67 – Given Words
It was all a blur. Harry couldn't remember half of his journey back from Nott's home, despite how close his and Tom's house was by Apparition. His mind was crammed with thoughts accompanied by odd feelings that made him fear for his health; he was struggling to breathe, his limbs ached with the weight of the slow, difficult realisation that swarmed him. All he knew was that he needed to find Tom. He knew this odd sense of foreboding would come crashing down harder upon him soon. He needed Tom to tell him what was truth.
"Tweaky!" Harry called out the moment he entered the house. He was too impatient to look for Tom himself.
"Master," Tweaky greeted, taking short steps towards Harry from the direction of the kitchen, "Tweaky knew not that Master would return so soon."
"Where's Tom?" Harry asked, forgetting to say hello. "I need to talk to him."
"Tweaky regrets to inform Master that Master Voldemort is not here."
"Where is he?"
"Tweaky knows not, Master, Tweaky knows only that Master Voldemort went to see one of the wizards who visit here oft-"
"When will be be back?"
"Soon, Tweaky thinks. It's a matter of minutes before he should return."
"Well, then send him up to me when he gets here," Harry ordered. "As soon as he gets here, do you understand me?"
"Of course, Master."
"I'll be in the library."
Tweaky turned from Harry, saying something in agreement that Harry had no interest in listening to. He climbed the staircase, feeling numb. He wanted Tom to be here already and he half-regretted not sending Tweaky out to go and find him right away, no matter what he might interrupt.
The library was dark when Harry entered it. His heart pounded on and on and refused to slow down. He was too restless to take any of the comfortable seats around him, so he busied himself with lighting the torches, adding to the dim warmth of the quiet fire. When he was done, he stood still. There was nothing for him to do. He felt as though he should be doing something, anything, to distract his mind, but he couldn't think what. All he knew was that he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts. His veins were aching, his jaw clenched...
Harry hadn't forgotten what crimes Tom had committed in his past, the far future. He hadn't forgotten about those who had died because of him – because of both of them. What made this different to Tom's other crimes, however, was two important things. The first was that he had possessed and doomed Emeric for no reason, stealing his life from him without so much as an excuse. The second was that Tom had tricked Harry. He had lied to him, he had cheated him, and he didn't believe in Harry's abilities. This, unlike the other terrible things Tom had done, could not be easily ignored...
It wasn't often that Harry thought of his old life. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to feel that pain again – in fact, he hadn't given any of his old family and friends a single thought, properly, since the creation of his Horcrux. The main thing he told himself, after lying awake for hours at night, was that Tom wasn't yet that Tom. He wasn't yet the Dark Lord he would surely become, no matter what Harry did. He wasn't yet the man Harry hated more than any other, the man he had tried so desperately to kill... in his own time...
He waited seven slow, painful minutes. When he heard Tom approaching the room, his heart alarmed him by escalating in pace, yet it had nothing to do with his usual adoration. Despite being summoned, Tom's footsteps were slow and calm. This, somehow, was enough to stress Harry further. Every moment he stood here doing nothing felt like a moment of pure torture.
"Harry," Tom greeted, speaking softly, lovingly, as he approached, "Tweaky told me that you wished to see me?"
"Yeah," said Harry stiffly. "Yeah it's – it's good you're home..."
"Is something wrong?" Tom asked. His smile had faltered as he saw something in Harry's expression.
Harry rolled one of his hands into a fist, trying not to get annoyed by the question.
Tom noticed. He was confused. "Did something happen?"
Harry couldn't take waiting. He couldn't stand making idle conversation if it meant stalling the emotions inside him.
"I know," he said in a quiet, deadly voice. "I know what you did..."
Several crimes, he supposed, might have popped into to Tom's mind. Still, however, he acted innocent. "I don't know what you're talking bout."
"Emeric," Harry said. There was no time to explain how he figured it out, no time to describe how Tom had been right about Nott's abilities to find inconsistencies. "I know what you did to him..."
"Emeric is dead, my love."
"Because of you!" Harry exclaimed, annoyed now, even by so little provocation. "I know that you cursed him, I know now that you possessed him to force him into joining Grindelwald's people!"
Tom stood up straighter slowly, as if preparing himself in his shock and confusion. It was theatre, to him. He might have believed he heard Harry wrong for a moment, yet he wasn't stupid; he was able to see where Harry was with his theories. It was likely due to caution that he held his tongue for a time, unsure what he should or shouldn't say.
"I thought you guessed before."
"You're lying," Harry spat. "You never expected me to figure out any of your plans for Emeric – I'm not an idiot!"
"I never lied to you. I kept my word that I did not kill Emeric that night."
"But you cursed him! You cursed him, knowing that it would surely lead him to his death!"
"Can you not see why?" Tom asked. "Did it not cross your mind that perhaps I did it for your own good?"
Anger rose in Harry so quickly, he could barely control it.
"For my own good? You're a liar! You wanted him to join Grindelwald's people because you knew it would alarm me the most, you forced him to become obsessed with me, driving him mental, just so you could be sure I'd never want to be with him! And for what, Tom?"
Tom was taken aback. "Is wanting you to be immortal not reason enough for you? Is wanting to be with you -"
"You could have waited to see if I'd really want to kill someone, rather than go behind my back to make it happen sooner! How was that supposed to make me want to be with you forever, Tom?"
"You know I could have done far worse to Emeric," Tom said, shaking his head as if this were obvious.
"What could possibly be worse than what you did?"
"Death, for one."
