AN: Hey, sorry for my lack of updates. I've got exams and I've been stuck abroad. So yeah, here goes. Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and alerts. This is horribly short, but I'm having major blocks on this story. Enjoy - The Fictionist
Chapter 19
"Who's fault is it that all my Halloweens are so terrible?" Harry replied dryly. Tom smirked.
"They can't all be terrible," Lestrange scoffed. He arched his brows, glancing at the Slytherin heir.
"First year, almost got killed by a troll. Second year, the chamber of secrets was opened. Third year, a mass murdering Azkaban escapee was supposedly out for my blood. Fourth year, ridiculously dangerous Triwizard tournament all year which I was forced to compete in…fifth year…don't get me started."
"What can I say, I'm persistent," Tom muttered, looking far too amused. "Fifth year, you ended up comatose and half dead in the hospital wing for two weeks."
"As did you, I remember," he replied coolly. Tom looked distinctively less amused.
"You make it sound like Tom's the one that messes you up," Zevi noted quietly. They were both silent. "What do you take him for, the Dark Lord?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he replied promptly. He glanced at the Slytherin heir. "Only his forerunner."
He sat on the stands of the Quidditch pitch, staring into the darkness. It was curfew in about two minutes, but he couldn't quite bring himself to move. This whole situation was messing with his head. When he'd gone to the past and made friends with Tom he had never expected to return, or never expected to be followed back. This was just weird, a clash of two worlds and personas so different that they scarcely seemed to belong in the same dimension, let alone in the same body. Harry Potter, Gryffindor golden boy and Harrison Evans, Slytherin extraordinaire. Chalk and cheese. Yet, they were both innately him…he supposed he had never really been the Gryffindor Golden boy, that had been an act all along. Still, if you lived your life a lie for four years, then didn't the lie become true? It was all so confusing. He couldn't afford to tell the truth, either, and it hadn't been a total fabrication besides…more a black and white snapshot. He was half there; in the smiles he gave and the friends he had.
Strangely, it was who is enemies were that defined the difference between his two lives.
"Out a bit late, don't you think?" a voice remarked, making him jump. "There could be dangerous people about at this time of night." "What, like you?" he replied, glancing up. Tom smirked, sitting down next to him. They watched the stars in silent for a couple of minutes.
"Alecto Carrow," Tom started. "What do you know of her?"
Harry stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"Death Eater who escaped conviction, brother Amycus," he replied dully. The Slytherin heir studied him impassively for a moment, his eyes glittering,
"You dislike her?" he questioned. Harry didn't reply, looking away into the distance.
"It's curfew, I should be heading back to the common room," he stated, even as he made no indication of actually moving, Tom chuckled.
"Rules are made to be broken," he responded softly. "Carrow?"
His lips curled slightly.
"You're not going to drop it are you?"
Tom quirked a brow.
"Harry, I stalked you to the quidditch pitch, why would I drop it?" the words quidditch pitch rolled of his tongue like slime. Tom had always hated the sport. Harry shrugged.
"She doesn't give a very endearing first impression," he allowed. The future Dark Lord was pensive for a moment. "Is there a reason for this? Or are you just being your normal nosy self?"
Tom smiled sharply at him, a shark like razor sharp smile.
"I'm merely curious for your opinion of the matter, is that a crime?"
He made a disbelieving noise.
"Bull," he retorted flatly. Tom was never so simple in his motivations, and he was certainly never open about them. The astute focus in his companions eyes shifted to pin his features, quietly clawing at his skin to reveal everything hiding below. Then, Tom smirked.
"Perhaps," he conceded. The slytherin rose, glancing at him. "You coming? Far be it from me to let you do something as scandalous as staying out of curfew."
He rose too, and they started walking back towards the castle.
"You're dodging the question," he noted.
"Something that you do quite often," Tom replied without missing a beat.
"What are you up to?" he demanded. Riddle came to a stop, close enough to touch. His expression had cooled rapidly.
"Why are you asking so many questions, Harry? You know I don't like it," he questioned icily.
"You know I don't like knowing. Your plans rarely benefit me. You know I'll find out anyway," he returned. Tom took a step closer, his aura beginning to flare. "If that is so, then why do you insist on continuing this conversation? It grows tedious."
His eyes narrowed. "Is it the same ever elusive reason you have for being in this time period, despite the lack of interest you seem to have in current affairs?" he asked.
Tom continued walking again, briskly now.
"This conversation is over."