Harry warily entered the Common room twenty minutes later. The very air seemed different tonight. Like the green furniture and flickering candles knew that something was about to go down.
The room reeked of anticipation and apprehension.
Students, who hadn't yet retreated to their dorms, were talking quietly. Harry's eyes found Riddle sitting in his usual armchair next to the fire, with all of his followers seated around him, once again reading a book. Harry's eyes momentarily connect with Lestrange's and the deep satisfaction brimming there made him seethe. When he looked back at Riddle he saw him raising his head slowly. Rising, rising, until dark blue clashed with emerald. Again, blank.
As if feeling a shift in the air, everybody gradually stopped talking, their attention drawn to the Heir of Slytherin, whose magic was getting darker and more menacing with each second, and Harry Evans, the Enigma-of-the-Year, who was currently subjected to the other boy's undivided scrutiny.
Harry, meanwhile, took a moment to observe Riddle. Tonight, he was not that weak, drugged victim from yesterday's night anymore. The invisible, but tangible layer of power once again rested on his shoulders, his whole posture screaming for respect and radiating dominance. The boy who had uttered the weak 'stay' was gone.
"Everybody. Leave," the words were said softly, but every single person in the large room seemed to have heard them. Nobody questioned the order, as they started to file out of the room quickly. When everybody else was gone, Riddle's followers stood up as one and with the murmurs of 'My Lord' they were gone as well. The last person up the stairs, with a final glance and a little wave in his direction, was, once again, Lestrange. Harry tried to tell him with his eyes that, should he survive the confrontation with Riddle, he was going to take Lestrange down.
Riddle hadn't even blinked since fixing him with his stare, watching him like a crocodile would watch a baby zebra. Great.
He didn't know whether to be relieved that all the others left, or be more nervous about the fact that he was now alone with Riddle in the empty Common room.
'Stop it!' Harry scolded himself, 'You are not guilty, so stop acting like you are.' Surprisingly, that little pep-talk gave him enough courage to pull himself together under that cold stare and fix Riddle with a look of his own. After Lestrange had left him in the room, he had spent the twenty precious minutes coming up with a game plan. He knew that he had to be careful with what he was going to say.
He would try to get Riddle to remember last night, or even bits of it. For that, he would need to tell his own version of the night's happenings and use logic and persuasion. Ha. As if persuasion was ever going to work on Riddle, considering he was still even alive that long. 'Ah, but there are much worse things than death, my boy,' Dumbledore's voice helpfully whispered in his head. Harry gulped.
"I see you are feeling better," he started and instantly knew that it had been the wrong thing to say, as he had to duck a spell soaring straight at him. He landed painfully on the ground and had to immediately roll again to get away from the path of yet another spell.
"Whoa, whoa, now hold up!" he had gotten back to his feet and was now holding his wand with a shield charm in front of him.
Riddle had gotten up from his seat and was approaching him with long, graceful steps, looking like an angel of death, with the way his eyes had turned purple again and his dark magic viciously crackling in the air around him.
For some weird reason that picture transfixed Harry's attention for a moment, his fingers going numb around his wand and the world slowing down. It was getting difficult to breathe for Riddle's overwhelming magic, which was gathering around him, was stifling him and making it all too impossible to think straight. Or maybe it was the fault of his own heart that was currently residing in his throat.
Glazed eyes watched as Riddle drew nearer. For some reason, the story of the Little Red Riding Hood popped into his head right then. In that story, however, Harry was sure the little girl complimented the wolf about how pretty his eyes were, instead of big. Now that he thought about it, his mouth as well. Yes, definitely. He was getting really dizzy.
When he finally managed to shake himself out of the daze with a forceful breath and a vicious mental slap, Riddle was already there. He didn't have time to cast any kind of spell for the wand was ripped from between his lax fingers, landing somewhere on the other side of the room.
In the span of a second, Riddle had rammed him against one of the near walls, the yew wand digging painfully into the side of his neck and his right arm pressed against his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Did you have fun last night?" Riddle's voice was sickly sweet and soft like velvet, yet contained such barely controlled fury, that Harry didn't think he imagined the quiver there. His face was a few inches from his own and he could feel Riddle's icy breath against his lips.
Error.
A sharp pain at the side of his neck, where Riddle's wand must have let out a few angry sparks, brought him back to the presence. Riddle's face was beginning to show signs of impatience and Harry suddenly realized that the other had asked him a question.
"Yeah...-I mean NO! Of course not! You think keeping you from dying was enjoyable for me?" Harry felt his cheeks redden from his momentary verbal cock-up, but held the stormy gaze steadily.
Riddle stilled for a moment, his eyes going out of focus for just a second, as if trapped in a memory. Harry saw this and took his chance.
