XIV – Quattuordecim
… …
Harry chewed his lunch mechanically, not really tasting the soup and sandwhiches magically set before him. His friends had gone into Hogsmeade, and as predicted, he'd been asked to stay behind. McGonagal had conveniently arranged for him to coach a few of their newest team members through Quidditch practice that morning, leaving him no choice but to suck it up and go.
Practice wasn't too bad, and it took his mind off of the more stressing details of his life. But sitting there at a half-empty table staring down into golden broth watching carrot chips float to and fro, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.
The recent contact had done his connection to Riddle some good it seemed, for he could feel him again without trying too hard. The accompanying feeling of reassurance was ironic to say the least, but he couldn't help it. After two straight months of forcing himself to participate in the Hogwarts education while secretly yearning for the more raw version the Dark Lord offered, the distant pulse of power was a symbol of hope for the young wizard.
But he couldn't forget that there were others involved. Long after his room mates had gone to bed, Harry had lain on top of the sheets with a headache and a hard-on – the results of fighting to sort through his tangled thoughts. The arousal was easy enough to take care of without waking anyone up, but he was still left with a number of troubling images.
At that very second Lucius and Draco Malfoy rotted in the cellar of Riddle's mansion while he probably thought of more and more creative ways of dealing with them. Did the headmaster know one of his students was being held captive? If he did, he wasn't mentioning it to the student body. Harry vaguely wondered what the headmaster was thinking.
There was also Snape who was in serious trouble if Riddle had taken the hint and realized he was a spy. Harry felt that perhaps he should say something to either Snape or the headmaster – a warning at least. But there was a great chance that they would question the source of the information. And then what would he say? That he paid Lord Voldemort a friendly visit?
His mouth twisted into a partial sneer at the thought. It was probably best that he didn't say anything just yet. Riddle seemed to have enough on his plate at the moment with his own condition. Harry stood up, abandoning his lunch. Eating was a lost cause with so much on his mind, if his cold soup was any indication. He decided he may as well get some of his work done while the tower was relatively empty.
He headed back to get his things but only made it to the stairs when the headmaster called out to him. He waited for the older wizard to reach him, hoping this wouldn't take long.
With his luck, however…
"Ah, Mr. Potter. I thought you might like to join me for an early afternoon tea in my office. It's been some time since we had a nice chat, wouldn't you say?" Kind eyes fell on him from behind half-moon spectacles…too kind to be searching him as they did.
"Yes, it has. That would be great, professor. I'll be right up," he forced out, managing not to frown.
He hurried up to the Gryffindor tower with Dumbledore's grey eyes on his back..
Great, a chat. That's precisely what I'm in the mood for.
Harry nearly groaned with his annoyance. A 'chat' with the headmaster was never just that. It was usually a carefully staged carefully worded attempt to drag something out of him. He paced the room trying to clear his mind before he could go out there. He wasn't afraid to speak with the headmaster. He had been careful in leaving the grounds and had gotten in before curfew. But he was curious and now anxious to find out what Dumbledore could possibly want and decide to conceal under the guise of a friendly 'chat'.
Harry hurried up to the headmaster's office and let himself in with the current password. The headmaster had tea and scones all set up when he sat down and offered a steaming cup to Harry.
"Lemon-ginger. Am I correct in recalling your liking for it?"
Harry nodded and accepted it, though he didn't drink it. He really preferred to see where this was going first.
Albus didn't seem to take notice, just pat his beard absently.
"Has the term thus far been of any difficulty for you?"
"No, not really. The workload isn't too bad so far."
He nodded pleasantly.
"Given you career after Hogwarts any consideration yet?"
"Not a whole lot."
Instead of berating him on the approaching end of school, the headmaster just smiled and waved away the response.
"I'm sure it'll work itself out in time. You picked a solid selection for your NEWTS. I'm sure many careers would benefit from passing the ones you've chosen."
