Chapter 126:
Pomfrey wasn't there, apparently she was at St Mungo's trying to aid the wounded - and, instead, there was a young trainee healer.
The woman's eyes widened at the sight of them, and, probably, the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived was in her ward. Harry bit back a sigh of disgust, and was gratified that she did at least make an effort to compose herself.
Her eyes then snapped to Tom and Sirius, before she took a step backwards seemingly for no reason. Harry glanced to his left, noting the rather deadly expression on the Slytherin Heir's face, that was mirrored to some extent upon his Godfather.
"J-just set him on the bed," the healer stated. "My name is Apprentice Freya , what's the problem?"
"The problem appears to be the lack of trained healers in the vicinity," Tom stated coldly. "Go and get one of your superiors."
"But they're all working on the wounded at St Mungo's-" she began. Within a second, Harry was more firmly in Sirius's grip, and Tom's wand had slid under the nurse's chin.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me?" Tom hissed. "Get me one of your superiors, a trained Healer, or you can join the wounded yourself and get a more hands-on approach to how hospitals work."
"I-you can't threaten me- I'm almost certified - please - I - I know what I'm doing-"
"Wow, almost certified," Tom said scathingly. "I almost feel reassured, except I don't and I wasn't asking you a question, nor threatening you. If you do not get me a professional healer within the next minute you will not live to become certified, you stupid bitch."
"Tom-" Harry growled. "Stop it. I can wait-"
"Yes, sweetheart, I'm sure your several broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, fractured wrist, three broken fingers, severe bruising and prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse…which, fun fact, can cause permanent nerve damage or insanity…can wait," Tom replied. "That doesn't mean it will."
"There's no other healers available! I'm sorry, but-"
"I'll go get him a healer," Sirius stated, loudly, glaring at the nurse.
Harry found himself being deposited back into Tom's arms, as if he were suddenly incapable of standing without support, while his Godfather flipped his finger to the nurse, flaunting a signet ring.
"Lord Sirius Black. Head of the Black Family - you'll be hearing from my lawyers." Harry almost choked.
They'd both gone insane! The poor woman! Before she could muster a response, Sirius had strode to the floo in Pomfrey's office and disappeared.
Tom's wand slowly lowered, a flash of approval in his gaze, though his features still held a dark edge. A feather light touch directed him towards the bed, where he sat more out of shock that any willingness to take orders.
Trainee Freya looked about to cry.
"Sorry about this," Harry muttered, feeling awkward. "I'll get Sirius to drop charges - they're both just being bloody overprotective-"
"-If you don't like it," Tom smiled at him, dangerously, "then learn to take some more care of your own health, though I can't promise to stop even then."
Harry gaped, a hot fury clenching in his stomach (his fists were a bit on the damaged side.) He took a deep, calming breath.
"If you're overcompensating because this was actually your crappy plan, then stop, I don't hold it against you-"
"Overcompensating?" Tom snatched on the word, his voice flat. "Why would I be overcompensating? That so would suggest I had something to feel guilty for."
Harry's heart plummeted. Right.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "the great Tom Riddle would never feel something so human, because he never makes mistakes, does he? He's just too perfect. It's all just…part of the plan."
He looked away, over at the Trainee Healer, who was staring at them in what seemed to be a mixture of fascination and fear. Salazar, he ached all over, and he couldn't stop shaking
. Before, he thought it was relief, now, he suspected it might be the crucio remnants. He could feel Tom's eyes boring into the side of his face.
"Take a picture, it lasts longer," he advised her, irritably, perhaps indirectly aiming the words at Tom too. She flushed, snapping her gaze away, mumbling something about getting him a pain relief. As she left for the office, he suddenly wished she would stay. Tom was still appraising him.
It was getting repetitive.
"Harry."
"You can go if you want," he said, ignoring the possibility that the other was about to speak. "Sirius will be back soon, and I'm sure you've got better things to do be doing with your time."
