Title: A Thread of Time
Author: Alexa Deimos
Pairing: Harry/Sirius
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K Rowling and various publishers. I hold no claim over anything, really…
Chapter Three
The entire office was a dark world of dim lamps, strewn scrolls, open books and broken quills. Slughorn sat among it all at his large mahogany desk, his dark gaze fixed on Harry, who shifted in his seat under its weight. Tom sat in the chair next to him, his cool eyes set on the professor.
“So,” the professor said casually, finally drawing his gaze from Harry to rest on the piece of parchment on front of him. It had a distinguishable scrawl on it. “The headmaster thought it wise to inform me, as your potions professor and Head of House, of your situation. “I admit to being intrigued, especially since he did not find it necessary to fill in all the details.”
Harry wondered for a moment whether he was meant to reply, but the professor continued.
“At first I assumed the Headmaster had fallen for a mere prank, but in seeing that you have gained the… friendship of my most prized student,” he paused to send Tom a smile with practiced charm, “I must say that you have my utmost confidence.”
A touch bemused, Harry answered, “That is very kind of you, sir.”
“Yes, yes. It is. Now, what is your full name?”
This Slughorn, Harry soon came to find, was impatient, quick-witted and had a clockwork mind that manipulated every situation. He could almost see the wheels turning in the man’s head, although what was going on in there he had no idea. The man was quite different from the beaming, bumbling professor he had met in the future.
Harry answered the question and prepared himself for an onslaught of more. Every now and then he could feel Tom’s eyes on him, although Harry kept his gaze on the chattering man in front of him.
“One thing the Headmaster did tell me, and I was quite astonished, you must understand- was that you were formerly a Gryffindor.” He could not quite catch the level of disgust that Snape would have conveyed at the name, but his tone wasn’t far from it.
“That’s right.”
“May I ask how that is possible?”
Harry hesitated, before saying, “The first person I met on coming to Hogwarts for my first year was a Malfoy. From dislike of him, and seeing he had been placed in Slytherin, I asked the Hat not to put me in the same House. So I ended up in Gryffindor.”
Slughorn’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “The Hat simply did as you asked?”
“It did.”
“Well, it is an explanation, at least. Although I fail to see how a dislike for someone can lead to an entirely different change of House. Into which House did your parents hope you’d be Sorted?”
“They died before they had a chance to consider it, sir.”
“Oh? How old were you then?”
“About a year and a half.”
Slughorn only looked mildly surprised at this, as if many of his students were orphans. “Then who supervised your upbringing?”
“Dumbledore. He sent me to live with my Muggle relatives.”
A scowl crawled upon Slughorn’s face as he leaned back in his chair. “You had to live with Muggles?”
“Yes. My mother was Muggle-born. They were the only living family I had. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
“And how did these people treat you? Were they civilized?”
Harry frowned. “Not particularly,” he said slowly, wondering why the man was asking.
“How so? Were you neglected? Abused?
Harry scowled then. “I hardly think that that is any concern of yours.”
Slughorn leaned forward, interested. “Despite the rudeness, I’ll take that as a yes. You are very much like Tom then, who won’t explain his unpleasant past even to me.”
“Some things are better left unknown,” Harry said slowly.
“If I may, Professor, we have wandered off the subject,” Tom put in with his own pleasant smile.
“Of course, of course,” Slughorn sobered at once. “As our dear Headmaster asked, I have arranged for you both to visit Diagon Alley tomorrow morning, accompanied by Professor Priggs.” His lip curled in distaste, before he continued, “Tom, I must ask that you do me a favour. I ordered some potion ingredients last month that are late in coming; I would be grateful if you could… pay the suppliers a visit.” With this his eyes gleamed. Harry decided he didn’t want to know what Tom would do on this errand.
“Of course, Professor,” Tom answered smoothly with a slight bow of the head.
“Lovely. Now, Harry. I have for you here a copy of Tom’s timetable. Learn it by heart.” He handed it to Harry over the desk. “Don’t look at it now; I’m sure Tom will go through it with you when he finds the time.”
Harry nodded. There was a pause as Slughorn appeared to contemplate something. “Yes,” the man said absently. “Yes, indeed. It seems you have caught my interest, Potter. Perhaps you would like to join a little club of mine?”
