XV - Quindecim
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The week went by in a blur for Harry. Many of his professors, as always, decided the week before break was the perfect time to throw exams. Studying for them took up more of his time than he anticipated, and when the break came, he found the sudden wash of free time intoxicating. He almost slept through Christmas, but the parcel-laden owl at the window wouldn't have it.
Both Hermione and Ron had gone home for the break. Ron had offered for Harry to stay with his family again, but Harry declined for what must have been the first time. Before the redhead could ask questions he simply explained he had some things to catch up on and would be needing the library. Adding that Verna would be visiting the Weasleys, he insisted that it was fine. Ron didn't argue.
Harry let the owl in. It was an unfamiliar barn owl, likely one of the Wizard post's. It carried two packages with letters strapped to them.- one from each of his best friends. He suddenly felt relieved for not taking the easy way out this year and just sending them both sweets and charmed holiday cards, throwing in some muggle nic nacs for Ron and a mystery novel for Hermione. Deciding to go down to the common room, he took his packages and chose an armchair near the fire.
There was no one left from Gryffindor besides himself so the quiet was expected. The tree had a few small packages under it, from the Weasleys no doubt. He opened Ron's gift first - a pack of chocolate frogs and some sort of glass orb.
Harry,
I hope you aren't too lonely during the holidays. Just in case, here's something to keep you occupied (actually Fred's idea so don't kill me). To make it work, blow it a kiss!
Happy Christmas
Your pal,
Ron
Suddenly apprehensive, he did what the letter suggested and blew the orb a kiss. It opened into a platform in his hand and the image of a witch stripping appeared. She winked at him and continued on still he managed to close it again.
Geeze.
Deciding Hermione's gift couldn't be nearly as bizarre as Ron's had been, he thumbed open the letter.
Dear Harry,
Looking back on every Christmas we've celebrated, I just realized every gift from me was designed to either quench your thirst for Quidditch or aid in your studies. This year being our last Christmas at Hogwarts I thought to try something different. I charmed it to work without any electricity. I do hope you enjoy.
Best wishes,
Hermione
Interest thoroughly peeked, he tore through the wrapping to find a portable CD player and a CD on top. Classical piano tunes from the look of it.
He felt a pang at the thought of his friends, with whom he used to be inseparable. He'd changed so much in a matter of months that he hardly knew how to act so as not to disturb the friendships. If only he could tell them what was going on with himself and Riddle.
Now that he thought about it, that was a silly thing to want when he hardly knew what was going on himself. It wasn't as if they didn't know he was connected to Riddle, even though it was sort of a distantly understood knowledge that they often chose to ignore. It wasn't something Ron or Hermione preferred to reflect on, and understandably so. But now Harry wished he could discuss it with them. He missed being able to bounce ideas off of them, especially Hermione who had always been open to a challenge.
If he were to explain the situation at this point, she was likely to think he was under Imperious.
Sufficiently reminded of why he had been so secretive about this to begin with, he put his gifts away, and set out to comb the library for more on wand-less magic and mental shields.
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For once Riddle was waiting for Harry in the empty ballroom when he arrived the day after Christmas. Harry hadn't told him he'd be coming that day so it came as a bit of a surprise when he appeared to be expecting him.
He paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the wizard's form at one the tall windows. The outer robe had been discarded again, much to Harry's pleasure, allowing the sun to outline his body in stark contrast.
Hidden from his position, Riddle smirked. The boy's poorly concealed pleasure could be easily sensed.
Harry made it three steps into the room when a white blast of magic hit him square in the chest. Sprawled on his back he coughed, trying to will air back into his lungs.
"Just as I thought. Had that been the killing curse, you'd be dead," Riddle's voce drifted to him monotonously.
Harry wheezed and groaned his way slowly to his feet. Giving his hair a toss he knew would sufficiently flash his scar, he smirked.
"Somehow I doubt that."
And so began their dueling session.
It would be pointless to say Riddle's condition had somehow improved. He literally pelted Harry with spells as if his power hadn't been steadily dissipating for two months. This fact had him distracted enough to give Riddle more of an advantage than he could properly defend himself against at the moment. Landing sprawled on his back for the third time in under an hour, he held up his palm.
"Wait, stop. I think I'm…rusty or something."
"'Rusty' isn't an option," he replied tersely, but he sent no more spells.
At the sound of boots clicking their way towards him, Harry rolled over and got to his feet. He could sense Riddle's power in its familiar massive quantities and he just had to ask.
"You drink a cauldron full of that draught?"
Riddle raised a brow at the near exasperation in Harry's tone.
"No, I did not. I did, however, stumble upon a more…potent version of said draught. My complete restoration will be achieved in a matter of days." He turned and headed for the door with Harry in toe.
