Previously: After having left the Resurrection Stone in the clearing, Harry can't stop thinking about it, wondering why it brought back Tom Riddle instead of his parents. Desperate for an answer, he goes back, Incendio's the place and takes the Stone back.
The shade and him make a deal: Tom will tell him what he wants, if Harry keeps him until Spring.
Notes: Thankies for reading! Every comment feeds my soul :)
Of smoke and Stone
Chapter 4: cloudy morning
When Harry woke up the day after, he saw the shade floating by the window. It looked deep in thought as if it had been standing there for the whole night, and Harry quietly understood it had no ability to sleep nor rest. He himself was feeling oddly alert this morning, his mind clear and fresh as if he had drunk a whole glass of Pepper Up potion. He stretched out, blinked twice and got out of bed without effort.
He could go and interrogate the shade but ... he had until spring. Why the rush? It was only 7 am. Surely he could indulge in a long morning shower and enjoy the calm and stillness of an early wintery Sunday. Maybe he could even go to the library and actually ask Madam Pince for a book about addiction.
Just kidding.
He grabbed the Resurrection Stone and went to the shower. Hopefully Tom Riddle was not a prude.
xXx
"Just turn around. Don't look. Whatever," laughed Harry while undressing. "I don't care, Tom."
"You should," groaned the shade of Tom Riddle but without averting his gaze. "You're the one who killed me, I would be foolish to turn my back to you. Lucius almost died twice in this pathetic way. If Narcissa hadn't deflected my curses ..."
"I can't believe that even dead, you're scared of dying. Also, you're very dramatic and gross, I won't ever want to hear about your murders and attempted murders."
"You're not showing any respect , Harry Potter. You were not like this -"
"Okay, too much talking with mister Dark Lord for a Sunday morning. Shut up or I'll throw the Stone in the toilets, deal be damned," said Harry, seriously questioning his decision-making aptitude.
What the hell was he thinking when he had accepted to be haunted by Lord Voldemort?
But, to be fair, the shade definitely looked and sounded very different from its past living self.
The night before, it had remained silent by the Lake, his expression honest and thankful, openly relieved not to be sent back to where it was before.
Half-stoned, Harry had thought that Tom might have been better company than his actual friends: at least he wasn't looking at him with a mix of pity, helplessness and frustration. At least he didn't try to stop him from drowning his thoughts away. He didn't try to talk to him or to do anything, he was just there .
Maybe Tom had only been waiting for Harry to die all by himself by the Lake, from a bad mix of alcohol, drugs and winter cold. Harry was also okay with that scenario. After all, he often wished the same.
xXx
"Can't you help?" whispered Harry between his teeth.
"No, I can't," Tom's glare was hard. "I would obviously hold this repulsive shoelace if I could but guess what, Harry Potter: I am powerless."
Harry tsked but eventually managed to fix a necklace for the Stone.
The final product was ugly and poorly executed, somehow reminiscent of a kid's gift for Mother's or Father's Day. Still, it was strong and practical. With it, Harry would be less likely to lose or forget the Stone, accidentally sending Tom back.
Harry didn't know why he was trying so hard to bind himself to Voldemort once again.
Skeeter would absolutely squee in delight if she ever heard of his recent misfortune. She would write about his longing for a connection with You-Know-Who, she would imply he was raw and aching, missing the sense of purpose the Prophecy used to give him.
She would be wrong. Harry wasn't seeking anything, he was just empty. And Tom wasn't filling any void, for Tom was empty too.
xXx
Everyday, Harry learnt something new about Tom Riddle's shade. It was quite surprising, for he hadn't been able to memorize anything since the 2nd of May. In fact, he had been secretly convinced his memory was too full of his tragic past and of the people who had died because of him to be able to handle new information.
However, his brain worked in mysterious ways and it was adding, day after day, a fresh log about the shade.
Tom spent every single night by the window, looking at the Forest or the sky, like a dramatic character from a 19th century novel.
He was more substantial than a ghost and he could feel things to some extend. He hated when his vapors were disturbed and blown out by the wind.
He missed Magic deeply. His hand would often go to a non-existent holster to grasp nothing. For an agonizing second, his face would contort in hurt and despair.
He was always keeping an eye on the Resurrection Stone's necklace and, every now and then, he anxiously asked to see the Hallow.
He sometimes sounded like a young boy, and sometimes like the old and cruel man he was when he died. He wasn't Tom Riddle nor Lord Voldemort, even though he held their memories. He was something else, entirely, but Harry had no idea what.
He could stay silent and inert for long periods of time, floating like an astronaut lost in space, left behind by their space shuttle. He seemed content to simply be part of this reality.
He never went more than three meters away from Harry, either because the Stone didn't allow him to do so or because he was too afraid of disappearing.
Against all odds, he was respectful of Harry's privacy and patiently stayed outside the toilets the time Harry vomited for one hour straight after a memorable night with Blaise, Dean and Seamus.
Harry also learnt one thing about himself after the first week of their cohabitation: he genuinely enjoyed the shade's company.
To be continued