Chapter 97:
The next morning at breakfast, Harry still felt shaky and paranoia had also hit.
Outside of Hogwarts a Dark Lord was trying to kill him. Some Gryffindors were liable to punch him (Ginny, McLaggen) and now he was on the receiving end of attempted murder in Slytherin.
No where was safe; and there was no safe place to escape to.
He didn't think he could even stomach his coffee, it churned in front of his eyes so. His insides writhed beneath his skin, mind crawling with the piles of stuff and problems heaped in a wobbling stack.
Lestrange was nowhere to seen, and Harry opened his mouth to question that, only for Tom to speak before he could.
"Don't you dare."
Harry blinked.
"You don't even know what I was going to say," he said, indignantly. The other Slytherin's glanced at them, obviously listening. Tom's head angled in his direction, as he finished off his toast in a few quick, neat bites.
"Where's Lestrange? Is he alright? You didn't hurt him too badly, did you?" Tom offered, mockingly.
Harry frowned. Tom favoured him with a particular look, half exasperated and half something else.
"So don't even go there, and don't mutter a sarcastic 'now I'm worried' either - he doesn't deserve it."
Harry's mouth closed again, before after a moment of he turned to Tom again, only to pause once more when Lestrange himself shuffled towards the table.
His fingers clenched marginally over his cutlery, barely noticeable in the shift of grip. Glamour.
The other boy was wearing a Glamour; and Harry could only assume it was hiding injury.
Alphard and Zevi both shuffled up to block out Lestrange's normal seat, Abraxas' eyes narrowed, but Tom didn't show any reaction or even look up at new arrival. Lestrange trembled slightly.
"C-can I talk to you? Tom?"
Silence.
Lestrange appeared visibly more agitated, fingers twisting anxiously.
"Um, I'll just s-start then," he stammered.
"-I'd rather you didn't," Tom interrupted, voice a drawl. "The sound of your voice would probably be enough to make grown men kill themselves in boredom, and I am scarcely of the character to subject myself to it either." Lestrange swallowed.
"Tom," Harry hissed, warningly, too softly for anyone but the Slytherin Heir to hear, not quite able to stop himself.
Sure, Lestrange was a total arsehole who tried to kill him, but…it was the scenario with Tom all over again. He was so used to trying save people, because no one had ever saved him, that he no longer cared who he was saving. Lestrange was just…pathetic.
Tom's gaze flicked to him in an indication he'd heard, but he gave no intention of yielding to the implicit suggestion to 'play nice.' Instead, the danger in his aura simply grew.
In the meanwhile, Lestrange had seemingly plucked up fragile scraps of courage again, or perhaps a desire for suicide…was this how the other Slytherin's felt like when he constantly pushed and baited Tom? Sheer shock at the stupidity of the action and amazement at how he could be oblivious to the threat?
"I don't understand what he's got that I don't," Lestrange continued.
Draco kept his gaze fixed on the brunette, wary for any sign that the other was going to attack. He suppressed a wince, exchanging a look with Abraxas, incredulous that Cygnus was still pushing after so clear a dismissal, after torture.
Sure, Harry did it…but Harry was Harry, and he could hardly imagine Harry and Tom not being like that…and Riddle, Riddle thrived on Harry's challenge, Lestrange's was a copy.
He didn't know if the elder boy was aware of quite how much he seemed to be emulating Potter in his approach to the Slytherin Heir.
Tom's snorted, the only sign that he was aware of the other boy standing hardly two feet away from him, and he could tell the silence was getting to Lestrange too, spots of colour appearing high on his cheeks.
Harry looked increasingly uneasy and uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, and he seemed to rather wish to hit someone.
Anyone who didn't know the golden boy wouldn't have noticed, he'd picked up a certain unreadable qualities and masks from his time in the past, but Draco had spent the last five years tormenting the boy - of course he knew when Potter was even a tad agitated.
"He's trying to change you, how can you stand for that?" Lestrange demanded, practically howling the words at the continued dismissal.
Tom's head did turn at that, and Lestrange hurriedly continued, though he stiffened and his fingers scrubbed twitchily at his skin.
"He'd make you give up all of your aims for him! He'd have you be nothing but Tom Riddle-"
Draco sucked in a deep inhalation of breath, and Lestrange's own eyes widened with horror.
Oh Riddle was paying attention now.
"Nothing but Tom Riddle?" The young Dark Lord repeated with a tone of utter menace. "You perhaps you feel I cannot achieve anything without my…pseudonym?"
"I-I didn't mean it like that-"
"Yes you did," Riddle said flatly. Lestrange shuddered, licking dry lips and Draco noted that the rest of the hall were turning to stare as the confrontation escalated.
Harry now appeared like he wanted to murder rather than hit, or have the earth swallow him whole.
Dumbledore had shot to attention, as had Weasley and the mudblood.
"You're brilliant, you could achieve whatever you want to…it's just, well, Riddle isn't exactly a pureblood name, and Potter would probably have you go screw some muggles and start some apple pie life-"
"Excuse me?" Potter near hissed. It seemed fury had won out over embarrassment. Lestrange rounded on the Gryffindor, seemingly much more confident in facing him than Riddle.
"You heard me - you don't belong with us anyway, with your light side ideals, do you really think just cause you're a good kisser or something that it's going to work out for you? Wake up!"
He glanced at Riddle, but the other had cooled from seeming rage, and was now watching the two with an indecipherable expression.
