Chapter 90:
Harry pulled Parkinson aside after allowing her some time for her breakfast, ignoring the eyes he could feel boring into his back.
They had a free period first anyway.
She wouldn't look at him, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and her eyes downcast, refusing to meet his gaze. He sighed, sitting down on a window ledge over looking the courtyard.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," he began quietly, causing her head to jerk up slightly. "On my own behalf as well as Tom's because you'd never get an apology out of him, however wrong he was. Stubborn bastard, that one."
He was pleased to note Pansy's lips twitched a tiny bit in amusement at the last line.
"Seriously though," he continued, "you shouldn't take what he says to heart…he's a sadist, he enjoys causing people pain."
She glanced up at him, with a genuine shyness that seemed a world away from her failed deliberate coyness in the last few days.
"He was right though," she mumbled. "I'm not very pretty. That's why I…" she swallowed. "Would you ever date me?"
Oh no. He couldn't deal with this…girl…stuff.
"Um," he began, helplessly. "Maybe. Under different circumstances." Probably not. No.
"Different circumstances as in if I was pretty, like Greengrass or that Chang girl," she smiled, bitterly. Harry's brow furrowed. He was going to bloody kill Tom. Tactless psychopath!
"No," he said flatly. "Different circumstances as in I don't have a Dark Lord aiming to kill me or anyone who gets close to me. Different circumstances as in if I either us actually cared for each other…I mean, you don't, er, seem to fancy me?" he proposed hesitantly. "It was all rather sudden. So, why did you, um…"
"Flirt with you?" she finished dully, though there was a spark of entertainment in her gaze at his awkwardness. "Try and use you?"
"That," Harry said. She studied him seriously.
"How much do you know of how Slytherin Hierarchy works?" she questioned.
"Not as much as I should," Harry admitted easily.
"Well, to put it into simple terms for you, the closer one is to the leader of Slytherin - the more favour they have - then the more power and sway they have over the rest of Slytherin themselves…the higher status. There are lots of other factors too, but I won't go into them now."
"So you wanted to get closer to me and by proxy, Tom?" Harry said, wondering if he should be insulted or not. "Why not just go with Abraxas, or Zevi."
"Riddle doesn't tend to harm those that you're close to," Parkinson stated. "And you're second top in Slytherin…and probably first in the school when public opinion is going your way."
Harry's nose wrinkled.
"How come you're the first person to try it then?" he asked, suddenly.
"Because you're a gamble," she said. "Firstly, because you don't pay caution to our systems at all so there is no guarantee with you, and secondly because Riddle is exceedingly possessive of you and is liable to lash out at anyone who tries if you don't step in to prevent that, which, just so you know, does work against your insistence that he's not your lover."
"He's not-" Harry began.
"Possessive of you?" Parkinson raised her brows. "Yes he is."
"He's not my lover either," Harry added, a little irritated. Pansy waved a dismissive hand, as if the truth of the claim was entirely irrelevant. In a way it was, if people thought they were dating then they would act like they were, despite his rebuttals.
Harry bit his lip.
"You're being very open about this," he said, marginally suspicious.
"I have nothing to lose in honesty," she replied, jutting her chin slightly. "I need your…protection and with your hideously Gryffindor sensibilities and admittedly Slytherin understanding of events I can't exactly get away with lying."
"Protection?" Harry questioned, his insides twinging with anxiety, before he shook himself. Not the time. "And if I give you my protection, what does that involve and how does it benefit me?"
She stared at him, before looking oddly like she was going to laugh.
"Blunt, aren't you?"
"I grew up in a lion pride," Harry smirked.
"And work in the snake pit?" she returned, before her demeanour turned rather alarmingly business like, vulnerability retreated to her eyes alone. "Stand up for me if the other's start mocking me…single me out to talk to once in a while. We don't even have to pretend to date. In return I'll…" she took a deep breath. "I'll tell you about the stuff Riddle's snakes won't tell you….explain the things none of the others will. Riddle seemed to think you wanted information."
Harry surveyed her for a moment, once more hit by the bizarreness of Slytherin politics and its synthesis of emotions and stoicism.
And yet…wasn't this a win-win scenario of what they'd both initially wanted when they started trying to do this in the way of Slytherin subtleties and masks of flirtation?
"Okay," he agreed, before checking his watch. "We have potions," he said, unnecessarily.
She nodded, looking nervous. His own compassion reared his head again.
"Come on, we can walk together. And…er...Pansy? I really am sorry that Tom is such an arsehole. You're not ugly, you're just…" pug-faced. "Not like a baby doll, different."
She offered him a blinding smile that somehow made her look more like a girl.
And a pretty one.
He could feel Tom's eyes on him all through Potions, but he didn't comment on it or give any indication that he was aware of it.
Snape was eyeing him as well. He wasn't all that surprised when the Potions master ordered him to stay behind at the end of the lesson, just as he was about to flee the door.
Sighing, he wandered back to the desk, where Snape was shifting through a stack of third year papers.
