to acknowledge that as a fair and valid point. "You're ruining our education."
"Hell, I'll sleep on the couch. Seems better than waking up with you holding me down every night," Harry spat.
"Or you could solve the nightmares, and then neither of those measures would be necessary," Riddle raised his brows. Harry glowered, and the Slytherin Heir grabbed his shoulder again to steer him forwards.
"I can walk on my own," he muttered darkly. A week's work destroyed...but then, Riddle would be suspicious if he was suddenly an obedient groupie, wouldn't he? He just needed to be close enough...and then to sabotage. He was already working on looking for a weak point in the young Dark Lord's web of influence.
"Walk is an optimistic word for your movements in the night," Riddle replied. "Shuffle might be more appropriate. Or stumble precariously."
Harry blinked.
"You're a twat."
"That surprises you?"
Harry snorted, with involuntarily amusement. No, definitely not, he was pissed off with Riddle, not laughing at his humour and manner. His insane, manipulative, controlling manner - what was there to like?
"Besides, too little sleep can kill a person," Riddle continued, as if there was no break. "And I'm hardly one to waste such a lovely, valuable resource when it's dropped in my path so conveniently. Not to mention, you're nowhere near as entertaining when you're tired, and really, that's one of the few things you're good for."
Harry shouldn't have cared about that comment in the slightest, but it was offensive, and it did cut, just a little bit. But that was because he was exhausted and everything seemed crap right now, not because of Riddle.
"Not even pretending to be polite anymore are you?" he returned lightly. "Shame on the model student act."
"It's the middle of the night and my charm is clearly wasted on you," Riddle said.
"Yeah, it is," Harry started, smirking. He saw right through Riddle's little games.
"-I mean," Riddle chuckled, eyes gleaming as he turned to look at him, causing his smirk to freeze in place, "you know what I am and you're still coming to me to join my club. It's just wonderful. They always say friends should accept the worst of each other." The tone was too cheerful, tauntingly cheerful.
"We're not friends, nor will we ever be," Harry snapped. "You're an insufferable git. Why the hell would anyone want to be friends with you?"
"You should say 'hell' less often, you sound ridiculous."
"You're ridiculous."
"And you really need sleep," Riddle muttered, sounding almost...disappointed. Disappointed. The lack of witticisms and banter annoyed the other, Harry seized upon it for reference with triumph. Pity the thing Riddle liked most in whatever relationship - no, relationship was a bad word for it, they didn't have a relationship, their...dynamic - was the wordplay between them and the...well, the games. Which was bad, because that was exactly what he was aiming so intently to stop.
It was just, well, fun playing with Riddle, and when it wasn't fun, it was thrilling. No, not fun or thrilling. He meant horrible, awful for the time period, to be avoided at ALL costs.
Damn. He really did need sleep.
Riddle continued to steer him through the corridors, keeping a firm grip on his arm.
A thought suddenly struck Harry.
"Shouldn't we wait til morning? The nurse is probably sleeping..."
He wouldn't protest going, purely for Imogen's sake - this time, at least, however much he hated the hospital wing - but this was absurd.
Riddle blinked, before looking at him.
"We're not going to the nurse, we're going to Slughorn's office."
Horace Slughorn, that was the man's name, wasn't it? Harry hadn't really had much to do with him and, from first impressions, he didn't really want to.
There was just something about the Potion's Professor...something...pompous? Something at any rate which he couldn't put his finger on, which stirred a sense of dislike in him. The man was loads better than Snape, but...he didn't know.
"That can definitely wait for morning - I might not appreciate your stunning model student act, but he does. We can't just barge in - I - we're in our pajamas for merlin's sake! He's sleeping too-" wait. Slughorn would be sleeping. Was his bed in his office?
Lupin's had been joined...oh he didn't want this to happen. At all.
Riddle snorted, smiling just a little bit.
"Just keeping walking, sweetheart. Watch and learn from your superiors."
It was about that point that Harry also made the unnerving realisation that Riddle had talked Parseltongue at him.
A/N: So it's definitely not my best, but I feel so blocked on this story, and you guys deserved something. And, with blocks, I tend to just have to try and work past them. That, and it's my birthday tomorrow so I thought I'd give you all a gift :P If this can be classified as a gift.
If you want to give me a book, as you know, my book is out for sale on Amazon, links on my profile ) (joke! but I would appreciate it, but no pressure. A review is also lovely :) Not that you have to give me anything. I'm rambling. Sorry. Like Harry, I need sleep.)
So yeah, hope you managed to enjoy the chapter, terribly short as it was :)