"Now we're slipping near the edge

Holding something we don't need

Oh, this delusion in our heads

Is gonna bring us to our knees"

- Let It Go, James Bay

Tom walked with her to Diagon again the next day, too. However, this time they were having a serious conversation, and Harry didn't know how to feel about it.

'He's treating you differently,' Tom started completely out of context after they'd already been walking for a few minutes.

She sighed, knowing exactly what this was about. 'I can handle myself.'

'I saw that,' Riddle answered dryly.

'He bumped into me,' as she said it, she saw him smirk derisively out of the corner of her eyes.

'He felt you up, Harry. There was nothing accidental about that.'

Harry stared ahead for a few more moments, contemplating the weird complicity she was building with baby Voldemort. This was not what she had envisioned for herself, but she didn't feel worried about their interactions.

'He won't do it again,' Harry finally answered, rolling her eyes at the thought of being a damsel in distress. She'd gone through a hell of a lot more than Tom could imagine, and she was more than capable of handling Billy freaking Stubbs.

'Billy Stubbs is an uncultured swine. He'll do it as often as he can manage to get away with it,' Riddle stated, watching her with that signature pulled-up eyebrow that seemed to mock her for her naivety.

'I can't very well punch him for stumbling. Mrs. Cole would immediately ground me and then I'd lose my job,' Harry recounted.

'She likes you. She'd probably listen to you if you try to tell her.'

Harry snorted derisively. 'She might like me alright, but she adores Billy. I wouldn't stand a chance.'

'What is it about him?' Riddle asked, sounding honestly annoyed. 'He's not good looking, he's not smart, he's just painfully average,' He shook his head.

Harry examined him and saw that he was honestly confused by the idea of Billy Stubbs holding any kind of appeal to anyone. Harry could relate to that, thinking back to Dudley. She'd never understood his appeal on strangers, either. But she'd never questioned why the Dursleys loved him.

'You can't evaluate why people love who they love and hate who they hate,' she deducted after a few moments of silence.

Riddle stared at her surly as if he'd expected more of her. 'If you really think that, then you're naïve.'

Harry watched him for a long moment and couldn't help but think that he really didn't understand a damned thing if he thought that it was that easy. She could probably talk 'till she was blue in the face, and it still wouldn't stick. It would sound preachy and weird. She didn't even know how to start explaining it.

Riddle raised an eyebrow at her silence and smirked, but she didn't rise to the bait.

'Are you going to quit your job?' Harry asked instead.

'Yes,' Riddle said, looking angry again. 'I plan on interviewing with the apothecary,' he elaborated, eyeing her.

'That makes sense they always have a lot to do around the start of the new school year as well. They'll probably have you arranging packets, too.'

He nodded. 'That was what I thought. Besides, they offer three galleons a week,' he said looking away towards Diagon, and she could see that he was trying to hide a smirk.

Harry almost laughed at the idea that he thought he'd won some kind of imaginary pissing contest but then she stopped to think about what having an acquaintance in the apothecary would mean for her, and she started nodding enthusiastically. She'd probably be able to get her hands on all kinds of rare ingredients.

'That's amazing Riddle!' she nodded enthusiastically as he watched her through narrowed eyes again but didn't comment any further on it.

X

Harry had a nice day at Flourish and Blott's. She spent most of it holed up in the backroom and used her lunch break to look through the potion books assigned for each curriculum. She found the Ageing Potion and saw that ground-up Dementor eggshells were the most potent ingredient.

She shuddered to think about how anyone discovered that. It didn't quite look like sand, but that was because they ground the shells even finer for the Potion.

After a few quick cross-references into her research, Harry realized that everything she could do with this information had to be highly theoretical until she found a Potion Master that could help her because she'd probably end up killing herself if she tried to do it alone. The shells were highly potent and had to be prepared for weeks until they were ready to use.

She heaved a deep sigh and reminded herself that this was all about baby steps. She'd get there. Maybe this wasn't the way, maybe this was just a stepping stone in the right direction, and maybe this was not going to lead to anything. The point was she'd get there, eventually.
She just knew it. She couldn't bear the thought of never hearing Ron laugh again. Or Hermione gush about something that was so far out of the realm of things that Harry understood that the know-it-all might as well have danced her feelings.

