author: Lokakuu
website: http://www30.brinkster.com/lokakuu
pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry
rating: PG-13
summary: What if you found yourself living in your worst nightmare?
disclaimer: Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm only borrowing her characters. No harm intended.





Sweet Animosity


Chapter 2: With ice in their blood



"No," Hermione said when Harry asked if she needed any help. No. She could manage, thank you very much. He would miss something important, surely he would. She asked, "Harry, don't you realize? This is dead-serious." They needed to get rid of him. She was better off on her own, anyway. Harry nodded and left her alone.

The next few days passed in haze. Hermione was constantly reading, going through books about dark arts and potions. She gripped Ginny's arm and made her tell everything about the Sleeping Draft she had made. Was it really fine, that potion? Did anything unusual happen that night? "Ginny," she said. "Virginia. You have to tell me."

They made excuses for Hermione when Tom Riddle asked about her ever-present books.

"She's always like that, always studying," said Ron, and it really wasn't even a lie.

"She's just trying to help you," Harry explained to Tom. "Trying to find out a way to get your memory back."

And Tom smiled, but the politeness didn't reach his eyes.

Ginny tried to capture butterflies inside the palms of her hands, and the air was hot and heavy. Heat wave had washed over England making their sheets get stuck on their skin at night. One evening Tom found a pack of cigarettes from Percy's room. Through the kitchen window Harry watched him suck them down to the filter, smoke curling lazily in the air.

Harry tried to focus on History of Magic and finish his essays, but he couldn't concentrate. Wherever he turned, Tom was there, watching them with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes Harry thought he could see a twinkle of red in Tom's eyes.

"I really don't like him," said Ron one day. "Even if he is sort of harmless. I don't like the way he looks at you, Harry." They were in the garden, lying on the ground, and the sun was slowly burning them.

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly. The silence that had lasted for a few hours had been broken. After Voldemort's return they had been doing a lot of that -- sitting quietly together. It wasn't comforting or nice. There just was nothing to say.

"I reckon Ginny hates him, too," Ron continued. "We all hate him. But she especially."

"That's not hard to understand," Harry murmured. Ron nodded, tracing patterns to the ground with his finger. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Of course Ginny hated Tom. How could she not.

Ginny had grown up a lot during the summer. She wasn't so shy anymore. The night Harry had arrived to the Burrow, Ginny had come outside after him. She had asked if it was alright, could she possibly sit with Harry for a moment. Harry had nodded and smiled, and she had sat down, a bit too close, her fingers taking a hold of Harry's hand. Through half closed eyelids she had watched him, waiting to be kissed, waiting for anything, really. Harry had felt sick. She had been so sweet and stupidly innocent. She hadn't understood at all. If she had known everything about Cedric and Voldemort, and how all of it was his fault in the end, would she have wanted to kiss him then?

"He looks at all of us," Ron was saying. "Watches and says nothing. Like he knew something. I don't trust him, Harry. I think he is lying; I think he remembers."

"If he remembers, why doesn't he do anything about it?" Harry asked. Ron just shrugged, unsure.

"I don't know."

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, meaningless and pointless, just to end the conversation. He opened his eyes, staring at the sky. One of the clouds looked a bit like the Gryffindor Lion, he thought. He watched as the wind broke it apart.

"Harry. Do you want to go to the village to get some ice-cream?"

"That'd be great."

* * *

January, 1934


She was the first dead person Tom had ever seen. He stared at her, his eyes wide and lips parted, transfixed by her terrible beauty.

Silently swinging back and forth, her body was all pale and her lips were blue. Eyes staring into the distance, unseeing and uncaring. Her feet were bare and she was wearing only a plain white nightgown. Tom could see the blue veins under the marble skin. The blood in them was frozen and unmoving.

Tom wasn't the least bit scared. Reaching out a hand, he touched her leg. It was cold and clammy, just like he had expected it to be. She fascinated him.

He had seen her before, sitting alone in the garden, drowning in her misery. He had watched her once as the bitter liquid poured down her cheeks. She was fine now, Tom though. Her expressionless face was beautiful and peaceful.

She had hanged herself.

* * *

Tom woke up. He was in the living room, sitting in an armchair, which had definitely seen better days, his fingers still holding The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Tom put the book down and ran his hands through his hair. It was uncomfortably hot inside. He considered going out in the garden.

* * *

When Harry and Ron came back from the village, Harry found Tom sitting under the same tree he and Ron had used as a sunshade only a few hours earlier. Harry noticed that Tom had some book about the Dark Arts in his hands. Tom didn't see Harry until the smaller boy was almost next to him.

"Hello," Tom said, putting the book aside.

"Hey."

Harry sat down next to him, feeling reluctant. He wanted to run away, but that would have appeared too suspicious.

