It was hard being the boy who lived. It was not easy being Harry Potter.
It was not easy being Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was to maintain a certain image. Gryffindor, brave, fool-hearty, undoubtedly loyal, and an all-around swell guy, straight-
Meant to settle down with a nice girl and have children, who will become strong, brave Gryffindor's like their father and mother.
Ah, yes. That was the other thing.
("Marriage?" Death asked)
His spouse had to be a Gryffindor as well.
("Ah," Death leaned back. "I see,")
And if Dumbledore asked him how Ginny was one more time referencing a non-existent attraction Harry was going to strangle the man. As much as he loved him. And hated him. And valued his freedom out of Azkaban rather than in it. Perhaps an untraceable spell would be better. Harry certainly wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.
But, moving away from Harry's desire to kill Dumbledore, there were two problems with Dumbledore's foolish assessment.
1) Harry was gay
2) Ginny was gay (lesbian, take your pick)
3) Harry was in a (secret) relationship
4) Ginny was in a (public) relationship that everyone but Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall seemed oblivious to.
5) LITERALLY NO WAY IN HELL WOULD HARRY DATE HIS BEST FRIEND'S SISTER THAT HE'D KNOWN FOR YEARS BECAUSE THAT WAS JUST WEIRD
6) LIKE WHAT THE BLOODY HELL
Okay, so that was a bit more than two problems. Sue him.
Harry left breakfast feeling a bit better about last night. Luna and Hermione always made him laugh, in their arguments about all the creatures Luna liked to talk about, and Hermione's need for proof and facts. But as he walked through the hallways, he heard the whispers. Of course, the whispers were still there because the whispers never left.
(Death whispered to him, Dumbledore whispered to him, Tom whispered to him-)
He took the scenic route to Potions, hoping to avoid a sneak attack from Peeves and maybe to procrastinate being under Toms' scrutinizing gaze. Tom always seemed to wheedle something out of him, even if Harry never said a word.
("Eyes say everything, love," Death said.)
And it bothered him more than Harry wanted to admit.
He got there eventually. He wasn't the last one to arrive, thankfully. That honor went to Ron. He sat in his usual seat, across the room from Tom. Harry very carefully did not look up from his Potions book he was pretending to read when Ron walked in. If he had, he would have seen Professor Snape looking at him in what seemed like a sneer to others, which would actually be a face of worry for Harry. He would have seen Tom looking at him with a strange, unidentifiable expression on his face. He would have seen Ron with a glare on his face, mad about something because Ron was always mad about something.
("It could have been Love, could it not?" Death mused. "My other half was always so vicious like that.")
As Ron burst into the room just as the class started, Hermione rolled her eyes from where she sat with Neville.
"You're almost late," she hissed at the red-haired boy. Ron turned as red as his hair and assumed a defensive posture.
"I was-" Ron began, but Professor Snape cut him off mid-sentence.
"Mr. Weasley," Professor Snape's voice cut through their conversation as if it were butter and he was the knife. "If you are quite finished."
Ron, thankfully, shut his mouth before he got himself detention or did something stupid. Probably in reverse order. Or insulted someone, lashed out, which would be stupid did something stupid, then got himself in detention.
"I believe a new seating arrangement is in order," The entire class groaned. Professor Snape was notorious for these. Once everyone had finally gotten settled with their table mate, he moved them and the process of being introduced to someone new started all over again. He claimed it was helping them to be comfortable with people they don't like because it would be helpful to them in the future.
Harry knew it was because Professor Snape liked being a dick.
A massive one.
And, damn it, now Harry was thinking of-
He slapped his face a couple of times, trying to wipe the image from his mind. No such luck.
"Mr. Weasley, I trust you'll have no problem sitting next to Mr. Malfoy?" Ron glowered at Professor Snape but reluctantly moved his stuff to switch places with Crabbe and sit next to Draco. Harry could almost swear he heard Ron whisper, "What a prick," under his breath. Whether or not the comment was made for Professor Snape, Draco, or both of them, Harry never got to ask. Ron moving to sit next to Draco meant Crabbe sat where Ron used to be. This, unfortunately, meant Crabbe came to sit next to Harry.
"And Mr. Potter, if you'll make your way to," Professor Snape looked around the room in mock thought. "Ah, Mr. Riddle's side?"