Harry wasn't in a good mood when she came out of work later that evening. She'd been trying to keep her spirits up, but she knew that she hadn't gotten anywhere yet.

Thoughts of never seeing her loved ones were creeping up more often lately, and even if she believed she could, she still had to accept that the world told her that she couldn't. That no one ever would be able to and that no one should even try to time travel in the future. And being confronted with that was the truly scary part because she could not afford to lose hope.

Harry knew not to believe it, after all she'd traveled further back than any documented witch or wizard ever had. Her world would have told her that that was impossible, but when she was faced with the facts of what was possible and what wasn't it was still hard to believe in herself rather than the textbooks.

After a short moment of contemplating what she'd rather do, walk back alone with her thoughts or listen to Riddle, she sighed in defeat and made her way over to the apothecary. They always closed last because they had to write up how much of everything had been sold each day. The ministry kept track of a lot of rare potion ingredients.

She still remembered her second-year trip when the elderly woman had ranted all about it while she'd regretted reaching out to her to ask if she'd seen a bunch of redheads. The answer had been a resounding no. She didn't have time for that kind of nonsense.

Standing outside of the apothecary, she saw Riddle hurry along inside. He was looking through the inventory, making quick work of counting everything.

Her eyes traveled along the shockingly empty street until they landed on Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. The prices were good, just 6 Knuts for one scoop of ice cream. Quickly making up her mind, she walked over and contemplated her choices.

'What can I do for you?' asked a pudgy young woman with a beautiful face.

'I'd like two cones, one with a scoop of strawberry and one with vanilla.' Harry finally said, eyeing the display.

Just buying herself one seemed like an icky thing to do. She wasn't used to that kind of thinking, never had been. Being friends with the Weasleys meant sharing, be it a precious map that was gifted to her or a book that was loaned or their family. They shared with her unconditionally. It was their mentality, and it made them much more endearing to her than anything else ever could.

Her parents would probably be turning over in their graves if they could see her now, buying ice cream for their murderer. She probably gave a younger version of herself a migraine doing that, but, Merlin, she needed this, needed a moment that didn't suck.

'Of course, anything else?' the woman asked kindly as she distributed generous scoops into each of the cones.

'That will be all.' Harry said and tried to smile.

'Alright, then that'll be 12 Knuts.' she smiled back warmly as she handed her the cones.

Decision made, she walked back to the apothecary, keeping the vanilla ice under a stasis charm while she waited on a bench next to the shop. It was a bit cloudy, but every time the sun peeked through, she felt the warmth of it and saw how the light was reflected in the windows.

Not even ten minutes later, Riddle stared at her and her two cones of ice cream in surprise.

'Congratulations on getting the job!' Harry said, feeling dumb as she held out the vanilla cone to him.

Tom eyed it warily. He looked a bit confused with the situation as if he hadn't thought she'd wait, never mind celebrating with him.

'I'll eat it if you don't want it,' she offered while still nursing her strawberry ice.

'No,' Tom said a bit too quickly. 'No, I'll take it,' he repeated before pulling out his wand and running a diagnosis charm on it, presumably checking for poison.

Harry couldn't help herself. She laughed at that level of Paranoia, and Riddle actually looked embarrassed when he finally bit into his ice cream like a crazy person.

They walked back together in relative silence.

'Why did you wait for me?' Tom asked, and Harry actually flinched when she was reminded of the reason why she had done it.

'Bad memories,' she explained, trying to control her breathing. It wasn't a good idea to lie to Riddle when he was serious about something.

Tom just eyed her for a while.

'Is it about what happened to you?' he asked tersely.

'No,' Harry shrugged, thinking about what was really bothering her, 'I guess it's more about what it means,' she finished lamely.

'You could probably go to Hogwarts.'

'I don't have any school papers.' Harry stepped through the brick wall, hiding her head by looking down.

'So, they'd have to test you. You wouldn't be the first one they had to do that for,' Tom shrugged as he brushed up next to her.

Harry paused for a moment.

Going to Hogwarts would mean influencing people. She wasn't doing that now, at least not in a meaningful way. Tom was still a terrible person, and she was reasonably sure that whatever she did in their time together wouldn't influence his hatred for Muggles, at least not in a way that mattered, not enough to stop him from creating his diary, anyway.

