"I still don't think this is a good idea…" Hermione muttered, but Harry could easily tell that she was fascinated with the workings of the theater. She mumbled little things to herself as she stared at the rigging system with all its ropes, weights, and locks.
"I just wish this assistant person would hurry up," Ron said.
"Maybe we should just ask someone where his dressing room is," Harry said.
No sooner had he said this, a familiar girl emerged out of the swarm of workers.
"Hey, I know her!" Harry said. "I met her when I went to get the food earlier. Her name's Victoria, I think."
"What's she doing here?" Hermione asked.
"I guess she works here," Ron replied.
"Well, ask her where Tom Riddle's dressing room is," said Hermione, impatiently.
Victoria caught sight of them, her eyes widening slightly as she saw Harry. She hurried over, nearly bumping into a man carrying a large stage prop. She apologized quickly, before stopping in front of Harry and his friends.
"Hello again," Harry said pleasantly. "Victoria, right?"
She gave a small smile. "And your name is Harry, if I recall correctly. Are you here to see Mr. Riddle?"
"Yeah," he said, surprised. "How'd you know?"
"I'm one of his assistants. He sent me to find you and bring you to him." She frowned slightly as she noticed the other two. "He didn't say anyone else was coming, though."
"Oh, these are my friends, Ron and Hermione. Is it all right if they come with me? I didn't want to just leave them waiting."
"I'm sorry, but unless they've been invited by Mr. Riddle, I cannot allow it," she said professionally.
"Come on," said Ron, imploringly. "I'm sure your boss wouldn't mind."
"Oh, I have a feeling he would mind," said Victoria stiffly, almost to herself.
"I told you we shouldn't have come," Hermione muttered to Harry. "I'm terribly sorry," she said to Victoria. "We'll leave right now. I hope we haven't gotten you into any trouble."
"It's fine," Victoria said, smiling slightly. "As long as it doesn't happen again."
"Come on Ronald," Hermione said, tugging Ron in the direction of the door. "We'll meet you by the exit Harry! And it was nice meeting you Victoria!" she called back. Harry heard Ron grumbling something and the beginnings of a lecture from Hermione before the door shut behind them.
"Well now, right this way," Victoria gestured to the swarm of workers, which was much less crowded than it was before. "It's best not to keep Mr. Riddle waiting."
They started walking, dodging people as they went. Once they were through the main area and into the long, twisting hallways there were no longer as many people and the two could converse much more easily.
"So, what's your boss like?" Harry asked curiously. "I mean, how does he treat the people who work for him?"
"Mr. Riddle is very…demanding of his employees," Victoria said neutrally. "He values high levels of productivity. He won't accept excuses and failures, and he is very upfront about displeasures."
"He sounds a bit uptight," said Harry, not at all impressed thus far.
"Mr. Riddle is a very proud man," Victoria said, turning to look at him more fully. "He is confident in his actions and will not make excuses for them. He is direct, but very subtle when he wants to be. He's also extremely harsh at times, but that is just his character. He is a bit vain, but who wouldn't be if they looked like he does? But you must understand Harry, he's not an air headed celebrity with some good looks that got him where he is today. He's cunning. He knows what he wants, and he gets it. Never underestimate him, Harry. You'll find yourself in a lot of trouble if you do."
"You make him sound like some kind of…conqueror I should be wary of," Harry said, almost frightened by the way which Victoria spoke.
"Quite honestly," Victoria said, looking him dead in the eye. "You should be wary of him."
"Don't get me wrong," Victoria said, seeing something like fear in Harry's eye. "He's not a horrible person. I've had jobs like this with other performers and they were much worse. They treated me like a servant no matter what I did. Here, if you work hard and prove yourself, Mr. Riddle rewards you for it. Look at me; I've busted my back and done everything he's said without complaint and I've gotten a pay raise and a little more respect than some of his other assistants. I might even get a promotion if I work hard enough!"
"I'm still not that anxious to be meeting him now," Harry said, slowing his pace just a little.
"He invited you backstage though," Victoria said, wondering how to convince Harry to go through with the meeting. She would be in big trouble otherwise. "He didn't have to, but he decided to anyway. It's not like it's a publicity thing trying to make himself look better. He refuses to let any cameras in here."
"I suppose," Harry said. "He said he wanted to give me some pictures." But the more Harry thought about it, the more doubtful he became. Why would Tom Riddle go through all this to give him a few pictures? It's not like Harry was that enthusiastic when he was called up. And by the sounds of it, the magician only did stuff that benefited him.