Oh, yes sir, yes indeed, Professor Snape mastered the art of dickery.
Big dickery.
("What a fucking matchmaker," Death chuckled.)
Harry swapped places with Pansy, who shot him a sour-faced glare as if he had asked Professor Snape to be seated next to Tom. Or maybe it was because her new partner mate was Crabbe.
Not that Harry was complaining. Although had Harry been in Pansy's position, he would have glared at her too. No one wanted to be Crabbe's partner, and everybody except for Crabbe seemed to know it.
Harry slid into the seat that Pansy had previously occupied. Tom stared at him, lips quirking at the edge. It looked as if he was trying to hold back a smirk.
Harry shifted in his seat because it was still warm from where Pansy sat, and not because Tom's burgundy eyes made him uncomfortable. Anyone how thought or assumed otherwise was going to have their dental work rearranged.
"Don't start getting chummy with me," Harry told him warningly. Tom's lips continued to quiver. Definitely a smirk. "We sit next to each other, but it doesn't mean we're friends. And we'll never be friends."
"Never," Tom said (read: lied) quickly. He looked like he was trying to bite on his tongue to keep from laughing. Harry kicked him under the table. Hard. Tom choked but quickly covered it up and sent a withering glare at Harry. Harry, on the other hand, stared straight forward and refused to acknowledge the other boy.
He did glance at him in the corner of his eye though. Tom still looked upset, but he was covering it up with a mask of indifference. Harry supposed he must have bit his tongue extra hard with a side of pain when he had kicked him.
And now he was feeling bad for him.
Damn it.
Harry kicked Tom again, softer this time, and the older boy's gaze turned to him, quizzical.
"Sorry," he whispered. Tom raised an eyebrow. Harry never apologized, and when he did, he was always lying about it. Almost always. Harry never lied to Tom. He couldn't. But Harry lied to Hermione, to Ron, to Luna, and Neville, and Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall and Professor Snape.
Anyone who wasn't Tom was lied to. There were some lies from him that Tom could recite word for word.
("It's verbatim," Death said.)
"I'm trying to appease you," Harry hissed. Tom said nothing, the infuriating little git. Harry was tempted to kick him again, just to see how the older boy would react. Would he be surprised that Harry could go back on his apology so quickly? Or would it have been something he had already suspected would happen?
"If you are all quite settled," Professor Snape started speaking again, and the side conversations (and arguments) stopped. Professor Snape let the few remaining whispers die down before continuing with class.
"Today, we will be brewing the Draught of Peace. If you dunderheads are capable, you will have successfully created one of the most difficult potions of the year. When you don't, be prepared to do extra assignments to raise your grade."
He flicked his wand, and the instructions appeared on the blackboard behind him. Harry skimmed them quickly, trying to get the gist of the spell. Powdered moonstone...hellebore...porcupine quills.
"Easy enough," Tom said. Harry turned to stare at him in disbelief. "You doubt me?" Harry snorted.
"Yes, I doubt. Forgive me, overlord, my overlord."
"There's no need for sarcasm."
"There's always a need for sarcasm," Harry shot back.
Tom rolled his eyes. "I hope those eyes roll to the back of your head," Harry told him.
Just to be a prick, Tom rolled his eyes again.
As it turned out, Harry should not have doubted.
He added powdered moonstone to the potion and waited until it began to turn green. Tom stirred until blue replaced the green. Harry added more moonstone until the potion was purple. They left it on simmer until the potion began to turn pink.
"Still doubt?" Tom asked, a sickly sweet smile on his lips.
Harry almost kicked him again.
"Add syrup of hellebore until the potion turns turquoise," Tom read from the board. Harry added syrup of hellebore until the potion turned turquoise. They left it to simmer (again) until the potion turned purple (again).
The potion was surprisingly easy to make, although Harry thought it would have been worse had he been with Ron and not Tom. A quick glance to where Ron sat with Draco proved him right. Their potion was a...grayish color? Harry wasn't sure how they got there, and Professor Snape's face showed that he had no idea either.
They shook powdered porcupine quills (vigorously) until the potion turned red.
The next few instructions blurred through Harry's mind. He followed them at Tom's direction mindlessly.
Stir until the potion turns orange.