"Don't," the Slytherin Heir said sharply.
Harry glanced over, doing his hardest to make sure he was completely expressionless, maybe even casual and careless. The other leaned forwards, resting a hand on his non-dislocated shoulder.
"I am a psychopath, sometimes I think you understand and accept that, other times…I can't-"
"Feel empathy, yes, I know," Harry snapped. "Believe me, I've got that message by now-"
"-As for torturing you," Tom continued, louder, and Harry barely suppressed a flinch, "I don't regret that either, before you ask. I'm sadistic - I enjoy causing people pain! I'm mentally and chemically wired to do so, and I gain no sense of shame from doing it because I do not have a conscience."
Harry's blood was pounding through his veins, and he averted his gaze, only for pale fingers to seize his jaw and force his attention.
"Do I like…this…" Tom's eyes flicked over his abused body. "No. I do not like that it's you, for whatever inexplicable reason, but I also find it preferable to you being dead."
"It bothers you to cause me pain?" Harry questioned sceptically, somehow not quite believing that.
"Don't be ridiculous," Tom scoffed. "It bothers me when I don't have a choice in it."
An incredulous laugh startled out of Harry's mouth.
"I'm starting to think people are right when they say you're no good for me."
"Of course I'm no good for you," Tom smirked. "Don't tell me that's not part of the appeal?"
A mixture of awkwardness, uneasiness and something else joined his already tumbling emotional state, but he couldn't look away.
"More seriously though," Tom's voice grew softer, the hand slipping to lie on the back of his neck instead in an oddly reassuring manner. "If I could feel guilty, than yes, I'd feel guilty right now…you didn't deserve today, and believe me when I say I would never act like I did earlier if I thought there had been another option…so…sorry, I suppose…whatever that means when I…apologise for the inconvenience but wouldn't actually change my action."
"Bullshitting in hopes of forgiveness," Harry replied promptly, and Tom's lips twisted into a small smile, but before he could say anything, an odd squeak came from the direction of the office.
Tom's hand dropped, grabbing his forearms firmly, making him nearly whimper with the sudden movement of his arm, the jolt as he was preventing from physically spinning around like he tried to.
"Careful," Tom hissed, chidingly, voice too low for someone else to hear. "Do you want to stab yourself in the lung with your ribcage?"
"God - I'm so sorry," Freya stammered. "I didn't know you two were-"
Harry's eyes flicked down automatically to Tom's lingering grip, at their closeness, and the way they were leaning in, before groaning at the erroneous conclusion.
"For the love of…we're not a couple!"
Hermione hurried into the Hospital Wing within minutes when Zevi and Abraxas found her.
Zevi was…tolerable. Abraxas was a narcissistic bigot.
Harry was white as sheet, the only indication that he might be in pain, which, according to Abraxas, he would be. Her heart jumped into her mouth.
A grumpy, stressed, nauseas looking Healer was leaning over him, handing him potions and casting spells in quick succession.
"Harry!" She rushed forwards, releasing Ron's hand from the death-grip she had on it. "Oh my goodness, are you alright? You went to find Voldemort - how could you be so stupid - what happened?"
The Healer started just a tiny bit, and she guessed no one had revealed the circumstances to him either…or the circumstances he'd been given were distinctly different from the truth.
"You're still here?" Ron blurted out, staring at Riddle. "Don't you normally sod off when he's in the Hospital Wing?"
She'd noticed that too. Tom raised an eyebrow back at them. Harry tensed marginally, seeming to wince at the movement.
"I'm overcompensating," Riddle deadpanned, and Harry's lip curled in a faint smirk, though she couldn't see what was funny about the statement. "That, and I haven't had the opportunity to scream at boy wonder, yet."
The smirk vanished abruptly, and Harry's head whipped around.
"You're not still pissed off with me!"
"I am, actually," Riddle said, in that pleasant tone of voice that was terrifying for it's dangerous affability.
