Chapter 92:
Tom was silent, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
Of course, Tom had gone straight for the meeting with Dumbledore and all it entailed, and Harry had not been able to do much against it as the other wasn't exactly starting off on a beginner level for blocking intruding minds.
He held the gaze solidly; to move now, or avert his gaze, would be to fail.
"I'd have thought you would relish the opportunity to learn more about me," Tom stated after a while. Harry simply shrugged, and Tom's eyebrows raised slightly. "I'm looking for a verbal answer, sweetheart," he prompted, with a silky hint of danger in his tone.
"And I'm wondering why a verbal answer is necessary," he replied, keeping his voice calm, "when you already know my feelings and response to the question."
Tom prowled forwards a little, standing from his careless position on the sofa. Harry merely began to circle in turn, cautious to keep the Slytherin Heir at a distance until he could more clearly gauge his intent.
"Curious," Tom murmured, favouring him with a smirk. "Do you truly believe Dumbledore would have only one motive for showing you that memory - an attempt to poison your mind against me?"
"Is that not what he was attempting to do?" Harry questioned warily, suddenly feeling stupid and ill at ease. Had he misinterpreted the situation entirely?"
"Relax, Harry," Tom practically purred, "he was attempting that as well. You should have more confidence in your perceptive abilities. You're a Slytherin, after all."
"But you think there's more to his actions?"
"There's always more to anyone's actions outside of surface levels, and with Dumbledore especially," Tom replied.
"And with you?" Harry dared. Tom's lips curled, vibrantly, eyes glittering.
"And with me," he acknowledged, softly, studying him intently. "He's hunting for the Horcruxes, golden boy."
Harry only just managed to catch his automatic expression, keeping composed.
"In your orphanage?"
"In my past," Tom corrected, voice not as playful now, hardening against the topic and the Headmaster's intentions. "Or…my future, however you wish to look at it. You think I would harbour my soul in something commonplace, without meaning? He's looking for those meanings, and those hiding places."
Harry came to a halt in his circling, a few steps away, and Tom stopped also.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, masking uncertainty for suspicion, though suspicion was present still.
"Because friends are supposed to share secrets," Tom offered; mockingly, Harry knew. His jaw tightened.
"Because you've always been an active follower of conventions and what you're supposed to do," he said. Tom smirked, once more.
"Maybe I've changed."
"I doubt it," Harry scoffed, "you hate rules and limitations, and include the traditional standards of society amongst then, and that's to say nothing of your contempt for moral codes."
"How well you know me," Tom stated.
Harry folded his arms, waiting for an answer and explanation of his own.
Tom's lip twisted in a juxtaposition of amusement, threat, fondness and impatience.
"Think, Harry. You know the answer, and the all the facts and resources to reach it."
Harry thinned his lips, but found his mind racing anyway in a feverish search for answers.
Okay. So, Horcruxes. Why would Tom care for him to know Dumbledore was hunting Horcruxes? To convince him spy on the Headmaster?
Tom knew he would refuse to that, just as Dumbledore should know by now that he refused to spy on Tom for the light - he was grey, damn it, was that really such a hard concept to grasp?
Anyway. Tom. Dumbledore. Horcruxes.
Oh. Horcrux hunting.
"He's hunting Horcruxes…and I'm…one of them," Harry said, quietly. "...He's not going to kill me, Tom. But thanks for the warning."
"Of course he will," Tom snapped. "Don't be so naïve. He wants Voldemort dead, and that involves your demise-"
"Rather," Harry cut in, firmly, "he won't kill me yet."
That stopped Tom, who tilted his head back in appraisal.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because for some reason or other he seems to think I'm needed to kill Voldemort."
"Yes, darling," Tom sneered, "needed as a sacrifice."
"No, there's more. I can feel it," Harry said. Tom laughed, disbelievingly.
"You choose this time to get a sudden burst of benevolence regarding the goodness of people's intentions?" Tom closed the gap between them, gripping his shoulders tightly, breath hot on his ear. "Don't be such a fool."
"Yeah…er, why do you even care about the Horcruxes anyway?" Harry questioned with a dangerous lightness of tone. "Are you that convinced that you're him already?"
The grip tightened, crushing.
"I don't want to be Voldemort, as he appears to be now, if that's what you're asking," Tom hissed, drawing back to see him face to face.
Harry blinked at the unexpected confession.
"Then why-"
"But, you know, we don't always get what we want," Tom continued, ferociously, "and in that case, I would rather not wilfully aid my own destruction in a younger version of myself. It would be a bit of a cosmic irony, wouldn't it?"
Harry studied the other, intently, for a moment.
"I thought you always got what you wanted," he said, smiling humourlessly. The pressure on his shoulder's decreased slightly, hands sliding back to their sides, though Tom didn't move back.