"Death?" Harry repeated. "How is death worse than possessing an innocent boy and forcing him to chase and attack me? What could be worse than ruining his mind, making him do terrible things – just like with what happened to Macnair! He would have dragged me off and would have done far worse things than rape me once, Tom; you know it as well as I do. What if I hadn't been able to fight?"
"You killed him," Tom reminded him. "You won."
"I almost lost," Harry told him, his voice strong due to his anger and frustration. "I almost didn't manage to–"
He had to stop himself. He was tempted, so tempted, to tell Tom how close Emeric had been to capturing him, succeeding with the sheer power of the Elder Wand. What would Tom say to that, he wondered? He knew he probably looked weak in Tom's eyes for almost losing against Emeric, but if he only knew the truth...
"You would never have lost to him," Tom said. "I understand your fear, but you are far stronger and always have been. I knew this."
"You were putting my life at risk," Harry reminded him, "there was no guaranteeing that I'd win, and you knew it..."
"Yet you did win, my love," Tom said more softly, perhaps thinking that he could trick Harry into believing that what he did was right. "I always knew you would win. I knew you were strong enough to finally kill Emer-"
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"
Harry wanted to attack him. He couldn't control his anger, nor his body as it shook in a mix of emotions he hadn't experienced in months. Ire burned into Tom's handsome face, warping his calm expression into one far less pleasant. He blatantly couldn't make sense of Harry's behaviour, which infuriated Harry like nothing else had.
"All the things I hated about him," Harry said in a low voice, "all the things he deserved to die for, it was your fault... it was always your fault!"
Tom did not respond to his anger this time.
"Emeric was only a threat because you made him one," Harry carried on. "You risked me getting tortured and abused because you wanted to be sure you had a way to force me into making a Horcrux. You did worse than I ever knew."
He held onto his anger, but other emotions of sorrow and regret were being plucked within him like a harp, the sound's vibrations weakening him where he stood. He couldn't stop the emotions, nor the thoughts that brought them in a clutter of built-up repression.
"He didn't do anything, Tom. He had a normal job and a normal life and – and you ruined it... for no reason at all..."
He couldn't believe that any of this was truly happening. It felt like a cruel joke, a huge mistake. Tom began walking towards him, staring in a way that suggested fear. Harry looked away, not wanting Tom to touch him; he backed up. His throat was burning. Finally, after what was two months short of a year, Harry could recognise the emotions he felt. It all came flooding back to him now.
"You – you were almost right," Harry said, managing a weak laugh, "I was almost as stupid as you knew I had to be for this plan to work. I – I feel for it easily. I wanted Emeric dead for the things he did..."
He was ashamed and angry at his own stupidity, at never doubting Tom in all these years. This only added to the way he felt cheated, hurt, and insulted that Tom took him for a fool. Tom had tricked him into doing something that had caused him so much pain. He had betrayed him...
"Is this remorse?" Tom asked in a low voice.
"I - I don't..."
He could feel the guilt rise up as Tom suggested it. If he had only been more watchful, if he had been less blinded by his love for Tom, he might have been able to stop this. Harry's chest was aching. He might have fixed the curses Tom had placed, he might have saved Emeric's future, giving him back what had been stolen from him for no reason beyond a selfish need Tom felt to push Harry into becoming immortal as soon as possible...
Harry's eyes were burning. He stared at the ground in front of him, memories of his interactions with Emeric making him feel more and more guilty for the crime he had committed. He had wanted Emeric dead, in truth. He had attempted and succeeded in killing the part of him that he loathed, the curse that bound itself to Emeric's soul, strangling his inner self like a wicked vine, a coiling snake...
"Harry?"
Harry wiped his face hurriedly, trying to overcome his emotions. It was no use. He couldn't drown out the thoughts that conquered his mind, informing him that if it wasn't for his ignorance, an innocent boy would still be alive today. If it wasn't for his ignorance, he would never have endured the pain of murdering a man – a man who had wanted to kill him first only because of Tom. Tom was taking quick steps towards him, but Harry refused to look up.
"Look at me," Tom ordered.
"Stay away from me..."
Tom had tortured Emeric as surely as he had threatened Harry's life, happiness, and well-being the moment he began that curse. Even now, Harry felt more tormented than ever...
"Look at me!"
Tom was alert with fear. All Harry could do was stand where he was shakily, locking his eyes to Tom's own, which were wide and frightful. Tom watched as tears formed before him, gripping Harry's wrist tightly to forcibly take his attention. Beyond this, Tom was too shocked to move.
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again futilely more than once. His words were gone. There was nothing he could possibly say to make it clear to Tom what he was going through. Air tore at his throat, he was sobbing and drawing in sharp, shuddering breath that was beyond his control. He wished this pain would stop, he wish he could undo what he had started.
"I'm sorry..."
"Stop," Tom demanded. "Harry, stop crying!"
"I – I d-didn't want this to h-happen," Harry whispered.
"Listen to me – Harry, listen to me!"
Harry couldn't; he could barely stand still. He didn't know what he could do to undo the crime he had so wrongly, so unjustly committed. His soul was aching... The more he addressed the fact that he had killed an innocent boy, that Tom had betrayed him, the more pain he felt. His head was already pounding as he cried, his chest burned and stung sharply with each undeserved breath he pulled into his lungs, and his limbs shook and pleaded to be released of this pain. Each vein within his body felt as if it would burst with the agony of his remorse, regret, and sorrow.
He felt something begin to pour down from his nose, and he knew immediately what it was; blood. Tom couldn't move. The little colour he had left in his pale face drained away as he doubtlessly reflected upon the fact that this was only supposed to happen in the early stages of Horcrux creation. It was the body and soul's way of adapting to emotions.