"God, it's so hot out here," Tom said, stretching is arms and legs. "Don't you think?"

"Hmm," Harry murmured, not really agreeing or disagreeing. "I thought I'd go flying tonight. It usually helps."

"You like flying, then?"

"Yeah, I do. I love it. And I play Quidditch, too, I'm the Seeker," Harry fidgeted nervously, glancing at Tom. "How about you? Do you like flying?"

"I don't remember," Tom said softly. Harry clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Oh. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Harry."

"What?"

"How did you know my name?"

"Er... sorry?"

"When I first..." Tom trailed off for a moment, considering his words. "appeared. How did you know who I was? You knew my name without anyone having told you that."

"We've met before," Harry said uncomfortably. Tom stared intently at Harry, a slight smile quivering on his lips.

"Really. Where?" Tom's voice was soft and cold. Harry shivered.

"You know that I can't tell you. Hermione explained this to you, didn't she? Everything will come back to you, I'm sure. You'll remember." Tom continued to stare at Harry for a moment before turning away.

"I'll remember," he said. They sat in silence for a while. Harry could hear Hermione calling for Ginny inside the house.

"They mention you in this book," Tom said, his fingers sweeping over the cover of the book he held in his lap. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, feeling ill.

"That was quite fascinating, I have to admit. The baby who stopped the powerful Dark Lord. Everybody must have adored you, Harry. Tell me, do they still respect you as much now that he's back?"

Harry swallowed, not bothering to answer. He glanced at Tom. The older boy was smiling and he had a hungry look in his eyes. Harry had a sick sense of deja vu.

"You must be so famous, Harry. After all, it's quite impressive -- surviving the Killing Curse with only a scar to remind you of it." Tom scooted closer, tilting Harry's chin up, his long fingers barely brushing against Harry's skin. He pushed Harry's hair out of Harry's eyes, revealing the lightning bolt scar. Harry felt Tom's warm breath on his cheek.

"I'm sorry about your parents, though," Tom said. The words were soft and empty. There was no emotion or meaning behind them. Harry tried not to laugh hysterically. It was the ultimate irony.

Tom reached out with his right hand, touching his the tip of his index finger to Harry's scar, tracing it up and down. Harry swallowed. He couldn't remember anyone touching it before. Tom's fingers were cold and hard, and his other hand was gripping Harry's shoulder. It felt wonderful and awful at the same time. Harry wanted to scream. Trembling, he stood up, wrenching away from Tom's greedy hands and ran back to the house without looking back.

* * *

When Tom saw Ginny sneak out after Harry he felt intrigued to follow. It was already dark outside, but it was easy to walk after her -- apparently she didn't make much of an effort to keep quiet.

She walked into the forest, stumbling over roots and bushes until they reached a clearing. She hid herself behind a tree, resting her head against it. Her eyes stared up at the sky, sweet and worshipping.

Tom turned his head up and saw Harry flying in circles in the night sky, the wind whipping his hair around his head, making it even more messy. His thin legs and hands clung to his broom. Ginny sighed and Tom felt a strong urge to laugh. He walked up behind her.

"Little Miss Weasley," he breathed, startling her. She jumped around, fingers curling like claws, reaching out to attack. Tom grinned.

"Oh. It's you," she said with all the naive disgust and arrogance a girl her age could muster.

"What are you doing out here?" Tom wondered, his grin turning meaner. Ginny straightened her back and looked at him, unblinking.

"I could ask you the same question, Riddle."

This time Tom laughed aloud, turning away from her and looking up at Harry.

"He's beautiful alright," Tom murmured and Ginny shot him a look that dripped venom.

"I wonder what he would think if he knew you said that," she said nastily. Tom smiled to himself.

"That's one of the reasons you don't like me, then."

"What?"

"You think that you're in love with him, don't you, little girl?"

"I don't!"

"You do."

"You don't know anything. Shut your face," Ginny hissed, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"You're in love with your fantasy of the perfect Harry Potter. He will save you all, you think. And you'll be waiting for him. You, his best friend's little sister. You'll stand there with open arms and wait for him to notice you."

Ginny said nothing. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the dark sky and biting her lip.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he'll come to you one day. He'll defeat the evil like a good little hero is supposed to, and he'll return home and marry the right girl. You'll get to play your part as the dedicated housewife, pretending to have your happily ever after. In the end he will be sleeping next to you until the day he dies. You'll be the last to have him." Tom paused, pushing his hair out of his eyes, licking his lips. "The question is, Ginny Weasley, who will have him first?"



to be continued





thanks to Jamie Roberts (yes, it'll be slash), hermionegranger, Stars that shine for you, maharahja-li-vincent, snouz, Batwings, Fireangle, Princess of Mordor, Obscurus, Chaser-Cya, MercS and MountainDewChika for their reviews.