Chapter 87:
Tom wasn't there at breakfast; but he'd left his bed by the time Harry was up.
Uneasy, Harry couldn't help but wonder if the other had even gone to sleep again the previous night or simply gone to run…errands.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that very real possibility.
Normally he would have sat with Ron and Hermione if Tom was for some reason not at the Slytherin table, but now he dropped into a seat between Draco Malfoy (sitting next to Abraxas) and Blaise Zabini. Draco looked at him with veiled alarm.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, choking down a mouthful of scrambled eggs. T
he past-day Slytherins were all staring at too…along with most of the hall now that he thought to check. Ron shot him a 'what the hell!' look. Oops.
"Are you trying to get us in trouble?" Draco demanded.
Harry folded his arms, taking a sip of his coffee, before speaking in a low voice.
"What were you going to say before Tom came over? Yesterday?" he asked.
Blaise made a noise in the back of his throat, sounding a mixture of amused and something else.
"Salazar, you're persistent," the Italian muttered. Harry simply raised a brow in response, stubbornly staring them all down.
"Blaise…" Nott began, nervously, warningly. Zabini was studying him, carefully.
"There's nothing to tell, right Zabini?" Draco said. Harry's brow furrowed.
"Sounds like a lot of nothing. You guys look like you're about to piss yourself or something."
"I'm not going to get in Riddle's way again," Draco said, flatly, loudly.
Abraxas gave a small, approving nod, to which Draco smiled weakly.
Harry narrowed his eyes at the elder (past) Malfoy, who met his gaze seriously for a moment, before looking away.
He was starting to feel slightly fed up with everyone evading his questions.
He was starting to see why Tom preferred just ripping people's minds open when he wanted to know something…and it really wasn't a good sign if he thought that.
Was there no one in Slytherin who he could get to tell him what the hell was going on? He stared down at his coffee, deep in thought.
"You've got defence first, don't you?" a voice asked.
He looked up, realising after a few seconds that the question was addressed to him. Pansy Parkinson. Freaking hell. What was up with her?
She smiled at him, in a way she obviously thought was attractive. Attractive. Was she was trying to flirt with him? Perhaps she needed something from him, or wanted something from him? Bingo if she did.
"Um, yeah, I do," he replied, smiling easily back at her as much as it pained him to force his lips to accommodate his wishes.
Draco's eyes slitted, and Zabini suddenly seemed much more attentive.
"Of course he does," Nott snapped, "he's only been in our class for the last five years. Stupid question."
"I was just starting a conversation," Parkinson sniffed, looking at him as if for approval.
He had to nail the shy, hopeful smile down to keep it from vanishing from his lips.
"Well, perhaps I must walk you to the class, and see if you remember my face then," he offered, mentally puking in his mouth.
He was sure he could get her to talk in that time. Parkinson gave a weird twitch of her face in response. It might have been an attempt at coyness. He didn't want to know.
"Harry," Zevi began, seemingly unable to stop himself from listening. He tore his eyes away from Parkinson, as if he were for some bizarre reason reluctant to look away, to regard the Prince Heir.
"Zevi?" he questioned, cutting over the other just slightly. Zevi looked as if about to say something, before his gaze automatically fixed on something above Harry's shoulder.
Harry didn't have to turn to know Tom was approaching the table, and sure enough, moments later the Slytherin Heir had dropped into his customary seat and pulled a bowl of porridge over to himself, as if he hadn't just strode in ten minutes before lessons were due to start.
Lestrange started immediately.
"Did you know about Harry and Parkinson, Tom?" he laughed, 'casually'. "They seem to have a bit of a spark going on there across the table."
Harry saw Draco pale, looking like he was about to faint in his seat, and Pansy initially preen. Tom's eyes cut upwards, down a few seats and onto his face.
"That so?" he questioned lightly, sounding like he was replying to Lestrange, but his gaze didn't shift.
Harry arched a brow in return to the continued scrutiny, and Tom's head tilted, before he looked away, striking a conversation with Alphard.
Draco deflated.
McGonnagal kept him back at the end of class, before lunch, speaking in tones of some strange union of terseness, sternness and pitying understanding.
"You are to serve detention every night for the next two weeks, starting tomorrow…the Headmaster also wishes to see you tonight. The password is acid pops," she informed him.
