Harry lay in the darkness, thinking. It was morning, perhaps eight O'clock, and the dormitory was perfectly silent. He knew this meant that the only other Slytherin student in the school must had awoken even earlier than he had, but he was still careful to show any obvious signs of being awake so soon. Only darkness was visible to his eyes; the curtains surrounding his four-poster bed were drawn while the room itself was as shadowy as ever. He lay very still, contemplating the day.
He didn't want to get up. He knew that Tom was doubtlessly waiting for him, somewhere. Waiting to talk to Harry so he could understand why he had walked away without a word the night before. Harry knew that Tom probably already had a valid theory to this question, but that didn't make him dread the day ahead any less. An explanation would still be needed. A confirmation. Harry regretted deeply that he hadn't thrown a few words of explanation before leaving the other boy the previous night. Any sound of remark would have made his thoughts clear, and would have allowed Harry to avoid Tom completely for the rest of the holiday without either of them being unsure of what Harry thought to be the only truth.
They could never be together – this was all Harry knew for sure. He hated Riddle for who he was, and for whom he would become. He despised everything about him as a person, and he wanted to stay around the older boy only under the goal of one day seeking powerful revenge for all of the murders Voldemort would commit. There was not one single trait about Riddle's personality or even his very being that Harry didn't want dead. Yet this didn't work accordingly to the rather strong attraction Harry felt towards him. This didn't work accordingly to the idea that he really did want to share secrets with Tom, and tell him all about himself – even if that meant constantly lying about his real past. He wanted to learn about Tom, and see that odd and very rare side of him that tells Harry the truth, and tells Harry how he actually feels…
Harry decided to get up, knowing that he was getting nowhere with thinking about this. He had to actually do something about it – and now, for he didn't trust himself to dwell too long on the whole idea. He needed to go and tell Tom that they were never going to be anything more than… master and follower. Harry couldn't bring himself to suggest that they were even so much as friends. Harry got dressed, thinking about what on earth he was going to say to Tom.
Harry made his way through the Common Room, glad to see that Tom wasn't anywhere to be seen. He headed for the corridor. The castle seemed eerily empty as he walked, his footsteps echoing loudly against the walls the ceiling. Even though Harry had spent the last two weeks seeing so few students in the nearly vacated school, he felt more alone all of the sudden. He wondered if this was to do with the grounds, as he reached the upper floors, which were covered in snow thicker than ever before. Everything seemed far too quiet.
Riddle also wasn't in the Great Hall when Harry sat down for breakfast, and the latter was again grateful of this. He took it as a silent message to say that their next conversation was preferably not one to be held in the watchful sight of the teachers and students of the school. Harry stayed at the breakfast table for around half an hour before giving up his weak appetite as a lost cause, and heading for the library, where he guessed Tom could be. He wanted to get this explanation over with.
The weather was indeed gloomy, and it could be seen easily from the fourth floor. Snow was beginning to fall again outside the tall windows of the vast Library, and the few ignited torches around were little or no consolation to making the room appear lighter whilst eager shadows and dark books lingered all around. Barely a student was in sight as Harry scanned the room, so it wasn't long before his eyes fell upon a boy sitting at a table, reading a heavy volume with his back partially turned towards Harry. The latter recognised this as Riddle, and made his way slowly towards the desk where he sat.
He hesitated a few meters away, but soon decided to take a chair. Tom seemed to be expecting him, for it was with no surprise that he looked to see who was there. In fact, it was perhaps with as little expression as possible when Tom surveyed Harry, his countenance very well composed. Harry mentally complemented this fact, whilst reluctantly musing that this meant Riddle has purposely chosen to not withhold his true expressions the day before. Harry was extremely annoyed that he found the boy ahead of him even more handsome than he had a few days ago as he examined Tom's expression – or lack thereof. He dropped his gaze after a few seconds, wondering how he was going to begin this.
"Good morning," Tom started.
"Good morning…"
Tom didn't break the silence again as Harry struggled for words. All of the excuses he had thought about giving before seemed to have been wiped from his mind at the sight of Tom, and he tried hard to remember some of them. Yet even with an excuse, he barely knew where to begin.
"Look, I don't really know what happened last night, but I have to explain that I'm not – not really like that…" Harry hadn't the slightest clue if this unclear explanation of a twisted truth would really work, but he tried it anyway, knowing that the real statement of 'I know you're a murderer and I know you'll one day kill all of my family and my friends' was completely out of the question. If Tom would assume from this that he, Harry, simply didn't approve of the idea of being homosexual, Tom would be wrong – for in truth Harry didn't really care about that enough to be strictly against it – yet it seemed like it could be a good enough excuse for now.
