Chapter 30:

As Harry stood in the entrance hall, awkwardly, as most people filed past to go the feast, he wondered why the hell he'd agreed to visit Godric's Hollow with Tom. Well, he knew why, but…was he insane? Quite possibly.

It just felt…nice that someone had bothered to ask. He had never seen his parent's grave, he'd wanted to, but he'd never…no one had ever asked him if he wanted to. No one had offered to go with him - not even Remus. They just seemed to assume that he would rather be at the feast, or hell, maybe they didn't think of it at all. He twisted his fingers nervously.

It did feel strange, in a good way (if that made any sense!) that Tom was coming with him. Of course, Tom probably had his own agenda, as always, but he could pretend…he'd never wanted to go alone. It was daunting. He'd never wanted someone to gush at him about the night either, it wasn't wonderful or great or brilliant. It was just…Tom wouldn't make it awkward. He wasn't the type. He had a shared history too, in a way, it was a place of unfinished business for both of them.

"Harry," a voice greeted softly. He only flinched slightly. It was an achievement. He hated Halloween and was always on edge, especially around Tom. He normally ended up with someone trying to kill him. It was a reasonable paranoia to have.

"Tom," he said quietly. He felt the Slytherin's eyes resting on him, assessing and searing straight through to his soul.

"You ready to go?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"Are you?" he returned. Tom was silent.

"Let's go. We're taking the knight bus," he said finally.

They hopped off, at the gates of the small wizarding village. Harry decided he didn't like the Knight bus much. At least Stan and Ernie had stopped blathering on about how awesome Halloween was and stuff and how good it was to see you again 'Arry after Tom had death glared them - the Slytherin heir had a serious basilisk's stare when he wanted to. The wind caressed the side of his face, icy like a ghost. It was a cold night. It was already growing dark.

They started walking. Harry, horribly, couldn't help but think that Voldemort must have walked this path all those years ago. He shuddered slightly.

"So, what's the motive?" he asked, to fill the silence. Right now, he didn't want to be alone with those thoughts. Tom glanced at him.

"Motive?" he returned lazily.

"Yeah, motive. Why do you want to see Godric's Hollow, why are you here?" he questioned. Tom was silent a moment, dodging a gaggle of trick or treaters.

"Same reason as you."

"Really?" he said dubiously.

"What reason did you believe me to have?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just didn't think it would be to see my parents grave."

Tom smirked.

"You're not interested in the house? The scene of the crime?"

Oh…OH.

"I didn't really think about it," he murmured honestly.

They passed an old war memorial, Harry barely gave it a glance, only stopping when Tom caught his arm, with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

"What?" he asked. Tom inclined his head at the statue, Harry followed his gaze, his eyes widening. It had changed and…he stepped closer, fascinated at the sight of his parents and the baby. "Salazar…" he whispered.

Tom was silent, unobtrusive…and mostly likely brooding. There was a dark tint to his eyes. He stared for another few moments, before shaking his head and continuing. They were going to the graveyard first.

Harry felt numb, staring at the gleaming tombstone. Hollow and empty. He had never felt the loss so much before. This somehow made it hit harder, closer, it made it more real. His heart ached. He realised belatedly that he had no flowers to give. He started as a bouquet of roses and lilies were pressed into his hands. His head snapped up to see Tom's eyes on him, unreadable.

"Thanks," he murmured, embarrassed to find his voice croaky and hoarse. He crouched down, setting the flowers down, tracing the lettering. He shut his eyes, feeling something fiery and hot streak down his cheeks compared to his frozen skin.

"You're crying," Tom stated. Harry's eyes snapped open as slender fingers brushed the wetness from his skin. Tom was looking at the droplets with something akin to fascination in his eyes.

"Yes," he said defensively. "Have you never cried?" Tom looked up at him, from his fingers.

"Not since I was a child, five years old." Tom looked down again, rubbing the moisture from his tears off his fingers. His next words were quiet, so quiet that if he wanted to he could pretend to have not heard them: I'm sorry.

"It's not your fault," he muttered. "You're not him." He could feel Tom's eyes on him, again.

"Nor is it yours," he said.

Harry forced a smile.

"Right pair of misfits we make."

"Indeed," Tom murmured, still watching him intently. He smiled a little more genuinely.

"You can relax Mr Sociopath, I'm not going to cry on you or anything." Tom smiled.

"Oh thank Salazar, I do have a reputation to uphold…" Harry laughed a little, before looking up at the sky and sobering.

What would his parents think of him? Would they be proud? Or would they disown him a traitor and a snake?

"They'd be fools not to be," Tom said quietly."What?" he asked. "Proud. They'd be fools not to be."

"You think?" he asked, not even sure why he was asking Tom - of all people - this, or how he knew of his thoughts.

"Yes."

He was silent for another moment, talking in his head, praying? Tom was quiet too.

"House?" he asked.

"House."

Shit, he felt sick.

AN: So, another update. I hope you enjoyed it and that it wasn't too OOC. Whose POV should the next? Harry's or Tom's? Don't expect my writing to pick up amazingly again, but it seems better than it was before. For now - and that's updating wise. I still stand by that this writing isn't brilliant, but you know =] I suppose it's opinion. Hope I didn't disappoint. Anything you guys would like to see (aside from the obvious kissing etc you slash lover's out there, I'm not a slash writer). And yeah. Ciao for now - The Fictionist.

Thanks for the reviews...

OH, AND LET ME REITERATE THIS! NOT SLASH! NEITHER CHARACTERS (HARRY OR TOM) ARE WRITTEN TO LIKE EACH OTHER IN A ROMANTIC WAY! Hope that clears some doubts up. By all means, slash lovers, ignore that, but this not written as slash, nor will it ever be. Capito?