Add more porcupine quills until the potion turns turquoise.
Allow simmering till the potion turns purple.
Add powdered unicorn horn until the potion turns pink.
Stir until the potion turns red.
Allow simmering until the potion turns purple.
Add more powdered moonstone until the potion turns grey.
Allow the potion to simmer until it turns orange.
Add more powdered porcupine quills until the potion turns white
Simmering lowers the heat.
Add exactly 7 drops of hellebore.
At the end of the class period, their potion was the only one emitting the silvery vapor it needed to. Ron and Draco's potion was spurting green sparks, and Hermione's was surprisingly emitting gray steam. Harry thought at least Hermione would have gotten the potion correct, but alas. At least she was closest to the color. Neville's potion had a sulfurous odor and a cement-like consistency.
"Watch," Tom whispered to him. "His robes will set on fire."
Neville's robes promptly lit on fire.
And then the classroom was in anarchy. Neville's partner, Millicent Bulstrode shrieked and jumped away from them, spilling the potion on the floor, which also lit on fire. Hermione was attempting to dose Neville with water, but in her worry and haste, she got the spell wrong, and instead launched gasoline at Neville. More of it fell to the floor instead of on Neville, and the floor burned, flames rising from it. On flame caught on the end of Neville's robe.
Neville then proceeded to erupt into an inferno. The laughter from some of the class quickly morphed into shrieks of surprise and fear, Neville screaming loudest of all, although he appeared unharmed. Professor Snape was trying to regain order and control, whilst putting out the screaming ball of fire named Neville.
Harry shot a quick glance at Tom and was surprised to find that the boy was no longer amused. Tom always seemed to find something funny in the worst of situations. Tom was strange like that.
(and Harry loved him for it)
"That idiot could set us all on fire."
Ah, that explained it. Tom was worried about Harry although the boy would never admit it unless Harry fed him Veritaserum or something.
"Are you worried about me?" Harry asked him.
"No," Tom told him, which Harry translated as yes.
"Are you sure?"
"Quite."
Harry nudged Tom's foot. "I won't tell if you are," he said.
Tom looked at Harry. "Please?" Harry asked, looking up from under his eyelashes.
He knew that it would do nothing to sway Tom. It was merely bantering to the other boy.
Nevertheless, he leaned towards Harry. "I'm worried about you." voice as smooth as silk, and Harry didn't care how cliche that sounded because it was true.
Harry shivered. "Fuck you," Harry told him with no real heat in his words. Tom grinned, his smile full of teeth.
"Gladly."
"You imbeciles, sit down before you set yourselves on fire!"
"That slimy snake bothering you?" Ron asked him after the class. Harry had wanted to follow Neville to the infirmary to check up on him, but Ron had intercepted him, pushing him towards the wall.
"Who?" Harry said distractedly. He could see Tom talking to Bellatrix, and he desperately wanted to know what the two of them were talking about.
"Riddle," Ron hissed out the name like it was a curse word. To Ron, it probably was.
"No, he didn't. Hasn't," Harry corrected himself. "And I don't see what your problem with him is," It wasn't as if Tom was bothering Ron. And he wasn't bothering Harry either. Regardless, Harry was a big boy and could take care of himself. Ron was an impulsive idiot sometimes. Harry would never even tell Ron if even Luna was pissing him off because Ron would seek unnecessary retaliation.
"He's a Slytherin," Ron tells him like that explains everything. To Ron, it probably did.
"I was almost sorted into Slytherin," Harry says absentmindedly. "But you said it was for Dark Wizards and evil people." And it's not.
Ron chuckled, ignoring Harry's statement, and completely missing his point. "Good thing you listened to me, aye mate? You could have ended up like them," Ron nodded his chin in Tom and Bellatrixs' direction. "Slimy snakes."
Snakes aren't slimy, not really. They're scaly and can coil around their prey, hypnotizing their bodies. So even as the prey is convulsing and struggling to stay alive, it will still be drawn to the snake and all the snake's pretty little lies.
Harry thought of Tom as a snake. He pulled the other Slytherins towards himself like a magnet, drawing them in with promises of wealth and power. Then he bit them and injected his prey with his poison, the prey being none the wiser.
("You are like a snake too," Death chuckled mirthlessly. "And you have injected yourself with your own poison, being none the wiser. And he is your antidote.")
