Lengthy Author's Note
I just wanted to thank everyone for all of the kind reviews and e-mails that I've been sent. I'm sorry for that little rant included with the last chapter. I was very touched to learn that -- Although my Severus isn't exactly the picture of ideal -- Some people were sad to see him go. For the ones who will miss him, he might reappear in some other installments. Secondly, I want to apologize for being such an awful fan fic author and for not updating. I've never let a story go so long without an update before. I apologize. I'll be better in the future. And I'd like to thank everyone who has been following this story from the beginning -- Everyone who was a fan of the original "Bound" and will continue to follow this through "From the Rose . . ." to the third part of the series (The adventuresome part and the conclusion). By the way, I would like to respond to some special reviews I've lately gotten:
Slytherin Godess: Thanks for the e-mail! I always appreciate it so much (It completely makes my day!). Glad that you're enjoying the series -- I aim to please (And you'll find out about the birthday present).
Kyoko: I've never been proud of my Dumbledore until now . . .
Tenchi Kaze: It is so refreshing to know that I have converted someone to the Harry/ Tom following! Thank you -- It's been my honor! By the way, you were the one who inspired me to keep writing. I've never had anyone abbreviate my title before into FtRCtT. I always associate abbreviations with those really great fan fics people always write about on message boards -- Fan fics by individuals who have defined a genre. Thanks -- You made me feel extremely accomplished. I hope that I've done something for the Harry/ Tom genre that makes me worthy of my own . . . abbreviation (Smiles warmly at the readers).
Chapter Eighteen -- Present
Ticker ticker.
The clock in the corner of the bedroom interrupted the suffocating silence.
Ticker ticker.
Harry Potter rubbed his sneakered foot against the back of his calf, edging around nervously on the edge of the bed. Tom hadn't spoken a word in over thirty minutes. His mouth remained set in a straight line, not willing to give up any emotion whatsoever. His eyes were fixed on a small crack in the plaster of the wall.
Ticker ticker.
Harry had felt relatively confident walking up the stairs. He would tell Tom his feelings about the entire relationship, he would confess his one-night stand, and then everything would be sorted out between him and the Slytherin. Things hadn't exactly gone the way Harry had planned . . .
Ticker ticker.
Tom wouldn't hear a word of it. It was as if Harry Potter was dank with the scent of Severus Snape. It was as if he was neatly branded by the potion master's touch. Tom didn't have to hear a confession. He simply knew where Harry had been, what Harry had done.
Ticker ticker.
And Tom had just launched into this bout of silence. He sat there, in his catatonic state, his ears closed to everything the Gryffindor child had to say. Harry had tried screaming fits -- Telling Tom about how everything, Harry's every indiscretion, was all his fault. Harry had tried begging -- Falling to his knees and sobbing for forgiveness. Harry had tried logical reasoning -- Explaining to Tom in measured tones why everything was perfectly reasonable. Harry had played the cheapest card -- Bringing up the issue of 1981 and the attempted murder of Harry Potter -- but Tom had remained deathly silent. Finally, Harry himself had fallen into a state of bitter muteness. But that damn clock . . .
Ticker ticker.
"How do you feel?"
The words were unexpected and Harry started slightly.
"Beg pardon?"
"Just tell me how you feel, Harry."
Tom's voice was raspier than when Harry had last heard it. The last words he had heard -- "Do you think it matters what you want?" -- were said in that sultry tone that was so familiar on Tom's lips. Now, the voice was raspy and harsh. It was as if Tom had been screaming . . . or crying perhaps.
"You're making me feel cheap," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"Do you feel cheap because you slept with Severus?" Tom asked, simply confirming the fact that, yes, he
knew. Without being told, without have it hinted at or alluded to, Tom Riddle knew.
"No," Harry sighed, lying back and resting his head against the comforter. "I feel cheap because you know the moment I walk through the door." Harry turned and looked at Tom who was staring at him with cold, unresponsive eyes. "Do I look particularly wanton to you?" No response. Harry sat up abruptly. "All you had to do was tell me that you loved me, you know," Harry said, his voice bridging on a yell.
No response.
Harry rose from the bed and walked over to the closet. A suitcase was dragged out, opened, and hastily thrown onto the bed.
"Where are you going?" Tom asked. "You can't go far, you know."
"I have no intention of going far," Harry said, trying to keep the sobs from echoing in his voice. He quickly tugged down some of his school robes, ignoring the finer ones -- The red cloak Tom had given him on the first day of school to calm his shattered nerves, the light blue robe that Dumbledore had given him for what might as well have been his wedding day. Those he left behind. "I'm simply going upstairs in the Gryffindor dormitories."
"Why?" Tom asked idly.