"You have to stop crying!" Tom shouted, only making Harry feel worse. He had never heard Tom this panicked in his life.
"I-I c-ca-can't," Harry stammered, tears spilling out of his eyes so thickly, Tom was nothing but a blur.
Harry's head felt light, his vision was fading as though he might faint. Both of them understood what was happening. His soul felt as if it was being pulled from his body, tearing at muscles and flesh, bone and veins...
The Darkness was closing in. But Tom... He couldn't leave Tom...
"I'm s-so – s-so sorry..."
"HARRY!"
"Tom, I – I c-can't... I -..."
"DON'T!" Tom billowed, his hands gripping Harry as he began to fall. "Don't do this to me, Harry! Don't move – just – JUST STOP CRYING!"
"T-Tom, I – I –"
BANG!
In a flash of blinding light, a spell struck Harry's chest, hard. A sensation like burning, running insects crawling through his veins gripped Harry, causing him to stagger further away from Tom, panicked and terrified.
"L-let me go! T-Tom, p-please, please l-let me g-g-"
The insects were crawling up towards his head; Harry was horror-struck. He tensed and panicked when Tom raised his wand again, sure that Tom would hurt him in his anger, would punish him for feeling the remorse that would surely rip his soul from him.
BANG!
Tom's second spell only hurt for a moment. Then, Harry was plunged into a frozen state, his senses quickly becoming dulled. He couldn't feel nor hear his own crying. He no longer felt the agony from before. Fear almost reached him as he watched his vision fade, as he wondered if this was death...
Dark shapes and forms is all Harry could recall seeing next. He was in a slow, eerie state of calm, unable to control any of the happenings of his surroundings. He was dully aware that Tom stood above him. He could hear his voice, which was muffled and echoed, but it wasn't often that Harry could make out any of what he was saying. "Don't go... Harry, don't you dare go... I'm going to help you – I'm going to fix you now! All I ask – all I need – is for you lay still... Don't - don't leave me like this..."
Harry was lost in his own mind. He was so close to feeling a sense of complete blissfulness, if it weren't for the vague knowledge that this wasn't a natural state. It was like nothing he had felt before, it wasn't even like his creation of a Horcrux. He was almost a different person, almost not himself...
He opened his eyes.
It could have been anything from minutes to hours since he had last been awake. He felt tired, so very tired. He didn't feel as though he could move an inch of his body. Tom was holding him close. He was rocking him back and forth, his lips pressed to the top of his head. His arms were wrapped around him so securely, he was seemingly protecting him. He was whispering, never stopping once in his continuous, steady rocking of Harry in his arms.
A slither of flickering yellow light made it's way across the room. The door leading to the hallway stood ajar; it made a small portion of floor visible. Nothing was lit in the room itself. The fire was out and the torches had been extinguished for reasons Harry couldn't quite work out; at least one of them was lying on the ground, filling the hair with the smell of burnt wood. The room was cold. No moonlight shone through the tall windows. The night, as well as the rest of the house, was still.
"I'm sorry... Harry, I'm so... so sorry... I will never – n-never let you die..."
The entire room had been smashed to pieces. It was clear from the shards of glass and splinters of ruined wood that were caught in the slither of light. Harry couldn't know if this was his or Tom's fault, or a mix of the two. Tom was shaking, his breath giving voice to the anxiety, fear, and torment he faced, if his words weren't clear enough. He had no idea that Harry was awake, for Harry could not show any sign of it.
"I love-... I love you so much... I'll love you always... forever..."
Harry's tears had stopped long ago. He shuddered and gasped only in stress and fear. He didn't feel fully here. His senses were back to normal, he could see the light shining through the door, he could hear, smell, and feel Tom and his surroundings, and he could taste the vile result of his mouth being far too dry. His emotions, however, were limited. The first true feeling he felt since being awake was fear, provoked only by the sight of Tom's large, trembling, cut, and bleeding hands.
If he was in physical pain, Tom gave no sign of it. His blood was smeared on Harry's arms, on his chest as he held him tightly. Harry knew Tom was crying. He knew Tom felt no remorse, only fear, and he would never sob, like Harry had. His eyes would be open, staring into space. He would be crying with no dramatic change to his handsome face, yet the tears would fall nevertheless. All Harry could do was sit very still, trying hard to make sense of what had happened.
Tom had cursed him. Although Harry couldn't recall it happening, he knew Tom had attacked him. He had flickers of memories showing him mere moment in which he had gained consciousness. He understood that the only logical explanation for what had happened was that Tom was cutting off his emotions. He was forcing him to stop feeling remorse, because it was the only way to stop him from breaking his Horcrux. Tom had stopped a risk of death...
Harry could feel the spells locked upon him. All he could experience was a numb sense of fear at the sight of Tom's hands, and an eerie undertone running throughout him, informing him that this wasn't natural. This feeling was something Tom couldn't stop, because most of all it was an observation. All Harry knew, all he could concentrate upon, was the fact that this wasn't right...
– X –
It was worse than the result of his Horcrux. Harry was in no pain, he felt no agony, and he suffered no physical after-affects of Tom's magic, but he felt dead. A few days passed and in that time Harry did nothing. He could no longer concentrate. Tom was away often and Harry didn't see the point in going to see any of the Knights. Even practising magic had lost it's appeal. Harry couldn't remember what he used to spend his time doing, or why. After over a week of this, Tom suggested they should travel. Harry, seeing no reason to argue, agreed.