"Don't you remember? I saved your life and your dignity yesterday, and in gratitude you try to kill me! Geez, I've learned my lesson to never help you out of a sticky situation ever again," Harry finished in snarky voice.
Riddle was quiet for a moment, just watching Harry closely, not lowering his wand or lessening the pressure on his throat. Then with deliberate slowness, and with more than a hint of threat in his voice, he said.
"Tell me everything that happened last night," and then continued softly "If you lie about anything, I will curse you with a spell that will decrease your norepinephrine levels, so that you spiral into a horrible depression, eventually become suicidal, and kill yourself. That way you go to your grave knowing that not only did I kill you, but I made you kill yourself."
Harry gaped at him silently for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to that threat, since he was quite certain Riddle wasn't kidding. But still, he wasn't going to let that intimidate him.
"Okay, I'll tell you everything, but can we at least go sit down and have respectful distance between us? Because my throat is starting to burn," he said, trying to sound nonchalant while Riddle glared daggers at him.
Miraculously, Riddle let go of his throat, so now they were just standing there, so close to each other that their chests almost touched, and Riddle didn't look as though he was going to be the one to take the step away. Harry huffed and slid away from between the cold wall and even colder boy and headed towards the seats closest to the fireplace. He knew that Riddle was going to take his usual seat, so he dropped himself on the chair furthest from that, which happened to be the one directly facing Riddle's. Now, they had a solid six foot between them and a part of an Ebony wood table. When they were both seated and Harry had thrown a mandatory glare in Riddle's direction again, to which he responded with narrowing his eyes and twirling his wand, he started the story, clearing his still aching throat.
"I uh-... well, I don't really know how much you remember, so I'm going to start from the very beginning. It all kicked off at the party, I guess, where you got drugged by an unnamed individual that was not me, as I have already conveyed to you. When you started to feel the effects, you tried to stand up, but then that person that so desperately wanted you in their bed, for some reason, came to assist you and show you the way. Being the honourable, moral, righteous, impartial, and all around altruistic person that I am, I came to your rescue."
Here he had to, once again, dodge what appeared to be a stinging hex, but decided not to comment when he saw the other boy's face, going on with the story quickly.
"When I got rid of the twit I turned to you, just in time for you to hurl, missing my shoes by an inch, by the way. Then, I carried you to the dorm, and gave you bezoar, because you had clearly been poisoned. You developed a high fever in the recovery process and I… took care of you," he finished unsurely, really not wanting to elaborate on that part. "And that's it! Nothing spectacular. A simple 'thank you' will be enough, no need to make a shrine in my name, I assure you," he continued, with mock-modesty, trying to distract the other boy from enquiring more about the story.
He expected the boy to scoff and shoot another curse in his direction, get angry and shoot a curse at him or sneer and snap something back, while shooting a curse at him. But Riddle sat still, as if he hadn't even heard the mocking comment, his eyes observing the messy haired boy in front of him. Harry, for his part, tried hard not to squirm under that gaze, which was taking him apart as quickly as putting him back together.
"I see," Riddle then started with mild voice "And why, pray tell, did you strip me of my clothes and decide to sleep with me?"
Harry couldn't stop his face from turning bright red and slackening from Riddle's choice of wording.
"I-I wo-I didn't sleep with you! I just slept next to you!" Riddle's smug and mocking face made his indignation only rise, "Where else could I've slept? You were the one sleeping in my bed. I wasn't going to sleep in Malfoy's bed or the floor just so you could enjoy my perfectly comfortable bed!" To be honest, he probably should have just slept on the floor on a conjured mattress or something.
"Ah, yes, maybe 'sleep with me' wasn't the most felicitous term," Riddle acknowledged apologetically, "Now, cuddle would be far more fitting," he went on flippantly making Harry lose the remnants of his temper, face burning again.
"For fuck's sake the only reason I slept in that bed with you was because you bloody well asked me to!" As soon as it was out of his mouth he wished he could take it back, his face going from angry red to pale in seconds.
Riddle for his part, went completely still, his eyes darkening and his magic coiling around him in lethal sparks.
"…What did you say?" the voice was deadly quiet, all traces of amusement gone.
"I mean-" once again, Harry never got the chance to take the words back or explain himself, for Riddle was towering over him in a flash, having moved so fast he might as well have apparated, with his wand slashing down towards him.
On instinct, Harry grabbed Riddle's hand, manoeuvring it so that the bright yellow spell coming out of it hit the other couch, instead of his face, with a loud bang. The momentum of the sudden movement caught Tom unprepared. Instead of trying to pull his hand away as he would have done, and as he saw Harry expected him to do as well, he lost his balance. Harry, sure that Riddle would instinctively try to pull his left hand from Harry's grip, pulled at Riddle's hand again, foreseeing the move pulling him to his feet from the armchair.
