Author's Note: Finally, a semi-slash moment! Semi-slash . . . (Well, we can't rush the boys, you know) -- Sorry it's a bit short

Chapter Ten -- Something Blue

Harry stood in the middle of his room, staring at the light blue robe that was laid out on his bed. Dumbledore had put it there that morning, hoping to pleasantly surprise Harry. Harry just stared at the robe, dumbfounded. Did Dumbledore honestly think that Harry planned on celebrating this "joyous occasion?" Did Dumbledore think that buying some fine clothing was going to warm Harry up to the idea of the binding ceremony? Harry scoffed.

The blue robe was magnificently crafted. Harry could see all of the tiny stitches -- sewn by hand, not by magic. The sleeves were trimmed with white braiding, as was the hem. Blue tinted pearls cascaded up the back in intricate patterns. It was a beautiful article of clothing . . . Unfortunately, it was for a tragic day. Harry thought black funeral robes would have been much more fitting than this elegance.

Harry picked the robe up. It was a light silk -- Italian Doupion, Harry smiled. He took off his old robes and threw them carelessly in a pile on the bed. He carefully slipped the blue robe on, fastened up the small pearl buttons, and walked over to his bedroom mirror.

"Beautiful," he thought, examining himself. "Absolutely beautiful." The fabric fell in lavish folds at the bottom of the robe while, around the waist area, it was nicely fitted -- accentuating any assets that Harry Potter might have. It looked charming on him . . . He found himself remembering the words to an old Muggle poem -- "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something . . ."

Harry looked down at the pale blue of the robe. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue." It was an old Muggle poem about weddings. Harry unfastened the pearl buttons as quickly as he could and threw the blue robe on the floor in a fit of furry. He was about to leap on the damned thing and rip it to shreds but . . . This was a gift from Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster wouldn't appreciate walking into Harry's chambers and finding his beautiful (and expensive) gift flung around the room in various pieces. Harry walked over to his bed and hastily put his old robes on.

There was a gentile knock at Harry's door.

"What?" he asked, exasperated. Then he realized that Professor Dumbledore was probably coming to see how Harry liked the present. "I mean, come in."

The door slowly opened and Tom Riddle walked into the room.

"Oh," Harry scowled. "It's you."

"Yes, it's me," Tom said, bitterly. "I was walking through the hallways and I heard a commotion."

"It was nothing . . . Wait, how'd you get into Gryffindor Tower?"

"Please," Tom smirked. "You think I don't know all of the passwords?"

Harry had to smile just a little at this. Of course, Tom would know all of the passwords -- The little sneak.

"Made you smile finally," Tom said with a broad grin. Harry quickly sobered up.

"Why are you here again?" he asked, trying his best to sound annoyed.

"I thought you might be having a problem," Tom said . . . And then his eyes caught the pale blue robe lying in a heap on the ground. He slowly walked over to the pile of fabric and picked it up, straightening out any wrinkles.

"Lovely," he breathed softly. Then louder: "Did Dumbledore give this to you?"

"Yes," Harry said sharply, not wanting to talk about the present. "Don't know why he did though. It's for the binding ceremony."

"Oh . . ." Tom was examining every last crease of the robe, every last pearl. "Put it on."

"That sounds like a command," Harry snapped. "I don't take orders from you."

Tom rolled his eyes. The boy could be so discouraging sometimes. "I was just wondering if you'd put it on. I'd like to see how you look in it."

Harry would have normally protested but the casual smile on Tom's face and the warm glow of his eyes made it nearly irresistible. This once, he just had to give in to the charming Tom Riddle.

"Oh, all right," Harry sighed, walking over to Tom and grabbing the robe out of his hands. "Turn around," Harry ordered. Tom almost put up a fight about that but, in the end, he had to give in to Harry's whims. Harry took off his robes, lying them on the bed and glaring at Tom Riddle to make sure that he wasn't watching. Believing that he would be spending the day by himself, Harry had quickly thrown on his robes this morning, neglecting to put anything on underneath them.

"Come on," Tom pleaded. "Can't I turn around?"

"No," Harry said, almost laughing but holding himself back.

Harry pulled the light blue robe on, fastening up all of the pearl buttons. He straightened himself out in the full-length mirror and then he asked himself why he cared so much about how he looked. After all, it was only Tom Riddle . . .

"Okay, turn around," Harry said.

Tom turned: "Well, this better be worth the wait . . ." and then he just stood there, stunned.

"Um . . ." Tom muttered, completely speechless. "It's . . . well . . . It's breathtaking. You look . . . Absolutely breathtaking, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Breathtaking? Had Tom Riddle just said that Harry looked breathtaking? Harry fidgeted nervously, looking for something to say.

"Thanks," he blurted out finally.

"You do now there's a clasp in the back, right?"

Harry hadn't noticed the clasp. He tried reaching behind himself to buckle the thing but Tom Riddle had already made his way behind Harry.

"You probably wouldn't be able to reach it anyway," Tom explained. He buckled up the clasp and then he laid his hands gently on Harry's shoulders.

Harry's mind was going a mile a minute. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy this kind of treatment -- the flattery, the affection, and even the flirting. It was the fact that he couldn't get over the fact that all of this was coming from Lord Voldemort -- The man he had worked so hard, once upon a time, to destroy. This was his sworn archenemy -- Just standing there, waiting for a signal from Harry that it was all right to continue.

Harry did the only thing he could do.

He quickly turned around, shaking Tom's hands off of his shoulders. "Don't," he said, threateningly, and went into an adjoining room, locking the door behind him.