What did Harry have that could possibly benefit Riddle?
Before he could question himself further, they arrived in front of a door with a gold plate pronouncing 'Tom Riddle'.
"I'll be waiting over there whenever you're finished," Victoria said, pointing down the hall slightly.
"Thanks," said Harry quietly, still very unsure about the whole thing.
Using the same dive-right-in attitude he had on stage, Harry gave a quick knock on the door. When a silky voice answered, "Come in," Harry turned the knob and stepped inside.
Watching as the door closed behind Harry, Victoria couldn't help the sad little smile on her face. Sighing, she headed off to do some paperwork, knowing she would either be waiting a very long time or would be needed to inform Harry's friends that he wouldn't be returning with them that night.
Stepping into the dressing room, Harry found that no one was there. "Hello?" he called.
"I'll be with you in a moment," said the voice of Tom Riddle from behind a door next to the mirror. "Make yourself comfortable."
Hesitantly, Harry sat down in an armchair. His hands fidgeted nervously in his lap, before he forced them to his sides. A few moments later the door opened, and out stepped Riddle, clad in black trousers and a dark blue shirt that he was still in the process of buttoning up.
"Sorry about that," he said. "My stage clothes get a trifle hot after a while." He was then apparently finished buttoning his shirt, leaving the top three undone to expose the beginning of his chest. Swiping two wine glasses off the counter, he pulled out an already open bottle and set the items on the coffee table, before seating himself on the couch.
Pouring himself a glass, Riddle gestured to Harry. "Something to drink?" he asked.
"No thanks," Harry declined.
Riddle shrugged, sipping at his own glass with a smile. "It's right here if you change your mind."
A tense silence filled the room soon after. Harry had no idea what to say, and Riddle was content in observing his nervous guest as he drank his wine.
"You said you had some pictures for me?" Harry finally blurted out.
"Yes. I apologize, let me get them for you," the magician said, standing up. He circled behind the chair Harry sat in, and Harry had no idea what the magician was doing, being too afraid to turn his head to watch lest he be caught doing so. For a moment, Harry felt something against his ear, like a warm breath exhaling on the appendage. He jerked forward in surprise, but Riddle was already walking to his seat.
"Here you are," the magician said, giving Harry the pictures. "I was honestly surprised by the quality. Normally I can get a basic outline, but yours were incredibly detailed."
"How did you do all this?" Harry said, staring at the picture of Snape. Ron was right; you could see the grease dripping from the man's hair.
"How do you think?" Riddle asked back, a smirk on his lips.
"I don't really know," Harry mumbled.
"I see. You doubt that my abilities are real." It wasn't a question.
"Well, plainly speaking, I've never heard of a real magic wielder before. At least, not in real life."
"Hmmm…" Riddle trailed off pensively. After a few more moments of incredibly awkward silence (for Harry, at least), Riddle said, "I guess I'll just have to convince you otherwise."
Then, quite suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness.
Heart beating wildly, Harry stared ahead into nothingness. He was frozen in his seat, unable to move a muscle except for his eyes, which roved the solid wall of black in front of him in panic. Suddenly, there was a whisper of breath, and a single source of light emerged.
There was a small flame, cupped in the hand of Tom Riddle. The little amount of light it produced was enough to partially illuminate his face, putting emphasis on high cheekbones and smoldering crimson eyes. Without removing said eyes from Harry's, Riddle angled the hand and flame towards the green-eyed boy and blew softly, as though he were blowing him a kiss.
The flame, instead of going out, floated up towards the ceiling, coming to stop somewhere behind Harry. It hung suspended in midair, casting its light about the room. Riddle then brought his hand up to his mouth, fingers barely touching his lips. The magician exhaled on them and seemed to pull more fire out of his own body, which he then blew to rest a little ways from where the other was situated. The whole process was repeated until about seven spheres of flame were suspended in the air, forming a ring above the two dark-haired males. Not once did Riddle look away from Harry.
There were a few moments of silence before Riddle pushed himself off the couch. As though he were no longer in control of his body, Harry felt himself stand as well. He watched the man take a few steps in his direction, and noted with a sort of detached wonderment that the couch, table, and other items were gone, leaving a somewhat large empty space.