Harry winced at the large D scrawled on the top one in vivid red ink, along with the words "absolutely appalling. A spider who crawled over an inkwell may have been able to write the assignment better than you. More research needed - and a Tentacula leaf is NOT interchangeable with the root of a venomous tentacula plant."
He looked up when Snape spoke.
"You will no longer be serving detention with me, Mr Potter. Report to the Headmaster's office at seven O clock."
Harry's mouth almost dropped open, but he kept it closed by sheer force of emotionless.
"Excuse me…uh, sir?" he added hastily. "Do you mean to imply that Dumbledore's taken charge of my detentions?"
"Professor Dumbledore, Potter," Snape snarled, but there was a curious lack of menace. "And I'm not implying anything you stupid boy; he is taking your detentions for the foreseeable future and you will report to his office at seven O clock sharp."
This was unbelievable.
"No," he said flatly. "Triple my detentions and have Filch make me hunt for Acromantula eggs in the forbidden forest, but I will not have them with Professor Dumbledore."
Snape regarded him, darkly, his lips thin.
"Seven O clock. The Headmaster's Office," the greasy bat repeated. "Now, get out of my classroom. It's bad enough that I've had to tolerate your presence for the whole hour already."
Harry inclined his head, tightly, before turning around and storming out, slamming the door shut behind him out of pure vindictiveness.
The nerve of that man! Dumbledore, not Snape for once. He wasn't going. They could assign him with a year's worth of detentions and he wouldn't spend a second of it in the old man's presence.
Yes, he wanted the greater good, but right now Harry didn't feel like he could give a damn about the greater good, he gave a damn about his own life and mental health, as shocking as some may find that.
It was only when a hand shot out, pulling him to an abrupt stop, that he realised he'd completely walked past Tom in his fury, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. The Slytherin Heir arched his brows.
"Bad day, sunshine?"
"Tom," he greeted, managing to cool his rage long enough to sound neutral instead of snappish, if not warm. "Something like that. Sorry if I ignored you. I didn't see you."
"Because that's not almost as insulting as you ignoring me," Tom returned dryly, studying him intently. "What did Professor Snape want?"
"To inform me of a change of plan in my detentions," Harry said, voice restrained, the anger flaring again in memory.
"Why do you have detention?" Tom questioned, frowning.
"For going out and getting drunk with you," he scowled. "Why do you not have detention?"
"Because in this time period my records say that I've graduated so I'm not bound to the school rules so much as you are, and can thus come and go as I please without getting in too much hassle if I don't cause a disruption. We all can."
"That's so unfair!" Harry grumbled. Tom smirked, clapping his shoulder mockingly.
"I saw you went off with Parkinson this morning," the other said after a moment of silence. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, walking again.
"Yeah. We had a great time. Who knew broom cupboards were so accommodating," he drawled.
Tom shot him a scathing look. He grinned back, with a fake brightness.
Tom pulled him to a stop once more, a few metres outside of the courtyard where he was heading to meet Ron and Hermione. Harry folded his arms, just waiting for Tom to start.
To his surprise, the young Dark Lord merely appraised him for a moment, before speaking in a low, measured tone.
"You should be careful, golden boy, if you plan to start playing with my system. I know it a lot better than you."
Harry was once more left wondering exactly how much Tom knew about Harry's comings and goings, and had the sudden flash of paranoid thinking that hissed to him that Tom had a Pansy of his own. He shook it away a moment later.
"You don't object? Considering the fuss you made about Parkinson in the Common Room?" he asked.
Tom shrugged carelessly, a wicked glint in his gaze.
"Well, I don't think you'll get anywhere...but I know I'll enjoy watching you struggle to keep up."
Because that was reassuring.
Harry seemed rather on edge around seven O clock, and seemed to only grow more tense as the evening progressed…seven thirty, eight, eight thirty…he didn't understand it, personally.
Although, if Abraxas wanted to be brutally honest with himself (and he normally did, he just didn't like to be honest with anyone else) there were lot of things about Harry he didn't understand - and the primary of those was Harry's dynamic with his lord.
The two of them were a fascination to study, individually but even more so in relation to each other, but it wasn't a study that led to many answers.
Rather, it was simply the base expression of emotions and snapshots, a crimson and silver thread, a golden and emerald stitching of their history, spun in the delicate but binding yarns of Fate to weave a story that none of them could entirely conceive.
It was too complex to be fully understood, too incoherent and garbled by facades, and yet so truthful that it hurt and rang a chord so deep that your own soul seemed to tremble in anticipation of their passing.
Tom's eyes fixed upon the younger every so often, considering, never staying long, but aware…hyper aware, and Harry's did the same, observing. Most of the time they missed each other, but occasionally their gazes clashed in meeting like a shard of captured lightning, speaking more openly and more guardedly than their words ever did.
Neither Tom nor Harry were the type of person upon whom you would attribute the term of 'co-dependency,' but in this case it sprung to mind - preceded closely by the word 'toxic.'
