A/N: Sorry the update took so long. The system screwed up and wouldn't let me add a chapter to any of my HP fics. You can thank Effiron on forum for giving me a way around it.
Chapter 38:
"Well, I am starting to wonder…" Tom trailed off, glancing at him with a wicked grin. Harry scowled.
"As always, your comebacks get wittier by the day," he replied sarcastically, abruptly twisting out of Tom's grip, trying to ignore the excruciating throbbing of his head. Tom arched a brow at the action.
"Don't tell me you're sulking," he said. "That's something I'd expect from Lestrange, not you. Come on." He made an impatient hand gesture.
"I'm not going to the Hospital Wing," Harry said flatly. Tom studied him for a moment.
"Yes, you are," he replied calmly. "You look like death warmed over."
"Considering your love of corpses, I'll take that as a compliment," he retorted, batting his eyelashes mockingly, before stopping when it made the world tilt in a decidedly unnatural manner.
"I'm not a necrophiliac," Tom snapped, looking irritated for a moment.
"I always knew there was a reason that you went Dark Lord on everyone…"
Tom levelled him with a rather ferocious glare. Harry smirked, the expression fading when Tom took a step towards him. He took a step back.
"I'm not going to the hospital wing," he repeated. "No way. Absolutely not. I don't need it and you can't make me."
Tom flicked his wand at the ceiling and Harry hissed despite himself when the lights suddenly switched on. Axes attacked his head with the intention to cripple him. His hands shot over his eyes as he swore under his breath. He was going to be sick.
"Would you like to retract that statement?" Tom murmured silkily.
"No," Harry growled, aiming his wand blindly at the lights.
In an instant, Tom had closed the gap between them, catching his wand hand to stop the movement. The young Dark Lord had a bitterly unfair advantage considering he wasn't in agonising pain and able to open his eyes without feeling like he wasn't going to throw up. That didn't stop him from sending a punch, which the other dodged narrowly.
"Are you sure?" Tom continued. "Because you look like you need it."
"Screw you," Harry whispered harshly. "I'm fine.
The lights brightened to their full capacity, so bright that he could feel them burning through his fingers to ram smoking pokers into his temples. It was times like these that reminded him just how truly sadistic Tom could be. The world swayed ominously and he staggered, catching hold of the sofa arm to steady himself as his knees buckled beneath him.
If he looked up from his involuntary near kneeling position, Harry was pretty sure he would see a rather smug expression on the Slytherin heir's features. He heard the rustling of robes, and felt long fingers threading though his hair, tilting his head up slightly.
"Salazar, you really are extraordinarily stubborn."
The lights switched off, plunging them into darkness and he was pulled onto his feet once more. Harry's eyes snapped open. There was no smile on Tom's lips anymore - he was completely serious now. "Let's go."
"No," he spat. He wasn't going to the Hospital wing. It was a headache. Just a headache.
"Oh, you must have mistaken that as a request," Tom said in that soft, dangerous tone of voice, favouring him with the particularly shark like smile that Harry hadn't seen in a while. "Let me correct you on that. We're going to the Hospital Wing. Now. You can either walk of your own accord or I will drag you. You may find the latter exceedingly more uncomfortable."
"That forceful tone makes me go weak at the knees, really," Harry drawled in a sarcastically gushing manner, before continuing persistently. "There is no reason for me to go the Hospital Wing. I'm not injured. You can go on your own if you're so desperate to visit it."
There was a moment of silence, then a sickening crack as pain exploded in his ankle. Harry bit back a startled yelp.
"You do now," Tom smirked.
"That totally doesn't count," he muttered darkly. "Asshole."
Madame Pomfrey was furious when they arrived at the hospital wing.
"Merlin child, what have you done now?" she huffed worriedly, bustling over immediately.
"I haven't done anything," he mumbled defensively, his hand rising to shield himself from the light. Tom flicked his wand to turn the lights off. The nurse frowned, glancing at the Slytherin heir before surveying him again.
"He was rather reluctant to visit you, Madame," Tom said, in an annoyingly charming manner. Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened at the insinuation, before she looked horrified.