Right. Detention for sneaking out and getting drunk with Tom. With everything that had happened he'd forgotten all about that.
"What is my detention?" he asked, tonelessly. Her lips pursed, whether in disapproval or something else, he wasn't sure.
"You will be working with potions ingredients for Professor Snape," she replied.
Fabulous.
Not trusting himself not to swear or say something scathing, he simply nodded, turning for the door without another word.
He hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Parkinson after all, as the others had practically leeched themselves to his sides so he could scarcely steal a minute alone to think let alone dig through the vast network that was Tom's empire.
Of course, he had some idea how the intricate spider webs of traps and temptation worked, he'd been stuck helplessly drifting in them like Frodo while Shelob approached to devour him before…and he'd sabotaged.
Tom underestimated just how much work went into effective sabotage…the point was, if he needed information, he did keep a keen eye out for which strings he would need to pull. He knew the weakest links, and the strongest ones. Pansy was weak, for he already had something she wanted. He didn't yet know what had caused her sudden interest in him, but he could use it.
She wasn't there; she'd brazenly suggested that she'd wait for him. Instead, there was Tom.
The Slytherin Heir was leaning against the wall outside, and McGonnagal paused when she came out of her classroom to go to lunch herself. The disapproval was definite this time.
"Mr Riddle," she greeted, with clipped tones, hurrying past, averting her gaze from him.
"Minerva," Tom inclined his head at her back, a cruel, mocking glint in his eyes. Her pace quickened until she vanished out her sight.
Tom looked back at him, studying him for a few seconds, before he crooked his fingers in an imperious gesture indicating that Harry should follow him... in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Harry presumed he was heading towards the kitchens.
He debated for a moment, before going along with it.
The uncomfortable truth was that he was starting to get less and less choice in regards to walking away from Tom.
"Mr Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squealed happily when they entered, though he sobered instantly at the sight of the Slytherin Heir. Harry noted with some small amusement that Dobby's back straightened rigidly where all the others bowed.
Tom regarded the elf as if he wasn't sure what to make of him. Admittedly, Dobby was rather enthusiastic in his choice of clothing…still, that contemplative expression never did anyone good.
They sat down in the Room of Requirement, with the open sky and the fireplace…except, Tom had shifted it slightly, banishing the walls to open out onto sunny fields of grass.
It was odd, kind of like depositing a floor, a fireplace (magical, as it wasn't connected to anything) and sofas in the middle of the countryside, to be battered by the elements…but it was nice. He seemed to have asked the room to mimic a different weather to the dreary grey that smothered the landscape outside, a sunny one. It was peaceful.
Harry couldn't help but feel suspicious, even as he felt his guards lowering automatically with the contented allure of freedom and open skies.
He doubted the walls really opened out to fields, but magic made it look very open. He loved magic.
"Is there a particular reason you're here instead of enforcing the smooth running of your empire?" Harry asked finally, into the silence, hoping the Slytherin Heir wasn't planning on picking up from where he'd left things last night. "Where were you this morning, anyway?"
Tom's head snapped back to him, as he seemingly came out of whatever muse of thought he'd slipped into.
"Giving Voldemort concussion," Tom deadpanned. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Fine, don't tell me," he said.
In all honesty he wasn't even surprised any more. He glanced at Tom when the other didn't speak, pausing. He blinked.
"Wait - were you actually-?" he began. Tom didn't say anything further on the topic, taking a swig of pumpkin juice, leaning back casually on the palm of his hands.
"This is different from your normal setting of choice," Harry tried again. "Light. Nothing dark of gloomy in sight…except for the furniture. Looks like it's been imported straight out of an ancient ancestral home." Nothing, no response except for a small smile. "A French one," he added.
Tom raised an eyebrow at that, tossing him an apple. He caught it automatically, wondering if this was a Tom way of telling him to shut up.
"I figured you'd like it," was all the young Dark Lord said.
Harry temporarily gave up, leaning back onto his elbows, eyeing the apple warily before meticulously biting a smiley face into it just for kicks. He got the wild urge to turn it around to face Tom, and charm it to say 'hi.'
It amused him at least…sensing he was being watched, he glanced up. Tom's eyes flicked from him to the apple face. Harry shrugged, trying not to look sheepish, biting the face off and feeling oddly guilty about doing so.