Riddle surveyed Harry for a moment, pondering a reply. His expression never changed, and his voice was close to a monotone as he spoke. "I'm generally not 'like that' either." If anything, he sounded irritated to Harry's ears.
Harry wondered why the completely lack of sympathetic emotion in Tom's voice made him feel dejected. "Well… can we just forget it then?"
"I suppose," Riddle replied.
"Good…" Yet this didn't feel like the ending to their conversation to Harry, who was somehow reluctant to move away from the table. He waited for a minute, not having anything else to add, but feeling as though there was much not being said.
"Was there something else that you wanted?" Riddle inquired.
"No," Harry replied on instinct. Then a question came to him. "Except… why did you do that at all?" He wasn't fully sure why his stomach leapt with nerves at this question, but he didn't dwell upon the idea too determinedly. He looked into Tom's eyes, trying to see his almost nonexistent expression.
Riddle had paused for a few seconds, but it appeared to Harry as though this was in annoyance rather than the act of choosing his words carefully. "I was mistaken," he settled, "intrigued by the seemingly unexplainable occurrence of… whatever it is that happens when people come in physical contact with you."
"That happens to you too?" Harry asked quickly, before he could help it. He had never received any confirmation before that this wasn't some strange exaggeration his mind made in the act of liking Riddle. Yet he wasn't sure if this was a good thing, when he heard his own words.
Riddle averted his eyes from Harry, appearing to care very little about whether or not Harry shared this unwanted similarity. "It's insignificant," he declared.
Harry himself didn't quite agree with this statement. He paused, thinking as Tom examined the book in front of him vaguely. "So… you have an explanation then?"
"No," Tom replied, never looking up, "merely a lack of interest. Thus, if you don't mind, I shall move onto more important things."
"Right," Harry said, still detecting that same annoyance from the other boy. He watched Tom for a moment more, and then stood up. "Well… I'll see you later then."
Tom didn't say a word.
Harry left, feeling oddly empty as he walked from the library, and along a nondescript corridor. That seemed easier than he could have foreseen, and less dramatic by far… Had he expected some sort of fight? A negotiation more challenging? Yet how could he have, when he wanted so badly to insure that he wouldn't have to endure the close company of the other boy for any amount of time greater than strictly necessary? No, he couldn't have expected anything more… He was merely surprised. Relieved.
But Tom's total and utter lack of plausible emotion bothered him. It made him realise that everything that had happened between them could have been a total lie, a complete misunderstanding on his part. He knew he really shouldn't care about this at all, but it just seemed… dismaying. Tom was a good actor, Harry knew, so who was to say that this all wasn't some scheme, to learn about Harry's past, gone slightly off centre? Riddle could have cared nothing at all when emotions began to mix in the careful structure of his plan, and when an event completely unexpected occurred. He could have decided to drop his plan, which was fine with Harry… excluding the fact that he himself couldn't ignore what had happened quite as simply.
Riddle wouldn't even need a harmful or blatant reason to learn more about the war in Harry's past. This all made sense in Harry's head now, and he didn't see himself as being at all paranoid as these thoughts came crashing over him. The determination Tom felt to seek answers was most likely a strong enough motivation for all of those events to occur around, but Harry shouldn't care – he really shouldn't care. He knew extremely well who Riddle was, and what he would become. No good could possibly arise from fulfilling his wish to somehow be with the other boy… and it wasn't as though Tom even liked him back, evidently. There was absolutely nothing to him.
Harry didn't know what was wrong with him, in the end. How could he possibly allow himself to even contemplate the idea of this? He was right to explain to Tom that this wasn't a possible relationship, but it had somehow made the thoughts that swirled inside his head worse. Maybe he just needed a few days to forget it all, and to decide upon why it was the most terrible idea.
He tried to push the thought away, determined to forget what it felt like when Tom's hand rested upon his own, and what it felt like when his lips were close enough to kiss…
January arrived, bringing with it the anticipated parade of students back in the castle for the start of term. Harry was glad of their presence, but not because he particularly enjoyed the company of any of the students themselves. They were merely a new cause of separation for Riddle and himself, to give them all the more reason to not converse or endure the empty company of one another. Harry barely knew how he made it through the last few days of the holiday, dreading the idea of being alone with Riddle due to a mix of thoughts, opinions and emotions.
The Death Eaters seemed generally pleased about the break in the school year, and Harry felt more distant to them than ever before while they took no notice of the change of relation between Riddle and himself, assuming that Christmas had passed simply for them and thus moving on to talk about their own holidays.