"I can't stand to be with you anymore," Harry responded. "I thought that would be obvious."
Harry quickly slammed the suitcase shut and strode over to the door, determination in his every step. A small parcel on the dresser distracted him though. It had been wrapped with care. The silver-leafed paper had not a crease nor a smudge nor a crinkle that was out of place. It was perfect.
"That's your birthday present," Harry said, turning back to the Heir of Slytherin for a moment. Sure enough, Tom was watching him attentively. "You can open it if you want." Harry began to open the door.
"I love you."
The entire room seemed to freeze momentarily. Harry stood there with one foot out the door, the suitcase still in his hand. Tom sat calmly on the bed, never taking his eyes off of the young Gryffindor.
Ticker ticker.
Harry slowly turned around and closed the door behind him. He refused to put the suitcase down though, as if he were afraid that Tom Riddle would take back those words, as if he were afraid that he might actually have to walk out.
"Say that again."
"I love you." The words were very measured and very firm. The truth in them was undeniable -- It was a truth that echoed in the glint of Tom's eyes, the curve of Tom's mouth, the twitch of Tom's fingers.
Harry hesitantly picked up the present from the dresser and walked over the bed. He sat down beside Tom Riddle, refusing to look the other boy in the eye.
"This is your birthday present," he said, in his most moderated tones. "I hope that you'll like it."
Tom smiled his thanks.
"It's nice wrapping," he commented softly. He quickly stripped the parcel of the silver-leafed paper and examined what was contained within.
A book -- Nothing particularly special about it. The cover was a rich green tone and the pages were gilded silver but other than that, it was a particularly unexceptional present. Tom noticed that his initials were emblazoned on the front cover though -- TMR. "It's probably some costly volume," Tom thought to himself, flipping open to the first page to discover . . . blankness.
"What is it?" he sniffed, trying not to look completely disappointed.
"Write something in it," Harry sighed, trying not to get discouraged with the Heir of Slytherin. "Introduce yourself."
Tom shrugged and dipped his quill in the jar of ink lying on the bedside table. He quickly scratched the words into the notebook -- "Hello. My name is Tom Riddle."
The words hastily disappeared and were replaced with a large, illegible scrawl.
"Tom, my name is Harry -- But you, of course, knew that."
Author's Note: Short chapter -- Completed at 3:39 in the morning. I will update more later. Once again, thank you.
I just wanted to thank everyone for all of the kind reviews and e-mails that I've been sent. I'm sorry for that little rant included with the last chapter. I was very touched to learn that -- Although my Severus isn't exactly the picture of ideal -- Some people were sad to see him go. For the ones who will miss him, he might reappear in some other installments. Secondly, I want to apologize for being such an awful fan fic author and for not updating. I've never let a story go so long without an update before. I apologize. I'll be better in the future. And I'd like to thank everyone who has been following this story from the beginning -- Everyone who was a fan of the original "Bound" and will continue to follow this through "From the Rose . . ." to the third part of the series (The adventuresome part and the conclusion). By the way, I would like to respond to some special reviews I've lately gotten:
Slytherin Godess: Thanks for the e-mail! I always appreciate it so much (It completely makes my day!). Glad that you're enjoying the series -- I aim to please (And you'll find out about the birthday present).
Kyoko: I've never been proud of my Dumbledore until now . . .
Tenchi Kaze: It is so refreshing to know that I have converted someone to the Harry/ Tom following! Thank you -- It's been my honor! By the way, you were the one who inspired me to keep writing. I've never had anyone abbreviate my title before into FtRCtT. I always associate abbreviations with those really great fan fics people always write about on message boards -- Fan fics by individuals who have defined a genre. Thanks -- You made me feel extremely accomplished. I hope that I've done something for the Harry/ Tom genre that makes me worthy of my own . . . abbreviation (Smiles warmly at the readers).
Chapter Eighteen -- Present
Ticker ticker.
The clock in the corner of the bedroom interrupted the suffocating silence.
Ticker ticker.
Harry Potter rubbed his sneakered foot against the back of his calf, edging around nervously on the edge of the bed. Tom hadn't spoken a word in over thirty minutes. His mouth remained set in a straight line, not willing to give up any emotion whatsoever. His eyes were fixed on a small crack in the plaster of the wall.
Ticker ticker.
Harry had felt relatively confident walking up the stairs. He would tell Tom his feelings about the entire relationship, he would confess his one-night stand, and then everything would be sorted out between him and the Slytherin. Things hadn't exactly gone the way Harry had planned . . .
Ticker ticker.
Tom wouldn't hear a word of it. It was as if Harry Potter was dank with the scent of Severus Snape. It was as if he was neatly branded by the potion master's touch. Tom didn't have to hear a confession. He simply knew where Harry had been, what Harry had done.