Tom smirked, shaking his head slightly, before his features turned grave, thoughtful.
Harry resisted the urge to shift as the mood switched to something more solemn, and tried not to tense in response to this, taking another bite of his apple before flopping down onto his back to stare at the enchanted sky.
Tom, in juxtaposition of his slipping posture, sat up more, resting a forearm on his knee.
"You do realise you know more about me than anyone else, don't you?" the other questioned. Harry blinked, allowing himself that much reaction, but nothing else. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't that.
"I could say the same about your knowledge of my own life," he returned, carefully. "So, really, that's a moot point."
Tom was silent - appraising him if the familiar weight of eyes burning into his skin was anything to go by.
"And this…bothers you?" Tom asked. Harry glanced over, unable to help himself.
"Put yourself in my position," he replied. "And try and figure out being around someone who knows everything about you and you know little to nothing about them, barring public knowledge."
To Harry's shock, Tom laughed softly.
"Oh, you mean like having a mysterious exchange student with an unexplained hatred for you land on you out of nowhere and know your name, then deny it…that type of feeling?"
Harry pulled a face in response.
"Yes, though I'd like to think I've been more civilised and patient in my curiosity as I've not forced Veriterserum down your throat," he said pointedly.
Tom smirked, shrugging his shoulders elegantly.
"I'd like to see you try," was all he said. But he looked speculative. "I'm not accustomed to sharing my life," he continued after a pause, with an almost cautious hint to his tone.
"Neither am I," Harry said simply. "But you took that choice of trusting away from me."
Tom stared at him sharply at that, lounging on the sofa.
"It's your own fault for being so interesting," he returned. Harry snorted.
"You know, I was actually trying to be somewhat unnoticed."
"Yeah? How did that work out for you?" Tom questioned, but something in his eyes suggested he was asking another question, a deeper, more personal one. Harry smirked.
"Well, I got dragged kicking and screaming into being friends with this total bastard. Really, you should see him…incredibly smug and arrogant. It's sickening."
"Sounds like a charming character," Tom dismissed, favouring him with an unreadable expression, betraying only a hint of amusement.
"I suppose he has his moments…when he's not too busy being a total arsehole."
Tom's lip quirked upwards fractionally, but he didn't respond, quiet for a while.
"When I was a child…before I was really consciously aware of my magic, I was about four or five, I believe…I wanted to be a pilot."
Harry blinked, before turning onto his side to look at the other, fascinated.
"Before the Dark Lord days, then," he stated.
"Yes…that didn't start until I was seven."
It took him a moment to realise that Tom was teasing him about the Dark Lord thing, and he promptly threw the apple core at the other. After a moment, Harry tilted his head.
"You don't seem overly fond of heights…I mean," he hurried to explain, "I've never really seem you on a broom."
"I don't like relying on other people or things for my own safety," Tom replied.
"And yet you wanted to fly planes for a living?"
"I used to," Tom corrected. "A long time ago."
"What changed?" Harry asked, studying the other, hardly daring to believe that Tom was actually talking about himself for once, It wasn't much…but it was a start. Hopefully. "Aside from aspirations to become a Dark Lord, I mean…"
Tom looked at him for a moment, flatly.
"Some Muggle children at the orphanage pushed me off a cliff to see if freaks could fly."
The words were said so nonchalantly, so without inflection, that it took Harry a few seconds to process, and note the sudden shadow in Tom's gaze. He swallowed.
"Yeah, I imagine that would put you off heights," he said softly. Tom studied him for a while longer, searching for something, though Harry wasn't sure what. "I'm sorry," Harry said, quietly, without pity.
Tom smirked, suddenly, unexpectedly, chillingly.
"Don't be. I got them back for it."
A/N: So, people didn't seem to fond of the last chapter, at least in terms of reviews…I hope you prefer this chapter =) Thank you to the people who did review 3 You are all absolutely amazing. For now, I will continue clawing my way to the end of this story. Hope you enjoy….and perhaps this chapters a little longer for you?
IMPORTANT PS...the cliff thing belongs to Eos...but I might have, um, nicked it off her. Before she posted that chapter. So...erm. Sorry Eos! You're just so good to bounce off! Erm. Yeah. Hope this doesn't ruin anything for you. But yeah - guys - credit to her! She is amazing!