They would be gone for a month, taking the longest time away from the Knights they had since before Albania. Tom spoke of it with romance bound to every word, saying how he wanted little else than to run away with Harry for a time. Harry knew that in truth Tom likely wanted little else than to distract him from thoughts of Emeric. What was more, Tom wanted Harry to be with him everywhere he went, thus he had to take Harry along when he needed to speak to people in far places.
They travelled across Western Europe, ending up in Romania, where Tom planned to speak with wizards who knew more information about the Dragons being kept in nearby reservations. Eventually, through discussions with witches and wizards who pointed him in better directions, Tom found the elderly wizard he had been searching for. He gained access to some books he had wanted for these last few months, and he celebrated with Harry alone. After this, they spent their second week away travelling further.
What they looked for next was far less innocent information. Tom brought Harry to a strange town inhabited only by sorcerers. It was far away from any other village, town, or city, and the way people around here acted told Harry that they were far less fond of Muggles than even average wizards. It became clear after a day or two, however, that Tom wasn't interested in the inhabitants of this town. They met many witches and wizards who had an odd obsession with reptilian animals, which Harry was sure related in some way to how Salazar Slytherin had acted in his time. This, above all, was what interested Tom.
Snakes spoke without reluctance of the people who passed through this town. They whispered of dark magic they had seen or sensed, and they explained to Tom things that the witches and wizards around them dared not mention. From the little information the snakes could give, Tom had a sure enough idea of where they had to go next. They travelled soon, reaching warmer, brighter countries where Harry and Tom were looked upon as eerie visitors, having strayed so far from sunlight for so long. Both of them preferred the night to the day, becoming more and more pale as a result, being unable to endure real sunlight.
For the third week they stayed in one place together. They needed a break from travelling and Tom had desired to stay around the beautiful sites close to them for a little longer. Harry didn't object. There was no work for either of them to do here, so their days were spent calmly. Harry was alone with Tom from this point on. It made him feel calm, but not much else. It took away from that uncomfortable knowledge that something unnatural was happening within him, at least.
"It's a beautiful night," Tom said quietly one evening, indicating a hand to the balcony he had just re-entered the room from. "You can see all of the stars, once more."
"Every night here seems to be like that," Harry mentioned.
Tom smiled softly. "It never ceases to impress me..."
He stood in the doorway. His eyes moved across Harry's form, taking in the sight of his bare chest, the way he rested upon their bed, and the subtle expression his face held. He stood up straighter, moving away from the doorframe he had leant upon. Once he had crossed the room, he reaching out a gentle hand to tilt Harry's chin up, standing to the side of their bed.
"I feel as though I could spend forever with you, like this..."
"Why don't you?" Harry asked quietly, staring up into Tom's reddened, half-closed eyes.
"I don't know," Tom answered, smiling ever so slightly. He lowered himself onto the bed, taking his hand from Harry's chin to interlock their fingers.
"Sometimes I wish we could," Harry murmured, squeezing Tom's hand affectionately. "I wish we could just run away from everything... We could start again, find some place else to go. It'd just be the two of us. Forever, we could stay like this..."
"We still have to live our lives, my love," Tom reminded him.
"It's just a thought. It's just something that would be good, even if it might lose it's appeal eventually."
This amused Tom; Harry could see it in his grin and his tone of voice. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say it might lose it's appeal..."
"What if you had to choose?" Harry asked. He wanted to sound light-hearted about it, but he knew he didn't succeed. An odd seriousness occupied his mind. "What if I told you I'd leave you if you didn't give up working, if you didn't dedicate your time to me instead?"
"That'd be asking me to chose between two things I dearly love," Tom said, "two things that I sought immortality to be with."
"But let's say you have no choice but to answer. Which would you choose?"
"Both," Tom said, smiling. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I would leave my work for as long as you desired me to, even if it meant giving up the Knights for years... I would take you away to a quiet place like this, where not another soul knows who we are. For however long you desire, I would dedicate myself to you, until, at the very least, all of your needs are satisfied..."
"That could take a while," Harry commented dryly. He enjoyed Tom's evident enthralment at the suggestion.
Tom moved up on the bed, positioning himself above Harry. "We have all the time in the world, my love..."
"But you have to get back to working, soon."
"You know I enjoy my research," Tom said softly, stroking Harry's hair back. "This, however, could never lessen my enjoyment of you."
"I'm glad," Harry muttered vaguely. He didn't want to hear any more on the subject, being quite a bit more interested now in Tom's lips, which hovered centimetres away from his jaw.
Tom kissed him once, slowly.
"It isn't so bad, doing this back at our own house," Tom commented in a hushed voice.
"How so?"
"Well, to be with you anywhere is good, my love. To have you anywhere..."
His fingers continued to coil through Harry's hair, his body leaning in close.
"The knowledge that I can return to you still makes each day better, no matter what my mood is... You always make it better..."
His lips found their way to Harry's ear, where his warm breath felt so familiar, yet enticing still. His second hand drew designs across Harry's chest with such practice, Harry felt impatient already.
"Not so soon," Tom whispered, pressing a hand on Harry's chest as he attempted to sit up. He pushed him back down. "I'm nowhere finished with you..."
Harry wanted to protest, as much as he enjoyed this. He wanted to lead Tom, to take control once more. Tom's lips were on their way down his neck. His fingers slid from Harry's hair, his hands making their way lower. Harry bit his lips as he watched Tom kissing his chest, taking his time, moving to the places he knew Harry liked to be touched...
