Chapter 67:
"This is the graveyard," Tom stated flatly. Harry looked back innocently, trying for a smile.
"Yes, Einstein," he said brightly. "This is a graveyard. Well done, you've finally got that after-"
"Do not play dumb with me, Harry, it doesn't suit you," the Slytherin Heir said dangerously, his eyes glinting as he stalked forwards. Without conscious decision, Harry backed up, trying to put space between them. "You know perfectly well what I meant."
Harry was silent, the nausea swelling further in his stomach, relentless. He struggled to keep his breathing even, calm, but failed as his escape route was blocked by another headstone, and before he could dodge sideways and continue his retreat, Tom was right in front of him.
He immediately looked down at the floor, at their shoes, close together, as if the sight was fascinating to him.
"This is the Graveyard," Tom repeated, softly.
"Back off, Tom," he warned. "I'm here, aren't I? What more do you-" his words came to an abrupt halt as Tom's fingers yanked his jaw upwards, forcing his eye contact.
"This is the graveyard."
"Yes it's the graveyard," Harry snapped. "Did you really need my words to confirm that?"
He tried to tug his chin away, feeling claustrophobic and hemmed in, only for the young Dark Lord to tighten his grip, before letting go.
Harry knew that the grip would return if he tried to physically duck away or evade the conversation, if his attention strayed.
As if that would happen.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Tom demanded. Harry shrugged.
"Didn't come up," he dismissed. "What does it even matter-" he began.
"Matter? Of course it matters," Tom spat. "Look at you. You look like you're going to faint, or throw up."
"Best stay back so it's not over you then, isn't it?" he returned. Images flashed behind his eyes. "Actually, that's not even a joke, I will throw up on you if you don't back up."
He felt dizzy, the world hazy. A hand splayed across his chest, across his heart, and he looked down, feeling the heat of Tom's fingers radiating through the thin material of his shirt.
"Your heart is racing," Tom murmured, catching his gaze. "Pupils dilated…"
"It's cause I fancy you," Harry deadpanned, scrabbling for the threads of his self control, causing Tom to shoot him a glare, before the expression softened barely visibly.
"Stubborn," he murmured. "Always so stubborn. Why are you even here?" Harry arched his brows questioningly, confused.
What a stupid question; maybe the pressure of not falling into a full blown panic attack was making him miss what Tom was really asking. Or maybe Tom was being uncharacteristically obtuse and taking a course in asking the bleeding obvious. He was going to go with the latter.
"You asked me to come," he said. "Why, do you want me to leave you in peace again?"
Tom stared at him. Harry wasn't sure if the utter bewilderment he felt was Tom's, his own, or both of theirs combining to an even greater state of bewilderment. The end was result that he felt very bewildered either way.
"No- I know I asked you to come, I'm not an idiot for Salazar's sake! - I meant why did you accept? If you knew-" Tom's fingers dug momentarily into his chest, making a kind of waving gesture, as if that was supposed to somehow explain something - "was liable to happen. You freaking out."
Oh. OH. Harry suddenly felt extremely awkward. He wasn't freaking out as such. He was…never mind, he was moving on to the other part of the sentence.
How to explain that to a psychopath? Even one as well versed in acting, emotions and pretending humanity as Tom was. Oddly, the situation made him feel slightly less sick. He presumed it was disbelief suspending, or whatever.
Screw it.
He wasn't going to explain the fact that he might possibly maybe sometimes actually care about Tom. Especially not to Tom. He'd never hear the end of it. And Tom wouldn't give a damn for it. And.
He was rambling. In his head. This was reaching new levels of ridiculous.
"Think about it," he said finally. "If you don't know I'm not going to tell you."
Tom frowned at his answer, his head tilting to one side with a feline fluidity. Harry could tell he didn't get it. He really wasn't going to spell it out.
"Can you stop nearly pinning me against a headstone now?" he muttered, uncomfortably. "The flashbacks aren't the most pleasant."
Tom's gaze flicked down to his hand still pressed against Harry's heart, taking in their close proximity. He seemed surprised that his appendage was still there.
"Answer properly then," Tom replied after a moment. Harry suppressed a sigh.
"Ask Lestrange - actually no, not Lestrange, he'd twist it in his warped head and get the wrong end of the broomstick - ask Zevi why I would come with you because you asked me to, to a place that holds no fond memories for me."
"I could just read your mind," Tom said, studying him. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Or you could just ask Zevi. Or Hermione…no, not Hermione. Ask someone, anyone, who doesn't think we're both in love with each other and they'll tell you."
