Chapter 81:
"Lestrange? You know a Lestrange?" Sirius demanded, staring at him. "Why is she going to kill you?"
"She?" Harry questioned, snickering at the thought of a Cygnus' face at being described as a 'she'. "What Lestrange do you know? Tom was talking about - well, I presume he was - about Cygnus Lestrange…I've mentioned him? The sycophantic twat who hates my guts?"
Remus seemed to stifle a snort. Sirius' face relaxed marginally.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, my cousin, recently broken out of Azkaban. Total bitch. Stay away from her," Sirius replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Why's this Cygnus boy going to kill you?"
The tension was back at the words 'kill' and 'you.' Harry laughed.
"Figure of speech - he fancies Tom. So, you know, if he finds out that I said Tom was my boyfriend…I assume Tom was joking about the killing me bit….though you never quite know, he's a twisted one. Don't worry about it."
Sirius studied him for a moment, eyes menacing and suddenly reminding Harry of Alphard, whom was a lot darker than the Gryffindor before him.
"I'd like to see him try," was all his Godfather said, before grinning a dazzling grin. "So, cub, where'd you learn to cook?"
The rest of the day went relatively well - Tom even deigned to associate with his 'light' friends, well, some of them (Hermione, Sirius, Remus and the twins) - but Harry could still sense the carefully controlled rage under the other's charming façade.
As such, he kept his wand close when he wandered into their joint room that night, for that was when Tom would lash out. Keeping a cautious eye out on the other as he crossed the room, getting ready for bed.
The house was quiet, with only the murmurings of voices from different rooms, punctuated by the occasional exclamation at something Fred and George were up to.
"What lessons are you having with Dumbledore?" Tom questioned, suddenly, or maybe not so.
"Textiles," Harry replied promptly, not looking up. "Have you seen his robes? They're fabulous."
His left arm suddenly burned, violently, pulling him to a stop from where he was heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Harry's eyes flashed towards the Slytherin Heir, automatically.
The other's appraisal was cold, and Harry realised instantly with a sickening clarity that Tom had switched from Tom to…well, the Dark Lord.
In an odd way, Harry could almost understand. If he was 'embracing the light' again he wasn't just affecting Tom, he was affecting his cause, the Dark Side and everything that Tom stood for…so the other switched, because this was Tom acting in his "official" capacity, not as Harry's friend…confidant…whatever Tom was to him. He hated understanding. Still.
"You know," he said dangerously, "I'm not actually on the Dark side, however much time I've spent with you, you must know that. You have no reason to treat me like this."
Tom walked towards him, lazily, content in the knowledge that Harry couldn't move from the spot.
Harry got the overwhelming urge to fold his arms, and cursed the mark.
Of course, he was happy that Sirius was alive, and he'd make the deal all over again if he went back to the moment, but that didn't mean it wasn't incredibly frustrating and horribly controlling. He settled for raising his eyebrows.
"I'll ask one more time, because I like you, what are your lessons with Dumbledore?" Tom questioned again.
Harry tilted his head, scrunching his face thoughtfully, letting the conversation run to oppressive silence before he shrugged.
"Gobbledygook," he declared decisively, fully aware that the boundaries with his relation to the Dark Side had been far less explored and defined then his relationship with Tom, as an individual. "It's so I can parlay with the goblins, for the light," he added, with a slight hint of taunt in his voice.
It was a bad week. He couldn't help it, no more than he could resist antagonising Dumbledore, and Tom was even more fascinating to play with.
The young Dark Lord's wand was in his hand instantly, pressing against Harry's temple in a blur of movement, the Legilimens spell forming like a whisper on the other's lips.
Harry used his free hand to push the yew away, more gently now, before the incantation was done, his fingers curling around Tom's wrist in the rigid grip that the Slytherin Heir himself so favoured.
"My stance hasn't changed, Tom - I'm not on the light side, but I'm not on the dark either, I want Voldemort dead…and I think, all things considered, that it would therefore be impractical for me to discuss this war, or any matters relating to it, with you."
Harry paused, studying the unreadable gaze fixed on him.
"I'm sure you can understand that," he continued. "Release my arm, you gain nothing from holding me to this spot."
He let go of Tom's wrist again, letting his hand return to his side, near where his wand rested in his pocket. Tom studied him carefully.
"Why didn't you just say that?" the other demanded, something in his voice.
Harry's lip curled upwards slightly in a smirk.
"Because I like baiting you," he offered. "Why, did I touch a nerve?"