Even this, however, wasn't enough to completely distract Harry. He thought back to what he had asked Tom, thinking now that his own seriousness at the question was unusual. Tom's tongue made contact with Harry's skin progressively more as he kissing him on and on. He looked up to catch Harry's reactions every now and then. Tom's answer to the question, moreover, seemed curious. Harry wasn't sure if Tom had been kind and honest, if he had said it nothing but idly, or if it should be considered worrying that Tom treated his work as equally as important as Harry.
Tom's fingers ran along Harry's sides, feeling and caressing him with effortless passion and ease. Above all of this, Harry questioned silently if Tom was merely humouring him... Harry breathed out heavily, his head falling back onto the pillow. This only encouraged Tom, doubling his vigour. He hissed to Harry vague words of Parseltongue, noticing it and enjoying it when Harry began to react more strongly.
What if Tom didn't mean it? He had fooled Harry about Emeric and had gone behind his back to seek immortality for him, this was true... Harry tried to decide if this was a menacing or strangely kind act. Tom was pulling him from the bed, urging him to sit up. Harry did so eagerly, catching Tom by the lips. They swayed where they were, locked in a close embrace. Harry knew Tom had an odd way of showing affection, past the sex and past the romance. He was a strange boy when it came to getting what he wanted. He had betrayed Harry for what he thought was his own safety and well-being...
Tom's hand found it's way lower, and lower. He was pulling off Harry's trousers, to which Harry gave no objection. He held Tom close, kissing his shoulder as he loosened the buttons of his black shirt. In one strong movement Tom pulled him closer still, whispering of the things he wanted them to do. Yes, Harry thought once more, he had an odd way of sorting through what was right and what was wrong. He had treated Harry like he treated his work; with a complete disregard for the obstacles he knew he could overcome for the quickest, most efficient path to his goals...
Harry felt an odd compressing feeling in his chest, but paid no attention to it. It was purely physical, but it added to the eerie undertone in his mind that he chose to ignore regularly. Tom had thought of Harry's inability to kill as a challenge that he, Tom, had to conquer. Harry knelt with his legs on either side of Tom's, who sat beneath him on the bed. They held each other in this upright position, staring into each other's eyes.
"I can't decide what I want more," Tom said in a breathless, rough tone, "to have you now, or to spend the remainder of the evening taunting you with desire..."
Harry responded by kissing Tom hard on the lips, clawing back his hair passionately. "Why not do both?" he hissed.
"I could," Tom responded, "very easily..."
Harry couldn't deny that Tom was sincere in his desires for him. Even Nott had said once that Tom had never loved anyone like he loved Harry. This was clear in the way that Tom looked after him, the way he dedicated so much time to him, the way he currently ran his fingers down Harry's bare back, kissing him all the while... it was clear, too, in his betrayal of trust. Tom wouldn't risk Harry being unable to kill another man. Harry should have known it sooner. When Tom wanted something done, especially something important to him, he found a way to do it, at any costs...
After all, Tom didn't waste time on things he did not truly love and care about...
– X –
When they returned to England, Harry could tell that Tom was satisfied to find comfort in their house, even after what had been an exceedingly desirable time spent away. Tweaky greeted them warmly when they arrived, igniting all the fires within the house and cooking them a large, plentiful meal that he rightly assumed the both of them would need. Harry still felt an odd disconnection to his emotions, despite over a month having passed since Tom stalled his remorse. He wondered idly weather this would ever fade.
They got back into the usual routine within a few days of returning to their house. Tom went away often to meet with various Knights and other people he needed things from, concerning his work, which left Harry alone often. It was during an evening perhaps two weeks since their return when Harry was visited by someone he had almost completely forgotten about: Christopher Nott.
"You can leave, Tweaky," Harry informed the House-elf, who had accompanied the two wizards up to the library. "I'll summon you if I need anything."
"Of course, Master," Tweaky said with a deep bow, already backing up. He left the room within seconds, doubtlessly returning to the kitchen to cook tonight's dinner. It wouldn't be long until Tom returned home.
"Would you like to sit down?" Harry asked, turning to Nott.
To his surprise, Nott shook his head shortly. "No, thank you. I don't intend to visit for long."
In truth, Harry wasn't sure why Nott was visiting at all. He studied the Knight for a time, assessing that he looked stressed and tired, for reasons Harry couldn't quite guess. There was a certain level of determination clear in the way Nott held himself, however, steadying himself. He was scared.
"What brought you here tonight?" Harry asked, in what he hoped was a causal and not demanding tone.
"I felt as though I needed to talk to you."
"Why?"
"Well," Nott seemed surprised, "I haven't seen you in over a month. I had no idea where you went, I didn't... I didn't have any idea what happened."
Harry was confused. "Since when do Tom and I have to tell the Knights where we go, or why?"
"You don't," Nott said quickly, put off, somehow, by Harry's reaction. "Forgive me, but it's just, you surely remember what happened the last time we spoke?"
Harry had pushed the thought out of his mind. He had believed up until this point that Nott would be wise enough to do the same. "That's been sorted out."
He knew Nott wasn't convinced. He watched Harry with concern and unease clearly displayed on his face. "Why didn't you tell me where you went?"
Ire struck Harry. "Why should I have?"
"I – well, no, I suppose... I suppose you had no obligation to."
"Right..."
Nott became more nervous. Somehow this annoyed Harry further. Both of them waited for the other to talk, but Harry refused to. He didn't understand why Nott had chosen to visit him like this, and more specifically why he had decided to talk to him when Tom wasn't around. He must have known, Harry supposed, that Tom was away with a few of the Knights currently.
"I want to talk to you about what happened," Nott began.
