Even with the note of threat in Riddle's voice, Harriet remains stubbornly in place. Her bare feet are starting to go numb from the cold floor, and when a questioning crease forms between Tom's eyebrows, Potter shakes her head.
''I won't rape you if that's what got you so worried about.'' There is morbid amusement behind his words. The Dark Wizard is acting like Harry's kidnapping is just one big, fun game.
Well, she doesn't think it's funny. Sexual violence had always been a fear among the rebels. Everyone knew what happened to women captured by Death Eaters. During battles, Voldemort's soldiers spared no details about what they would do to them when they had them captive.
The memory of it and Harriet's exhaustion made her sway on her own feet. The girl's stubbornness was the only thing helping her to support the weight of her body. She was absolutely sure that Riddle would skillfully exploit any weakness she displayed.
— How noble of you, thanks - she finds herself answering, chin held high, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Her words seem to bore him.
''This has nothing to do with nobility. I'm not pathetic enough to have to force someone to share a bed with me. That would be a privilege.''
Harry doesn't hold back an eye-roll at such a display of arrogance.
The girl is not blind. Tom Riddle has a degree of beauty that borders on the surreal, an elegance that concedes him all the opportunities, but she knows him inside, and this prevents any illusions from building. In the end, he's just a narcissistic psychopath. And for this, knowing the horror that the man has become in the future brings the girl more satisfaction than it should.
For now, Tom Riddle is still young and stupid, used to get what he wants with his charms. What would he say if he knew that Voldemort had swapped his ridiculously perfect face for the one of a monster? This thought brings her a bitter smile, and the girl sees him for the first time since waking up there.
He is a petulant child, and Harriet has survived three years in a war.
He wants to break her, but he can't.
Nothing Riddle will be new. Intimidation tactics are not unknown to her. The girl is perfectly capable of deducing what he is trying to achieve there. Riddle wants to dehumanize her, humiliate her until she becomes one of his mindless followers.
Potter almost snorts at the audacity and then starts unbuttoning the filthy shirt she's wearing. — Since you insist so much. Do you want to put on some music too? - she inquires as casually as possible, avoiding the eyes of her unwanted host.
'' What? ''. Riddle's well-composed mask slips for a second. He looks so confused that Harry wants to laugh.
Slowly, she interrupts her task to face Riddle with fake innocence, batting her lashes dramatically. — You're making such a point of seeing me naked. I thought you might want a striptease ?. I never watched one, busy running away from you and all, but they say it's better with music.
Tom Riddle's face became absolutely scandalized by the suggestion. By Merlin, that alone was worth it.
— So, Riddle. What's going to be? - she presses triumphantly, smiling ear-to-ear.
Harriet's victory is short-lived.
The initial shock fades from Riddle's features a few seconds later, replaced by an annoying smirk. His following actions are slow, full of smug satisfaction. He transfigures the cabinet into a chair and sits in it with the posture of a king.
'' My, my ... What are they teaching at Hogwarts in the future?. Alright then, dearest , let's see what you know. Indulge me. I can sing if you want ''. To emphasize his words, Riddle slaps his palm against his knee, creating a rhythm.
She wants to force that cocky smile off Riddle's face. Harriet hates him, but not enough to give him a lap dance or whatever they had in the forties. Grim-faced, she removes the clothes she wears in a hurry, tossing one after the other onto the cold bathroom floor.
— Happy? Do you want me to take a turn? - she says, yanking the broken time-turner from her neck with some violence.
In Riddle's defense, he kept his eyes fixed on her face and made no comment that caused her discomfort. For someone who bragged about having no morals, Tom was acting almost like a gentleman. ''Get in the damn bathtub. Your little show is over ''.
Snorting, Potter dips one foot into the tub, then the other, hiding her nakedness under the thick curtain of colored soap and foam from the bath he'd prepared. She hugs her knees, this time unable to contain her sigh of satisfaction at the water's temperature. It's been months since the girl has been able to do more than use a cleansing spell, and those only work so far. It's not like the rebels had time to enjoy a hot tub while fleeing from Voldemort's armies.
Momentarily caught up in a daydream, she only notices Riddle's approach when he touches her cheek. Harry turns around, ready to punch him in the face. But he only shakes a vial in front of her eyes. ''It's just shampoo, Harry''.
Tightening her jaw so hard she feels her teeth might break, the girl allows him to pour a generous amount of the peach-scented liquid over her filthy hair. His fingers massage the back of Potter's scalp, making her shudder as they rubbed the cuts his nails left earlier, Riddle recoils but doesn't apologize, and she knows he's probably incapable of doing that.
The worst part is that the girl finds herself relaxing from his touch, his hands moving quickly and efficiently through the strands of Harriet's hair. The sensation is comfortable and warm, and this is the first time in her life someone has washed her hair. If Potter closes her eyes, she can pretend it is someone else doing it instead of this invasive psychopath.
Her glasses are fogging up from the steam. When Riddle puts his fingers under her chin and turns her face again, removing the glasses to clean the dirty skin underneath, Harriet does not flinch. The world around them becomes a blur without her glasses, but the silhouette of Riddle is still visible.