"You -" she gasped, seemingly incoherent as she examined the vicious purple swelling on his ankle. "Do you have no conscience?" she demanded.
"No," Tom said simply, brutally. "Unless you count Potter."
Harry frowned, opening his mouth to speak. Madame Pomfrey looked momentarily distracted as she ushered him to a hospital bed.
"Potter? How - no, I don't," she floundered. "Where on earth did you get that conclusion?"
"Harry. Annoying overly moral voice that nags frequently in guidance to ethical situations," Tom shrugged. "It's the same difference."
Madame Pomfrey appeared to be struggling not to gape, before she shook her head seemingly to clear it as she turned back to him.
"What seems to be the problem, Harry?" she asked kindly. She shot a look at the darkened lights.
"It's nothing really," he began, glaring at Tom when he scoffed 'liar.' "Just a headache, and the ankle, obviously." Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips, casting a medical scan.
"Your ankle is dislocated, kicked out of place. It will hurt a little, but I can fix it in just a jiffy. One moment." The nurse bustled into the adjoining room and he could hear the clanking of potions bottles. He narrowed his eyes at Tom.
"You dislocated my ankle," he accused. The Slytherin arched his brows in return.
"I know, I was there. To be fair, I consider you entirely responsible."
"What, like you considered me responsible for putting us both in a coma for two weeks because you drugged me?"
"Exactly," Tom smirked, before his expression became impassive and stony. Madame Pomfrey entered again, vials in her hands. She passed one to him and he eyed it dubiously.
"Are you sure this is good for me?" he asked sceptically. She snorted, looking amused.
"Just drink it dear."
"It looks like cat vomit," he remarked. Pomfrey's lip twitched, be it in the beginnings of a smile or exasperation he couldn't tell. He chugged it down, gagging against the foul taste. There was a moment of nothingness. "I thought you said it would hu-" he broke into cursing. Tom and the nurse both glowered at him. It felt like a bullet had been shot through his ankle.
When he looked down, his ankle was no longer awfully distorted out of place, the swelling had subsided and there was no marks of bruising. Pomfrey surveyed him clinically.
"When did this headache begin?" she asked. She didn't ask how bad it was. He supposed the migraine like light sensitivity gave it away slightly. His stomach churned uneasily.
"Err," he rubbed his head, glancing at Tom who was appraising him intently. "Yesterday night…"
"And you only just -" she paused. "Yesterday night?" she repeated, her face growing ashen. "Do you mean-"
"The, um, Death Eater raid. Yeah…but it's been sort of on and off," he explained quickly. "It just peaked about half an hour ago."
"He had one in the morning as well," Tom added unhelpfully, pitilessly. Harry threw the hospital pillow at him. Madame Pomfrey immediately starting casting a string of spells, only some of which Harry recognised from his training and survival research.
Five minutes later, she stopped, somehow even whiter than she had been a few minutes prior.
"I can't find any viable cause for the headache," she murmured, looking worried. It seemed like she wanted to add something, but was hesitant.
"What?" he asked. "Is that really bad?"
"No, well a little, but…Mr Potter, did you know that your body is showing traces of the Cruciatus Curse?"
IMPORTANTISH A/N: Well, I hope you guys liked it. Thanks for the reviews. I'm thinking of putting this idea up for adoption, if anyone is interested in using it? I will probably keep writing my version of it, but…*shrug.* I'd love to read a similar fic, but obviously I can't because I'm the only one writing the idea. And yeah. It would destroy any novelty I have and knowing my luck all my fans (I think I have a few, hopefully) would transfer their interest onto the other story because they wrote it better than me. But. It's not like I get reviews en masse anyway, though i'm not too bad off I think and thank you, so I thought what the hell. Anyone interested? Whoa, that was a long AN. Sorry. Okay, adios - The Fictionist
OH, and i'm in the middle, well beginning of a rewrite. Done the first chapter. Going to try and replace the current one so if the story looks slightly weird, sorry! ALSO DONE THE SECOND CHAPTER NOW, take a look and tell me what you think? It's like a mini update of its own ;)