Author's Note: Hi right back at you Tom! (Basilisk knows what I mean) -
BTW: I was up until 5:00 AM finishing off this chapter so I hope that
everyone's happy with it . . .
Chapter Seventeen -- The Sweetest Boy
Tom Riddle lay in bed, staring at Harry Potter. "The sweetest boy," Tom thought to himself. Harry's long dark bangs fell into his eyes, whisking away when he exhaled. Everything about him was fine -- From his slender nose to his thin lips to his frail form. The sweetest boy, the purest boy -- The sleeping virgin, eyes closed gently against the rest of the world.
"But also the battered boy," Tom thought to himself. "The scarred boy, the hurting boy, the boy who has learned to live in fear . . . The boy who lived." Tom suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. The entire world seemed to be caving in on him -- Him with his guilt and his sorrow and his ambition and his love . . . "No," he whispered defiantly. "Never love." Tom jumped out of the bed, pulled on a bathrobe, and left the chambers. He walked down the hallways -- Cold, uneven stone underneath his bare feet.
"You cannot sleep Tom?" Dumbledore asked. Tom jumped and spun around to look at the old man who had taken up residence in a chair outside of his office. "I cannot either, my dear boy. Do you want to unburden your problems?"
"I . . . I would appreciate that," Tom said, sitting down in a chair next to Dumbledore.
"Tom, my dear boy, your resistance has grown weak," Dumbledore smiled. "A few weeks ago you would have told me to mind my own business. I am glad for this weakness in you."
"Weakness," Tom repeated, his voice breathy. "I am not the man I used to be, am I? Can I really have changed so much in such a short period of time? Is it possible?"
"It is possible," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder and playing the role of the father figure very well. "You are no longer the monster I feared. You are now the boy I admired." Dumbledore paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. "And what you did today -- permitting me to announce your identity to the student body, standing up to Mister Malfoy like that -- it was exceptionally courageous of you."
"Gryffindor courage," Tom laughed. "Gryffindor courage in the Heir of Slytherin."
"Gryffindor would have been lucky to have had a boy like you," Dumbledore said honestly. "I am very fond of you, Tom Riddle. I think of you as my prize student, as my most gifted pupil, and in some ways, as my own child."
"You never used to like me," Tom smiled, remembering those days when Dumbledore had kept the closest watch on him.
"Ah, no my boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "I always liked you. I just never trusted your judgement. I watched you closely because I cared about you so much. I wanted to make sure that you didn't do something foolhardy. I was trying to make sure that you didn't fall to Dark Forces . . ." Dumbledore suddenly looked very sorrowful. "I failed miserably, unfortunately." Dumbledore paused for a moment. Tom didn't deny his last statement. "You are falling in love with our young Mister Potter," Dumbledore said suddenly.
"No," Tom said quickly. "Never love."
"And why not love?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"I just . . . It wouldn't be right if we were to fall in love. The way I've hurt him . . ."
"The way he's hurt you," Dumbledore said, knowing what Tom was thinking but neglecting to say.
"That also," Tom replied quietly. "We've been enemies for so long . . . I'll be his lover but I'll never be able to be his love."
"So you'd use him for the sex but never give your heart?" Dumbledore asked with an air of cynicism. Tom knew that Dumbledore was trying to joke around with him but the statement was frighteningly real. "I have unintentionally touched a chord," Dumbledore noticed.
"I have been pushing the boy to sleep with me," Tom blushed, something he rarely did. "I have yet to tell him that I love him but I have still been pushing him to sleep with me."
Dumbledore smiled. "My dear boy, that is certainly not uncommon. Often, physical gratification is just a step to admitting one's love."
"I can't love him," Tom repeated.
Dumbledore ignored this comment. "Tom, Harry is a young teenage boy -- Almost driven to insanity by raging hormones. Do you remember what it was like to be a teenage boy, alone at night?" Another quick blush from Tom told Dumbledore that Tom did remember, fairly vividly. "Harry without a doubt will give into your whims and I approve of your taking him but remember, this is only one step of a relationship. You cannot tell Harry that you love him until you are able to admit to yourself that you love him. That would be unfair to the boy."