"Yeah," Harry said instead. "Positively vile."
They walked past the two, Ron shooting them a glare and Harry ignoring them completely. Harry was getting a little tired of Ron's bigotry. They were if the fifth year after all. If Ron couldn't get over a playground brawl he only seemed to remember, Harry couldn't imagine him going to work and having to interact with an unpleasant coworker. They walked, and Harry was tempted to stop by the library but instead followed Ron to their dorm.
" Ad astra ," Harry told the Fat Lady. She swung open without hesitance, and Harry thought she might be too tired to strike up a meaningless conversation before stepping through. Or maybe the Fat Lady was hungover again after partying with the other picture frames all night.
"Harry," Hermione was immediately in his face, grin hiding a slightly impatient expression. "You've received a note! From Professor Dumbledore! He wants you to meet him after dinner, at 8 o'clock.
Harry blinked. "A note?" he asked, confused. He hadn't received any note. "Did Professor Dumbledore give it to you to give to me?"
Hermione looked sheep-ish now. "Well, yes, but you were taking so long to get here, and my curiosity got the better of me. It doesn't really matter if I read it or not, because you don't mind, right Harry?"
Harry did mind. Harry minded a lot. Hermione had no business going through his private messages, even if she was the messenger. And Professor Dumbledore would have known she would do something like this, which was why he gave it to Hermione, instead of Luna or even Ginny.
Don't shoot the messenger was a common expression, but Harry was getting ready to hex the ovaries out of this bitch-
"No, of course not. May I see it?" Harry held out his hand. Hermione frowned.
"Why would you need to see it? I just told you what it said."
Ron was quick to back up to Hermione's side. "Yeah, mate. Don't you trust her?"
Harry resisted the urge to grit his teeth. "It's not about trust," (it was all about trust). "It's just that there might be some hidden messages left by Professor Dumbledore that only I will understand."
"I thought you shared everything about Professor Dumbledore's visits with us?" Now Hermione looked hurt. Harry was banking on his last nerve, and his bag of give-a-fucks was running out. It had been a long, hard, painful day and the night was going to be just the same, filled with nightmares, dead parents, and screams.
"Hermione," Harry said calmly. "Are you saying that I'm not allowed to keep things from you? That I can't have my own secrets?"
Hermione blanched. Yeah, it's not so nice when your own game is being played against you.
"I- I no, of course not. I mean, yes! Yes, you can have your own secrets," Hermione frowned. "I would never suggest otherwise."
You kind of just did, you fucking idiot.
"Of course you wouldn't," Harry smiled blindingly at her. Hermione brightened.
"Now, give me the note."
As Harry walked back to his own room, note in hand, he tried to withhold a smirk but failed. It spread from either side of his face, with a sinister note.
Checkmate.
("So they're your pawns now," Death noted. "Just a couple of chess pieces,")
Harry's eyes skimmed over the note.
Dear Harry,
Please come to my office today at 8:00. Bring this note to avoid being detained by Mr. Filch.
Professor Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy a nice acid pop
"Acid pops," Harry mumbled under his breath. "Old fool."
Dinner was a...interesting ordeal. Harry found out what Ron had been fuming about when he had entered potions earlier though. Unfortunately, so did everybody else. In the school.
"You've been dating Luna?" Ron roared at Ginny when they arrived. Heads swiveled towards them in surprise. Professor Dumbledore looked up, surprise flitting across his face for a moment before he settled to watch the show. Harry thought that maybe he should just conjure a bowl of popcorn.
Ginny, to her credit, let Ron yell at her for a bit before retaliating. "Yeah, and?"
Ron set off like a match that had been set alight. "And? When were you going to tell me? Percy? George? Fred?" he paused to take a breath. "Does Mother even know?"
"Not yet, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep it that way," Ginny shot up to her feet. "Don't tell her Ronald Weasley, because I swear to Merlin if you do-"
"Of course I'm going to tell her! She has a right to know about," he gestured towards Ginny with an expression of disgust, "All of this."
"All of what? Have you lost the plot?"
"All of you!" Ron groaned and cradled his face in his hands. "No wonder you didn't go for Dean. I thought he was being obvious with all the hints he was dropping. Even Harry thought so, and it's Harry!"