Ticker ticker.
And Tom had just launched into this bout of silence. He sat there, in his catatonic state, his ears closed to everything the Gryffindor child had to say. Harry had tried screaming fits -- Telling Tom about how everything, Harry's every indiscretion, was all his fault. Harry had tried begging -- Falling to his knees and sobbing for forgiveness. Harry had tried logical reasoning -- Explaining to Tom in measured tones why everything was perfectly reasonable. Harry had played the cheapest card -- Bringing up the issue of 1981 and the attempted murder of Harry Potter -- but Tom had remained deathly silent. Finally, Harry himself had fallen into a state of bitter muteness. But that damn clock . . .
Ticker ticker.
"How do you feel?"
The words were unexpected and Harry started slightly.
"Beg pardon?"
"Just tell me how you feel, Harry."
Tom's voice was raspier than when Harry had last heard it. The last words he had heard -- "Do you think it matters what you want?" -- were said in that sultry tone that was so familiar on Tom's lips. Now, the voice was raspy and harsh. It was as if Tom had been screaming . . . or crying perhaps.
"You're making me feel cheap," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"Do you feel cheap because you slept with Severus?" Tom asked, simply confirming the fact that, yes, he
knew. Without being told, without have it hinted at or alluded to, Tom Riddle knew.
"No," Harry sighed, lying back and resting his head against the comforter. "I feel cheap because you know the moment I walk through the door." Harry turned and looked at Tom who was staring at him with cold, unresponsive eyes. "Do I look particularly wanton to you?" No response. Harry sat up abruptly. "All you had to do was tell me that you loved me, you know," Harry said, his voice bridging on a yell.
No response.
Harry rose from the bed and walked over to the closet. A suitcase was dragged out, opened, and hastily thrown onto the bed.
"Where are you going?" Tom asked. "You can't go far, you know."
"I have no intention of going far," Harry said, trying to keep the sobs from echoing in his voice. He quickly tugged down some of his school robes, ignoring the finer ones -- The red cloak Tom had given him on the first day of school to calm his shattered nerves, the light blue robe that Dumbledore had given him for what might as well have been his wedding day. Those he left behind. "I'm simply going upstairs in the Gryffindor dormitories."
"Why?" Tom asked idly.
"I can't stand to be with you anymore," Harry responded. "I thought that would be obvious."
Harry quickly slammed the suitcase shut and strode over to the door, determination in his every step. A small parcel on the dresser distracted him though. It had been wrapped with care. The silver-leafed paper had not a crease nor a smudge nor a crinkle that was out of place. It was perfect.
"That's your birthday present," Harry said, turning back to the Heir of Slytherin for a moment. Sure enough, Tom was watching him attentively. "You can open it if you want." Harry began to open the door.
"I love you."
The entire room seemed to freeze momentarily. Harry stood there with one foot out the door, the suitcase still in his hand. Tom sat calmly on the bed, never taking his eyes off of the young Gryffindor.
Ticker ticker.
Harry slowly turned around and closed the door behind him. He refused to put the suitcase down though, as if he were afraid that Tom Riddle would take back those words, as if he were afraid that he might actually have to walk out.
"Say that again."
"I love you." The words were very measured and very firm. The truth in them was undeniable -- It was a truth that echoed in the glint of Tom's eyes, the curve of Tom's mouth, the twitch of Tom's fingers.
Harry hesitantly picked up the present from the dresser and walked over the bed. He sat down beside Tom Riddle, refusing to look the other boy in the eye.
"This is your birthday present," he said, in his most moderated tones. "I hope that you'll like it."
Tom smiled his thanks.
"It's nice wrapping," he commented softly. He quickly stripped the parcel of the silver-leafed paper and examined what was contained within.
A book -- Nothing particularly special about it. The cover was a rich green tone and the pages were gilded silver but other than that, it was a particularly unexceptional present. Tom noticed that his initials were emblazoned on the front cover though -- TMR. "It's probably some costly volume," Tom thought to himself, flipping open to the first page to discover . . . blankness.
"What is it?" he sniffed, trying not to look completely disappointed.
"Write something in it," Harry sighed, trying not to get discouraged with the Heir of Slytherin. "Introduce yourself."
Tom shrugged and dipped his quill in the jar of ink lying on the bedside table. He quickly scratched the words into the notebook -- "Hello. My name is Tom Riddle."
The words hastily disappeared and were replaced with a large, illegible scrawl.
"Tom, my name is Harry -- But you, of course, knew that."
Author's Note: Short chapter -- Completed at 3:39 in the morning. I will update more later. Once again, thank you.