Hell, a part of her didn't even want him to. She wanted a place to return to, but she had to admit that it got increasingly difficult to imagine him becoming a noseless snake creature in the future.

'I'll have to think on it,' Harry answered belatedly, realizing he was waiting on her. 'Generally speaking, I would like to finish my schooling,' she said to no one in particular.

Riddle nodded, somewhat appeased. 'And the ice cream?' he asked, still hung up about her laughing at him.

'I needed to do something fun,' she shrugged, thinking back to her time. 'There's so much bad stuff going on that it sometimes feels like it drowns out all the good. It makes sense to celebrate stuff whenever you can.'

'Did your guardians do that for you?' he asked absentmindedly while he turned to walk closer to her as he stared along the street. When she followed his line of sight, she saw a group of drunkards yelling and laughing just on the corner of the street.

'Merlin, no,' she shook her head and almost laughed at the thought. 'But my friends did, or they tried to do it for me,' she smiled, remembering Hagrid's cake and the years worth of Weasley sweaters that she held on to. Hermione's care packages were admittedly the most useful ones because she actually thought about nutrition and pesky things like vitamins when she put them together.

He nodded thoughtfully. 'Did you ever end up finding out what you need for your Ageing Potion? It seemed important,' he said, sounding almost casual.

Harry groaned, not being able to hide her frustration, 'I did, but it turned out to be absolutely useless.'

'Why were you researching it?' He stepped away from her as soon as they turned the corner, and the men were out of their field of vision. He'd definitely done that on purpose, she noted.

'You could say that it was my last homework,' Harry murmured, sounding sad, and, yeah, Tom was definitely judging her. He looked a bit like he wanted to say something that would be insensitive to the highest degree, so she changed the topic as best as she could. 'How did quitting your job work out for you?'

'Brilliantly,' Tom said, curtly, and Harry was half convinced that he'd burned the shop to the ground before she remembered that she definitely would have heard about that.

'Is your old boss still alive?' she asked warily.

'Of course,' Tom answered dryly and was about to say something else when the air raid siren droned over their heads.

Harry paled as she saw everyone stream out onto the streets and hurry to hide in the basements or run to the nearest bunker they could find.

Sprinting towards the orphanage seemed like her best bet, but, when she started in that direction, Riddle held her back.

'They wouldn't wait there for us. They are already on their way to the shelters. We should meet them there,' he told her hurriedly.

Harry watched him in shock, saw the fear in his eyes, and, still, he hesitated, waiting for her. She nodded. 'Where would they go to hide?'

'The old underground,' he called over the sirens, as he grabbed her arm and navigated them through the rubble.

'If something comes down around us, I'm casting the biggest Protego, I can manage. Wizarding secrecy be damned!' Harry screamed as Tom hurled her around another corner. The sirens were blaring, children were crying, and people were running around searching for shelter. It was bad.

Harry was fast, but she wasn't exactly steady, not on rubble, Riddle, on the other hand, was used to it and guided them through expertly.

He looked back at her when she yelled that absolutely mindless of the Muggles around them and smirked.

'I feel safer already,' he yelled breathlessly against the droning sound of the air raid sirens. And he sounded so faithless and dishonest, Harry couldn't help it, she laughed.

They had been running for fifteen minutes when Riddle pushed her towards an old building.

After running down three ridiculously steep flights of stairs, they finally caught up to the others. Harry saw Mrs. Cole first and ducked through the crowd of people to let her know that they were there.

The old woman looked from her and Tom in surprise before she seemed to accept it and handed her one of the two toddlers that were clinging onto her skirt.

'Can you carry him for a bit? He's been struggling since we made it down the stairs,' she asked, and Harry nodded before letting herself fall back so that she stood next to Riddle, again.

'You should go to the others,' Tom said, and when had Riddle become Tom in her mind? She seemed to keep slipping up with that. He was supposed to be Riddle, dammit.

Harry stared at him for a few moments. 'I can go back if you want me to,' she kept her tone as neutral as she could when she said it.

Tom didn't tell her that he wanted her by his side. He didn't tell her to leave either, which was probably as much of an invitation to stay as she was going to get from him.

