A/N: I want to thank all the favorites and reviews this fanfic got here!. I'm still trying to learn how to use this platform, but I want all of you to know how much I appreciate it!. Also, English is not my first language. If you find any mistakes in the text, please let me know.
Thanks to Riddle's manipulations, Harriet began to feel like all of that happened to be a bizarre kind of vacation with the passing days.
When he realized that intimidation and violence would have no effect on the girl, he went for an infinitely crueler strategy: he started to treat her well.
Tom made no more threats or prying questions about the bloody past she had left behind. Riddle filled her room with music and books, brought curtains and furniture from a wizarding decor catalog that changed color and style according to Harry's tastes. Every night, he'd bring home the most delicious foods Potter had ever tasted and covered her with exotic jewelry that she didn't really use.
When Harry completed two weeks of confinement (no matter how golden, a prison is still a prison) and an almost domestic routine established between the two, Riddle moved them from the dense forests of Albania to a small, dazzling-looking village in the middle of nowhere.
The only response Harriet got when she asked was that Britain wasn't the best place to live, with World War II reaching its end just two years ago.
At the end of the first month, Harriet still hadn't mustered the courage to ask what would happen to her when their vow expired. Riddle seemed alien to this because he started teaching her magic in a way she didn't even know was possible.
Tom proved to be an excellent teacher and got absolutely delighted with each new achievement the girl made. No one has ever been so enthusiastic about Harry's education, not even Professor Lupin and his endless patience. As much as the girl held the man in high regard, Remus looked at her and only saw James and Lily's ghost.
Not Tom, though. Every time Harriet managed a spell on the first try or showed him charms that didn't exist yet, he looked at her as if she were the most interesting woman he'd ever met.
He was intelligent, charming and admired her intellect. Riddle also didn't seem the least bit bothered by her lack of ladylike behavior. Harriet kept transfiguring her skirts and dresses into pants, and the makeup set remained as untouched as it had been on the day it appeared on the dressing table.
Potter found it hard to keep antagonizing someone who treated her so well, even if out of interest. Despite his constant machinations, Riddle no longer pretended to be a good person. Harry got used to the longing present in his face as he watched her practicing spells or talking with the snakes that sometimes came by.
In the end, Potter couldn't maintain her hatred for Tom when the man made her Horcrux buzz with contentment all the time.
Riddle's presence in the house was not constant. Harry suspected his absence had to do with Borgin & Burkes and secret meetings with future Death Eaters, but she was grateful for the hours of solitude. Tom's excessive attention messed up her sense of clarity.
It was getting harder with each passing day to remember that she remained a prisoner.
So why do you feel safe for the first time in your life?. Her own conscience sabotages her, but Potter wouldn't fool herself. I feel safe cause there's no one worse than him. I know that I've already lost. I don't have to fight anymore.
I don't have to fight anymore. Harry felt as if she was betraying her parent's memories and all the other people who died in that horrible war.
Extremely frustrated, the girl flung the copy of Wuthering Heights she had in her lap across the room, regretting it a second later. Hermione would have a fit if she saw Harry treating a book that way. But Hermione is dead, and you're playing house with the responsible.
The deaths hadn't happened yet, but that didn't make the guilt smaller. Potter stuck her fingers in her ears and tried to think of something else. When she couldn't distract herself, Harriet decided to go to the living room. From there, she watched the violent rain shooking the windows from the outside.
That's how Riddle found her when he arrived, frowning when he noticed her swollen eyes. '' Why were you crying? '' He asked as if he didn't understand the concept of tears.
Harriet lifted her head, which she had hidden on her knees. '' Why are you keeping me here? What will happen when our vote expires?''.
A shadow fell over Tom's expression. Although Potter wasn't taking the whole situation with the grace of a thankful guest, she too had stopped making things difficult, and the man was smart enough to feel their silent truce fading. Notwithstanding, something in his posture betrayed that he was already aware that it was only a matter of time before Harry questioned his actions.
'' You are my equal and carry a piece of my soul ''. Riddle says like he expects that to explain everything.
'' You killed my parents to put that piece of soul in me. I still haven't forgotten that''.
'' Voldemort killed your parents ''. He argues, and Harry doesn't know if she wants to laugh or cry. Maybe a little of both.
'' It doesn't matter. Believe me when I say you're already the same kind of person he is ''.
'' Am I, Harry? ''. He questions, moving closer to her. The girl gets up and retreats instantly, reaching for her wand only to remember that the damned vote would keep her from attacking him.
Potter tries to put as much distance between the two as possible, but he is faster. He corners her against the wall, grabbing her wrists before the girl can start punching him.
'' We were born fifty years apart, and the world dived into chaos. Think of the things we could achieve together this time ''. There is a note of delirium in Riddle's voice, a maddened ferment in the eyes that seem desperate to consume her.
Tom is too close, and Harriet still doesn't like to look at him. She doesn't want to remember that they are mirrors of each other, that they are inevitable, their lives tied together by a cruel thread of fate.
Riddle took everything from Harry, but it's hard to see the monster behind the face staring at her with such anticipation. It's hard to hate him when he seems as desperate for companionship as she is.
Tom slides the back of his hand across the girl's face, and she trembles at the power in his touch. Magic is buzzing in Harriet's ears and matching her heartbeat. Potter's reaction is involuntary. She leans into the touch and feels something in the center of her chest stirring. She feels like she and Riddle are two parts of a whole.
