MY HOUSE IS FREEZING! IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY!
Chapter 84:
They headed downstairs to see everyone, side by side. Harry was holding the cardboard box again - he had to show Sirius!
"How did you even get hold of the rat?" he asked, eyeing the traitor with hate.
"I summoned him," Tom said, glancing at him out the corner of his eyes.
"What, with an accio? Why didn't I try…oh." Harry felt stupid. "You summoned him. Right. That type of summoning…ignore me."
Of course Tom would have control of the Dark Mark, he was the one who invented it.
Tom looked amused.
"Don't worry, I always do," the other returned loftily.
"Oi!" Harry yelped, indignantly.
Tom dodged a hex, smirking at him.
"So…you can't just go in and out of Voldemort's Headquarters whenever you want, then?" Harry asked.
Tom simply arched a brow at him, neither confirming nor denying the question and its answer. Harry rolled his eyes, pushing open the door to the living room to another chorus of Merry Christmases.
It looked rather homely, if he said so himself, with the fire already crackling merrily in the grate and the Christmas tree all lit up.
Everyone awake was in there, and some, like Ron, were already tearing through their presents.
"Thanks for the broomstick!" Ron exclaimed, through a mouthful of fudge. "You're the BEST."
Tom's nose wrinkled just slightly at the other's etiquette. There was an awkward silence, the accusations of that morning ringing in the space between gold and silver baubles.
"Happy Christmas, Tom…Harry, what have you got there?" Hermione asked, clearly trying to sweep the memory away and include them both.
Harry's face brightened, with a dark flicker in his gaze. He tilted the box to show them.
Sirius went rigid, before snapping his head up with wide eyes to stare at them both.
"Tom got him for me," Harry said quietly. "I was thinking I might have him trialled at the soonest convenience. Later this week, if that's possible."
There was a moment of utter silence, then Sirius was up with a manic grin, deliriously happy and hugging Harry tightly, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was infectious.
Harry almost snickered when his Godfather promptly grabbed Tom for a hug too, before freezing after a moment and taking a step back and holding the Slytherin warily at an arm's length.
"Get off me," Tom ordered, flatly, no intonation to his voice.
Sirius swallowed, brushing the other down seemingly on instinct as he released him immediately.
"Sorry…er…thank you…I…I don't know what to say."
"Well, I'd prefer you didn't say anything, your voice has an annoying quality to it," Tom replied.
Sirius spluttered, as if unsure whether Tom was being serious or not. Harry thought he might be, but there was also a hint of good humour lurking on the Slytherin Heir's lips, so maybe truth aside it hadn't been intended entirely viciously either.
"Everybody sit down then, I'd offer a drink to celebrate imminent freedom," Sirius said, still smiling broadly.
"-But it's a bit too early for that," Remus finished, clutching his head. "Even for you, Paddy."
Sirius pulled a pout, and Harry grinned. It was nice to see the joker side to the two remaining marauders.
"Aw, damn," Fred slapped his thigh, his twin taking up the sentence.
"-I've always wanted to try Champagne for breakfast. You're no fun Paddy…
"Why are you called Paddy?" they both chorused suddenly, staring at Sirius.
Harry wondered if they were linking Paddy with a name on a certain map.
"You are not having champagne for breakfast!" Mrs Weasley said firmly, in the silence, with a glare, albeit fond, at Sirius as if daring him to contradict that statement.
"Another time, boys," Sirius winked. Some present opening ensued, along with hugs and general shrieks of delight. Harry kept one eye on Tom, who when noticing his gaze, winked at him.
"Hey, Tom-" Sirius tossed a package to the young Dark Lord, who caught it automatically, before looking down at the parcel. He looked back up at Sirius, who smiled, albeit a tad awkwardly. "It's from me and Remus. We doubled. Didn't really know what you liked outside of well…we didn't know what to get you."
"I didn't get you anything," Tom said.
Harry almost laughed. It was so great when awkward things happened, but not to him. It made a brilliant change.
Sirius seemed to ignore this, tossing Harry his present, which was large and wrapped in red and gold . Meanwhile, Hermione had opened her jewellery and seemed to like it - immediately getting someone (Charlie) to put it on for her.