The magician stopped when he was a few feet away from the other, red eyes shrouded and focused on green. Riddle was only three or four inches taller than him, but Harry couldn't help but feel incredibly small and unimpressive when faced with the other man. Riddle's hand rose, and for a minute he thought the man was going to reach out and caress his face. Instead, he swept his arm out to the side and clenched his fist.
The ring of flames slowly began to lower, shrinking a little, but still wide enough to trap the two of them in the center. It stopped about mid-chest, surrounding them in an orangish glow. For a moment nothing happened, then Riddle raised his other arm and clenched his fist. The spheres began to move, rotating to the right. They gradually began to spin faster and faster, until they formed a solid ring of flame. Harry watched in awe, squinting slightly from the bright light of the fire. He could feel his pulse racing, but surprisingly he wasn't afraid.
Riddle had his eyes closed now, an intense look of concentration on his face. He slowly pushed his arms down, and the ring of fire slowly split into two. The new ring began to slow, before accelerating in the opposite direction. With a soft grunt, Riddle brought his right fist up again, before spreading his fingers wide. The two rings began to tilt slightly, until they crossed each other.
Sweating slightly from the heat, Harry tore his eyes away from the flames to focus on Riddle. A drop of sweat was trailing down from the magician's brow, and his eyes were still clenched shut. As though feeling other eyes on him, Riddle's eyes abruptly snapped open, focusing on green orbs with a startling intensity. They stared for what seemed like eternity, until Riddle focused back on the fire. Harry was confused for a second, until the heat seemed to move closer.
Turning back, Harry saw that the two crossed rings were starting to shrink. As they came closer, Harry began to step backwards. His back ran into a solid pillar of warmth, and he knew that there was no where else to go. The rings continued to shrink, until they finally stopped, Harry pressed close to the magician to avoid being burned.
The temperature was nearly unbearable now, and combined with the heat of Riddle's body (How had he never noticed how warm the magician was?), Harry was beginning to feel lightheaded. He could only continue to watch the fire so close to him in a sort of dazed amazement. When he swore he was going to pass out, he was startled by a quiet hissing coming from behind him, from Riddle he realized belatedly. Even more surprising, the flame seemed to hiss back.
The two rings melded back together again, continuing to spin. The ring began to slow slightly, when a section broke off, twining away from the two males. Its shape became more refined, until finally it formed a large snake. It hissed again, turning to face them while floating in midair. Another line of hissing came from Riddle, and the snake came towards them, its fiery tongue flicking out. Harry became entranced in the snake's eyes—a color very similar to Riddle's, he noted—and did not notice as his hand came up to touch the serpent. He did, however, notice when a long fingered hand covered his own, guiding the appendage to the top of the snake's head.
The snake was solid to touch and extremely warm, not burning as he had thought it would be. He easily ignored Riddle's hand, so caught up in the delight of petting the creature and he smiled as the snake leaned into his touch. A pleased hiss was another response, and Harry laughed quietly. The snake slithered closer, nudging Harry's cheek, before sliding on top of his shoulder. The magician seemed to communicate with it for a few moments; then it was sliding forward, long body coiling itself down Riddle's back and across Harry's stomach.
Harry could no longer ignore the way the two of them were pressed together, forced even tighter due to the snake that was currently wrapping itself around them a second time. He wriggled uncomfortably, awkwardly, and didn't notice the way red eyes darkened. He stiffened when a hand settled on his side, rubbing up and down slowly. It was then that he remembered his own hand, still held in Riddle's, and that a thumb was running over his palm in a gentle caress.
"What are you-" he attempted to say, when a warm breath blew over the side of his neck, causing his mouth to shut from shock. He attempted to move away, but the snake withheld his movements, incredibly warm body now wrapped around Harry several times. Smooth lips kissed at his neck, causing Harry to gasp softly and struggle more strongly. He didn't like this. The last time he had been this intimate with anyone was when-
In a flash, Harry found himself turned around, his front pressed to Riddle's own. How this had happened, he had no idea, for they were still tightly bound. Turning angry green eyes upon the magician, he faltered. Riddle's eyes…they were glowing slightly. And the red was swirling together, like lava…
He was not aware of leaning forward to better see those fascinating eyes, nor did he notice Riddle's triumphant grin. He was unaware of an arm curling around his waist, or a hand fisting gently in the hair at the nape of his neck, tilting his head just so. Only when his face was caressed by a warm breath did Harry blink owlishly, but by then lips were covering his own and he could do no more than whine in the back of his throat.