By the time they all had found seats in the empty subway car, the boy she'd been carrying had fallen asleep in her arms. He felt heavy and warm, and he'd buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Mary sat on her other side. They were all somewhat huddled together, which wasn't a surprise when it was the toddler that cuddled closer. It wasn't unusual for Mary to seek her out either, the girl tried to include her in everything she did, but it was shocking coming from Tom. He'd scooted closer to her, too, and pressed his side against hers.

They sat hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and they both didn't say a word about it.

They could hear the muffled sounds of faraway detonations and see the exhaustion and fear on the faces of the people all around them. A few of the kids were crying, and Mrs. Cole did her best to calm them down.

An old man was telling stories from his childhood. They weren't anything particularly funny, horrible, or interesting but they were filled with memories of kind hands and mischief. He had a carefree childhood and he shared it with them. Most of his stories were centered around him stealing fruits from his neighbor's apple tree, of which all of them ended with his mother pulling at his ears.

It helped because it distracted them. After an hour of soft snoring against her neck, Mary tipped her shoulder. 'I can take him now,' she said, smiling at Harry, who switched gratefully with her.

'Are you okay?' she asked Tom after a while.

'Of course.' He sounded angry when he said that.

'Yeah, me neither,' Harry murmured as she let her head fall back against the subway car.

The walk back felt a lot longer than it was, probably because she was carrying a toddler around for most of it, but so were most of the others. The fact that she'd sat with Tom had caught everyone's attention, and people were staring, and she hated when they did that.

He didn't touch her again, not in the casual way he did when they were alone.

She was used to Tom brushing up against her shoulder, grabbing her arm, pulling at her hair, pushing her into stuff. Okay, those were mostly horrible, but she noticed that he'd distanced himself, probably as a reaction to everyone's attention.

So she turned to him and said loud and clear. 'Thank you for showing me how to get there. Without you, I wouldn't have found it in time.'

A lesser man would have rolled his eyes, but Tom's mask was perfectly in place as he nodded at her rather impassively.

X

July 31st was spent with a sense of melancholy. Harry knew that her birthday wasn't supposed to be for another seven months, but the date still felt significant. It served as a reminder of how misaligned with everything she was. She wasn't even in a time that existed parallel to her own.

Harry had also just begun to develop a proper routine which was already a bad enough sign on its own. After all, settling in was the last thing she should be doing. Her research on dementor eggshells had brought forth shockingly little information. That was troubling because it meant she'd either have to brew the Reditus potion and try mixing in the essence in abysmally small interims until it yielded some kind of reaction, or she'd have to start over again. That just meant that she needed to further her education on magical beasts and materials.

Of course, she was aware that her whole theory hinged on the fact that neither the metal nor the glass of the time turner had been magically manipulated to appear as they were. She also wasn't sure if the Reditus potion would be able to recognize her mental pain and take her back to where she came from.

It looked bleak, but she tried not to give in to her frustrations. She'd keep going, that much was obvious.

Tom was still talking to her. She didn't know why she just assumed he'd stop after he'd been vulnerable and shown her that he was nervous during the raid.

The first day after the evacuation he seemed wary as if he waited for her to comment on anything. It was true that she'd been surprised by his desire to stay near her when they were huddled together in the abandoned subway car. Harry had known that he found her tolerable, even if he didn't trust her, but pressing his side against hers in search for contact, and actually guiding her to safety, well they both were a bit different from just tolerating her.

There had been four more raids since the first one in the beginning of July. They were always somewhat somber, but his behavior towards her didn't change. He didn't talk at all when they were with the others, and, during these raids, they always stayed with them, even if Tom despised them, and they hated Tom.
He just sat there, pressed against her side, not commenting on the usually wailing baby or toddler she'd been settled with until someone else took over.

Harry didn't know what to say about that. She didn't know what to feel about it, either. That much was clear. It certainly didn't fit her image of a dark lord in diapers that didn't need anyone. On the other hand, she also had to remind herself that she would just be a part of a few weeks of his life before he returned to Hogwarts.

He would have killed when he returned to the orphanage for the next summer. There was an eternity between who he was now and who she thought of when she heard the name Voldemort. The differences between them were far-reaching, and she had to keep reminding herself of the fact that Tom wasn't just Tom when they spent time together.

It was hard, especially since he started preaching. Tom wanted her to attend Hogwarts. He kept reminding her that she needed to finish her magical education if she wanted to amount to anything.