Harry's slowly descending mood went unnoticed, perhaps due to the fact that he had been much the same before the beginning of the holidays. He wondered if that had ever really changed, when he took a moment to dwell upon the idea. It had felt good to explain small pieces of his past – be it from his real or fictional one – but in the end it was doubtlessly better that he had a full excuse to give Riddle no more information at all about himself. Trust was a dangerous thing, as Riddle had suggested…
It was lunchtime, the first day of the new term, as Harry sat with Riddle and the Death Eaters at the Slytherin table. The hall was packed with students, and the general air was cheerful and animated as the noise level escalated dramatically from how it had been throughout the holiday. The Death Eaters were talking and joking amongst themselves as Harry and Riddle sat silently. Riddle still seemed to be in a bad mood, and Harry wondered if this was because his plan to seek information had failed so suddenly. Harry glanced at Tom, who sat with the Death Eaters distancing Harry and himself, but he didn't have time to dwell upon any thoughts relating to the other boy, for just then Avery decide the argument he was holding needed Harry's support.
"John, you gotta agree with me on this one," Avery said with a smile, addressing Harry from directly across the table. The latter wasn't quite sure what they were talking about, for he hadn't been listening at all, but Avery didn't hesitate to elaborate his one-sided opinion. "Nancy White is way hotter than Linda Anthony."
"Oh… I never really noticed…" Harry was quite surprised with being dragged into this conversation, as he tried to remember what Linda Anthony and Nancy White actually looked like. He was pretty sure that they were supposed to be in his year…
"White's way too short," Dolohov said to Avery, the latter slightly disappointed that Harry hadn't joined into this conversation keenly.
"But she's blond!" Avery responded. "Not to mention she ain't got a temper half as terrible as Anthony's. I don't think I've ever known anyone as aggressive as her."
"Since when has being aggressive been a bad thing?" Mulciber asked. The others laughed together at this.
"Just because you like people to be – hey, are we going already?" Avery's attention, much like the other Death Eaters', had been swiftly drawn to Riddle, who stood up. It never seemed to take much more than this for Tom to order around his followers. With one movement, they all knew when it was time to go back to classes, or to vacate a room. Harry was glad to know that this meant he wasn't the only one who noticed what Tom did so quickly, even if his reasons for watching the other boy differed from that of the other Death Eaters…
"We're close to the last ones left in the hall," Tom pointed out, "as I assume none of you have yet noticed."
"Oh… No, I didn't notice," Avery admitted, smiling sheepishly. Harry too was quite surprised with this piece of news, but didn't drop his gaze from the other boy for long.
"So to Charms we go," Riddle said quietly, turning away from the Death Eaters as they stood up.
"Nah, I got a free period now," Dolohov voiced.
Riddle looked at Dolohov for a brief moment, but gave no more signs of having heard what he said. The latter took this as a sign to leave Tom's presence, followed by a dozen other Slytherins. Harry, Nott, Avery and Lestrange followed Tom towards the Entrance Hall, and up a flight of stairs that led to Charms.
Riddle guided them into the class, where a few other seventh year students sat waiting for the arrival of the last few people. The Charms teacher, a tall Witch with lank brown hair and a cheerful, attentive personality, had already begun to write the lesson they were learning today on the blackboard. The Death Eaters, Riddle and Harry managed to find a table together as the Professor closed the classroom door with a swish of her wand.
After the class was welcomed back to the new term, and explained the assignment of the day more clearly, the class began. Charms was amongst Harry's least favourite subjects, but not because he had a personal problem with the teacher this time. It was merely that in this class he had no obvious distraction from having to speak to the other Death Eaters. He couldn't pretend to listen to the teacher, for the teacher allowed the class to speak as long as they were still working on what she had asked them to do.
Today the class was supposed to be revising Unbreakable Charms, Flame-Freezing Charms and Severing Charms. Avery, Nott and Lestrange occupied themselves for the first ten minutes of class with stealthily combining these three spells, to see who was the most powerful. Lestrange froze the fire that was placed within Nott's supposedly unbreakable jar, trying hard to make the flame cold enough to not go out, and Avery practiced his Severing Charms a few times before attempting it on the half-finished project. Avery was the most successful, his victory resulting in an explosion as the jar smashed into tens of pieces, shattering all over the table where the five Slytherins boys sat. The Death Eaters all laughed at this, enduring the scolding the Professor gave them without much care.
Beyond this event, the class seemed to decline into a bored state. Nott and Lestrange talked quietly amongst themselves as they tried to perfect their charms, and Avery became distracted completely from his work whilst he looked over at the seventh year girls who sat on the other side of the room. This left Harry and Tom to carry on not talking. When Harry thought about it a little, he was actually quite relieved that Tom was in too much of a bad mood to want to converse with anyone – least of all him. Harry wasn't sure whether he could even have lasted in any amount of conversation with the older boy.
