The church, when not in service, looked older and more decrepit than it actually was- though that was probably on account of how little light there was in the place.
Father Albus was knelt before the cross at the altar when Tom entered, the door creaking behind him in a way best described as threatening. After the last service- only a couple days ago- he'd requested to speak with him a while, and it was time, Tom supposed, to give him his answer.
"Lord Riddle…to what do I owe this visit?" asked the priest. As if he didn't know.
"Father Albus, such a pleasure it is to find you here- and right when I intend to speak with you! How convenient! Surely the Lord is in our favor today!" Tom responded. Two could play at that game.
"My child, have you come to confess?"
Tom laughed, his voice, like silk, gliding throughout the church like a bridal gown.
"Of course not Father! I am and will be forevermore a demon of the worst kind, and nothing will ever put an end to that."
He spoke casually, confidently- with the air of one who is positively certain of their fate and perfectly happy with it. And, in a way, that might not have been far from the truth.
"Hush with such nonsense, child! Those who confess and give themselves unto Him shall always receive redemption, and be seen as good in His eyes!" Father Albus said, insistent. Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes and kept his charming smile in place.
"Perhaps. But I have no desire for redemption. And, even if I had such, it has no bearing on my coming here."
"Then, pray tell, why are you here?"
Tom answered quickly, eager to have this discussion and leave.
"In regards to our discussion last Sunday, I have come to tell you: no. I will not stop. And by the time I'm satisfied, he and I shall be just as damned, and will have lost all desire to return to the light. That is your answer."
At this point, he was halfway down the aisle, and began striding back to the door.
"As that is all which bears my saying, I shall take my leave. Good day, Father Dumbledore."
"Fine! Go then, child! Perhaps God will have mercy on the boy's soul, and redeem it of your manipulations!"
The doors opened and closed again, their ominous creak ringing through the church like the toll of a bell announcing a funeral, and Father Albus Dumbledore was left to his own thoughts.
XxX
The next morning, Harry woke up a little earlier than normal to apply the bruise cream to his face. The younger Lord Riddle was so kind as to purchase it for him, he may as well use it. After all, it just wouldn't do if people thought the Riddles treated their servants badly.
Once that was done, he quickly got dressed and went to wake his masters. Since he'd essentially gifted himself to both of them, this particular chore had become more difficult, since Voldemort's bedroom was in the very back of the mansion whereas Tom's was closer to the front.
As usual, getting Tom up was a relatively easy task, but Harry couldn't afford to stay long. Tom had a meeting scheduled right after breakfast with some business partner or other, and the boy knew that he had no business in such matters. He recited Tom's schedule for the day and then left him to his breakfast while he went to wake the elder Riddle. As he'd expected, Voldemort was already awake and dressed for the day, as he was by this time every morning.
Harry felt a little bit guilty for things turning out this way, but at this particular moment, the most he could do was swallow it down and move on. Like most days, Voldemort didn't have much planned out, so there was nothing for him to recite. Not even the breakfast menu for the day- though that was unchanging, regardless (Porridge, sweetened with brown sugar and mixed in with the medicine Voldemort was to take once daily).
So, Harry was left to his own devices for the next hour, at least.
He thought about helping his parents, but that would've likely resulted in someone (probably James) getting distracted, and he wasn't going to risk that.
Hmmm…what to do…
XxX
He decided to visit Flourish and Blott's. Supposedly there were good books to be read there, and he wanted to see for himself if that was the case.
There were many volumes and anthologies, and numerous copies of the Holy Bible, and a few children's books. The shop was, aside from the two men at the counter, empty, not that he expected much else. Not many outside the nobility cared for reading- not that they would have had time to, even if they did.
"Hello Mister Potter! Come for a read-in?"
The storekeepers were kind men, and after his family lost their fortune, would allow him to stay in their shop and read.
"Not today. I would like to purchase a book for a friend."
Flourish- as he called himself- leaned forward. "Aaahhh, so that's how 'tis, eh? By all means, look around as much as you like. I'm sure this friend of yours will certainly appreciate our selection!"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Elders….
Shrugging his shoulders, he glanced through the shelves, eventually settling on a book of fairytales. He had no idea if Draco would even like this sort of thing, but if nothing else it would give him something to do.
He paid for the book (apparently he'd been granted a discount) and left the shop feeling pleased with himself.
There was still time before he had to be back at the manor, but there wasn't much left for him to do outdoors, so Harry decided to return early.
While walking along the dusty cobblestoned street, he started as someone ran into him.
"Oh pardon me- Harry!? What are you doing dressed like that?"
That voice…and that hair…he had trouble recognizing at first, but…
"Hermione? Is that you? It's been ages!"
"Quite. Now, what are you doing dressed in such expensive clothes? Last I'd heard you were living off of cabbage!"
"It's…a rather long story…but I suppose, to put it shortly…" he spoke nervously, and not even he knew why. It's not like he and Hermione had never spoken before. It'd just…been a while. He hadn't even known she was back in town.
"I've gotten a job…"
"Well, obviously. But what job requires you to dress like…like that?"
"Well…see…that's….that is to say…I'm working for the Riddles!"
Hermione looked at him agape.
"Wha…? But…But Harry! They're the ones who forced your family into poverty- for goodness sake the elder son tried to kill you! Or have you forgotten?"
He knew she was worried for him- he could hear it in her voice- but he couldn't stop the snappish tone that'd entered his voice.
"Of course I haven't forgotten, 'mione. How could I?" he said, his voice low. "And that's partially why I'm working for them. To earn back that money for my parents."
She shook her head.
"Oh, Harry…you could've just asked to stay with us- we still have room. Why don't you just quit and stay with my family?"
"I couldn't do that, Hermione. I'd feel…rude. And I doubt either of them want me to leave, anyhow."
Hermione looked at him questioningly, then decided she'd rather not know what that meant.
"…Promise you'll find time to at least visit."
"Hermione-"
"Promise me, Harry."
"…Alright. I promise I'll try and visit. Where would I find your house?"
Hermione smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Towards the edge of town. My parents practice dentistry. You'll not have trouble finding them. Good day, Harry." She walked off, breezing past him like a leaf in the gentle Spring breeze. He returned to the manor with no further interruptions, and found Draco scrubbing the floor in the foyer. It was an odd, but not unsurprising sight.
Harry stood to the side and patiently waited for him to finish before going to get his attention.
"Hello, Malfoy."
Startled, Draco only stiffened before turning to face him.
"Potter." That was as much a greeting as Harry was going to get, and they both knew it.
"I want to give you something- to repay you." Harry held out the book, wrapped in parchment, and Draco curiously took it.
"How do I know this isn't some trick?"
"Why would I want to trick you in such a way after you've helped me?" asked Harry, incredulous, "no doubt that cloak will serve me well. Least I could do is buy you something in return- though," Harry gestured for Draco to open it, and he tentatively did so, "I'm not entirely sure it's to your taste. I had hoped that you could look at it more in your free time…"
He trailed off, suddenly unsure. What if he thought it too childish? What if he couldn't even read it? What if-
A bell tinkled, and Harry knew he was needed. He turned and made to leave, only to freeze as Draco called him.
"Potter."
He stiffened. "Yes?"
A moment of hesitation. "…Thank you."
Flabbergasted, Harry wordlessly exited and went to the study, where Tom was surely waiting for him.