Harry studied him carefully under the front of being attentive. So far he hadn't asked him anything of any real importance in Harry's opinion.
"In a matter of weeks the holidays will be upon us. Am I correct in assuming you will be remaining here for the break?"
Harry finally did sip the tea, if only to delay his response. He knew the holiday break was only in a couple of weeks, but he hadn't thought about where he'd be spending it. He'd always spent it at Hogwarts alone, or occasionally with Ron and his family. If he stayed here he'd have to be especially careful about going to see Riddle. But he wasn't in the mood or frame of mind to deal with the Dursleys and their lack of tolerance for 'his kind'. At least he could still do magic at Hogwarts. He nodded.
"Ah. Well then that brings us to darker matters."
And here we go…
"Remember the day Tonks brought you back to Hogwarts, when I told you that soon Voldemort would no longer be a problem for you?"
"I remember."
"The reason is because of a plan set into motion by Severus and one of Voldemort's Death Eaters – Lucius Malfoy. As you may already be aware, Voldemort was relying on the effects of a special restorative draught to stay alive and grow stronger. Without the draught, we theorized his condition would weaken to the point of destruction, or enough to make him vulnerable to attack. But we have no way of knowing for sure how he is progressing…or digressing, rather."
He eyed the boy pointedly, communicating his meaning, or at least part of it, without saying it.
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Do? Oh, dear boy, I only wondered if you might be able to tell me if Voldemort still thrives. I do believe that provides you with a connection of sorts to one another," he elaborated, indicating the scar hidden beneath thick bangs.
"Oh. He's still alive, if that's what you mean. But I can't tell how strong he is, or anything like that. What do you plan to do if he is vulnerable?" Harry kept his voice amazingly steady. It wasn't a lie though. He could barely feel Riddle from inside the castle.
Dumbledore seemed satisfied.
"We may not have to do much thanks to the avarice of his own brood. But there are many ways of defeating him once he reaches that stage. Until we are sure when that is, however, we must exercise as much caution as ever. This, you must understand, is why you've been kept at Hogwarts on days like these. You are one of a scant few wizards powerful enough to face Voldemort and live to tell of it. It is only logical that he'll be wanting you back in his possession if not dead."
Harry tried not to wince at the headmaster's words.
So he does think Riddle will 'steal me away' again.
."I suppose. Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you got to speak with…with Voldemort?"
The headmaster's brows shot up at the question but he seemed to be thinking.
"Many years. I believe it was around the time of your birth. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it just seems odd to...you know, be fighting someone and not really know why they're doing what they're doing."
"What makes you think none of us don't know why Voldemort does what he does?"
Harry realized he needed to tread carefully in this line of conversation so as not to arouse any more suspicions. He kept his tone light and curious.
"I dunno. It's just that, he's done so many 'bad' things – murders and torture. For a while it was easy to say that he just hated muggles."
"But?" he prompted.
"But there hasn't been any muggle kidnapping or torture in ages, at least none linked to Voldemort. It's like he's changed goals."
"New goals or not, a wizard who's heart has grown cold musn't be allowed to live among others."
"But what if…what if he's changed?"
The headmaster eyed him squarely, this time over his glasses.
"What makes you suspect he's changed?
Riddle had claimed he'd have acted differently in the past knowing then what he knew now. How differently, Harry wondered. Suddenly he needed some space and alone time to ponder this.
With a shrug he set the cup down with a soft clink. "Only being curious, sir. I just wish there was an answer written somewhere nice and clear. Thank you for the tea, and the chat Professor. I really should get to that homework now."
"Ah yes, the charm of education. Yes, you best get on with it then. And thank you for the talk Harry. You're a most stimulating individual. Please don't hesitate to see me if you ever need to talk again."
"Yes, of course. I'll…see you around I guess."
As soon as he got to the gargoyle and out of the office Harry broke into a jog towards the tower. After a moment's thought he headed down to the kitchens. He may after all be needing a good snack after that talk. Though he hated to admit it, he was feeling slightly more grounded.
