Chapter 116:
It was the middle of the night, and Harry sat up in his bed, shaking.
Automatically, he glanced over at Tom's bed, relieved to see the other still, breathing deep.
The link hadn't woken him up, Tom's scorn aside, he was getting better with Occlumency.
He looked away quickly, not wanting to concentrate on the other, fury coating his skin as much as the lingering terror of nightmares and…visions.
Visions of that black marble corridor, one he'd seen a thousand times by now, and not just in his sleep either, he didn't think. It was on the tip of his thoughts, that place.
He knew it from somewhere. Somewhere he'd been, and not just dreamed…but where?
Trying to keep the exterior of his thoughts calm, he slipped out of bed and to the common room. His brain ached.
He stopped at the edge of the common room, locked from going any further, wishing, not for the first time, that he had Tom's intellect. Tom would be able to figure all of this out in seconds - sure, Harry himself wasn't stupid, he had his moments with the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber, for example, but he normally needed some help. Not to mention, the pressure was on and he was playing against said genius' enviable intellect.
At least he'd always worked well under pressure.
Okay.
Places he'd been which might hold something of Voldemort's interest…a place with black matble corridors. It wasn't Hogwarts, unless it was a variant of the Room of Requirement, and he doubted that. Gringotts…? It was possible. It was nowhere in the Muggle World…Malfoy Manor? Again, possible.
Wait, Malfoy…Lucius. Something brushed at the corners of his memory, and he frowned. He'd seen Lucius Malfoy in a black marble corridor….at his hearing.
The MINISTRY!
Damn. How had that taken him so long? The ministry in which Mr Weasley had…Mr Weasley had been there when he encountered Nagini, maybe he'd been guarding whatever the hidden thing was? And, at the beginning of the year, Sirius had said Voldemort was looking for a weapon.
He'd been a bit preoccupied at the time with the thought that there was still a Voldemort, but it rang a bell. A weapon in the Ministry of Magic. Something he didn't have last.
He felt so stupid that he hadn't thought of it before, but, he was just being stupid all round at the moment, wasn't he? It was stupid taking anything Tom said as truth or close to it.
Salazar.
He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes. He knew he couldn't trust the Slytherin Heir, he knew that it was dangerous to think he could, so why did he seem to keep falling into the pattern of thinking he could? Of having all those conversations.
Sometimes he felt sick with himself.
He always claimed he was different to Lestrange or any of the many who flocked to Tom and thought they actually meant something to the young Dark Lord, but was he really? He had no guarantee that Tom wasn't just playing him like he played everyone….lies stacked upon lies with fragments of truth to glue it all together.
After the revelations of the previous day, he'd expected to feel angrier, and he was angry, but, more than anything, he just felt tired and uncertain. A little scared.
No one had ever paid attention to him like Tom did, with that ruthless intensity, and maybe that made him easy prey. The interest was flattering, nice, when it wasn't terrifying, and Salazar…how was he different to Lestrange?
He'd sworn he wouldn't get hooked on Tom, and now look at him, he was probably the worst out all of them, intrigued despite himself and fooling himself into believing that he was 'equal' of whatever crap it was.
The thought of getting pulled across time and oblivion was petrifying, maddening…being 'saved' was a lot harder than sacrifice, at least with the latter the fight was over, if you lost. If you won, nowadays, it just meant you had another opportunity to lose.
Look at him, angsting! It was pathetic.
He needed to think solutions.
Something in the Ministry that Voldemort wanted, something he could use. He paced towards the fire, the movement aiding his thoughts, before he froze.
He just paced…the restriction had moved.
He whipped around, to see Tom leaning in the shadows, eyes fixed on him. His jaw tightened. He didn't want to do this right now. He was too…messed up, and too busy, at that.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Tom offered, after a moment.
"Not even worth that," Harry replied, looking away. "Go back to bed. I apologise for waking you."
To his annoyance, the other simply walked further into the common room, studying him with an unreadable expression.
"I suppose it's good that your thoughts aren't worth a penny, because I don't have that on me, so you can tell me anyway," the Slytherin heir said.
"Go back to bed," Harry repeated, harsher this time.
"Hmm," Tom's head tilted. "Pacing…you're trying to figure something out. Up at this time, you've woken from either nightmares or visions…judging by the lack of shaking, not torture, so perhaps nightmares? Emotions…haywire. Anger. Confusion. What's confusing you, Harry?"
"You really don't know when to back off, do you!" he demanded, his voice a snarl. "Leave. Me. Alone."
"Or what?" Tom dared, eyes gleaming as he approached.
Harry resisted the urge to give a scathing response, though it was tempting, controlling his temper. His fists curled with the effort, and he stared at the floor, breathing deeply.
When he said he was more confused and tired than angry? Lies. He'd thought he was calmer than this, he hadn't reacted so badly at the time, but now…maybe it was because Tom's plan was sinking in. The audacity.