The proximity was too much, and Harry began to feel dizzy. It was no surprise when Riddle released her other wrist to touch the side of her jaw and then kiss her. An overwhelming spiral of want seizes Harry, making her shiver. Tom's desire spread out to meet hers through the bond they shared.
Kissing Riddle was different from kissing Parvati after the Yule ball or Michael Corner under the bleachers. Potter gasped, sliding her open palms over the man's shoulders. Riddle pushed her against the wall, his fingers lifting the girl's chin to bring her to him. His touch was soft but not gentle. Kissing Riddle was like the explosion of the sun, the way his mouth devoured hers was so overwhelming, so desperate that Harriet found herself leaning against his body, exploring that angular face with her fingertips. She needed to leave a mark of her own. She wanted to dig and dig until she found something of herself inside him too.
Kissing Tom brought a feeling of reunion.
Riddle gave in to her demands, and the girl only realized that she was undressing him when the blazer slipped out of his arms.
He was panting against her lips. Riddle's breath tasted like tea and something equally delicious she couldn't name. His hands roamed through the girl's body, and Harriet didn't want him to stop.
Tom undid the buttons on her blouse, parting the fabric with his elegant fingers to reveal the bra she was wearing underneath. Riddle touched the lace fabric, and Harry's breath caught in her throat. The heat from his fingers spread like fire across the girl's chest. She was dying to take her clothes off. She was eager to take off his.
Riddle pressed his palm against her chest.
'' The piece of my soul is so intertwined with yours that it's impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends ''. It's these words, spoken between gasps, that bring her back to the reality of what she's doing.
Harriet stepped back and wanted to slap him in the face, wanted to say that there was nothing that belonged to him there. Voldemort had disposed of that piece of soul, and the girl had protected it with her heart. That Horcrux had been her only company during the horrible childhood she had with the Dursleys, Potter always had the feeling that she wasn't alone, and that's what helped her get through the worst days.
As a child, Harriet snuggled in the dark cupboard under the stairs and pressed her hand to her chest until her breathing slowed enough that she could feel the extraordinary thing that lived under her skin.
It was like having a second heart.
It was like having a not-so-imaginary imaginary friend.
Potter didn't know what it was at the time, but she loved that rejected piece of soul, and over the years, the Horcrux clung to her hostess as well. The thing didn't belong to Riddle or Voldemort. To Harry, it was just something unwanted that she adopted, in the same way the Weasley's took her in; with love, affection, and kindness.
The Horcrux had been protecting Harry from Voldemort's mental attacks for years now, which was why she had survived so long without being captured.
Harry needs to muster all the strength she has to push him away and run to the bathroom, where she locks herself and sits on the floor. She could hear Riddle on the other side after a few seconds, knocking on the damn door but not really trying to invade her space.
'' It was Magic who brought us together, Harry. Your place is by my side''.
Potter covers her ears with her palms and closes her eyes tightly. Well, she can try.
Riddle's intentions were more explicit than ever. Of course it would be easy to manipulate little Harriet Potter, who grew up alone in the cold cupboard under the stairs, who had to wear the old clothes of her cousin who hated her, who arrived at Hogwarts starved and dazzled at the slightest sign of the magic, who spent all her life fighting for a chance to really live. He swung that false affection like bait before the girl's eyes.
What Potter most wanted in life was someone who wouldn't turn their back on her no matter what. Who better than an immortal and unscrupulous Dark Wizard?.
Riddle stopped knocking on the door when he realized it wouldn't open, and Harry was left with the sad realization that she wanted him to deceive her too. She wanted the things he was offering without the responsibility of feeling bad for wanting them in the first place.
In the end, she was just as bad a person as he was.
And then something occurred to Harriet. Why could she never have anything ? Riddle was cruel, of course, ruthless and full of unorthodox plans for Britain, but he was no Voldemort. He didn't want war. Tom hadn't killed her parents or anyone else she cared about, really. And he wouldn't. Riddle desired Harry's cooperation too much to risk it.
She was tired of being The-Girl-Who-Lived, The-Chosen-one.
Potter wanted to enjoy that weird vacation with the creepy guy who fancied her, even if in a bizarre way. If Harry stopped him from turning into Voldemort, she would have accomplished enough.
Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Potter got to her feet again and unlocked the door.
Riddle is still on the other side, his hair disheveled and his mouth swollen. His neutral expression gave nothing away. Harriet felt the urge to hide again, but even the Horcrux lodged in the center of her chest knows this is not a good idea.
'' Tea? ''. He offers, rather than asking questions that Harry would refuse to answer, or worse, try to comfort her.
Potter accepts, and the two move into the kitchen as if nothing has happened, where he prepares Earl Gray by hand and serves it with the chocolate chip cookies he knows Harriet has become addicted to these past few weeks.
'' I'm working on something, and I need your help ''.
Tom's words made her, who was absently stirring a spoon inside her cup, raise her head. '' With what?''.
Riddle moistened his lips. '' On how to dissuade my followers from all this pureblood propaganda ''.
Harriet set the spoon down on the china under her teacup and took a long breath. '' I'm all ears ''.
'' You asked me what happens when our vow expires... I want you to join me ''.