Instead of pulling Harry up, the sudden move made Riddle lose his already teetering balance, which ended with Riddle falling ungracefully into Harry's unsuspecting lap.
For two whole seconds, everything stopped. Two pairs of shocked eyes staring into one another, two inches apart, with Riddle splayed on Harry's lap. Bracing his fall, Riddle's right hand had landed right next to Harry's face on the back of the armchair, wrist brushing against the messy locks of black hair, his left hand still in the other boy's strong grip. Harry's left hand had somehow ended up around Riddle's waist during the tumble.
For two whole seconds, everything stopped. At least Harry's heart and breathing. His nervous system, however, decided to start functioning thrice as hard. Every single part of his body that came into contact with Riddle was on fire. And it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling.
And then, with a jerk, the world started spinning again.
Riddle fisted the front of his robe and was about to pull them both up from the armchair, no doubt planning on torturing Harry to death, when one of Harry's legs moved quickly to curl around Riddle's so they once again ended up sprawled on top of each other, this time, however, on the rug covered floor.
Riddle let out a huff of air when his back collided with the hard surface with Harry on top of him, still trying to restrain Tom's hand holding the Yew wand. With narrowed eyes, he flipped them both over, so the green-eyed boy was now the one pinned down, and with a sharp tug, managed to get his hand free from the other boy's grasp.
"Petrificus Totalus" Riddle snarled from between his teeth. The body beneath him went instantly rigid, but the green eyes still glared up at him in that infuriating way, which managed to amuse and irritate Tom to no end. He took in a big gulp of air, surprised that so little exertion could leave him so breathless. When he looked back down at the boy beneath him, he couldn't keep a mischievous spark from entering his eyes, which he managed to conceal swiftly.
He made himself more comfortable, sitting languidly on the petrified boy's hips and stomach, with his legs bent on either side of him, all the while conscious of the burning eyes following his every move.
"Now that I have you where I want you-" he couldn't contain a smirk as he saw Harry's glare intensify tenfold "-let's make a few things clear." With that he drew his wand and pointed it directly at Harry's face, watching in dark satisfaction as those emerald eyes widened in shock and unease, before muttering a quick spell. Now, he had the power to give Harry back the ability to speak under the Petrificus Totalus when he wished, for as long as he wished. Quite a handy little spell.
"First of all, I want the name of the person who poisoned me. Before I let you speak, however, I will give you a fair warning, that should you deny me an answer, you will regret it," with that, he tapped into his magic, which connected him to the spell he had just cast, and gave Evans back the control over his mouth.
Evans made no move to open his mouth to answer, and the defiant look in his eyes told Tom clearly that he knew very well that he could. Tom had anticipated this, however, and, with a smirk, slowly pointed his wand at Harry's chest and cast nonverbally. Dark eyes watched keenly as the green ones glazed over and then flashed with pain, the chest underneath him starting to squirm and thrash, unable to take in oxygen because of the fluid slowly filling his lungs. When he finally opened his mouth, trying to reflexively breathe in and only managing to produce sounds of asphyxiation, he cancelled the curse.
"It seems you actually can open your mouth, what an awe-inspiring revelation. Now, where were we? Ah, yesss, I recall, the name."
Harry gasped for air with minimal mobility, watching the boy above him with startled eyes. It had sounded as if Riddle had almost slipped into Parseltongue for a moment. It reminded him of Voldemort, with his sibilant hissing voice. But never had the sound of Voldemort's voice brought a shiver down his spine like it did in this moment.
Harry quickly considered his options. On one hand, telling on Parkinson would prove fruitless for Riddle in the end, since Parkinson no longer had any memory of the incident, but once Riddle started investigating the reason for the missing memories, Lestrange's involvement would come out, effectively clearing Harry's name with it. On the other hand,… yeah, the first-hand option was quite brilliant. Justice with a pinch on impending torture for Parkinson, revenge on Lestrange with who knows what consequences, and he would finally get Riddle off his back, or err... stomach.
"Parkinson," he finally said, concealing the smirk that threatened to take over his lips.
Tom's eyes narrowed in disbelief for a moment.
"Parkinson," Riddle's repeated after a few moments of silence, with an emotionless tone, but Harry could detect hints of disbelief and disgust in the boy's eyes.
Seeing this, Harry couldn't help himself.
"Hmm, yes, can't imagine what it must feel like, knowing somebody like Parkinson has gotten one over you," If he could, Harry would have folded his arms behind his head at that moment and started whistling a merry tune from Bugs Bunny. As it was, his whole body, aside from his head, was immobile and his lungs still hurt from the last time he had decided to be bold, so he had to settle with a smirk and a mocking look sent in Riddle's way.