He attempted to jerk his head away, but the magician grasped his chin, forcing his head to remain where it was as lips caressed his own. Shock starting to fade, Harry moved his hands to push Riddle away, but all his efforts were for naught as Riddle refused to budge. Desperately Harry tried to escape, wriggling against the hold of both the magician and the fiery serpent.
Somewhere deep in his mind, Harry heard a voice whisper to him. 'Give in,' it said.'The kiss is not so horrible, is it? Just feel.'
Mind dazed and confused, Harry blindly followed the voice's instructions, allowing the kiss without fighting back. It wasn't so bad, he realized. In fact, it was a very nice kiss.
'Yes,' the voice hissed. 'Doesn't that feel good? What's wrong with a harmless little kiss? What's so wrong with allowing yourself to feel pleasure?'
Riddle's tongue was running over his lips now, not forcing, but beckoning Harry to open his mouth for him, to allow him entrance. Thoughts and feelings still jumbled, Harry opened his mouth the tiniest bit.
He could feel Riddle's grin on his lips, and then a warm tongue was stroking the inside of his mouth, and fire seemed to spread though his body in waves. Harry moaned softly, finally allowing himself to kiss back. Riddle hummed and increased the pressure, slanting his mouth across Harry's more firmly and moving his hand from Harry's chin to the small of his back, anchoring Harry to him as the snake dissolved into thin air.
'Good, good,' the voice whispered sweetly. 'But wouldn't it feel even better to feel flesh? To feel the heat seep into your body, to feel hands run along your bare skin?'
Riddle's hand moved to the bottom of his shirt, going under the fabric to run along the naked skin of his back, causing Harry to moan at the heat it radiated. Riddle's lips trailed down to his neck, pushing aside the top of his shirt and kissing at his collarbone before sucking gently. He ran his tongue over the reddened mark, licking eagerly as though he was memorizing the taste of Harry's flesh. Harry could only grip Riddle's shoulders, panting as he tried to regain his breath.
'Yes, it feels wonderful, doesn't it? Wouldn't it feel good if that mouth kissed down your chest, your stomach? Or maybe if it suckled at the back of your knees and gradually trailed up your inner thighs…' the voice purred suggestively.
Dizzy, with pleasure singing through his veins, Harry couldn't help as his legs gave out and he was forced to depend on the magician to keep him upright. With a grunt muffled into Harry's neck, Riddle bent down and hooked his arms under the boy's knees, hefting Harry up as easily as he would a small child. Harry yelped in surprise, quickly wrapping his arms around Riddle's neck to keep his balance.
When Riddle's mouth pressed to his again, it was with a ferocity that the magician had never shown before. Making an uncertain noise in the back of his throat, Harry gasped in surprise as he was abruptly dropped. He landed with a bounce on the leather couch (Where did that come from? he wondered in confusion) and then Riddle was upon him, lips and hands caressing every inch of him.
It was suffocating.
Harry was pressed back against the sofa, Riddle sitting between his legs. A hand was on his thigh, slowly sliding up towards his ass. When it got there, Riddle gave a squeeze. Harry jerked in shock, uncomfortable. He tried to remove the hand, but Riddle persisted. For the first time since the voice had entered his mind, Harry became uncertain.
'You want this,' the voice said, and for the first time Harry noticed it sounded distinctly like Riddle. 'Don't you feel how your body soars under such ministrations?'
'Actually,' interrupted an entirely new voice, 'didn't you say that this was supposed to be "just a harmless little kiss"? It seems a bit more than that to me.'
The new voice made sense, and slowly Harry's mind became a little less fuzzy. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the argument taking place in his head.
'Give in,' Riddle's voice hissed.
'No thanks,' said the new voice, which Harry realized sounded much like his own. 'Seems like a rather stupid thing to do.'
'Give in,' Riddle hissed sternly.
'No, I don't think I will.'
'Give in!'
'NO!' yelled the voice forcibly. And with that, Riddle's voice was gone and the fog that had clogged Harry's thoughts lifted, allowing him to think clearly once more. Snapping his eyes open, Harry took in the magician kissing him—from how he was starting to unbutton his shirt to the hardness pressing against his thigh—and did the first thing he could think of.
He tore his mouth away from Riddle's and punched him hard in the face.
Whether it was surprise at the action or from the force of the hit, Riddle went flying backwards to the other side of the couch, landing with a loud thump. In an instant, Harry was on his feet a good ways away from the magician, wiping his mouth off with the back of his sleeve. Body shaking with the force of his ire, he glared viciously.