When Harry hesitated in answering, he said, “It will be an easy way for you to gain friends. Especially if you are in some form of relationship with our Tom here.” The man almost beamed.
“I’m not in some form of relationship with Tom,” Harry said irritably, sending the boy next to him a vaguely annoyed look. He received a Machiavellian smile in reply.
Slughorn looked a bit disappointed. “No?” he said, before sighing. “Well, see to it that you come along anyway. I am interested in how the others will react to you.”
Biting back a comment, Harry gave him an affirmative.
“Lovely. Now, you will meet Priggs in the Entrance Hall at eight tomorrow. Don’t give the man a reason to put you in detention by being late. Everything is taken care of; don’t worry about the matter of money. You will be shopping for clothes, school robes, a trunk, perhaps a pet and… do you have a wand with you?”
“Yes,” Harry said. It sat comfortably in his robe pocket. “And I already have a pet, sir.”
“You do?”
“He appears to have befriended an adder, professor,” Tom ventured.
“An…. adder?”
“Yes.” Tom turned to Harry with an intent look. “Why not show him Anton?”
Harry sent him a questioning glance, but pulled out the snake from under his robes. Anton was annoyed. “What are you doing? Put me back, stupid human, it’s cold out here.”
Harry scowled at him. “I just want you to meet someone who appreciates your kind, that’s all. This is Professor Slughorn.” Anton’s tongue flickered in recognition.
Slughorn clapped his hands in delight. Harry looked up. “A Parselmouth! Why didn’t you say so, Tom? This is simply wonderful. Clearly you are a true Slytherin, Harry. Yes, I shall be very pleased to have you in the meeting.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said quietly, feeling and no doubt looking slightly perplexed.
By the time Slughorn finally dismissed them, Harry had a headache. When Tom asked him if he wanted to retire to the Slytherin common room, Harry politely declined, imagining the noise.
“Then walk with me on the grounds. You clearly aren’t feeling well.”
Without waiting for an answer, Tom took Harry’s hand and led him towards the Entrance Hall.
“Tom,” Harry said suddenly, preparing to ask the thing that had been irritating him for a while now.
“Yes, Harry?”
“Why… why do you keep kissing me?”
Tom stopped walking and turned, an amused expression adorning his face. “I don’t know, Harry. Perhaps you could tell me?”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Is it a problem, Harry? Do you want me to stop giving you my kisses? I can offer them to someone else, if you wish.”
Harry had been completely unprepared for the question and stood there, opened his mouth and closed it, before scowling when Tom laughed softly at him.
“Don’t worry. I know you crave for them.”
“I do not,” Harry said, affronted.
“Yes, you do.” Tom’s expression turned serious. “I know what you want, Harry. Though perhaps you haven’t even figured it out yet yourself.”
Harry moved slightly away from the other boy, feeling intimidated. What was he on about? “I think you’re confused,” he muttered. “I’ve only been here a couple of days.”
“Really?” Tom moved in, taking a hold of Harry’s shoulder and holding him firmly against the wall. His other hand settled in Harry’s hair, much to the boy’s distress.
“Tell me to go away, then,” Tom said, planting a light kiss on Harry’s lips. Harry simply glared at him, caught between wanting Tom to kiss him more, and wanting to push the boy away.
“Well?” He placed more fluttery kisses along Harry’s jaw, using the hand in his hair to gently tilt the other boy’s head to the side, giving him access to his neck.
“Stop that,” Harry uttered, placing his hands on Tom’s chest in a weak attempt to put a barrier between himself and the other boy.”
“No, not when I know you are enjoying this as much as I am.”
Harry was too slow to respond and soon Tom’s arms settled around his waist, holding Harry securely against him.
Seconds later found Harry’s own arms sliding around Tom’s neck, pulling him more deeply into the kiss that Tom had initiated.
He could feel Tom emit a satisfied sigh. Harry felt at ease. He wondered why he had been afraid of this. No, he knew why he was afraid of it. Of Tom. But right now, he didn’t care. One hand grasping Tom’s tie and the other his shoulder, Harry attempted to pull the boy even closer. He was slightly confused when he heard a loud shriek from a few meters away.
They both broke the kiss to found Marie Bulstrode staring at them. Eyes wide, a hand over her mouth, she began to sputter some nonsense about being betrayed.