And then he had examples, people who'd been pulled out to get married or take over different jobs and responsibilities and how everyone knew about it, and no one ever let them forget that they'd dropped out without finishing their education.

'That doesn't even make sense,' Harry said, exasperated.

'We're living in the magical world. It doesn't have to make sense. They'll judge you, and you won't get opportunities to learn if you don't go,' Tom answered condescendingly.

He wasn't wrong, but, at the moment, she had to think more practically. Hogwarts was a huge temptation in the sense that it held a lot of resources. She missed the familiarity of the castle but returning would be dangerous; the familiarity could reveal that she knew more about it than she should. She'd also be tempted to make friends and that could very well influence the timeline. The last year had been horrible, and yet she was still tempted to seek out Dumbledore. She wasn't sure why she felt that way because she'd bet anything that he wouldn't be looking out for her best interest in this.

X

Harry was still packaging packets. With the beginning of the new school year just around the corner, she didn't want to think too much about all the ways she felt inadequate by going over her theories on time travel again. No, she needed to focus. These next few weeks were going to be tough if the last three days had been anything to go by. Students over students had swamped the store, desperate to get their shopping done quickly.

Daniel was increasingly stressed, and, eventually, she was forced to help out up front. A few students looked slightly familiar. She encountered the unnaturally blonde hair of the Malfoy's as well as the startling grey eyes of the Blacks, but she kept her head up, and the transaction simple.

Except for the Malfoy, everyone seemed to take that as a hint not to talk to her, but then again she'd never quite gotten rid of the Malfoy of her time either.

'I've never seen you around before,' he said examining her. 'The youngest Banks usually helps out around here,' he added when she didn't react to him.

'That seems about right,' Harry nodded before turning around to help the next customer.

'What's your name?' he asked, examining her as she brought one of the packets up for the family and cashed up.

'Evans,' she said, not bothering with a first name because she hoped that the Muggle name alone would deter him.

'Evans?' he asked, frowning as she bid the customer who chuckled about Malfoy's insistence to talk to her farewell.

'Yes,' she said, nodding. 'Evans,' she repeated for good measure while greeting the next one in line, wondering when the Malfoy heir would take the hint.

'I think the Rosier know an Evans family near West Sussex,' he remarked, watching her.

Harry groaned inwardly, but it took real effort to keep the exasperation out of her face. 'Interesting,' she commented when she looked over the next book list. A second-year girl with pigtails stood in front of her.

Her mother was clothed in simple Muggle attire, and Harry could see Malfoy wrinkle his nose at her from the corner of her eyes.

'I was wondering,' the woman started, watching her carefully as if she was insecure, 'if there were any books on the wizarding world? Dorothy is going for her second year and I know very little about the world she'll be living in,' the woman said shaking her head sadly.

'Of course,' Harry smiled eagerly as she accioed three of the books that came to mind to the register.

Hermione's books on wizarding culture had all been written around this time and sooner. During Voldemort's reign no one thought to publish anything like it, and, afterward, the books seemed a bit lackluster and edited, missing key information about the war and the racism. At least that was what Hermione used to say.

'We have A World Of Its Own by Johnathan Morgan, Wizarding Britain, A History by Ruth McCloud, and A Life Between Two Tiers by William Sarafin,' she finished, showing her the books.

The older woman nodded. 'How much would that add up to?'

'With the school shopping?' Harry followed up, and the woman nodded.

Harry looked through the books. 'We're looking at 2 galleons and 10 sickles,' she said, as she punched the numbers into the till.

The woman's gaze wavered.

'I wouldn't recommend A World Of Its Own,' Malfoy spoke up, and he actually sneered. 'That author does little to show any of our culture. He concentrates on making everything relatable.'

The woman laughed. 'Relatable?' she asked in disbelief, staring at Harry who'd absentmindedly accioed another stack of books from the back and started to sort through it. 'Nothing about this world is relatable to mine. That's why I need to educate myself,' she said sadly as she watched her young daughter.

Harry nodded. 'We have a used version of A Life Between Two Tiers. If you skip out on A World Of Its Own but keep Wizarding Britain, A History, you'd be down to 1 galleon, twelve sickles, and six knuts,' she finished, stacking up the books.