"Why can't you?" Tom questioned, beginning to look suspicious.
"Because I'm a guy," he muttered.
"What does your gender have to do with anything? Unless you're…" a look of dawning crept across the others features. "Referring to something stereotypically feminine, such as emotions." Tom appeared positively fascinated now. It wasn't as if the twit didn't know about social graces, he had them in spades when he wanted.
"Was there anywhere else you wanted to visit here?" Harry questioned, falling back on the old tactic of ignoring his problems and hoping they would drift away when he wasn't looking.
He pushed Tom's hand out of the way, moving past the other only for Tom to seize his arm and pull him to a stop.
"You don't actually fancy me, do you?" Tom questioned, warily.
Harry would have laughed if it wasn't so sodding awkward for him.
"No," he snapped. "For Merlin's sake, get over yourself! I just said don't ask anyone who thinks -why would you even-bloody hell," he threw his hands up in frustration, shrugging out Tom's grip for what had to be the third time that night. "I consider you one of my friends, okay? And you asked me to come. That's all there is to it. Salazar. You're supposed to be a genius."
Tom had gone very still at the proclamation.
Frozen.
Those intense dark eyes were fixed on Harry's face, unmoving. Harry resisted the urge to clear his throat. Or remark about the weather.
It was official. He hated this Graveyard.
Tom wasn't reacting.
At all.
It was unnerving.
He'd run away, but Tom had the portkey. Sodding hell. It was like asking Cho to the Yule Ball all over again…and that was a bad analogy too.
"Okay…" he said, with a fake decisiveness. "I'll be on the hill outside the graveyard. Come get me when we're leaving." He strode past the graves, the nausea was building again, his eyes locked on anything but where he was.
He was at the gate when he heard footsteps behind him, a spark of magic pulling the gate before him shut before he could slip through it.
He turned around again, working on keeping his features expressionless.
"Are we leaving already?" he asked, automatically.
"That's the second time you've described us as friends," Tom stated.
Oh the fun of holding conversations with misanthropic psychopath…
"I honestly haven't kept count," he replied.
"The first time, I just thought you wanted to know what was in the rememberall," Tom continued giving him a scrutinising look. "But…friendship…the mutual feelings of trust and affection and the behaviour that typify relationships between friends…" Tom sounding like he was thinking to himself, deeply.
"That sounds like a dictionary definition," Harry said, teasing, trying to put them back onto normal grounds. Well, normal for them. This whole situation was very un normal.
"It is," Tom said dismissively, still studying him. Harry raised his brows at the response. Tom folded his arms.
"I suppose we can be friends," the Slytherin Heir said finally. "We mutually have low feelings of trust, and you're likeable enough when you're not being annoying."
Harry blinked.
"I-what?" he asked.
"Yes, we can be friends, of a sort," Tom said, sounding as if he were bestowing Harry an honour.
Harry was, meanwhile, pretty sure that he hadn't actually asked Tom 'will you be friends with me?' or anything in the duration of the conversation. He thought they already were friends? 'Of a sort'.
"Oh," he said, absently thinking he should give a more eloquent reply. "Okay. Cool."
What just happened?
Tom stared at him for a moment, before abruptly turning and walking back in the graveyard.
"That doesn't mean I'll catch you if you pass out from traumatisation," he called over his shoulder. "Stay out there and do something useful - go to the village and get me a coffee."
Harry gaped at the other's back, before quickly averting his gaze as he caught sight of gravestones.
The village actually sounded like a good idea at the moment.
Tom could get his own freaking coffee though.
A/N: It's an update? An update, they cry, I wasn't expecting one! Wow, thanks Fictionist. Oh…that chapter was rather…er…anticlimactic wasn't it? Jeez. I preferred eos9's version…could they maybe take over?
Um. Yeah. I think I'm slightly hyper. *Dazzling grin.* Don't know why. Better than a bad mood though, ja? Thankies for all the reviewsies, they makes me smilies. - =D
Tch. I should be concentrating on doing something productive and useful in my life. Oh well. I'm going to go now. Byeeee.
PS: Credit for the opening lines goes to PintoNess…
PPS: Seriously, go check out "Fighting Fate" by eos9...:)
PPPS: I love my challenges. So I'm going to expand it to this: write any scene, slash or non slash but not a lemon, between Tom and Harry for and the winner is posted on Destiny's Darling unless you want to post it yourself. If so, I'll have to think of another prize? A request for Destiny's Darling? Well, get back to me.
Toodles. I hope you liked the update.