He was surprised to say the least, but it certainly shed light on the dramatic change in Riddle's condition.
"And then what? The world ends?" he asked lightly as they descended the stairs.
The Dark Lord released a short laugh. "And what would be the point of that? It reeks of muggle fiction – the villain who seeks control of the world only to destroy it."
Harry had been joking of course. But now that he thought about it, it was a fairly valid question.
"I don't know. You haven't actually told me why you wished to return to power."
Riddle turned around at this with such abruptness Harry stumbled. For all the restraint in his voice, he looked rightly irritated.
"What would you have done, Potter? Would you have settled for the state of disgraceful weakness forced upon you? Requiring a reason to reclaim your true power?"
Harry winced at the use of his surname.
"I wasn't questioning why you'd want your power back. I just wonder what you plan to do once you have it…"
Riddle turned down an unfamiliar hallway once they got to the third floor, sufficiently delaying his response until they arrived at their destination. He'd brought them to a storage room of sorts, with many items littered about covered in dust cloth.
"I suppose we'll see," he muttered, pulling the covering off the portrait of Salazar.
And Harry was sufficiently distracted from expecting a response by the sight of the vacant portrait. It was odd to see it in a room with proper lighting and he wondered how and if they would get Salazar to appear.
Riddle said and did nothing. He eyed the portrait as if simultaneously anxious and skeptical that Slytherin would even show his face. Harry waited as well, that is until impatience inevitably set in.
"Is there something we should be doing or saying to get his attention?"
Riddle's flinch and the annoyed expression that followed was the only indication he'd been startled.
"I never have before."
Wondering how many times Riddle and Slytherin had actually spoken, Harry moved closer to the portrait.
"Slytherin, are you there?" he tried feeling extremely silly. If Riddle agreed, he wasn't saying it.
There was no response, visible or otherwise so Harry moved on to Parseltongue. He repeated himself and in a matter of seconds the black surface of the portrait swirled and a face took form.
Bingo.
He stifled the smug feeling that arose from figuring out something that Riddle hadn't. He knew without looking that Riddle's thin lips were pressed in into a firm line. The visage of the portrait watched them expectantly before Riddle took the initiative.
"We require answers."
Slytherin raised a brow much the way Riddle frequently did so.
"Do we? Then I imagine you've uncovered a milestone of sorts."
"So it would seem. Why are we here?"
"I don't know," he replied challengingly.
There was a bank of silence after the utterly anticlimactic response. When it seemed neither Harry or Riddle knew what to say Slytherin continued.
"You'll find I know very little about how and why your purpose unfolds. I've only ever seen what was obvious."
"That isn't what you told me," Harry reminded him. "You said that you knew what would happen."
"I told you no such thing. I merely gave you the bait required to remain on task. And this indicates that you have."
Before Harry could react with the indignation he was beginning to feel, Riddle touched his arm lightly. "On what task?" He questioned softly.
"You both have a purpose, as I'm sure you've realized. What it is exactly is something for the two of you to figure out, that is, after you…" He stopped abruptly, ending with a chuckle. "You have no further use for me."
Harry wasn't quite sure how long the exchange had taken, but Riddle's hand lingered on his arm until after the face disappeared from the canvas. Long enough, in fact, for the warmth to finally start making its way through the thick cloth of his muggle sweatshirt. He stared numbly at the smooth dark surface that had once held Slytherin's face.
"What do you suppose he was going to say?"
"I'm not sure. Though, he found it amusing enough," he replied with a small amount of irritation. To emphasize this he raked a hand through his wavy locks and tossed the dust cloth back over the portrait. Just as he turned away and headed for the door a shudder ran its course from his head to his feet.
Before Harry could be sure he even saw it, Riddle was moving again in assured strides.
"Wait, what are we supposed to do now?"
"Do? You heard him. We must 'remain on task'…find our purpose," he growled out in what Harry now realized was angry sarcasm. A slight feeling of light-headedness was beginning to develop as Harry hurried to match his strides.
"I'm sure he gave us a clue of come kind. It'll come to us-"
Riddled whirled on him, breaking his quick strides.
"You misunderstand, Potter. We don't have time for these games. There must be order in the wizarding world, and I will be the one to establish it, purpose or no purpose."
"And just where am I in your grand scheme?"
There was a moment of quiet during which Riddle regarded him through garnet eyes. For some reason, they seemed much brighter than Harry remembered.
"You're always welcome to join me Harry. It's why I've been training you, after all."
…been training you for a reason Potter.
Well, that was no surprise. But if only he knew what Riddle was going to do to achieve "order", or what Riddle's interpretation of it even was.