"What for?"
"Being a reckless, self-sacrificing Gryffindor."
"You don't think being tortured covered your right to scream at me?"
"No," Tom stated. "Being tortured covered my right to knock the stupid out of your head. I can still, however, continue that noble crusade verbally."
Hermione would have laughed at the two of them, but there was something more serious under Tom's mildly amusing words, something darker that made her shiver.
The Healer was starting to look less grumpy, and more unnerved. Harry's jaw clenched.
"You do realise I never actually agreed to that aspect of the plan? And so, didn't do anything wrong…"
Tom made a disagreeing noise, but didn't seem to think that worthy of a response.
"Okay," the healer said (her name badge said Gaia.) "I'm just going to give you a little sedative so you can sleep off the effects over night…you've been through a traumatic experience."
Before anyone could blink, Harry had backed off, halfway through the door, before Tom had moved just as swiftly, grabbing hold of him and shoving him back towards the nurse.
Sirius looked a bit shocked. She didn't blame him.
She saw Tom Riddle around Harry Potter everyday, but that didn't mean she was used to them, so it must have felt been utterly unsettling and bewildering to him!
"No…sedatives," Harry said. "I much prefer being able to wake up if I need to."
The Healer frowned.
"I understand you might be feeling a bit jumpy, but a good night's sleep really does work wonders, and it'll help you rest…no one will attack you here at Hogwarts."
The woman offered the potion again, but Harry made no move to take it. Tom was studying him closely.
"Harry," she began, tentatively, worried. "You really do like you need some sleep."
"I'll get some sleep on my own accord," Harry stated stubbornly.
"No you won't, mate," Ron scowled. "You've had nightmares for years."
Gaia looked even more concerned, some more of the grumpiness fading away, but none of the stress.
"You have nightmares regularly? For years? Consistently? Have you considered seeing a mind-"
"I don't need a bloody therapist," Harry's eyes darkened, frighteningly, to the point she barely recognised him, his gaze cut into Ron, who had the grace to look sheepish about his revealing of personal information.
"Mr Potter-"
"I'll make sure he gets some sleep, don't worry," Tom stated, causing Harry's head to snap around to him once more.
"I'm not a child, you can't tell-"
"-me what to do?" Riddle finished, looking bored, but with a menacing hint. "I gathered that from your continued inability to take a single order I give you, notably, don't stick around to play heroics."
"This coming from the guy who had a sodding portkey in his pocket the whole time?" Harry questioned furiously, eyes narrowed. "The guy with the supposedly impeccable self-preservation skills? You're plan was no more reckless than any of mine-"
"Except my plans don't end up with you dead," Riddle returned coolly, and for a moment Hermione wondered if they were even aware that they still had an audience, or if they'd got so wrapped up in whatever they were fighting and struggling over at this time that the rest of the world had simply fallen away.
She had a feeling the conversation had got bigger than just what had happened tonight, but she wasn't sure how.
"From personal experience, being dead is probably better than crucio."
There was a bite somewhere in that statement, a cruel jab, and that in itself was somewhat unusual as Tom and Harry were always cautious to keep everything private just that - private.
They had to be quite…emotional to be bickering so openly. Riddle's eyes flashed, before he smiled.
"It's probably a very good thing that I don't care for your personal experience or opinion on the matter, then.
""Well, thank you," the healer said, loudly, as if hoping to break it up, before she hurried back towards the floo. "I'll send your Madame Pomfrey back right away…I hope you feel better soon Mr Potter…take it easy."
Then she was gone. The trainee healer looked like she wished dearly to follow.
The two continued as if there had been no interruption.
"You're unbelievable. You can't make me take the sedative, it's none of your business, besides!"
"Of course I can make you," Riddle replied. "You're exhausted, tortured, still in pain because you also refused pain medication or anything that could 'drug' you, and thus, weak as a kitten."
