BEWARE! I HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK!
Chapter 69:
Harry's heart dropped into his stomach, dread clawing a home in his gut.
It took a few moment's for Hermione's words to actually sink in, before he stared demandingly at the professors, too shocked to speak.
Shouldn't he have already known this? Because of the connection? It was a snake, it had to be a Voldemort.
They were watching him pityingly, though Snape was as unreadable as ever.
He swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at Tom, not sure what he was seeking in the nuances of the other's countenance. He looked back at McGonnagal.
"B-but he's going to be okay, isn't he?" he stammered. "I mean…how did this happen? When? Are the Weasley's alright? Can I see them?"
"Harry," McGonnagal began, gently.
"The Weasley's wish for some time alone to mourn," Snape deadpanned.
Time to…shit. No. No. No. It couldn't be…Mr Weasley couldn't be…Hermione dissolved into a fresh flood of tears. McGonnagal shot Snape a scandalised expression, presumably for having broken the news in such a manner.
"He's dead?" Harry gaped. "But he can't be…there must be some kind of mistake - when?" he demanded.
"Earlier tonight," McGonnagal said softly. "Mr Potter, I am sorry," she began.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't possibly be happening. He should have been able to prevent this, somehow, seen it at least. He looked at Snape, knowing that the dour man would give him a straight answer.
"Would he have lived if someone had known about the attack and raised awareness about in earlier? I presume it took you a while to find him?"
Harry hated how clinical his voice sounded, how void of anything.
Snape's gaze sparked with something incomprehensible, before the Potions Master nodded. Harry nodded tightly, grateful for the honesty.
"Perhaps you should go sober up now, Mr Potter," Snape said. "Mr Riddle."
He nodded again, and McGonnagal squeezed his shoulder. Hermione was still sobbing, and she clung to him awkwardly.
He didn't know how to comfort her, what to say, how to make it better. It was his fault. All of his stupid fault. He had to get Tom to finish taking down the block, the paradox had already weakened it to the state that Voldemort slipped through when he wanted to, or when Harry was asleep. He couldn't afford to not know about these things. Mr Weasley was dead…and he'd been sitting in a restaurant having a good time.
The wine threatened to climb back out of his throat.
He arrived back at the Slytherin Common room some time later, just wanting to crawl up into a ball and die.
The journey had been made in silence, though he'd felt Tom's gaze on him as sharp as needles. The dungeons were empty, everyone having already gone to bed.
He couldn't bring himself to follow them. He didn't deserve sleep. He didn't want sleep. It would hurt more when the barrier was taken down, but that was his penance.
"I want you to take down the Occlumency barrier," he said softly, continuing that thought aloud, staring into the fire. "And I'm discontinuing the Mind Arts lessons. God, this is all my fault!"
"What, that the blood traitor died?" Tom questioned dispassionately. Harry whipped around to look at the other, who raised an eyebrow.
"He's not a blood traitor," Harry snarled. "Arthur Weasley was a great man!"
"Doesn't stop him being a blood traitor and a Muggle lover, and neither does being dead," Tom shrugged. "On the contrary, if he can't even protect himself from a snake-"
Harry didn't think, lunging forward in attack, lips drawn back in an almost feral manner. They were tumbling to the Common Floor, fighting and flailing and cursing and…he was pinned down to the ground, Tom straddling him with an unreadable expression, eyes glinting.
"Physically and emotionally compromised, as well as drunk…not a good combination, darling," Tom remarked. "
"Get off me," Harry spat. "I swear to god you better-"
"Actually I'm fine here until you calm down," Tom interrupted, watching him as if he were some particularly interesting specimen in a lab.
"Calm down?" Harry breathed, furiously, trying to lash out again. "I just found out he's…" he choked on his words, closing his eyes briefly.
"Dead?" Tom offered, in a helpful tone of voice. Harry flinched.
"Stop it," he warned, desperately.
"Or what?" Tom dared, smirking slightly. "In case you hadn't noticed I'm the one in control here."
"Can't you give it a rest!" Harry snapped, his voice cracking slightly. "I don't care, alright! He's dead and it's my fault-"
"-for someone who believes in fairness as much as you," Tom mused, "you're rather arrogant." Harry spluttered, numb, unsure of whether he'd heard right. The fuzziness of alcohol was no longer appreciated.
"Excuse me?" he demanded. His head hurt with this conversation.
"For someone who believes in fairness as much as you," Tom repeated. "You're rather arrogant. Really, what on earth gives you the right to claim credit for Voldemort's actions?"
Harry stared, wide eyed, at the Slytherin Heir.
"I-" he began, knowing he probably sounded ridiculous. "But I should have been able to stop it," he said.
Tom tilted his head, the picture of scepticism.
"All without knowing it was happening, I imagine."
"I should have known!" Harry retorted, angry. Tom just didn't get it! "I have a bloody mind link with the-mmmph." His words cut to a halt as Tom pressed a hand over his mouth, presumably to shut him up. He glared. What the hell?
"So can you tell what I'm thinking now then?" Tom questioned.
On the outside, he still seemed amused, but Harry was quickly coming to note that any entertainment Tom had been showing since they entered the common room was very much on an exterior level.
He realised that by Tom's actions Tom wasn't entirely sober himself.
This was not going to be good.
Tom released his mouth, fingers curling into his hair instead. Harry sighed.
"I'm not having this conversation with you now," he said, trying frantically to be reasonable rather than succumb to the urge to rage and scream and rail at the world. At Tom. "I've had too much to drink and I…" he trailed off. Am grieving. In shock. Something. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to strike out at the person closest to him, and, currently, that was Tom.
Tom was a genius. He had to know that. He had to…oh.
"Why are you trying to make me lash out at you?" Harry questioned. "And skip the cryptic part because I'm too sodding tired to deal with it."
"Because I'm a sadist and I enjoy watching you suffer," Tom said lazily. "Your reactions are highly entertaining." Harry narrowed his eyes. Tom sighed, sounding long suffering, tipping his head back. "I'm drunk, Potter. I've had at least half a bottle of wine in pretty much one go, and, honestly, we both know perfectly well that once you're actually thinking coherently you are going to clam up like a mute clam and bottle everything up until it kills you…and while watching you break into a million pretty little pieces would be interesting, I'm not done playing with you yet. Satisfied with that response?"
Harry blinked.
He blamed the alcohol and the numb denial in his veins for what happened next.
A/N: Yeah, I know, crappy update but I'm in a crappy mood and feeling blocked. Blah. I hope you manage to enjoy the update anyway. Thanks for the reviews =) Much appreciated. Again, I don't mind if you email me 'what happens next' - I will post the best one on Destiny's Darling if you're interested. In fact, I challenge you...your feedback is always very much inspiring.
Remember to check out "Fighting Fate" by Eos9, t'is awesome. E writes them better than I do ;) like, genuinely, in terms of thought process, they do. I'm sure Eos9 would appreciate the review too.
Adios! Here's to an upward shift in quality…
PS: Next chapter is Tom's POV ;) Curious?