Harry belatedly realizes he loved a criminal Tom just looks so innocent, so warm and inviting. Sure he can be prickly, for use of better word, but he was Tom. His Tom.
But like with everything else Harry does, he documents it, in his own form of song.
Poems.
Oh, and there are hundreds of poems about Tom. He's never mentioned by name, by fear of anyone coming across his works, but they are about him. About his lies, his schemes, and more recently, his murders. Tom still thinks Harry doesn't know where his silly, little chamber is.
Tom never made an effort to shield his mind from Harry after all.
Plus, Myrtles' told him, so there's that.
And Harry brushes his fingers on the pages of his book. He's just finished another, so he'll have to buy another when next he goes to Hogsmeade. It's the seventh this year, which stands as a testament to how difficult this year has been for him.
He reads the words he wrote, and they felt like they'd been there so long ago.
murder
bares at my conscience
but i know
there is reason for all
he does
but he is evil
but he is kind
but he is cruel
but he loves me
and i knew
then
when he came home
blood on his clothes
i had fallen in love
even as i washed his clothes
and cleaned the air
dispelled of the crime
i know what he did
but i know it's wrong
but still i need to be taught
white from black
evil from good
but how can i be taught
if no one will teach me
i guess i won't
i guess i can't
and i will be forever shunned
in my love
because i love
a criminal
and i know him
to be an accomplice
of the crime
And Harry feels himself ache for Tom.
"God, how I love this boy," he whispers to the shadows.
purrrr💅💅