"I am not weak." That seemed to be a stinging insult in whatever dimension they existed on, and she could imagine that from Tom it would be practically withering.
"You are currently, and so is your pathetic sentiment."
She expected a quick witted response, but, instead, there was an abrupt, deafening silence. She swallowed.
Riddle seemed to go still.
"Well, if you feel that way," Harry said finally, no inflection to his voice.
She exchanged a glance with Sirius, who seemed, like she, to suddenly feel absolutely mortified to be witnessing this. It was too intense, too tangled and messy…
"I'd get rid of the life connection while we're at it…" Harry said, carefully controlled, cavalier. "You wouldn't want the liability either-"
"-Harry-"
"-No." His voice was cold, and he slipped into parseltongue. "You tortured me not one hour ago. In front of Voldemort, and way too many other definitions. I suppose that's not too big a deal to you, because they're probably just amazed at your mad skill, but for me it's freaking humiliating. I'm not going to ask you to put yourself in my shoes, because we both know you're incapable of summoning the freaking humanity, but do not presume-"
"Humiliating? I'm a psychopath, hero. I'm the Dark Lord. I do not DO feelings, this whole - thing! - is humiliating to me."
And then they both clamped their jaws shut, having said too much.
Harry's mouth felt dry. They were normally so…guarded in a way, and now it was spilling out, acidic like vomit or something equally unfit for company.
"Being friends with me is humiliating?" he asked, not recognising his own voice.
"Yes-no-forget I said anything," Tom snapped.
Harry's stomach was churning. He felt sick.
"I see."
He felt…hollow.
"Get out." It took him a moment to realise the other had directed the words at his friends and Godfather, and the nurse, all of whom seemed more than glad for the dismissal, the excuse to leave.
Everyone always left…
The silence continued, and Tom studied the flask of sleeping draught, twirling it in his fingers, appearing as if he'd prefer his wand.
"I…you're fully aware of my opinion on attachments, friendship…sentiment. I don't…caring is not an advantage, I see that every day of my life, caring is nothing but a distraction, a weakness…a liability I can't afford."
For every word, it seemed a knife was being sunk under his skin, icy.
Yet, Tom sounded so…lost, so uncertain, in a manner Harry hadn't heard before.
The suspicious part of him wondered if this was all an act. He didn't know. He just…didn't know.
Tom's eyes darted up to his for a moment, before away again. For once, it felt strange that he was the one staring, while Tom avoided eye contact.
"I've never…had friends before. You must know that too. I…" Tom swore under his breath. "The point is, you're the only…friend, I have…or whatever this is, cause in all honesty, I don't actually know…and Salazar, how do you people stand it? There are so many emotions and…"
Harry felt realisation begin to creep over him. It was like what Hermione had said, what felt so long ago. Tom was actually…admitting….
"You're not used to caring, or feeling at any rate. You view it as a weakness," he murmured.
Tom viewed himself as growing weakness, in having emotions, emotions he probably wasn't used to dealing with, and Voldemort largely confirmed it every time they met with their comments.
He supposed he'd never imagined Tom to be someone who doubted his own power and strength, because Merlin knew Harry never had doubted Tom…
"I hate you, Evans."
Harry bit his lip, casting his gaze fixed on the sleeping draught.
"If it makes you feel any better…I don't really know what I'm doing either…and you don't…come across as…weak."
Tom's eyes cut into him, and he met the gaze hesitantly, slightly scared of what he wound find there amidst the shadows. Then, after the briefest moment, the shutters went sliding up, all uncertainty vanished. "
Are you going to take the potion, or do I have to force it down your throat?"
A/N: So, this chapter kind of ran away with me, and I'm really quite nervous about it, because I never planned this conversation, it just kind of...happened. Hope it's not too OOC.
Thank you for all the reviews - almost 3000 now :O I never thought I'd be so popular, especially not for my first HP fic. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
I feel my confidence in my writing has improved a lot with your help :)