Harry took offense to that. "Don't bring me into this," Harry scooped some mashed potatoes onto his plates. Ron swiveled around to face him, scowling.
"Did you know about this?" he demanded. Harry thought for a moment. He could lie about it, and say no, he didn't, and Ginny probably hopefully maybe wouldn't be too mad at him for it. Or…
"Duh."
"Sod off!" Harry reeled back. Rude. "You didn't tell me?"
Harry was getting angry now. Why would he? It wasn't his place to tell, and they all knew Ron would react like this anyway. What would be the point? Causing sibling divide? Have him embarrass himself or do something stupid? Harry told Ron as much.
"But- but it's not right! It's not done!"
"Said by whom?" Hermione shot to her feet, unable to keep quiet any longer, fist clenched in anger. "You are the most bigoted, foolish, hard-headed, idiot I've ever met."
"But-"
"But nothing," Neville speaks up, quiet until now. "There's nothing wrong with Ginny being lesbian," Ron winced at the word, "and there's nothing wrong with her dating Luna either. They're happy together. Be happy for them."
"But-" Ron begins to protest again.
"But nothing! I'm gay, deal with it! Half the school is gay! Hell, part of our faculty is gay!" Ginny begins to widely gesture towards Harry, and Harry can feel their stares before she says it, their look and whispers, the shocked faces the yelling-
"Remus and Lupin are gay! For crying out loud, even your best mate-
(and Harry could feel it, like hands pulling him under, and he couldn't breathe, and the water was thick and black, and unnatural)
-Harry Potter is gay-" Ginny gasps and clamps a hand over her mouth but the damage was done. Ron turned a sharp look on him, the face of disbelief. Professor Dumbledore's soup spoon had fallen completely into the bowl. Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed in a thin line, and Professor Snape looked like he wanted to rip Ginny and Ron piece by piece in Harry's defense. And Tom. Tom just stared at him, watching. "Harry, I- I'm sorry, I-i didn't mean to-,"
But Harry doesn't hear her apologies. Or her pleas. Harry doesn't hear anything except for the whispers and sees nothing but the stares. It's like when he first came to Hogwarts. They only knew him as the Potter boy, his parents killed after defending themselves from Grindelwald.
("Harry, no! You mustn't give in!")
It was verbatim.
And Harry, Harry Potter, the boy who lived ran.
He ran right out the Great Hall, down towards the corridor. But it was too open there. Too many people. Too easy to find. He changed direction, speeding towards the lake. It was more secluded there, and no one ever came down (except for Hagrid) in fear of the squid that dwelled there. He ran and didn't stop running until he reached the lake. It was much too cold to be out, a chilly December air blowing in his face. He sat down at the banks, and stared at the water, unmoving.
He ignored the sound of leaves crunching as Tom neared him, and he ignored the boy as he stood next to where Harry lay.
"Get up," Tom ordered him. "It's much too cold to be sitting out here."
Harry shook his head no. Tom sniffed.
Tom was silent as he sat next to Harry on the banks of the river. "Harry."
"Mh," Harry mumbled.
"Look at me."
Harry turned, tilting his head up, squinting his eyes against the sun to look at him. Tom was staring at him, eyes swirling with emotion. "You're hurt," Tom snarled, pulling Harry towards him. Harry landed on his chest with a grunt. "She hurt you."
"Ginny didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"She outed you to the entire school," Tom protested, and Harry almost smiled, because it sounded a bit like he was whining. "How is that an accident?"
"Ron was breathing down her throat. She was just trying...trying to find out. Get breathing room."
"And so she can out you then, is that it?" Harry said nothing.
"You're bonkers, mad, and completely off your rocker. You could be worse than Bellatrix!"
Harry watched Tom in vague amusement as Tom continued to rant. "I admire that about you, Harry. You're always so forgiving. But-"
Harry grabbed Tom's face and pressed his lips to his.
"Shut up, for the love of Merlin," Harry whispered, pressing his forehead to Tom's.
"Only if you kiss me again."
Harry pressed his lips to Tom's again, and this time, he tasted blood.
So, Harry. Kind of a liar. A cheat. He's a bit daft too, can't seem to realize he and Tom are the same. I update once a month, but I like updating on holiday's too.
-Themis