"I don't see why," Harry responded, "If I wanted to talk about what happened, I'd ask."
"I know you were upset, I know something changed that night," Nott pressed on urgently, ignoring his words, "if you want someone to talk to, I'm perfectly willing to be here for you."
"If I need someone to talk to, I have Tom."
"But if that isn't enough, if there's something else bothering you and you don't want to turn to him-"
"You think Tom isn't good enough to comfort me?"
"No, no I just-"
"Tell me why you're here, or get out. I don't have time for this."
His forceful tone alarmed Nott. His worry deepened, clear from his large, strained eyes.
"Something happened," Nott said, "I know it. You can't have forgotten what we spoke about, because I know it affected you badly. You haven't visited me since, you haven't so much as written a letter-"
"Why should I have?"
"You said we were friends."
"That doesn't mean I want to replace Tom with you," Harry said, glaring.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what do you mean?"
"Just listen to me," Nott pleaded, "whatever happened with Tom, whatever possessed you to murder Emeric-"
"Shut up," Harry barked, cutting off his words.
"You've changed again, I can see it. You're not the same -"
"Shut up!"
" - I know you were forced to murder!"
"SHUT UP!"
"Listen to me, I know he did this to you! You're not supposed to be this way! Harry, you-"
BANG!
The rage was overpowering. Harry had no control over it before he lowered his wand, lunging at Nott so strongly that he had him pressed hard against the wall in an instant. Nott's terrified face stared up at Harry's, which was twisted into a look of pure fury. He wasn't choking Nott, but his force was as powerful as it had been against Rosier as he pressed Nott against the bookshelf. He didn't want to murder Nott, but his anger controlled his every move. Soon, Nott's expression faded from fear. He was brave as he stared back at Harry, waiting.
Footsteps then sounded, making their way towards the two wizards. Harry momentarily thought it could be Tweaky, which added to his irritation, but he soon remembered that House-Elves wore no shoes. The soft, calm footsteps he heard could only belong to one man. Tom had returned, perhaps here due to the sound of raised voices. Still Harry refused to move, refused to let go of the front of Nott's robes. Tom stopped in the doorway.
"I would ask what's going on," Tom began in a tranquil, steady voice, "but perhaps it is best I leave your quarrels as your own business..."
Harry lowered his gaze to somewhere at the base of Nott's neck, trying to contain his anger. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to lower his wand. Nott was discomforted by Tom's presence, but he understood now that a punishment from Harry could, perhaps, be less severe...
"However," Tom carried on, still taking gradual steps towards the both of them, "it is perhaps best if you, Harry, refrain from murdering such a pure-blooded wizard in the comfort of this house... It would not do well to so early face an inquiry from a Ministry, or something of the sort, due to a well-known visitor of ours to suddenly going missing so suspiciously..."
Tom was standing behind Harry. He had stopped, perhaps surprised that Harry hadn't yet removed his grip from the Knight who had so recently infuriated him. Tom's hand found it's way to his.
"Lower your wand, Harry."
Surprised by the softness of his tone, Harry didn't resist as Tom guided his hand away. He was standing with his head just over Harry's shoulder, at a point where he could clearly see Nott struggling in front of them. This, apparently, amused him. He gave a hum of laughter, still holding on gently to Harry's lowered hand, which was curled into a fist around the Elder Wand.
"You're tense," Tom commented, his lips close to Harry's ear. He spoke in little over a whisper.
"I'm pissed off," Harry responded through gritted teeth. Tom had softened his mood, but if he wanted to help punish Nott in some way, Harry had no idea why he was taking so long.
"There's no need to harm our Knights so eagerly, my love."
"I want to," Harry hissed, refusing to speak in English about this. "He deserves it..."
"I don't doubt that. Yet you're stronger than this."
Nott's eyes were wider than before.
"If you hadn't interrupted me, I could have taught him a lesson by this point."
"Ah," Tom breathed, "but it is unwise to attack our own Knights within this house."
"You had no problem with this in Albania."
"In Albania, I never met this problem with you, and we weren't so closely watched..."
Harry gave no response to this. It infuriated him that Tom would stop him from these attacks when he has so readily encouraged him to murder Emeric. It was the height of hypocrisy, the next greatest insult. Tom, apparently, could sense his anger, perhaps in the way his grip on Nott's robes tightened.
"My love," Tom hissed, "we must control your anger..."
What happened next stunned Harry more than anything else had. Tom leant in closer to his neck, until every breath could be felt as clearly as if he were touching Harry. Then, with no consideration for Nott watching them, his lips pressed against Harry's skin. It took a moment for Harry to process it, by which time Tom had kissed him again, and again. It was evaporating his irritation, replacing it with sickening desire, especially as Nott tensed before them. Tom was close now, very close. He kissed Harry with such skill and control, all Harry could do was draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to make sense of what was happening.
He realised, then, that because of this distraction, not a single thought about Emeric crossed Nott's mind. He tried Occlumency, yet it was weak against the two skilled leaders before him. Although Nott didn't know it, this was the single thing that saved him from infuriation from Tom. He was too distracted by the situation, and by thoughts of Lestrange that broke though his mind. Harry could see confusion, sorrow, and embarrassment pour into his mind. His grip loosened on Nott's robes.
"There," Tom said softly. He had guided Harry's hand away from Nott's chest, his lips inches away from Harry now. "That wasn't so difficult."
Harry backed away from Nott, making Tom do the same. The Knight's face was flushed and he refused to look at either of his leaders. Harry, however, had eyes only for Tom. He couldn't remember why he had been so angry, but he no longer cared. All he wanted was to be close to Tom again. Apparently he wasn't alone in this desire.