It felt like snake coils were crushing his forearm, but before he could even react to the pain outside of noting its presence, it was gone, and his arm was entirely free.
He tugged the appendage to his chest, automatically, protectively, staring at Tom a moment longer. The other didn't shift his gaze either, but then Harry turned to go to the bathroom down the hall.
When he returned, Tom seemed to have calmed down rather noticeably calmed down, and was sitting by the radiator, a book in his hands…the Horcrux book.
Harry frowned, but Tom was already placing it aside, tilting his head that he should come sit by it. It was nearing midnight, and the curtains were draped heavily across the window that Tom normally sought.
Harry hesitated, and Tom raised a brow, as if to say 'I could just drag you over here.' Rolling his eyes in response, he came over, huddling against the radiator for warmth.
He didn't know why, but if there was heat in a room, he just gravitated towards it, even if he wasn't cold. Maybe it was because warmth was a luxury to him, after knowing the cold.
He picked up the Horcrux book, to see what Tom was reading, to find that the other boy was reading the section on blood magic.
He wrinkled his nose, casting Tom a glance.
The young Dark Lord merely regarded him with a mildly amused expression in response.
"I suppose I know what type of material to get you for Christmas," Harry muttered.
"You've already given me a Christmas present," Tom remarked.
"Birthday then," Harry said. Tom's lips curved into the smallest of smiles.
"And there was me hoping you'd just ask me what I wanted again, it's so much more interesting than the book…and the book is rather fascinating," Tom added. Harry chuckled despite himself.
"You're such a Ravenclaw."
"And you're such a Gryffindor," Tom retorted, as if being a lion was something insulting.
"Thanks," Harry grinned, "it's nice to know I am not completely exempt from my own kind." Tom sat up straighter, appraisal becoming rather more intent.
"You still view the Gryffindors as your own kind? What about the Slytherins?"
Harry realised what he'd just walked into and almost face palmed, but in the end just shrugged, looking at his watch. It was a few minutes to midnight, to Christmas Eve.
He told Tom, causing the other's expression to soften marginally.
"You're a fan of Christmas, then?" Tom questioned, eyes drinking in details.
"I suppose so, yeah," Harry said, largely used to the scrutiny by now, though it still made him feel like everyone else had dropped of the face of the earth. "It's fun when you celebrate with the right people…" he paused, regarding Tom intently. "You don't seem too fond of the celebration?"
"The affair seems slightly pointless and prodigal, among other things" Tom returned, quietly. Harry's brow furrowed.
"You don't enjoy receiving presents?" he questioned, startling a laugh from the Slytherin Heir for some reason, and making him smile slightly himself despite his confusion as to why Tom found that question entertaining.
He was curious beyond words to get more morsels of knowledge, given freely and directly, rather than through second hand sources, though he didn't expect Tom to respond to his questioning. Despite veils of disrespect, he did appreciate the rareness of Tom talking about his past or more personal thoughts.
Harry was just utterly fascinated…and that probably wasn't something he should admit, even in the relative safety of his own head…too Death Eaterish in its obsession.
"That would depend on the gift, and the intent behind it," Tom said. "What about you? I never took you as someone materialistic?"
"When you grow up with little, you learn to cherish new things," Harry admitted, before immediately withdrawing slightly with a grin, as the topic strayed a bit too close to the topic of his childhood 'abuse'. "It's a bit of fun," he dismissed, "and a nice way of showing your friends you care."
"Maybe I just haven't found the right people yet," Tom said softly, gaze unreadable.
"Well," Harry replied, tone equally soft, "tell me if you have any luck with that."
He looked down at his watch again, before back up at Tom with a grin.
"It's Christmas Eve…well, day…well…" he trailed off as Tom started to laugh, scowling. "Be quiet! People are trying to go to sleep!" he hissed, glancing anxious looks at the walls of the rooms.
Tom smirked at him.
"Ever eloquent, darling…happy 'Christmas Eve, well day, well' then to you."
"You think you're so funny don't you…" Harry accused.
But he was still smiling.
A/N: New chapter =) Enjoy. Might be the last for a couple of days, who knows. I hope yo like it. Do you reckon Tom has got Harry a Christmas present? And what do you think it'll be? Thanks for the reviews, you can thank them, and Eos9's awesome writing skills and update, for having this chapter now instead of at the weekend. Enjoy?
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Wow, this story is getting so long i'm starting to feel slightly stupid writing it, as if I can't be more concise...or don't have a life...=/ meh.