'I'll take them,' the woman nodded. 'Thank you, young man,' she said to a Malfoy that looked torn between feeling good about getting praised and recognizing that he was receiving praise from someone he considered to be worthless.

By the time Harry was done with her customer, there was no trace left of the Malfoy heir. The day followed a similar pattern; she helped customers, went through packages, and inhaled a quick lunch.

Her eyes widened when she was done and saw Tom was already waiting for her out front. 'I didn't realize it was already this late,' she said, surprised as she cast a quick tempus to check the time.

'It's not,' Tom answered, sounding bored. 'He let me go early because I brewed him two fresh batches of Memory Potion.'

Harry nodded, 'That's fair.'

'It isn't, which is why he allowed me to keep 5% of the revenue of the potions,' Tom smirked.

'Hmm,' Harry said, watching him carefully from the corner of her eyes. 'Was he drunk when he promised you that?' she finally asked knowingly.

'He might have been,' Tom said as he evaded a small ball that the kids who'd been playing with it on the street had accidentally kicked over to them.

Naturally, he didn't even move to kick it back. 'At least he has enough memory potion now to actually remember that he made the deal,' Harry murmured dryly as she kicked it back to the kids, who were waving at her.

Tom rolled his eyes at her. 'Did you meet anyone interesting today?' he asked a bit too knowingly.

'I wouldn't describe him that way,' she said, shaking her head, and Tom paused.

'Who was it?' he asked, and Harry thought back to the meeting.

'He didn't tell me his name,' she remembered, 'but that didn't stop him from asking for mine.'

'Describe him to me. I know most of your customers,' Tom said, sounding curious.

'Blonde, blue-eyed, kind of a snob, very ugly sneer. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread.' Harry recounted as she tried not to mix up the eerily similar-looking Malfoys.

'That's Abraxas,' Tom said, and his mood darkened. 'He talked to you?' There was quite a bit of surprise in his tone.

'Yes, didn't even run for the hills when he heard that my last name was Evans,' Harry said shaking her head. 'But me encouraging a Muggle mom who wanted to read up on the wizarding world must have done him in,' she nodded.

Tom stared at her. 'Why would you do that?'

'Do what?' she asked, confused.

'Alienate him.'

'I didn't set out to do that, but I knew he wasn't going to accept me for who I am, and I'm not going to lie about it because that would feel like I was agreeing with him.'

'But you don't know if you're Muggleborn or not,' Tom frowned at her.

'You're right. It's possible that I might be a half-blood, but, to a guy like that, that wouldn't make a difference, and I'm not denouncing myself for an opportunity that he might never provide.' She watched the street, with something like trepidation.

'I really don't want to deal with kids right now,' she said, shaking her head, changing the topic because she realized that she sounded preachy. 'I don't mind watching them now and again, and I'd rather wake up twice a night than sleep in the attic, but Mrs. Cole is getting a bit weird about it,' she said, shaking her head.

'I think she noticed that we get along,' Tom shrugged at her when she watched him, uncomprehending.

'We wouldn't get up to anything untoward with a baby around, would we?' he asked, grinning at her crookedly, and her eyes widened. That smile reminded her of Ron. It was his I'm-fond-of-you-but-you-are-missing-something-obvious smile. And yes, that existed. Hermione had a different variation of it. It was her I'm-shocked-at-your-disturbing-lack-of-knowledge-and-I'm-going-to-need-a-second scowl. Hermione's version was a lot less endearing, but Harry missed it anyway.

Future racist supreme and supervillain Tom Marvolo Riddle was smiling at her, and it looked almost fond, almost like he meant it.

'Are you serious?' she asked in abstract horror, and he laughed at her apprehension.

'Oh, Mrs. Cole thinks I'm the devil. She absolutely does it because she wants you away from me and would rather see you with Mary and the others, but she knows that you actually like me.'

Harry scoffed at that, and Tom's eyes narrowed.

'She knows that you like me,' he repeated, and Harry huffed again.

'Repeating it doesn't make it true,' she laughed lightly, and Tom's arm sneaked around her as he pulled her against his shoulder in a weird headlock gesture while lightly pressing his hand over her mouth.

'As I was saying,' he sighed, unnerved, while she grumbled against his hand. 'She knows that you like me. And she's trying to keep you occupied.'