-o-
The blade slid easy over his right arm – too easy.
Riddle winced as his hand slipped and he made a larger gash than he intended. Harry's arrival must have distracted him, and while he had sent for the boy, he'd been expecting him later that evening. Wordlessly, he shifted the wards, and soon could feel Harry inside the mansion.
He collected his own blood into glass and whispered the usual healing charm.
Nothing happened.
With a frown he repeated it, thought he only appeared to have slowed the bleeding. Harry bounded down the steps of the cellar and paused in the doorway at the sight of Riddle holding a bloodied arm. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Wait for me in my study."
But the boy was too curious, or stubborn for that He came over, frowning at the wound. "What were you trying to do?"
"Potter, I said wait in my stu—" He was cut off by the calmly spoken charm. The wound closed so quickly he might have imagined it. Harry eyed him squarely.
"You couldn't, could you?"
It was more of a statement than a question, but he was in no way mocking the older wizard. Riddle wasn't sure how to respond.
"When will the next dose be ready?" he asked after Riddle's silence.
Riddle turned away, picking up the glass of blood and measuring out the proper amount. "Soon. My blood must meld with the other ingredients," he answered softly. He didn't like it – needing Potter's help. Needing anything. To this, Harry was not blind.
The younger wizard observed him until he turned around. Riddle gestured towards the stairs. "Shall we?" he drawled with more than a little sarcasm. They headed up to Riddle's study where the Dark Lord eased himself into one of the armchairs by the hearth. Harry lit it effortlessly.
"Nice to see the time away hasn't had any negative effects on your skills. Been practicing at Hogwarts?"
"Not much. I'm not too sure how anyone would react if I got caught." Harry leaned against the desk, and the wood pressing into his lower back instantly reminded him of being hotly pressed down onto it, Riddle's hand on his cock.
His member stirred at the memory. Harry pushed off the desk, deciding a change of position would help him focus. He ended up at Riddle's side. With him in the chair, Harry could see the top of his head and the shiny waves his hair created en route to it's ponytail. It was suddenly so fascinating in its trivialness that he almost reached out to touch it.
Riddle made some belated noise of agreement while he faced the hearth thoughtfully. He absently smoothed a hand over his hair, jarring Harry out of his semi-stupor.
"So, did you want to talk?" the boy asked.
"More or less."
"Good, because I've been doing some thinking."
"I can imagine. Go on."
"All right." He stood in front of Riddle so that he could see his face. Riddle watched him in turn, scarlet jewels that never failed, it seemed, to make his breath quicken. There was a difference now, though. He was no longer staring at Harry the Captive, or Harry the Inferior. His eyes now rested on Harry The Adult, who was there of his own volition. And adult to adult – wizard to wizard, Riddle waited for Harry to speak.
"I think I understand it now."
One of Riddle's brows rose, but he allowed Harry to continue.
"You…me. Our histories. There's just so much more to this than what the world sees…than what I saw." He looked away briefly, his voice dropping. "You murdered my parents. It was wrong, and evil, and unfair, but…had you not, then I'd have never gotten this scar, a symbol of your transferred power. The scar…the wands..." he paused, holding up his own wand. "I'm a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor, and you're the heir of Salazar Slytherin – polar opposites. But we're connected. We're powerful enough to kill each other, but I really don't think that's what fate intended. Take out your wand."
Riddle pulled out his own wand, studying it as he had millions of times before his eyes fell on Harry once more. Harry aimed it at Riddle, who only tensed slightly, and flicked it just as he had done in Olivander's shop the day he purchased it. White magic flew out of the tip only to be caught and absorbed into the tip of Riddle's wand.
"You figured out after kidnapping me that I'd make a better ally than an enemy, but it goes beyond that. They're perfect balances of each other. We balance each other." His eyes shone with the excitement of sharing this with someone. "I'm willing to bet anything that we were meant to be united. The only thing I haven't figured out is why."
