Warnings: Percy being "such a queen." (lmfao, that's how my lovely, neon, glowy and luminescent beta put it.)

Chapter 15 - Tom Marvolo Riddle

Harry and Riddle sat across from one another, Harry on the couch and Riddle in one of his chairs, just staring. Riddle had greeted him when he arrived, Harry had responded as politely as he felt necessary -- for there was really no reason to exchange pleasantries with a man who induced crazy dreams, but his parents had still been in the room at the moment and the last thing he needed was a lecture about manners -- and Harry had sat when invited to do so. Riddle had asked him what he wanted to talk about that day, and Harry had just stared. So, Riddle pulled up a chair in front of him, and stared. They didn't speak and they didn't move. They barely blinked. Riddle met Harry's hard, determined gaze, and Harry almost swore he saw a familiar spark of red flash through those cold, green eyes. But he just continued to stare.

How long they sat like that, Harry couldn't be sure. They just... stared. Nothing that interesting, just staring. Riddle moved first. He crossed one leg over the other, leaned back in his chair, and pulled his lips back in what Harry presumed was meant to be a smile. There was something cold about the gesture, something fake, like it was meant to lull him into a false sense of security, and Harry wasn't so sure that it wasn't supposed to. It was well-practiced and no doubt fatal to the unsuspecting. They would be suckered in immediately by those eyes, that smile, and the very essence that surrounded this man.

"What have you done since the last time we saw one another," he asked. Not once though his series of movements and words did he break eye contact.

"Met with some friends," Harry said. "Worked a little. Nothing else, I'm grounded."

"I see. Any particular reason that you're grounded?"

Harry debated on how to answer this. Was it really any of Riddle's business? No, no it wasn't. So, Harry shrugged. "Just because, I suppose."

"Because of your boyfriend, perhaps?"

"What makes you think I have a boyfriend," Harry asked. Great... Was Riddle a mindreader now?

Riddle just smiled. "His older brother is my secretary, as you know. We sometimes have lunch and talk. He mentioned it in passing. Why did you feel you need to keep that from me, Harry?"

"I didn't think it had anything to do with what we're meeting for," Harry said. He made a mental note to kick Percy one of these days. Nosy, good-for-nothing, gossipy...

"We're here to talk about you, Harry," Riddle said, interrupting Harry's train of thought. "Anything and everything that is bothering you, don't feel like you have to keep it from me. I'm here to help you."

Oh yes, Harry was sure he would like to know every little detail of his life. The question was, why? What was this doctor playing at? "Okay, doctor."

"So, your parents don't approve of your relationship with him?"

"They do," Harry said. "They just don't want me to lose a good friend, or have premartial sex. That deal."

Riddle nodded. For a minute or two, silence passed between them again. Harry looked out the window. He expected to see a large barn owl sweep by, the tabby cat sitting stiffly on a car somewhere, a little man in a huge top hat, or something. But everything outside looked as normal as it usually did. It was almost disappointing.

"What would you think if we had your boyfriend in for a visit one day, Harry," Riddle asked. Harry looked at him again. "Just to talk, mind you. I'd like to see this relationship for myself. But for now, just tell me about him. How long have you known him, where did you meet him, things like that."

For the next half hour, Harry relayed to Riddle the history between Ron and himself. The doctor listened, in what appeared to be only polite attention, but Harry was sure that this was more terribly interesting than he was letting on. Something in Harry felt queasy about giving out this much information, but he just couldn't stop himself. There was something about those eyes, so deep and penetrating, that made him want to tell the doctor everything. He had went into a nose dive and was playing more and more into the doctor's game.

"And has this new relationship with young Mr. Weasley affected your dreams any, Harry?"

"They... the nightmares stopped when he was around. Or if I'd been close to him that day. He... I don't know, I guess he just keeps me..."

"Grounded?"

"Yeah."

Silence beat a path through the room again. Riddle sat, studying him, watching him for any sort of reaction and Harry struggled desperately to remember where he knew this man from. It wasn't from... this time. Or even this world. He knew that much. Riddle was someone he knew in that other life, the magical one where he could feel that horrible emptiness.

"Now, Harry, down to business..." Harry gulped. "These dreams. Tell me about them."

"It's always dark," Harry said, thinking back to his dreams. "It's night, actually. And there's hundreds of people... and..." He paused to look up at Riddle again. "I'm not sure..."

Riddle surveyed him in silence. Once again, the doctor was sizing him up, judging Harry's actions and weighing his options, pondering his next move. Deciding on whether or not Harry was telling him the truth. Those green eyes bore as far as they could into Harry. And he sat on that couch, his gaze determined and as innocent as he could make it. Riddle finally nodded to him, and spared a little smile. Harry had gotten by on that lie... for now.

"That's all right, Harry," Riddle said. "We don't want to push the matter. Perhaps you'll remember them soon."

"I guess," Harry said, looking Riddle right in the eye. There it was again. That little spark of red that made Harry's stomach flip in recgonition. If only he could remember... He needed to remember...

"I think we can wrap up a bit early today, Harry, if that's fine with you."

"That's fine with me."

"All right then." Riddle smiled at him again, standing to show Harry to the door. "Same time in two weeks, then. Try your best to remember anything you can, Harry. Make notes of them if you can."

"Okay," Harry said, not so much lying. He would get his notebook back from Hermione, and he would make notes. Notes that Riddle would never, ever see.

He let Riddle open the door for him, and headed out. Percy was at his desk, on the phone, and pretended not to pay Harry any attention. Harry knew, though, that the redhead was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes, he loathed Percy Ignatius (Harry spared a snicker, wondering what had been going through Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's minds when they picked that name) Weasley. Those times mostly consisted of his visits to Riddle's office where he was recieved by this boy whom he had known since childhood with a look one might give gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe and no recgonition whatsoever, and it was then that Harry wanted nothing more than to punch Percy in the forehead.

Something halted Harry in the threshold seperating Riddle's office from the reception room. He turned at this impulse to face the doctor, who was seating himself behind his desk to enjoy a cup of tea. Harry wasn't sure why he had to ask the question, he was only sure that he had to ask it.

"Doctor..."

"Yes, Harry," Riddle asked, looking up at him.

"Can I ask... Well, if it's not too much trouble, that is. What's your middle name?"

"Marvolo," Riddle said. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. May I ask about your concern, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Just wondering."

He headed out of the office and to the elevator, ignoring Perfect Percy, and making a mental note to write down that bit of information when he got his notebook back from Hermione. It was somehow important.