Harry kicked her leg out and into his shin and was promptly pulled in closer as he tensed up and hissed before he released her.

He always did that, exert that tiny bit of dominance over her, to remind her that he could hold longer onto her if he wanted. Tom wasn't letting go of her unless he wanted to. And he paused to make sure she knew that, too.

He was incredibly controlling that way.

'How are you handling getting up early?' she asked, already dreading how early they'd have to start going back tomorrow morning, well aware of Riddle's apathetic behavior in the mornings.

Tom stared at her for a moment. 'I'm not.'

He was always surprised when she didn't react to his roughhousing if it could even be called that. She'd grown up with Dudley and spent most of her time with Ron. She knew roughhousing, and his attempts at it were a bit weird. He held himself back a lot. She didn't know what to expect from him. She knew that he was capable of cruelty, and, yet, she didn't fear him, not yet, anyway.

She'd never shied away from casual physical contact, which meant that she really couldn't relate to him that way, not in this, anyway but at least he seemed to respect her for standing up to him.

X

They didn't arrive separately anymore, but she spent almost no time with him at the orphanage. It was a bit disappointing that Mrs. Cole put that amount of effort into keeping Tom away from her when Billy freaking Stubbs got creepier by the second.

These past few days she'd used Mary more often as a human shield than she cared to admit. He wasn't just getting handsy, though. No, he was getting angry, and Harry was getting antsy. She'd never been in a situation like this before, and she wanted to do nothing more than to put Billy in his place, remind him that she was more than capable of defending herself and that it was a horrible idea to be testing her like this.

But she kept her mouth shut and her threats to herself because Billy had gotten away with so much in his life that he had this ignorant fearlessness about him, a firm belief that he would get away with anything. She knew he'd escalate sooner or later, but she wasn't about to provoke it, at least not intentionally.

Harry heaved a deep sigh as she climbed up the two flights of stairs to deposit one of the babbling toddlers she shared her room within the playroom. John couldn't climb the stairs alone yet. Upstairs, she poked her head into the girl's dormitory to the far right to let Betty know that he was there before heading back down.

Today she had to help Claire in the kitchen. Thankfully, it wasn't anything too difficult. Harry just needed to peel a few potatoes and carrots. It took her a bit longer than usually. The exhausting day at work combined with the limited amount of sleep and time to herself was starting to take its toll on her. Dumb as it may sound, she missed her tiny, shitty room at the Dursley's in moments like this. Where she'd been tucked away from all the unpredictability, the expectations, and the uncertainty. Where she could hide out alone in her room with a book and an insane amount of care packages and the knowledge that no one would disturb her.

After dinner, she immediately made her way back to her room, bypassing Mary and a determined looking Mrs. Cole, who was already looking from Harry to the four-year-old clinging to her skirt in favor of her bed.

Once she was inside the quiet nursery, she knew she was beyond exhausted. Harry quickly changed out of her clothes, threw the oversized dress shirt on, and climbed under the covers. Sleep claimed her within a few peaceful silent moments.

When she woke up again, it was still dark out, and the room felt a bit colder than it had when she turned in for the night. The others were fast asleep, by now. She wasn't sure what had woken her, but she felt dehydrated when she groggily sat up and reached for the glass of water.
Edna had probably put it out for her before she went to bed. Before she was able to grip the glass, she felt that listless, unnerving feeling that indicated that she was being watched.

Calming her breath, she cautiously reached for the glass while her other arm sneaked under her pillow in an attempt to try and feel for her wand. She'd been incredibly tired yesterday evening, but she wouldn't have forgotten her wand. She was sure of it, and, yet, she couldn't find it. Lurching forward quickly— she pulled the glass close to her, anything could be a weapon if you tried hard enough, and hurled around, expecting to see Billy only to find Tom Marvolo Riddle sitting on her bedroom floor.

He was wearing his sleep clothes, too, his hair was in disarray, and he held his wand easily in his right hand. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the scene before her.

'What are you doing here?' she whispered, unhappy with how scared she sounded.

Tom didn't smirk at her, neither did he look particularly angry, 'I'm waiting,' he said, calmly.

'Are you looking for this?' He held his left hand up slowly while he twirled her wand around his fingers.