Riddle couldn't stop the grin.
'Think of the wands…'
It was exactly what Salazar had been trying to tell him. Of course, he'd figured most of that out by now. But the boy was very wise to have made sense of it on his own. And balance…that put a slightly different spin to the tale.
Obviously not expecting Riddle's response to his little revelation, Harry frowned.
"What? You thought of all this already?"
"I've obviously tossed around the idea of us not killing each other. I haven't forgotten the way our wands reacted to one another on the night of my return. But it does leave one to wonder why exactly we've been bound to each other."
'Have you seen what will happen?'
'I see everything.'
After only a moment's hesitation, Harry sighed. "Maybe we could…you know, ask.."
"Ask who?"
"Slytherin."
Riddle stared at him blankly for a split second before his expression began to darken.
"Tom, relax. He called me to him…one night while I was staying here. He spoke to me."
"…And?"
"And he gave me the impression that he may know exactly why this is happening. Do you still have the portrait? I didn't see it in the cellar."
Riddle sighed, running the hand over his hair again. There was nothing to be gained by denying it. "Yes. I moved it because I preferred not to have the Malfoy's see it. It's upstairs."
Harry grimaced. The Malfoys…
"They're still down there?"
"And?"
Harry sighed. "You…nevermind. We ought to pay Slytherin a visit. But not now – I need to go back."
"Ah. Even so, he doesn't always appear. He may choose not to see us."
"I think he will. We are very close to having this all figured out." Harry closed the distance between them. "Next week begins our holiday vacation; I'll come back then. But was there something you wanted to tell me?"
"Just a question, but I believe I already know the answer." Riddle's scarlet gaze traveled up Harry's body, so close to him now that his scent filled the older wizard's nostrils. Harry's breath quickened.
"What question?" he asked softly.
"Only if you intended to continue your instruction with me. But, I get the feeling that your thirst for knowledge is far from being sated."
"Yes, that is if you're still…up to it."
Riddle guffawed, clearly annoyed that Harry thought him incapable in some way. "I can assure you there is much I can still teach you. Not to mention that the next dose of the draught will be ready very soon. When you return during your break, be prepared to work, Harry."
Harry smiled and Riddle found one of the corners of his mouth being tugged mysteriously upwards. The boy was infectious.
He hesitated a moment in front of him before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of Riddle's mouth. A small jolt went through him at the contact, and one look at Riddle confirmed his suspicion that he'd felt it as well.
"You're right, Harry. We will be paying him a visit."
The boy left without another word. Riddle followed his aura until it left the estate. In the silence left by the younger wizard, Riddle continued his gaze into the hearth as his hand rose to the spot where Potter's lips had touched him. He had to grip the chair to stop his other hand from trembling.
Clear. It was now so clear that everything had changed between them. The boy knew he wasn't as strong as he was before. But he hadn't treated it as a weakness. He'd shown…something. He wasn't yet sure what to make of it, but he…he trusted the boy.
To transform that fear into trust…
The feeling clashed terribly with every fiber of his being, but he couldn't shake it. Harry trusted him. It had been his main goal in keeping Harry, and he'd succeeded without even realizing it. The only thing he hadn't foreseen was him trusting the boy in return.
Yes. Harry would make a better ally than an enemy. And not just any ally – an ally he trusted.
A.N:
How's that for update time? (insert Cheshire grin) Srry about the 'rotten tomatoes' scare. I just wasn't sure how everyone would react if it seemed like tom was softening up. He's not…exactly. I just wanted to twirk the way he interacted with Harry, given his weakening state and only Harry to trust.
Sitting here on my ass has given me plenty of time to write, hence the update. This chapter was actually written in three days, but some of the conversations needed work. Really tricky delivering plot in dialogue…without just spelling it out, that is. (that make any sense?) Well, hope you're still enjoying. Thanx for the feedback! Emails especially.