"You can go, Nott," Tom informed the Knight shortly, his eyes fixed on Harry. "If you so desire, that is... Jonathan and I have some important business to attend to. Come, my love..."
Harry followed when Tom beckoned him. They left the room together swiftly, Tom taking his hand along the way, while Harry forgot to even look back at Nott. His mind, however, was brooding on some level. If Nott hadn't been distracted, Tom would most certainly have discovered that it was he, and not Harry, who lead to the discovery of Emeric's curse. Harry understood that if things remained the way they were, Nott wouldn't stand a chance keeping secrets from Tom...
As soon as they entered their bedroom, Tom began kissing Harry violently, tearing at his clothes. Harry's back hit a wall before he had time to resist, while Tom breathed against him heavily, hornier than he had been in a while. He ripped open Harry's shirt, kissing his collarbone.
"I love to see you attack others," Tom told him in a laugh, through heavy, strained breaths. "You're so strong, my love. So powerful..."
Seeing it as only appropriate, Harry responded by pushing Tom back, forcing him across the room. They soon met their bed, which Tom was thrown onto, his buttoned-robes only half open. As Harry began to climb on him, Tom pushed him over, forcing him to lay flat on the covers instead.
"Let's go away together," Tom suggested, his eyes full of desire. "In a month, in three... Let us leave England once more, to see what mysteries this world has waiting for us..."
"That'd be brilliant," Harry said. He's approval wasn't a lie.
Tom kissed him with a grin, his movements rough and passionate. His hands were already on Harry's body, urging a groan from him, as he had likely hoped. Harry became engrossed in lust and desire, his mind and body concentrated solely on Tom from that moment on.
– X –
Night fell earlier, days became progressively colder and leaves began to slowly wither in their branches, painting the whole country in colours of yellow, red, and brown. Autumn had arrived restlessly. Although Harry and Tom had been back in the country for less than two months, they were planning to leave again for the winter, travelling to the far more interesting parts of the world. They would be leaving for three months, both giving separate explanations to all of the Knights, even being so precautions as to leave at different dates.
Tom went away two days before Harry, after pretending to the Knights that he had left a week ago. Harry was alone in the house with no one but Tweaky for company, but in truth he had wanted this to happen. If he and Tom were going away for so long together, there was something he knew he must – and could – do first. Knowing that Tom wouldn't have the chance to notice it, Harry removed a certain amount of books from their private library. He would never be caught because Tom had no reason to suspect him of such a crime. On the evening before his departure, Harry had only one more place to visit.
He hadn't seen Nott in over a month, unless meetings at Tom's house counted (which they didn't in Harry mind). This was partially because he understood that Nott had been embarrassed for a few weeks, but mostly Harry felt cautious to go and pay him a visit due a fear that he'd have to talk about Emeric. It had been a wise decision to stay away from Nott for two reasons: it cut out the possibility that Tom might discover what Nott knew, and Harry hated the idea of confronting what had happened. He didn't want to explain it to anyone, he wanted it to be forgotten...
"Jonathan," Nott greeted in slight surprise upon opening the door, "Come in..."
Harry did so wordlessly, stepping over the threshold. It was warm and dry inside. He followed Nott though his handsome home, heading for the living room not far in. They took the two seats they commonly occupied, facing each other in front of the fire.
"What brings you here so late?" Nott asked, a little more politely than needed. "I was under the impression you'd be leaving tomorrow morning."
"I will be," Harry said, "I'll be gone by dawn. To be honest, I can't spend much time here."
Nott nodded vaguely in understanding.
There was a moment of silence where he seemed to struggle with a thought. Harry waited for him to talk about it.
"Listen," he began, "about a few weeks ago... I'm sorry that I offended you. The same goes for Tom, I know he disapproves that I angered you, even if he can't have heard our discussion. I honestly didn't mean to annoy you, I didn't mean to -"
"It's alright," Harry cut across him. His voice was calm and assuring. "I understand."
Nott didn't seem to truly believe him. "I just thought, after your reaction to my theory the last time we met here..."
"I took your advice," Harry told him, "I talked to Tom – about everything."
"Was I wrong?"
Harry didn't want to lie... but he also didn't want to talk about it. "We worked through it."
Nott took this as a 'no'. "Were you alright, that month you went away for?"
"I was fine – never better, in fact. Tom felt guilty, I think. He wanted to make up for never telling me what happened, so we took a trip together."
"I see."
Seeing his chance, Harry decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "Actually, that's part of the reason why I'm here..."
"In what way?"
Harry's chest felt contorted for a moment, flooding him with that eerie feeling. He was beginning to think that maybe this was because of the shield between his mind and his feelings. Tom's dark magic kept half of his emotions prisoner... Forgetting these thoughts, Harry began an explanation.
"I'll be away for a while. For longer than before..."
"With Tom?"
"Yes," Harry said, surprised this wasn't clear, "still with Tom."
"How long are you going for?"
"Three months, at least. I thought you should know."
"Well, thank you for warning me," Nott said after a moment. "I do prefer to know such things."
Harry thought of Lestrange, how he had disappeared on a mission to track down some of Grindelwald's people with a few others. No, he thought privately, Nott didn't just prefer to know such things, he needed to be reassured that the same thing wouldn't happen twice, that someone he cared about, even a friend, wouldn't change if they left for longer than expected. Harry wondered if Nott noticed the change in him, if it scared him. Most likely, the answer was yes.
"There's something else," Harry began. An odd sense of fear gripped him; it felt muffled.