The prospect, Harry thought morbidly, of being suicidal like everybody complained he was, started to seem more probable as time went on. For some odd reason, it seemed to show up in the presence of one Tom Riddle more often than not.
Tom, despite being angered by his audacity, found himself astounded. The boy under him, who was at his complete and non-existent mercy, still dared to push him and show such blatant disrespect and cheek towards him. It wasn't as if Evans didn't know what he was capable of doing, what he was very much willing to do on a regular basis. It puzzled Tom and despite his absolute frustration with the boy, Tom liked puzzles. That was the reason he had tolerated so much from the boy for almost the whole school year. Every time he seemed to peel back one layer about the mystery that was Harry Evans, another one would show up and make Tom re-evaluate all his previous assessments about the boy. It was aggravating. Yet, it was also refreshing. Nobody had given him so much trouble to take apart, as the enigmatic newcomer that had arrived in his last year at Hogwarts.
Tom lazily pointed his wand in the direction of Evans' chest once more, yet the infuriating smirk was still on the other boy's lips, even as he saw the miniscule tightening of his jaw as he braced for the incoming pain.
Instead of firing off a curse to wipe the offending smirk from the boy's face Tom found himself transfixed by the green eyes staring up at him defiantly and challengingly. Evans' eyes had always been noteworthy for him, at first for their unusual colour and then, after the first time their gazes locked, for what resided within them. He could tell with a glance that the boy had seen more than his fair share of suffering in his life, but beside the pain there was the almighty fire that scorched everybody who got too close, that spoke of strength, intelligence, wisdom and power. And Tom had always been attracted to power.
Right then and there he wanted nothing more than to enter the boy's head and see for himself what was going on in there. He wanted to pick his mind apart, piece by piece, until nothing remained elusive to him about Harry Evans. He wanted to own Evans like he owned everybody else noteworthy and reachable in the school. But he couldn't risk it, the last time he had tried was still a very fresh and unpleasant memory in his mind.
Tom watched the green eyes slowly blink up at him, when he failed to make his move, the smirk slowly sliding off his face and dark brows furrowing in consternation.
After a while, Tom decided to end their little staring match.
"If I didn't know any better, I would label you an idiotic Gryffindor. How you've managed to survive in the House of Snakes for this long is a true wonder. So, Wonder Boy, if what you told me is in fact true, then why did you decide to… assist me yesterday?"
Riddle's casual tone of voice made Harry furrow his brows even more. Once again the boy managed to surprise him with his reaction. He had expected to at least get a dose of the earlier curse (not that he was a masochist, but it was just so much fun to ruffle the other boy's feathers, then again maybe that spoke for itself), so the calm and unaffected tone left him quite surprised.
That aside, the subject change was definitely unpleasant, but as he sourly guessed, he was partially at fault for that for his unasked cheek. As if he actually knew the answer himself. But since Riddle was expecting one then who was he to deny him.
"Well, you did look exceptionally pathetic, what with not being able to even walk on your own. Besides that, nobody, not even somebody as rotten as you, deserves to be molested by Parkinson. And as I already told you, I am an honourable person, and could not let such a thing happen on my watch."
Harry watched keenly as Riddle struggled with the urge to hex him, eyes flashing and teeth gritting, the wand on his chest increasing its pressure.
Then with an audible exhale, Tom breathed out, a smirk twisting his lips. "It's admirable how persistent you are at pushing my buttons," with that he stood up from his position on Harry's stomach and straightened his robes. Without another glance at the boy still petrified on the ground he started heading towards the entrance, no doubt planning on heading to his quarters.
Harry, meanwhile watched him leave with a growing incredulity.
"Hey! What do you think you are doing?-! Lift the spell you jerk!" He couldn't believe Riddle was going to leave him on the floor of the common room for the night. After the earlier spectacle, nobody would dare to come down again. And even if they did, they wouldn't finite it since they knew that it was Riddle's handiwork. Damn!
Riddle didn't look in his direction nor stop his gait when answering him.
"The spell will wear off in a couple of hours, may I advise you to use the time to contemplate and reflect on your attitude. I will, in the meantime, check the credibility of your story. Tomorrow we will know," the last part was said so quietly that Harry didn't think it was meant for him.
Before Harry could get another word out Riddle was gone, leaving Harry to contemplate and reflect on the absurdity that was his life on the rug covered floor in the Slytherin common room.
So, what do you guys think? What's the deal with Lestrange? Could there be something more to him than meets the eye? What did you think about the way Riddle handled Harry? And Harry himself? Is he too sure of himself when it comes to Riddle? Let me know your thoughts!
Thank you again, MayzeMerlo, my wonderful beta, for putting up with me.
E.S~