"I don't think I ever really had a choice, considering this whole bond thing. The 'joining' part was bound to happen sooner or later."
Riddle opened his mouth to reply but he paused, an almost alarmed expression on his face.
"You're eyes, Harry…"
"What?"
A warm sensation crept up his spine and vanished as soon as it had come, leaving him with a shudder that had him grabbing the wall of the hallway for support. When he collected himself, Riddled appeared to be breathing heavily, palms trembling.
"Tom…what's happening?"
Riddle's eyes were unmistakably glowing now, like hot embers, and Harry could almost hear his own head spinning. He was suddenly afraid and thought he might faint.
"It's Slytherin," Riddle managed before falling to one knee with a gasp.
"Tom…"
Harry reached for him and nearly blacked out the moment his hand contacted his shoulder.
"He's done something. I felt it when he left the port—"
The mental stream ended in a groan of sorts that Harry was too dazed to fully note. He could feel something uncurling inside of him, and before he could even find his voice again, Riddle's mouth was covering his with a voracity previously unimagined.
At first he knelt there on the floor with the older wizard, as Riddle gripped his arms painfully. After some interminable amount of time he started kissing back with equal fervor. The fact that it was happening on the floor of Riddle's hallway didn't seem to be an issue of any importance, only that Riddle's tongue kept doing what it was doing to the inside of his mouth.
The sound of ripping fabric drew his attention, but only long enough for him to realize it was his shirt being torn off and that it could be done quicker if he helped. Riddle tossed his outer robe off in a flurry of movement and pushed Harry onto his back. He started working on Riddle's shirt, fighting with the tiny black buttons with burning fingers that moved completely of their on volition. But Riddle was ever out of patience it seemed and ended up half ripping the thing off himself. The skin to skin contact made colors dance in both of their visions.
"Gods, Tom do something…"
Harry hadn't been aware that he was fully hard until the moment Riddle's erection pressed against his through their trousers. This just wouldn't do.
Following Harry's request without a choice it seemed, Riddle began yanking down Harry's muggle jeans almost violently. Harry fumbled for the zipper, sufficiently speeding up the process and then reaching for Riddle's waistband as well. Just as the last articles of clothing were removed , Riddle pushed Harry's legs apart and began searching for his entrance. When he found it, it was no time before he managed to replace his hands with his swollen member. He didn't even bother with preparation, just entered him at once.
Harry's scream was a minor detail in both of their minds. The moment of union brought on a mental disturbance so great neither of them could think or speak. They felt something break inside, like a stone thrown into a window.
Riddle's teeth were in Harry's shoulder, and the latter was crying out over and over again for it to come harder and faster than was possible. It hurt like nothing he imagined before, but he couldn't formulate the word 'stop', or many other words for that matter – not that he would if he was capable. It was all so intense and strange and mind-blowing, and he didn't care for understanding it so long as it didn't stop.
The carpet was rubbing hotly against is bare back now, and if he could think at all he might have imagined it to be red when they were done. But as it were, he had more pressing matters to concern himself with, like what was going to happen when the speeding freight train inside of him finally reached the end of it's destination.
Riddle was saying something telepathically along the lines of "can't stop" but he never fully got the thought out before their climaxes erupted. 'Erupted' would have been an understatement in Harry's opinion, but while the both of them lay there unconscious, it would suffice.
Harry came to first. He remembered nothing of the previous events or where he even was. There was soft carpet under his back and legs, which led him to realize he was naked.
Don't panic. This will eventually make sense.
He tried sitting up and a sharp soreness made itself known somewhere inside his rear. Eyes now wide and gasping, his hand fell on his discarded glasses. He tried to ascertain his location - pale green walls, white trim...
"Tom…"
The moment the name left his lips images flooded his mind. Walking down this hall and talking. Where they'd been walking from was still in the air, but they had been in this hall, of Riddle's home.
But why was he naked, with…
Shit.
There was the unmistakable presence of dried come on his stomach. Before he could fully process the implications of it, a groan filtered into his thoughts from his left. Riddle lay on his side, in an similar state of undress, though he was slowly managing to sit up.
"Tom?"
He didn't answer at first. Just rubbed insistently at his eyes as if the fact that he was naked posed no issue of interest.
"Harry, can you remember when you asked me what more there was to sex?"
Was he crazy? He couldn't barely even remember anything before the past five minutes.
"Yeah."
"That was it."
Harry opened his mouth to say something and immediately lost his train of thought. His head hurt, and his body ached terribly. He just wanted to go drown himself in the Gryffindor showers.
"If that was sex. then how come I can barely remember it? And why the hell am I in so much pain?" he asked in exasperation. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the mess that his hair had become.