They were utterly obsessed with each other, their moods depended on each other's moods, they neglected others when they were together, they didn't do well being separated for long periods of time and they constantly manipulated each other and struggled for dominance.
It really wasn't healthy…and yet…they seemed largely happy with it, and he feared the psychological consequences of forcibly trying to bring the heat down a notch or force them to take some space.
As such, Abraxas (and he knew his Lord too) was one of the few people observing Harry close enough to notice the way his eyes also spent time flicking towards the door, or how his muscles tightened when the door opened.
It was intriguing, and he knew Tom thought so too, for his scrutiny of the other was becoming less an occasional flicker of attention and more of a sustained study, like one studied a puzzle or a difficult arithmency equation.
He was, however, surprised when Albus Dumbledore walked into their common room, efficiently silencing all conversation, followed closely by their current head of house.
He noted that Zevi shifted grouchily, avoiding the Potion Master's gaze. Salazar, he was so glad he had Draco instead of the Dungeon bat. The blonde was an alright kid once he got past the awkwardness.
Harry's head shot up, and Tom's magic began flittering as the Headmaster walked over.
He exchanged a glance with his grandson, wordlessly commanding him to stay put and not draw attention to himself. Kid was alright...but he wasn't the most subtle always. He had a lot on his shoulders...
"Perhaps you think you are above the rules, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said coolly. "When a member of the faculty assigns you with a detention, you are obligated to attend it,"
Harry's body drew back, fractionally, defensively, whereas Tom's shifted into one liable to attack and burst into offensive at any given moment.
"Perhaps," Harry returned, his voice cold, "I would, sir, if you assigned me a traditional detention instead of some ploy to force your unwanted council."
"A student does not get to choose his punishment, that would make it ineffective."
"A headmaster does not get to abuse his position for the sake of his blind righteousness!" Harry snapped. "By all means, give me a detention, I'm happy to serve it - but don't expect me to serve it with you…and doesn't that go against school policy, sir? I didn't believe it was the job of the Headmaster to supervise a student's detention over something so trivial as sneaking out of school grounds to get drunk with a friend."
Harry smiled, utterly without warmth.
"You wouldn't want to be accused of favouritism."
Dumbledore looked around the silent common room, blue eyes sweeping across them all and judging them in a matter of seconds.
"Please come outside, Mr Potter, this is not the place for this topic," Dumbledore instructed curtly. Harry didn't move, eyeing the Headmaster with unveiled rage.
"I think I'll stay here, thank you," he said, awfully, uncharacteristically, polite.
"This is not up for discussion," Dumbledore said.
Harry sank back further into the sofa in response, rifling through his bag in defiant dismissal. The Headmaster took a step forward, and Snape twitched as if about to move, only to still once more as if it had never even happened.
"Fine, then, Mr Potter," Dumbledore smiled, suddenly, causing Harry's gaze to flick up warily. "We can discuss school policy here if you wish. We have many rules, and one of them is that students stay in their own common rooms…the sorting hat put you in Gryffindor, I believe?"
"It also put him in Slytherin, I believe," Tom said, icily, speaking for the first time. "So he has as much as right to stay here."
"Oh, but I wouldn't wish to be accused of favouritism," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It hardly seems fair to allow Mr Potter to switch houses when other students were denied the same opportunity. Therefore, one must return him to house he was initially chosen for."
Harry's lips were almost white with fury, his fists clenched, and Tom's eyes held nothing but hatred and contempt.
"And yet…you come to this decision so long after the initial transfer occurred? Why, if one wanted to look unfavourably upon your rather…eccentric…term of office one might suspect you of ulterior motives," Tom replied, smoothly, without missing a beat.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.
"It is hardly the place of a student, my dear boy, to question school policy or the judgements of those in charge of him," he said pleasantly. Ouch.
"No," Tom said, softly, lethally, after a moment. "But I'm the Heir of Slytherin, and he the Heir of Gryffindor - so one could argue it is more than our prerogative in that respect. He was sorted into Slytherin, and he is welcome in my court for as long as he pleases."
"I thought you were all for house unity, professor?" Harry added, innocently.
Dumbledore stared at them both for a few moments, in a terrible silence. Then he walked out as quickly as he came, and Harry visibly deflated, watching the door with a strange expression.
Tom's gaze snapped back to the younger, no pretences in his observation this time.
The Common Room was still muted in screaming silence.
Harry tore his gaze back to the Slytherin Heir, clearly feeling the weight of that intense, burning gaze. Abraxas himself was sure even he, a Malfoy born and bred, would buckle under its pressure, but Harry simply shrugged, albeit uncomfortably.
"You don't want to know," he muttered.
"Oh," Tom returned dangerously, "I really think I do, sweetheart."
A/N: Not as long as last time…but still quite long. I hope you enjoyed it =) Happy Halloween! Thank you so much for the reviews! They bring happiness in my currently stressful existence…and I probably won't have as much time for updating anymore (but I've said that before and continued, so we'll see…)