"We've been over this, Harry-"
"You could choose not become him. Easily," Harry interrupted. "The future's in your hands; you're free to do whatever you want, Tom. No limitat-"
A hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him.
"-Forget benevolence regarding other people's good intentions," Tom murmured viciously, eyeing him. "Your alarming eagerness to die is showing again."
Tom stared him down for a moment, before abruptly releasing it, and spinning on his heel.
"We should get back to the Common Room. Tomorrow we can do some actual Occlumency."
He could feel the storms brewing in Tom's magic, but pushed regardless, unable to stop.
"-And you say I'm in denial?" Harry questioned furiously, striding after the Slytherin Heir. "You do not get to use me as a justification to pretend that you don't have a choice in this -"
The next second, Harry was staggering back with the force of Tom's backhand.
They both froze, breathing heavily. Tom's eyes widened with shock at the loss of his control.
Harry rose slowly to his feet, his mind whirling, his face stinging.
"Did I touch a nerve?" he challenged, voice barely above a whisper. He watched the other, who seemed to be wrestling with what to do. "Just cause you've given up, it doesn't mean I have," he finished softly, abruptly walking past Tom, not letting his footsteps falter or show signs of being affected.
"-Harry-" Tom began.
He slammed the door of the room of requirement shut behind him.
The next morning found him meeting Ron and Hermione in the library.
Both looked up with wide smiles when he first entered, before Hermione's expression melted to absolute horror as she dashed towards him.
"Harry! What happened to your face?" she demanded shrilly.
His face? His hand flinched up. Damn it. There hadn't been any bruises when he checked in the mirror or anything, they must have only just started showing. He hadn't expected…he quickly spelled a glamour, even as Ron stared at him, wide eyed.
"It's nothing," he said, quickly.
"-Harry," Hermione hissed, her voice lowering with a nervous dart of her eyes at Madame Pince, who was starting to perk up irritably at the noise emitting from their table. "What happened?"
"Riddle?" Ron demanded, angrily.
"It's nothing," Harry repeated. "Let's just do homework…"
"No," Ron said resolutely. "What happened?" Harry was silent for a moment.
"Progress…possibly," he admitted.
Neither Ron nor Hermione looked the slightest bit appeased.
"You have to tell someone!" Hermione urged, her fingers trailing gently to the hidden marks on his face.
Harry was suddenly glad they didn't know about the dislocated fingers, or any of the other things that occurred if he pushed the young Dark Lord too far. He winced.
"No, it's fine. It's-"
"It's not fine. He hit you-"
"-What makes you think it was Tom?" Harry questioned sullenly, moving to slam his book bag on the table.
"Because with you, it's always Riddle nowadays," Ron said bluntly. "I swear to Merlin, I'm gonna kill the psychotic bastarrd for this."
"No," Harry protested, firmly. "Leave it. Promise me you'll leave it, and won't say a word, you weren't even supposed to-"
"Supposed to find out?" Hermione's voice rose an octave in pitch. Harry looked away.
"Does he bloody hit you often?" Ron snarled. Harry shook his head.
"We were arguing-" he began to explain.
"That's not very reassuring considering how you seem to argue at least once a week," Hermione mumbled. Harry flicked his gaze back to them.
"He told me he didn't want to be Voldemort."
"Oh - Harry-" Hermione started helplessly.
"And he looked pretty surprised when he hit me," Harry continued, relentlessly. "I reckon he just lost his temper."
"Well," Ron snapped sarcastically, "that's alright then, isn't it? No worries if we have a body to bury next time he loses his temper."
"I touched a nerve."
"I'm seriously worried about how gleeful you sound," Ron said flatly. Harry sighed.
"Look, it's Slytherin-"
"And we're obviously too much of blunt, moronic Gryffindors to therefore understand?" Hermione questioned, delicately.
"No! I just - not moronic," he muttered.
Hermione and Ron stared at him in utter disbelief.
"Well, Harry, why don't you try explaining, and let us be the judge of that," Hermione instructed, her voice shaking, clearly trying to keep a level head. "Maybe you could use some fresh eyes…with him you…kind of get wrapped up in the details. We might be able to clarify the big picture."
Harry stared at them, breathless.
There was so much he hadn't told them. But…But…Maybe they could help. Hermione was certainly better at researching then him, and he didn't have a clue where to start with all the things he had to find answers to.
"Where do I start…" he smiled, shakily.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I apologise for the slowness of my chapters, I should pick up in terms of speed again soon. :) I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. Feedback, is as always, much appreciated - I'm a review addict ;)
PS: READ Eos's "Fighting Fate" I cannot stress the pure brilliance of it enough. And her explorations of characters, like Fred and George for example, works very accurately in conjunction with Fate's Favourite. She's kinda like the person who does the set for a play, but way more awesome! PRAISE HER!