Tom opened his present as if it was going to bite him, a book and a box of Honeydukes chocolates tumbling into his hands. It was on something called theory of Elemental Magic.
"You seem to like reading," Remus explained, uncomfortably. "I don't know if you've already read it but, I thought it might hold your interest."
"Thank you," Tom said, voice unreadable. "And no, I had not read it."
Harry opened his, before staring up at Sirius and Remus, who for some reason looked somewhat unnerved. It was a Pensieve, with lots of small bottles, lots of memories. Memories of their time at Hogwarts. Memories of his parents.
They smiled at him, a little sadly.
The present opening continued.
Best Christmas Ever.
[Insert scenes and bits I may come back to later, when I actually feel like writing about Christmas, so nearer to the time, or scenes that you send in for me to include, because I'm really blocked, sorry!]
Harry woke up…fell asleep to that elegant room. The locked door.
To Voldemort. Except, he still looked more like Tom. Couldn't the bastard give him a break? For once?
"How are you doing that, anyway?" he asked grumpily. "A glamour?"
Voldemort looked at him, mouth smiling while his eyes remained iced.
"Harry…Merry Christmas."
"Let me sleep. I want to sleep."
Voldemort's smile simply widened at that, grotesque on Tom's lips.
"All in good time…darling? It is 'darling,' isn't it? Once you see the truth, I will be more than happy to oblige you in that request. "
"The truth?" Harry repeated, warily.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle…I am Lord Voldemort," Voldemort said, with an air of calculated patience. Harry's jaw stiffened.
"So, what, are you aiming for me to see you as Tom, or Tom as you?"
"We are the same person, so that question is rather redundant," Voldemort returned pseudo-pleasantly.
Harry gritted his teeth, turning away and stalking over the window. He mentally tested his surroundings, able to shake off the dreamlike apathy easier this time, expecting it, fighting it the second it tried to ensnare him. He could do nothing. He couldn't even summon his wand.
"I presume we're in your mind, not mine," Harry said clinically, not looking around, his eyes slowly focussing on the view before him.
For a dream, Voldemort could sure be intricate in his illusions.
He felt Tom…Voldemort…approach him, resting an arm on his shoulder as he too stared at the view…Harry shrugged the other off immediately, backing away, a sharp pain running through his head at the touch.
Voldemort turned to watch his progress, with that sick amusement.
"You seem rather jumpy, considering how tactile you are with my younger self…I must confess I'm hurt…I even have the pretty face."
"You know," Harry snapped. "You're rather narcissistic to make constant references to your own attractiveness."
"Oh, so you find us aesthetically pleasing then?" Voldemort smirked.
Harry clenched his fists. For god's sake! He felt like killing something. Someone. The monster across the room.
"Shall we skip to the part where you torture me and I wake up?" he questioned, coldly. Anything was preferable to being around this…replica, fake, this impostor of Tom.
"So eager for pain, Harry?" Voldemort tutted. "My, maybe you do have a masochistic streak…"
"Your mimicry is cheap," Harry spat. "Give it up. I would know Tom, my Tom, from you any day!."
Voldemort's mouth twisted to a sneer.
"Your Tom?" he repeated, laughing callously. "Oh this is sweet, you're just adorable, aren't you? Take it from history, his faith in you is nowhere near as strong as yours for him. You are nothing to him…well, perhaps a toy? An intriguing little pet? I admit, I prefer that nickname to darling…there, you can be pet."
Harry almost growled, catching his composure in the last second, his eyes flashing furiously.
The yew wand was out now, lazily pointing towards him, but Harry refused to tense, or cower of run.
"And guess what, pet, toys aren't much fun once they're broken…crucio."
A/N: So, I generally despise this chapter. As in, it's my most hated chapter yet, which is saying something because I actually only consider this story to have any quality after at least chapter 30. But you know, there's some debate to be had whether or not i'm an overly harsh self-critic.
You might be able to tell that this chapters not my best though. Sorry. I will endeavour to be better next time…and I know I probably should have left this chapter as pure fluff or something, but it just made the whole thing too…I don't know…bland?
Maybe I'm sadistic or something, which is why I can write Tom (or I'm told I can write him at any rate…)
Bye. Thanks for the reviews. :D