"I will never love him," Tom said, staying firmly on that subject.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Dumbledore said, slyly. "'Never say never,' as the Muggle saying goes. I think you'll find that love will come easily to you if you let it. After all, you said it yourself, you're not the man you used to be."
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Tom walked back to the room -- To the wardrobe, to the bed, to the boy. Tom walked back to everything that kept him chained to Hogwarts -- In some ways chained like a prisoner and in others, chained of his own accord.
And he was frightened.
Frightened that he wasn't the man he used to be, frightened that he had become weak, frightened that he hardly understood himself anymore . . . "It used to be so simple, didn't it Tom? Working to better yourself and that so-called 'cause' you had. Working for your ambition, your greed, your thirst for power . . . You never needed feelings back then. You never needed love or passion or friendship or sympathy . . ." Tom was frightened because he found himself turning to Harry as a confidant and a companion. He found that he was frightened because he found himself growing dependent on another.
He was frightened because he was falling in love with Harry Potter.
Tom quickly walked to the wardrobe and grabbed his robes, stuffing them into a bag. He draped a cloak around his shoulders and was about to walk through the door when something stopped him. He slowly walked back to the bed and took one last look at Harry Potter. One last look at the battered, beaten, and in some ways defeated boy before him. He leaned over and kissed Harry softly on the forehead. Harry edged slightly around in the bed, reaching out to curl against Tom but, upon finding that there was no Tom there, he reverted to curling around his pillow for comfort.
"Silly boy," Tom said quietly, stroking Harry's brown bangs. "You'll hardly even notice I'm gone. Dumbledore says that once you're bound to someone, you can't leave them. I guess I'll just have to prove him wrong . . ."
Tom kissed Harry once more on the forehead and walked out the door, all the while telling himself not to look back.
Author's Note: Short and another cliffhanger, I know -- Don't worry, I'll update again soon (I always do)
Chapter Seventeen -- The Sweetest Boy
Tom Riddle lay in bed, staring at Harry Potter. "The sweetest boy," Tom thought to himself. Harry's long dark bangs fell into his eyes, whisking away when he exhaled. Everything about him was fine -- From his slender nose to his thin lips to his frail form. The sweetest boy, the purest boy -- The sleeping virgin, eyes closed gently against the rest of the world.
"But also the battered boy," Tom thought to himself. "The scarred boy, the hurting boy, the boy who has learned to live in fear . . . The boy who lived." Tom suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. The entire world seemed to be caving in on him -- Him with his guilt and his sorrow and his ambition and his love . . . "No," he whispered defiantly. "Never love." Tom jumped out of the bed, pulled on a bathrobe, and left the chambers. He walked down the hallways -- Cold, uneven stone underneath his bare feet.
"You cannot sleep Tom?" Dumbledore asked. Tom jumped and spun around to look at the old man who had taken up residence in a chair outside of his office. "I cannot either, my dear boy. Do you want to unburden your problems?"
"I . . . I would appreciate that," Tom said, sitting down in a chair next to Dumbledore.
"Tom, my dear boy, your resistance has grown weak," Dumbledore smiled. "A few weeks ago you would have told me to mind my own business. I am glad for this weakness in you."
"Weakness," Tom repeated, his voice breathy. "I am not the man I used to be, am I? Can I really have changed so much in such a short period of time? Is it possible?"
"It is possible," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder and playing the role of the father figure very well. "You are no longer the monster I feared. You are now the boy I admired." Dumbledore paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. "And what you did today -- permitting me to announce your identity to the student body, standing up to Mister Malfoy like that -- it was exceptionally courageous of you."
"Gryffindor courage," Tom laughed. "Gryffindor courage in the Heir of Slytherin."