Riddle was pulling on his outer robe over his naked skin when he paused, an almost uncomfortable look passing over his face. "You're in pain?" he asked, ignoring Harry's questions.
"Yeah, when I try to—"
"Wait…move your hand…"
"Huh?"
"You hand. Move it back."
Nervous now, Harry did as Riddle told him, his chest tightening at Riddle's blank expression.
"Your scar is gone."
"My what?"
"The scar, dammit. It's no longer there."
Harry's eyes went wide as he felt for it and realized that it was indeed absent.
"My god, what does that mean?" And then another realization. "Dumbledore…he'll notice right away, won't he?"
Tom was pacing now, trying hard to formulate an explanation. He'd felt something pass over him, like a spell, as Salazar left the portrait, but he couldn't really put a finger on the sensation. Then out in the hall they started talking, and Harry's eyes were glowing. He felt weak, enough to bring him to his knees and then when Harry touched him, his mind went blank.
Sex. They had sex and it changed something about them.
"Dumbledore may be the least of your worries if we don't figure out what's changed and why. Do you feel any different?"
"Besides the fact that my body aches terribly? Not a whole lot. There's a pulsing in my head, like a headache ready to start , and my skin tingles a little, but nothing else." As Riddle considered the response Harry questioned him. "What about you? Your eyes did something befor—shit, your eyes!"
"What?"
"They're different. They…aren't red anymore, at least not nearly as much as before."
"Slytherin had to have done something. I could sense it as he left."
He continued to pace until the fact that Harry was still naked and just making his way gingerly off the floor became apparent.
"Wait a moment."
Riddle approached him in two strides and rested a hand on his shoulder. A shudder passed through both of their bodies, but before he could even mention it, he was suddenly in Riddle's study.
"Sit," Riddle ordered, indicating one of the armchairs. His voice was oddly quiet.
Another moment brought Harry's clothes, and a muttered charm mended the tears. Harry had managed to sit in one of the chairs, more than a little distracted by the feel of the upholstery on his bare skin. He shivered, but was still far too out of sorts to bother lighting the hearth. He wondered about the feeling he got when Riddle touched him, like the jolt he felt the last time he was there. He knew Riddle must have felt it as well. There was something obviously different about Riddle's aura but he couldn't quite place it. It filled his head and pulsed the way it used to, but it was somehow different. It pulled at his in a way it never had before. Did Riddle feel the same about his own aura?
The sweatshirt dropped in his lap, startling him lightly, followed by his pants. He'd begun to shrug on his abused clothing when a softly spoken charm wound its way around his body. He could feel whatever damage was done to his arse being mended and he leaned back in the chair.
He could hear Riddle moving around, going into the adjoin bedroom and returning fully dressed once again. He noted that Harry had stopped mid dressing and was simply resting in the chair, trousers strewn across his lap.
"There will be….some soreness. But only for a little while after the charm has worked its course."
Harry nodded, not sure whether Riddle had seen it or not. He was simply so tired and confused. He managed to get his trousers on before slumping back in the chair and running a hand through the mess of locks once more. Then his eye caught the window and the clock.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"The time," he replied as if that explained anything.
Riddle glanced briefly at the clock and made some noise of understanding.
"Merlin, I hope no one came to check on me. I've been here since breakfast was over," he groaned, eyeing the clock with dread. It was just a little past 8pm.
Harry got up and made for the door, aware of the fact the whatever healing charm Riddle had used it had worked wonders on the aches.
"Harry…" Riddle began hesitantly, a tone Harry wasn't quite used to hearing from him. "That…wasn't how I intended for it to happen…"
Harry froze for a moment, realizing what Riddle was referring to.
"I know. There must be reason for it, though. We'll find it."
Riddle nodded and waited for the click of the door to release the breath he'd been holding. He remembered what had happened hours ago but as if he'd been watching from the outside. It was a disgusting feeling, to not be in control of oneself, especially in sex. And Harry…no preparation. The whole idea reeked of rape, despite not being able to recall Harry ever telling him to stop, mentally or otherwise.
Gods, so tight. . .
He felt different. His hands and skin tingled lightly, and his body was jolted by something whenever he touched the boy.
Merlin, Salazar had better have a superior reason for this.
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AN:
This is just a warning that there might be some interesting mistakes in this chapter. I changed it a number of ways and though I've re-read it, there may still be residual phrases left from a revision or two. I'll catch them another time I'm sure, but for now I'm pressed for time. Yes, it took far too long to get this out, but the reviews and emails are encouraging, and I've been making time to work on it. (posted this chapter in lecture btw!) Sorry if anyone thought I gave up on the fic…I'm doing what I can here. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!