"Yes?"
"There's something I want you to do, while I'm away..."
He reached for a bag he had brought to Nott house. It was resting besides his hair, and he pulled it up onto his knees in one movement, despite the weight. Carefully, he took out five large books, placing them upon the low table between Nott and himself.
"I want you to take these, to read them while I'm away. You understand?"
Nott was cautious. He knew what sort of books Harry and Tom had in their possession, hidden away in the large library that Tom fastidiously created with information from all over the world.
Nott was pale. "Why are you giving me these?"
In truth, Harry wasn't completely sure. In a moment of panic, he had believed firmly that he had to keep Nott's mind sealed from Tom, in case he found out that it was Nott, and not Harry, who found out what happened to Emeric. This, however, was a weak argument. If he wanted to avoid such a collision, all he would have to do is never speak to Nott. The real reason behind Harry's decision was based upon something he couldn't fully acknowledge, but something he understood nevertheless. It was that eerie, looming shadow that had been cast upon his mind. Something, somehow, just wasn't right...
"It's for Occlumency and Legilimency," Harry explained.
"I know," Nott said, not touching any of the books, "but this... I can't accept this. They're too rare, even to borrow. If Tom found out -"
"He won't," Harry said. "If this goes right for you..."
"I won't be able to learn this fast enough to shield my mind from him, Harry. Don't be foolish."
"We're leaving for three months. When Tom sees you've improved, he'll assume you taught yourself Occlumency, most of all, through more common books. He'll be impressed."
"He'll know."
Nott was far from reassured. Harry reflected that he was in dire need of these books; his mind was so clear and so open even now, in his shock. He contemplated this being a trick, a test. He contemplated what Tom's punishment might be, as well as if Harry would be affected by it, if Tom was angry enough after finding out about this. Far from feeling protected by these books containing instructions on how to shield his thoughts, Nott understood this was a deeper responsibility.
"What are you doing, Harry?"
The eeriness spread. Harry ignored it. "I'm teaching you something Tom should have taught you far better. Something he would have happily done, had he not begrudged the process."
"Why are you protecting me?"
"You deserve it," Harry told him honestly, "and anyway, you're smart enough to learn all of this properly on your own."
Nott wasn't so sure. He glanced at the books once more, clearly hesitating to say what was really on his mind.
"Three months is a long time," he said quietly.
"It is," Harry agreed.
He wondered what Nott would do in that time. The Knight wasn't looking at him anymore. He then wondered what might happen to himself, after staying so far away with Tom for a few months. He wasn't sure it'd affect him much. He thought for a moment about what it would be like being alone with Tom for so long, before he remembered what he had to do.
"I'll visit you to take the books back as soon as I can," he explained, "before Tom knows it... If you're not up for it, you can bring these back to my house and Tweaky will take them, but please... consider it. It'll help you... Do you understand me?"
His tone had changed, and Nott noticed it. Harry was more urgent, more strained. Nott had frozen. They watched each other for a time.
"I... I understand."
"I'll be away for a long while. All I ask is that you read this... It'll help you."
"And you?" Nott asked. "What will help you?"
Harry didn't respond immediately. Did this perhaps mean that Nott knew more than he could guess? Harry couldn't know for sure... "I can look after myself."
"I suppose," Nott murmured. His tone was curious. "You've grown more independent, lately..."
Harry nodded slowly, not sure how else to respond. It surprised him to reflect that he indeed felt less dependant on Tom, as of late... He decided not to think about it too much. It was getting late.
"I have to go," he said, standing up.
Nott stood up too, with one last glance to the books before him. "Alright."
Harry turned away.
"Wait."
Nott's bright eyes had risen to Harry's own. He looked almost sad.
"I'll read them," he said in a quiet, unsure voice.
They watched each other for a few moments. Although Nott wasn't at all confident about the idea, Harry couldn't help but feel relief at these words. He realised only then that he had been worried about all of this. He inclined his head.
"I guess this is the last time I'll see you, then. For a few months, at least."
"I guess so."
Harry wanted to leave, but he realised, now, that he was leaving Nott on his own. He might have felt guilty, if he could. All he knew was that this wasn't a kind thing to do.
"Just... Just remember what I said."
"I will."
"And, Christopher..."
"Yes?"
Harry hesitated. "Stay strong."
The concern evaporated from Nott's face, being replaced with stunned surprise. Harry had a sudden feeling that he had said something wrong, but he couldn't help it, he felt as though it was right. He began thinking of a way to take back his words, but soon found that he didn't need to.
"Why?"
The question was uttered with such strain, in such a quiet breath, Harry might not have heard it if he hadn't seen Nott's lips move. He felt pained again, Harry could see it.
"Things will be alright," Harry told him, "some day. I want you to be here when that happens. I'll... I'll be here for you."
Although Nott tried to hide it, Harry could see what affect these words had upon him. Towards the Knights, Nott had become distant and shielded by both humour and anger, but to Harry, and only Harry, his composure broke. He was truly himself. Before Harry knew it, Nott leapt forwards, pulling him into a hug.
Harry was so shocked, he barely knew how to react. Nott's held onto him tightly, not at all reluctant to carry this on. What stunned Harry most of all wasn't the act of Nott's impulse, but the comfort he found in it. It was nothing like any hug Tom had given him; it was shared in nothing but friendship, to convey thoughts and emotions that Nott couldn't put into words. Harry hugged him back comfortably, surprised by how natural it felt. Memories of his old friends came flooding back to him. He closed his eyes.
"Thank you," Nott managed quietly into his shoulder, "for everything..."