"Should I be worried about your interest and apparent knowledge of my kissing abilities?" Harry questioned flatly. Lestrange spluttered, but Harry continued before the other could. "And, just for reference, no, I don't believe I ever claimed to belong with the Dark, we both know I don't." Riddle's expression flickered at that, for a scarce second, too fast to read. "But do you really believe that has the blindest bit of effect on my opinion and aims regarding of Tom's future?"
"Oh don't lie, you're all over him-"
"This coming from you?" Harry sneered, smiling sweetly, but there was something deadly in his countenance now, and a intenseness that suggested he was deliberately looking anywhere but Riddle. "There's a time loop you idiot. Him not being what you want him to be wipes me and my world off the plane of existence."
There was nothing but shock on Lestrange's face, and a touch of confusion.
"So rest assured, Cygnus, and get the f*** out of my way or me and my light side ideals will destroy you."
He abruptly rose from his seat and walked out of the hall.
There was a silence of a different sort as everyone's eyes rested on the retreating figure.
"Is it just me, or does the kid seem a bit stressed out?" Alphard said.
Draco and Abraxas exchanged disbelieving glances.
An uncomfortable silence had descended on the four of them, clogging up paths of conversation that had once seemed so easy and natural.
He felt sick; and it wasn't just cause he'd felt nauseas all of his crappy morning with poison after taste in his mouth.
He regretted his outburst now; it was too emotional, too…dark eyes had barely left him in contemplation, and it more than a little unnerving.
Ron had his arms folded sullenly, but he was there…which had to mean something, right?
"What's he doing here?" the red head demanded, tipping his head in Tom's direction. The Slytherin Heir stared back expressionlessly in reply, and Harry just knew he was withholding a scathing response.
"Why do you think I'm here, Weasley?" Tom returned instead, with a tone too calm to be normal.
Hermione shifted, playing with a strand of hair.
"I suppose you want to make sure Harry doesn't spill too many Death Eater secrets," Ron spat.
"But that mark isn't like the Dark Mark," Hermione burst out, seemingly unable to contain herself.
"That's because Harry isn't a Death Eater," Tom replied. "And I have no qualms in saying he never will be…not in the least because he'd make a terrible one."
Harry's lip twitched at that, a restrained smile, but Ron looked even more furious.
"You still branded him! It hardly matters what it looks like!"
"I'm sure Harry minds," Tom returned, smirking. "It could be embarrassing for him if I'd made it look like a daisy chain."
"What does it do then?" Hermione questioned, ignoring the other part of the conversation, leaning forwards slightly with curiosity as if she wanted to grab his arm.
"I'd explain, but…trade secrets," Tom smirked.
Hermione looked over at him, something fierce in her expression. Harry explained immediately.
"I don't know all the ins and outs, but it can move, cause pain, talk and physically paralyse my arm and lock it to the spot as well as pull me around, that I've seen so far."
Ron reddened further.
"And you let him put that on your arm? Why? That smitten are we?"
Harry nearly growled.
"I believe he was dealing for his Godfather's life at the time," Tom smiled, a mirthless smile.
"Dealing-" Ron's brow furrowed, anger not dissipating, but joined by horror. "And you took advantage of that? You bastard. Not surprising seeing as you smack him around too."
"Of course I took advantage of it," Tom said coldly. "I'm a Psychopath. It's what I do. And it was nothing he didn't agree to. As for smacking him around; far less then most believe I should considering his severe attitude problem."
"You shouldn't hit him at all - you don't deserve him!" Ron snarled.
Harry had a flash back to the previous night, and felt he had to speak up.
"Leave off, Ron," he said quietly. Tom's gaze shot to him.
"Yeah, defend him," Ron spat. "Just like you always do."
"Yeah," Harry snapped, beyond any composure, "piss off like you always do when I do something you don't agree with -
"Boys-" Hermione began, desperately, shrilly.
"-So what if I defend him? I'd defend any of my friends. You wouldn't be getting on my back if I was defending you or Hermione."
"Well we're actually your friends! But hey, I suppose you have better friends now, right? Everything we've gone through and you ditch us for that jerk when you've only known him for a year. What's he ever done for you?"
"You'd be surprised," Harry hissed.
"-Stop it-" Hermione tried again.
"Try me," Ron dared.
"He saved my life just last night for starters."
And suddenly everything was too quiet.
It was becoming an awfully familiar occurence.
Ron looked startled, and Hermione had tears welling in his eyes, and Tom…well, Tom was a bloody stone to get emotions out as always, and seemed largely unaffected by the whole scene, but he had gone still.
"W-what happened last night?" Ron demanded, voice quieter now, shaky. Harry felt like slapping a hand over his mouth.
"I-never mind-" he faltered under two twin glares.
"Lestrange poisoned him," Tom informed them, when Harry didn't speak.
"WHAT!" Hermione shrieked, pulling out her wand. "Where is he? How dare he - urgh, I'll make sure he never has children!"
"That would obliterate the time line, unfortunately," Tom deadpanned.
Hermione stared at the Slytherin Heir. Ron was troubled, torn. Hermione's chin jutted out.
"Did you torture him?" she asked.
"Yes, and he has more coming when I catch up with him," Tom replied, flatly.
Hermione nodded.
"Good."
Harry gaped and Tom raised a brow, before smirking.
"Want to help?"
A/N: So, this seemed like a good, natural place to stop, though I had more in mind initially. Oh well, you'll get that next time. Do you guys think my pacing is too slow? I do more moments than even days and I'm wondering if it seems to drag too much? Thanks a million times for the amazing reviews! I love you guys. Every review alert is like a ray of sunshine to my day, and I hope you feel the same way about my updates =)
Not sure if I like this one or not...it was hard to write.