Avery seemed to become bored around this time, so he pulled his eyes away from the students across the room and decided to talk instead. He turned to Harry. "I can't believe you don't agree that White's prettier than Anthony."
Harry looked up at Avery, and then over towards the group of Slytherin girls across the room. "I don't see why it's important," he commented.
"'Course it's important!" Avery exclaimed, as though this had offended him. Harry's eyes – which had been resting upon the blond girl that he guessed was Nancy White – drifted a few inches to the left. Riddle was looking at him from across the table, and Harry recognised the other boy attempting to read his expression as he stared back.
Harry suddenly realised that this situation could be suggesting he had ever noticed Nancy White because she was a girl. He wished he could somehow take back that assumption as he looked at Tom, who was impassive. Yet Harry knew it was only really because he never looked at anyone in the school properly… that had to be the reason. He wondered what Tom was thinking about as they stared at each other. He knew that this was a contradiction in his given reason for not wanting to be with Riddle, and he craved to know what Riddle himself thought about this, or if he even cared at all.
Just then, the bell rang to Harry's slight surprise. Riddle and Harry's eyes fell away from each other, as they both remembered they were in the middle of class. Avery, Nott and Lestrange stoop up amongst the rest of the students, Riddle and Harry soon following. As Tom walked ahead with the beginning of the class, Harry was glad to remember that none of his remaining classes of the day were to be shared with the older boy.
The day passed away without haste, and was soon followed by a few hours of homework from Harry as he struggled with the other seventh years in keeping up with the amount of assignments given out by the teachers. It was around eight O'clock when Harry walked with Avery from the Great Hall. He had spent dinner with the Death Eaters and a silent Riddle as usual, but somehow hadn't managed to get rid of this one last Death Eater, who appeared bored of everyone besides Harry. Harry soon discovered, however, that this was only because Avery had a particular question for him.
"What was with you and Riddle in Charms?" Avery asked.
"What?" Harry asked quickly.
"I couldn't decide what expression you both had," Avery elaborated. "But I suppose you never can tell with Riddle…"
"It was nothing," Harry assured him.
"Yeah, maybe…" Yet Avery didn't sound too convinced. Harry knew they were still about five minutes away from the Common Room, and he really hoped this conversation would change by then. Before he could attempt a new subject, however, Avery carried on talking. "I only mention it 'cause something seems different."
"Really?" Harry asked, his heart racing.
"Yeah," Avery confirmed. He paused for a moment. "What did you do to piss Tom off?"
"Nothing," Harry lied.
"It don't look like nothing," Avery stated.
"Why do you say that?"
"I dunno. It's just, this is the first time I've seen Riddle so annoyed without doing something about it."
"I still don't get what you mean," Harry said. He was very keen to hear about Avery's insights upon this situation, even if Avery himself couldn't come to any conclusions with it all.
"Well, normally when Riddle's pissed off at someone, he don't wait this long begin making them suffer for it. I suppose it was something that happened at Christmas, so this must have been days of waiting so far."
"How do you know all of this?" Harry inquired.
"It's been years, mate. You get to learn these things," Avery explained indifferently. "Not to mention he's been angry with me countless times…"
"And he always does something about it?"
"Unless your some exception, I 'spose so."
Harry thought about this for a minute, not worrying, exactly, but trying to figure it out.
"If I were you, I'd just be prepared," Avery established.
"What will he do, do you think?"
"Depends on what you did to him."
Harry didn't reply to this. Would Tom really care enough about it to want to get back at him? It wasn't the same as a Death Eater annoying him, as they do daily. This was more personal than that. Tom was in a bad mood, Harry knew, but he wasn't sure if he trusted Avery's judgement of just how bad Riddle's mood was. If it mattered enough to Tom, most of that annoyance could probably be the result of sadness somewhere, and sadness would be the result of liking Harry too much to want vengeance, which suggested no revenge would come. Yet anger could also be shielded by embarrassment, and thus resulting in a much less wanted outcome…
"Hey, where are you going?" Harry asked. "The Common Room's the other way."
"I thought we were going to the headquarters? There's another meeting now. Dolohov told me."
Harry hesitated, not quite liking the idea of a Death Eater meeting so soon. He didn't want to be in the presence of Tom, least of all when he had to learn the Dark Arts directly from him. "Erm, I left something back at the Common Room. I'll catch up with you in a minute, yeah?"
"Sure," Avery agreed, unconcerned.
Avery turned away, and Harry did the same, in the opposite direction. His invisibility cloak had been resting in the pocket of his robes all evening, and he was glad to finally have a reason to use it again…