"How dare you," Harry hissed. "I don't know what you did or how you did it, but stay out of my head!"
Riddle was apparently too dazed from the hit to understand, for he only stared at Harry with shocked eyes, tenderly holding his reddened cheek. His mouth was slightly slack.
Harry sneered at him, feeling a huge sense of satisfaction at seeing the magician so disheveled. "I'm not one of your little fans. I won't just spread my legs since you're the famous Tom Riddle, magician extraordinaire. But tell me one thing Tom. Was this a last minute decision, or did you plan it since you picked me during the show?"
Again Riddle remained silent, and Harry felt his rage bubble.
"Stay the fuck away from me Riddle," he said. "And maybe I won't sue you."
With that, Harry turned on his heels and walked towards the door. He barely acknowledged that all the furniture was back including the wine and glasses; he was so caught up in his anger. As he was opening the door, however, Harry turned back to the unmoving magician.
"Oh yeah, and you can keep your damn pictures."
The door slammed shut behind him.
Stretching, Victoria decided she needed a cup of coffee before she could take on the remaining paperwork. Standing, she opened the door just in time to see Harry storming down the hallway. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was even messier than normal, and there was a hickey on the skin where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. His face was also contorted with rage.
"Harry?" she questioned. The boy ignored her, stomping down the hallway and out of sight.
There was an apprehensive pause where Victoria turned to look at her boss's dressing room a little ways down the hall, wondering briefly if she could manage to sneak away. At the sound of shattering glass and a roar of fury, she let go of the foolish notion and contemplated how long she would be unemployed before finding a new job.
That little bastard, Tom thought. How dare he refuse me! I bring him pleasure and how does he repay me? Punching me in the face!
Even hours after the incident, Tom was still incredibly angry. He had fired a total of ten people in thirty minutes, a new record, and caused more than one person to break out into tears. It didn't help that his body was still stirring from unfulfilled arousal, which, like his unpleasant mood, was also caused by Harry.
Tom had planned on retiring to his hotel suite for the evening, but he found himself far too restless. Instead of going to his rooms, he went to the hotel's bar for a stiff drink. Upon his arrival, he found it was not too crowded and so settled himself and snapped his order to the awaiting bartender.
While waiting, Tom amused himself by observing the other patrons. There was an older, red-faced man who was chatting up a younger woman, who appeared quite uncomfortable with the attention. A little ways away there was a couple who seemed to be in an argument, if the tears gathering in the woman's eyes were any indication. She stormed off a moment later, openly crying, and her boyfriend hesitated before going after her. Tom turned away from both displays, disgusted, and needing his drink more than ever.
The rest of the people were talking amiably in there own little groups, enjoying themselves. Tom had just taken a sip of his newly arrived beverage when he spotted a pair of women he hadn't noticed before. They were conversing in hushed voices, one girl giggling every so often. Both were rather pretty, one with short auburn hair and a thin body, the other with long dark brown hair whose body was much curvier than her companion's. They kept shooting appreciative looks in his direction. Interesting, he thought to himself.
Allowing a small, sexy smirk to appear on his face, he slowly drank down the rest of his drink before standing. He made his way over to them, and watched the excitement spread across their faces. He stopped, allowed them a few moments to run their eyes over his body, before speaking. "Hello. Sorry for the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice that you ladies looked lonely. Do you mind if I join you?"
"Of course we don't," the girl with auburn hair blurted out, giggling.
Her companion shot her an irritated look, before turning to him, dark red lips forming a seductive smile. "We would be honored," she purred. "My name is Eliza, and this is Amber. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr.…?"
"You're Tom Riddle, right?" Amber interrupted. "I can tell, because your eyes are red and everything and you look just like him! I saw your commercial on TV forever ago!"
"Amber," Eliza hissed.
Tom kept up his polite smile. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, though you are certainly not the first. It's probably just the lighting; my eyes are actually brown." He willed his eyes to change color. "My name is Reuben Grant."
"Oh," Amber said disappointedly. They kept up idle chitchat when Amber suddenly excused herself to the restroom, leaving Eliza and "Reuben" to continue their conversation.
"I'm sorry about Amber," Eliza said after her friend was out of earshot, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "She never could hold her drinks…or her tongue."
"It's no problem," he said.