'' You are quite the pretty one, aren't you?. That's why he chose you. I wouldn't put a piece of my soul in an ordinary vessel, and these eyes are like nothing else I've seen ''. Despite the words he says, Riddle is not looking at her in a predatory way. The possessive satisfaction emanating from him as he rubbed his thumb over the girl's cheek is the same kind of glee he must have felt as he laid his greedy hands on the Hogwarts founders' treasures.
For him, Harriet is just that, a shiny object in his collection. And that's okay. Potter is used to turning herself into whatever it takes to survive. She's been doing it since she was born.
— You didn't pick me. It was an accident - Harry replies but still doesn't back down. The Horcrux she carries in her chest vibrates with euphoria with his proximity. There are hot drops of water flocking in the curve of her eyelashes, and her lower lip is trembling, but it is not from the cold.
The annoying smile returns to Riddle's mouth. ''It wasn't an accident. I've always liked shiny things, especially the ones who come with practically a sign of don't touch ''.
Riddle ceases the nasty comments in favor of rinsing the shampoo from her hair, pulling it away to rub her back with the palms of his hands. Harry lays her face on the tops of her knees and doesn't stop him. If Riddle wants to play maid, that's his problem.
— Wow, you are not only crazy, but you're also a kleptomaniac too. Your qualities never cease to amaze me - she scoffs, her voice muffled to distract herself from the tingling sensation that spreads across every inch of skin he touches.
'' I must not tell lies ''. Riddle reads aloud, instead of taking the bait, stopping the task of washing the girl's back to hold her hand. Harriet pulls her fingers back and sticks them in the water, glaring at him hatefully.
Even after four years, the scar from her detention with Dolores Umbridge remains red and fresh.
''Looks like you're no saint after all.''
Harriet doesn't respond at first and throws herself backward, opening her arms over the edges of the tub. She is aware that the gesture gives Riddle a clear view of her chest, but she is too tired to care. If she's lucky, the sight will shut him up for five minutes.
— Detention with a black quill, the woman who did this was a fan of yours.
''I'm not impressed. Torturing children is the easiest thing in the world,'' Tom says, allowing his eyes to slide down to the girl's bare and very visible torso.
She apparently isn't as brave as she thought because she folds her arms over her breasts and grimaces. — Said the expert.
Riddle's laugh makes the Horcrux in her stir with warmth, but he spoils the moment when he opens his mouth again. Riddle sure loves the sound of his own voice.
''Tell me more about this future you come from''.
Immediately, the girl's head fills with memories of the war, all those deaths, Voldemort turning her and everyone who dared to help her into targets in both the Wizard world and the Muggle world. Harry never considered herself a coward. Her life is worth no more than the others, she would have surrender years ago if it guaranteed peace, but she knew it wouldn't. Voldemort would probably use her against the order, and she still doesn't know what power she has, and he doesn't.
Harry refuses to believe that is love.
Love did not help save the Weasleys. Love didn't help save Ron, Hermione, Luna, and so many others.
In fact, it was their love for her that killed them.
— You win the war. I get desperate enough to try to go back in time, even though I know the risks.
Potter turns to face him when she answers, and he looks arrogantly pleased, as if he's sure of it and only needs reassurance. She felt a disdainful smile creep over her face, a smile that made the two of them even more alike.
— But you become ruler of the ashes, you have gone mad like all the other Gaunts, like your pathetic, despicable mother. My original plan was to kill her so she would never have a chance to ruin that man's life and so many others.
The color drains from Riddle's features immediately, the perfect face contorting with icy fury. '' Shut up ''. His voice is just a whisper, barely audible. Harry knows she's pushing the limits, but that's what she wants.
She needs Tom to back off, to stop acting like they're close, to stop touching her. Potter recognizes her own weaknesses very well and will not allow them exploited.
— I know all about you, about how Merope drugged that muggle for months with love potions, about how he dumped her when he learned of her pregnancy. You were so angry because his family, who didn't even have magic, lived in luxury while you had to grow up in a filthy orphanage.
''SHUT UP, SHUT UP! ''. Riddle screams echoes inside the bathroom and his hands wrap around the girl's throat in a suffocating grip, pushing her under the water. Harry struggles in surprise, trying to scratch him, but Riddle is out of reach. Her wide eyes burn from the soap and shampoo in the water. The girl feels the little air in her lungs slipping away, and despair overtakes her. Harriet knows that accidental magic won't save her. She's too weak.
The Horcrux in her chest burns with despair, flinging itself against the walls of her rib cage like a trapped animal, punching her bones in a way that makes the girl believe her chest will explode.
When the air dissolved to the point where she panicked, her mouth opened in an involuntary spasm, and water flooded her throat, choking her even more. Dark spots cloud her vision, and then Riddle decides he's had enough.
More than half of the water in the bathtub ended up on the floor and on his clothes. Harry doesn't care. She leans over the porcelain surface, gasping and coughing.
Riddle cleans the girl's windpipe with a spell. His cheeks are red.