"Gryffindor would have been lucky to have had a boy like you," Dumbledore said honestly. "I am very fond of you, Tom Riddle. I think of you as my prize student, as my most gifted pupil, and in some ways, as my own child."
"You never used to like me," Tom smiled, remembering those days when Dumbledore had kept the closest watch on him.
"Ah, no my boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "I always liked you. I just never trusted your judgement. I watched you closely because I cared about you so much. I wanted to make sure that you didn't do something foolhardy. I was trying to make sure that you didn't fall to Dark Forces . . ." Dumbledore suddenly looked very sorrowful. "I failed miserably, unfortunately." Dumbledore paused for a moment. Tom didn't deny his last statement. "You are falling in love with our young Mister Potter," Dumbledore said suddenly.
"No," Tom said quickly. "Never love."
"And why not love?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"I just . . . It wouldn't be right if we were to fall in love. The way I've hurt him . . ."
"The way he's hurt you," Dumbledore said, knowing what Tom was thinking but neglecting to say.
"That also," Tom replied quietly. "We've been enemies for so long . . . I'll be his lover but I'll never be able to be his love."
"So you'd use him for the sex but never give your heart?" Dumbledore asked with an air of cynicism. Tom knew that Dumbledore was trying to joke around with him but the statement was frighteningly real. "I have unintentionally touched a chord," Dumbledore noticed.
"I have been pushing the boy to sleep with me," Tom blushed, something he rarely did. "I have yet to tell him that I love him but I have still been pushing him to sleep with me."
Dumbledore smiled. "My dear boy, that is certainly not uncommon. Often, physical gratification is just a step to admitting one's love."
"I can't love him," Tom repeated.
Dumbledore ignored this comment. "Tom, Harry is a young teenage boy -- Almost driven to insanity by raging hormones. Do you remember what it was like to be a teenage boy, alone at night?" Another quick blush from Tom told Dumbledore that Tom did remember, fairly vividly. "Harry without a doubt will give into your whims and I approve of your taking him but remember, this is only one step of a relationship. You cannot tell Harry that you love him until you are able to admit to yourself that you love him. That would be unfair to the boy."
"I will never love him," Tom said, staying firmly on that subject.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Dumbledore said, slyly. "'Never say never,' as the Muggle saying goes. I think you'll find that love will come easily to you if you let it. After all, you said it yourself, you're not the man you used to be."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
Tom walked back to the room -- To the wardrobe, to the bed, to the boy. Tom walked back to everything that kept him chained to Hogwarts -- In some ways chained like a prisoner and in others, chained of his own accord.
And he was frightened.
Frightened that he wasn't the man he used to be, frightened that he had become weak, frightened that he hardly understood himself anymore . . . "It used to be so simple, didn't it Tom? Working to better yourself and that so-called 'cause' you had. Working for your ambition, your greed, your thirst for power . . . You never needed feelings back then. You never needed love or passion or friendship or sympathy . . ." Tom was frightened because he found himself turning to Harry as a confidant and a companion. He found that he was frightened because he found himself growing dependent on another.
He was frightened because he was falling in love with Harry Potter.
Tom quickly walked to the wardrobe and grabbed his robes, stuffing them into a bag. He draped a cloak around his shoulders and was about to walk through the door when something stopped him. He slowly walked back to the bed and took one last look at Harry Potter. One last look at the battered, beaten, and in some ways defeated boy before him. He leaned over and kissed Harry softly on the forehead. Harry edged slightly around in the bed, reaching out to curl against Tom but, upon finding that there was no Tom there, he reverted to curling around his pillow for comfort.
"Silly boy," Tom said quietly, stroking Harry's brown bangs. "You'll hardly even notice I'm gone. Dumbledore says that once you're bound to someone, you can't leave them. I guess I'll just have to prove him wrong . . ."
Tom kissed Harry once more on the forehead and walked out the door, all the while telling himself not to look back.
Author's Note: Short and another cliffhanger, I know -- Don't worry, I'll update again soon (I always do)