What right did Tom have to try and choose and dictate his life? He'd left the light in an effort to avoid just that, and the other knew it!
"You know what," he said, quietly. "I'm not going to do this now. I refuse. If you're looking for a game and a reaction you can go and look elsewhere. I'm done playing. I will stop you, and that is all there is too it. No more of your power plays, or deals, or psychoanalysis. From now on, until all this is sorted out, there is nothing between us but business."
Content to leave it at that, he walked past, figuring he would just think on his bed where it was safer. A hand caught his arm, tightly, though Tom didn't otherwise move, causing him to stop just in front and to the side of the Slytherin Heir, looking over his shoulder. His muscles tensed.
"And if I don't want a business relationship with you?" Tom questioned, darkly, and Harry had a feeling he knew quite well what some people could take from that statement, and was doing it deliberately to emphasise his words.
"I don't care," he replied. "You obviously don't give a damn about my opinions and wants, so why should I cater to yours? Excuse me."
The grip tightened, and Harry could feel the other's seriousness in how the grip was still and locked, the thumbs not pressing into his skin in violent circles like they normally did, or trailing in attempt to slide the band off his wrist.
He could never decide how he felt when Tom pushed things like this, not even allowing him control over the bloody conversation. On one hand, it was infuriating, as he rather liked his freedom, thank you very much, and didn't take well to subservience of any sort…and in another way, it was also a sign that Tom actually cared enough to persist, or, whatever Tom's equivalent emotion to caring was…nobody else ever really pushed back like this, unrelenting.
It was exhausting, and simultaneously thrilling, but he'd figured out that he gained his own sick sense of enjoyment from power plays already.
"So that's what this about," Tom stated quietly, and he could feel that astute gaze burning into his face. "I thought it might be."
"Well, congratulations, it seems you have me all figured out," Harry said, tonelessly. "It makes me wonder why you bother asking your questions."
"I'd like to think I do, with some things at least," Tom said. "For example, I know that you're confused, and lashing out because you don't like the vulnerability of your uncertainty, torn between trying to back out of this and gain some distance and control again and digging deeper because you're curious to see how far you can push me, and, because digging deeper is the only way you find out more."
Harry gritted his teeth, noting that Tom's fingers were flexing against his skin, the barest signal that the other did have his own thoughts below his relatively composed surface.
"Which, my dear, is why I will not stand to indulge or encourage you on this…business relationship. You've always thrived on the lack of…expected social boundaries we have, even if it frightens you at times-"
"-It does not frighten me!" Harry snapped, momentarily forgetting his resolution to be calm. Tom smirked, that shark-smile that was becoming more frequent again.
"Yes, it does, if it didn't you wouldn't have such a fabulous reaction every time I got close to you. Relax, it's mutual, except on my side I just normally find personal contact distasteful."
Harry's eyes shot up at that admittance, for the first time, clashing with the stare which still hadn't released him.
"Why are you telling me this?" he demanded, before Tom could continue.
"Do you want me to stop?"
And that was when Harry caught up, the deeper implications of the question smacking him like he'd just crashed into a brick wall.
If he said yes, Tom's walls would shoot back up, and he would indeed concede to give Harry the 'business' relationship he didn't really want, losing both the good parts as well as the bad, for a while at least.
He would still go along with his plan, but cut off any lenience or favour or possible sharing of thoughts or information.
If Harry said no…then he was conceding to not having the 'business' relationship and Tom was likely to shift things up a gear in terms of games and power plays, becoming even more ruthless if he had the opportunity, but also being more open about the plan.
And…no…it was more than that.
Salazar...
Tom was giving him a chance to back out completely…and he suspected this would be the only chance of such a thing he would get.
Before, that had never really been an issue, because it was nothing that Harry couldn't get himself out of if he really wanted to…now…everything was going to be permanent if they continued.
Tom wouldn't offer again if he kept playing.
This was a one time offer, and once chance to turn back...and quite possibly another test too...
He swallowed.
The grip released him, and his arm suddenly felt empty, merely tingling with phantom pressure.
"You can give me your response by the end of the week," Tom said softly.
A/N: So, a rather simplistic, and dare I say it old style of mine chapter that is simply pure Tom and Harry interaction. Sorry if you don't like it, as it appears to be a very much back to basis update, without any other POVs or views or multiple scenes. I'm actually quite nervous, and not sure if I like it or not… I was going to do more, but this just seemed…right, to me in away, to end it there for now, but then odd and crappy in another way.
I'll update again in a while, I suppose. At least you get a "character" chapter again after numerous "plot" chapters, I guess. Eek. Yes, I am trying to be placating...
Thanks for all the reviews. Happy New Year everyone!
Enjoy my first piece of writing of 2012.…do you reckon I'll finish FF before the world ends in December? ;)
PS: Sorry if Harry's reaction was disappointing. I will be exploring more of it in following chapters, as I suppose the elephant of Tom's plan is going to be a sustained issue between them until all is said and done.