"So Reuben," Eliza purred, leaning forward so her cleavage was better displayed, "what brought you to our quaint little table?"
"As I told you before, you appeared to be lonely and, quite frankly, I was a bit lonely myself," he said. "It's so hard to find decent company these days."
"I know what you mean," she said, and Tom saw her eyes shift in the direction Amber had left before returning to him.
"Perhaps," Eliza began slowly, "since we both seem to be lonely, we could keep each other company…tonight?" Her dark eyes gleamed with lust.
Tom smirked. "I would like that very much."
They had left soon afterwards, before Amber had returned. When inquired about her companion, Eliza merely replied, "She's a big girl now, she'll get along fine on her own." Tom didn't question her.
They arrived at Tom's suite and, after a quick scan with his magic to make sure Eliza was disease free, it was not long before pretenses were dropped and the two ended up in bed.
However, something unusual happened.
Tom's hands were parting Eliza's thighs, his eyes on her face as she panted. Her eyes were closed in pleasure, and she was fisting the sheets by her head. He had just settled between her legs when her eyes snapped open, locking on his.
They were green.
The sudden surge of pleasure that had shot through his body had been incredible, leaving him breathless and shaking. He had wasted no time in entering her with a sound thrust, and the rest of the night had been lost to primal pleasure.
He had never looked away from her eyes.
It was very early the next morning that Tom lay awake in bed. He had teleported Eliza home after erasing her memories of him, making sure to locate her companion's mind and doing the same. Eliza had served her purpose, and he had no further use for her.
Besides, the night before had unsettled him.
"How the hell could her eyes have changed to green?" he asked out loud.
The only explanation he could come up with was that his magic had something to do with it. However, that was even more unsettling, for it had either acted on its own or on some subconscious will—desire—of his.
Green eyes flashed again in his mind, and suddenly it clicked.
"Harry," he hissed.
Instead of becoming infuriated as he had the day before, Tom calmed himself enough to think rationally about his failed seduction of the boy. Harry had been difficult to coax at first, but Tom had never been above using a tiny bit of hypnotism to relax his more reluctant lovers (not that he had had many, speaking truthfully). Generally the desire was always there, just the reluctance to act upon it stopped them. Once that was out of the way, they were his.
Harry, however, had been harder to influence than any other person he had ever pursued. He never used more than a tiny fraction of his hypnotism on any person, and with Harry he had had to use nearly four times as much just to keep the boy pliant.
And then Harry, somehow, had broken free completely.
It seems, Tom thought to himself, that mind control won't work on him, unless I want to use more power and have a mindless dummy on my hands.
That thought did not please Tom in the slightest.
Back to his earlier dilemma, though. If his magic's indication was anything to go by, it would seem he still desired sex with Harry. A picture formed in his mind of what would have happened if Harry had given in to Tom's ministrations. In it, Harry was under him, crying out in pleasure, legs wrapped firmly around Tom's waist as he was thrust into over and over. Green eyes were lust drunk as they gazed at him, sweat slicking his skin and black bangs falling into his eyes as his body jerked. His panting breath mingled with Tom's as they sought each other's mouths, teeth clacking slightly in the ferocity of their need.
Tom shivered with the force of his want. His previously sated body was stirring again, demanding someone—Harry—for its pleasure. It was as if he hadn't spent the entire night fucking someone, his need was so strong.
And it was decided then and there.
Harry would be his.
If mind control doesn't work, I guess some old-fashioned wooing is in order, Tom thought to himself. Sooner or later, he will give in.
And with those thoughts in mind, Tom rose out of bed.
He had a lot of planning to do.
A/N
Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for the chapter being a little late. At least it's longer!
With the whole "Harry hears voices in his head" thing, I was trying to make it sound sort of like the Imperius curse from the HP series. From what I recall from book four, when "Moody" tests the curse on Harry he was going to blindly obey before his mind started rebelling in the form of a voice in his head arguing with Moody's voice. I think Hypnotism would basically work the same way.
However, you have to realize that Tom is very powerful. He could have complete control over Harry if he wanted, but, like he said, that would make Harry a mindless dummy. Normally Tom just has to use a little power, as all that will do is nudge people into willingly giving him his way. Harry, however, cannot be nudged so easily, so Tom has to use more power. The more power Tom uses in hypnotism, the less freewill that person has. Tom doesn't want someone forced to be attracted to him; he wants them to be actually attracted to him.
I hope that makes sense.
Please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
Chippy