But it's his hands, as charred as hers when she tried to kill him at Borgin & Burkes, that attract her eyes. He doesn't seem to be in pain, but the look of utter betrayal on his face tells her that Riddle knows what caused it. Riddle is furious that his own soul punished him for hurting her, angrier than with the things Harry said.
She wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, but she didn't.
Harriet had no illusions. The Horcrux didn't love her.
The thing was attached to her, of course, possessive of her acceptance and affection, surprised that she was willingly sheltering a piece of her parent's murderer's soul.
No version of Tom Riddle understood what love meant.
Everything he had in life, he conquered by strength.
The world, be it magical or not, did not care about orphans, especially those who weren't famous or wealthy.
While Harriet chose Gryffindor, full of friendship and warmth, he ended up in Slytherin, where the weak were eaten alive.
''I think you know how to bath alone''. That's all Riddle says before he leaves the bathroom and slams the door.
Potter knows the normal reaction would be to cry and panic because Riddle is crazy and nearly killed her in his damn bathtub, but she has always felt calm and comfortable with violent situations. With violence, she knows how to deal with it. She is used to it. The most traumatic thing was having him wash her hair like that.
Alone, Potter began to drift. Would they be so different if her life had been more like his?. If Harry hadn't been the Girl-Who-lived if she'd grown up alone and bitter in the Dursley's abusive hands if the girl had chosen Slytherin, Potter asked herself if then, at sixteen, she wouldn't be as eager as Draco to receive the dark mark and prove her worth to him .
That thought sent a shiver down the girl's spine, making her tighten her arms around her body. The Horcrux must have sensed her conflict because it moved uncertainly inside her chest. God, one day with Riddle, and she was already going insane.
Without Riddle's invasive intrusions, she can finish the bath, focusing on cleaning every inch of skin meticulously. When she's finished, she finds a soft towel she hadn't even noticed before. She also sees that her dirty clothes are gone and that she has nothing to wear. Maybe this is Riddle's revenge for her big mouth, leaving her walking around the house in just a towel.
With a resigned sigh and her hair dripping onto the polished floor, she exits the bathroom to find the guest bedroom rather than the windowless room she woke in. Considering she's in a magical house, this isn't all that surprising. What surprises her is the setting table with her glasses and breakfast waiting. There are new clothes on the chair. And a note written in elegant handwriting that she knows belongs to Riddle.
''I'll be back at nightfall, don't try anything stupid''.
The food smells delicious, omelet, French toast with lots of syrup, pumpkin juice, and treacle tart. The bastard probably saw what I liked to eat as he ripped out my memories by force . She thought, annoyed. But since she has no idea what he might have put in the food, she ignores her stomach's protests in favor of getting dressed, trying not to blush when she thinks of Tom Riddle getting her lingerie.
The dress he provided is yellow, modest, and with buttons down to the neck. The fabric hung loosely around Harriet's frame, but aesthetics aren't a priority there. She inspects her own chaotic figure in a mirror near the wall, putting her glasses back on. A skinny girl with suspicious eyes stares back, wet hair dripping over her shoulders and fingerprints starting to peek around her neck.
Cutlery left with breakfast turned to rubber if she tried to cut anything but food, and there was nothing left in the room to use as a weapon (Harry checked. Twice). Deciding to confirm that Riddle wasn't at home, she embarked on an exploratory journey through the place, only to discover that the bastard hadn't lied.
Most cabinets and drawers wouldn't open, no matter how hard she pulled. Frustrated, Harry started trying the windows. Surely Riddle wouldn't be stupid to leave something unlocked. He did not have. The house had no front door.
After walking around for a few minutes like an idiot, an idea occurred to Potter. She takes a deep breath and presses her open palm against the wall, as she had seen him do earlier. Paranoid as he is, Riddle has probably linked the House Wards to his magical signature.
It's really convenient that Harriet has a Horcrux living in her body.
After much concentration, a door appears and opens, revealing a dense, dark forest ahead. Potter stops and does the math, trying to assimilate the things Dumbledore had told her about Tom's life. Considering the time, she deduced that they were in Albania, where he'd found fucking Ravenclaw's lost diadem.
Upon getting out of the house, Potter perceived that, in fact, it was a tent. A tent the size of a cabin and much more elaborate than the one they used during the Quidditch World Cup, but that made sense. Riddle wasn't the type to stay in one place too long.
Shaking her head to clear her mind, Harriet began to think of traps he might have laid there. That plan was as bad as the one to kill him at Borgin and Burkes, but Harry still had to try. She would go mad if she didn't if she let herself be captured so easily by her parents' killer. Surprisingly, the girl was able to get through the doorframe, felt the dry leaves crunching beneath her feet, and smelled fresh air.
She threw a rock, expecting some force field, but there was nothing, so she threw another and another.
Hesitating, Potter took a few more steps, and when it was clear that everything was fine, she started to run.
She didn't get very far.
About two hundred meters later, her body collided with a barrier that at first was invisible, then turned a deep shade of green.
She heard the sound of an apparition to the left, and Riddle emerged, an expression of amusement on his face. ' 'Tscc ... What did I say about trying to run away, Harry?''.