However, Tom didn’t release Harry. Instead, he emitted an irritated sigh and said, “Is there a problem?”
Bulstrode stared at him in shock for a moment. “Yes, there is a problem!” she exclaimed finally. “He’s a half-blood! What are you doing with him?!”
Tom turned his gaze to Harry’s, who was staring at him curiously rather than trying to push him away.
Yes, Harry thought - why exactly was the popular Tom Riddle openly kissing a half-breed in a usually busy corridor? What was he aiming to gain from this? Harry knew that Tom’s own heritage was a secret and that he hated Muggle-borns. What did he think he was doing, spoiling his reputation by welcoming in the new dirty-blooded transfer student?
Tom returned his gaze to Bulstrode, having read Harry’s thoughts from his expression. “I make my own choices, as you ought to make yours. Now go and spread your rumours before my wand finds you.”
Clearly Bulstrode’s confidence only went so far, for she turned and left immediately, a shocked expression plastered upon her pretty face.
“What-” Harry begun, but he quieted at the annoyed expression that flickered over Tom’s features. He covered his disappointment when the taller boy released him.
“Let’s go for that walk, shall we?” Tom said, and he took Harry’s hand again as if nothing had happened.
*
The sun was sinking in the sky. The fluffy clouds were no longer strong enough to hold it up, and its crimson light fell scattered upon the lake, casting shadows. Harry sat by Tom, who was staring into the distance. They were sitting in the same spot he had visited the day before; next to a small clump of bare trees and rocks, facing the lake.
Harry shivered. Tom was being oddly quiet. It hadn’t taken Harry long to realize that the other boy occasionally had the odd sudden mood swing. However, Tom rarely revealed his anger and usually used his charm to mask his annoyance.
Harry was caught by surprise when the boy turned and stared at him with a vibrant gaze. “You’re cold,” Tom said softly, almost as if he cared, and pulled Harry close to him. It took a while for Harry to relax with his head on Tom’s shoulder, but he did, and soon felt himself on the verges of dozing off.
“What did your Muggle relatives do to you?” Tom asked suddenly, without moving.
Harry stiffened and sat up. “Why?”
Tom looked at him. “I’m curious. You know many of my secrets, after all. I know next to nothing about you. Won’t you share a few things with me?”
Harry hesitated. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but… he took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at his forehead. He hadn’t used this spell in quite a while, and he hoped it would work. He ignored Tom’s frown and closed his eyes, concentrating on a memory. He chose the time when Uncle Vernon had shoved him in the cupboard that was his bedroom for ruining the breakfast. He could remember the blisters on his hands and the terror he felt as Uncle Vernon as stormed up to him and grabbed his arm hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Dudley had stood in the corner watching with glee and Aunt Petunia had just looked on with pursed lips.
A second later, Harry drew the memory from his mind, as one would with a Pensieve, and held it shimmering at the end of his wand. This spell needed no words. Tom looked vaguely impressed; Harry supposed the spell hadn’t been invented yet.
“Here,” he said, feeling slightly sick. He handed his wand to Tom, the memory still a shimmering ball of silver at the tip. “It’s a memory. Emotions and all. Take it.”
Tom didn’t say anything, but carefully took the wand. He looked at Harry questioningly.
“Just point it at your forehead,” Harry explained. He watched as Tom absorbed the memory, trails of silver disappearing into his mind. The memory was only about twenty seconds long. Harry scooted up to lean against the nearest tree and watched the emotions flicker across Tom’s face with fascination.
He saw a variety of surprise, fear, pain… and something that looked like recognition. Tom understood. He knew the feeling of being shunned, hurt, ignored.
Harry took his wand back when it was finished. The other boy still said nothing. Then, taking his own wand, Tom pointed it to his forehead and closed his eyes.
Harry was surprised. He hadn’t expected to receive a memory in return. Interested, he sat up and waited as a dark look enclosed Tom’s features.
“Here,” Tom said expressionlessly when he was done, handing his wand to Harry.
The first thing Harry saw when he looked through the eyes of a young Tom Riddle was a dark room. He could hear muffled voices coming from the room next door. If he concentrated hard enough, he could hear…
“I just don’t know what to do with him! Today he locked young Joseph in that old shed – you know the one I’m talking about, the one behind that dump, the caretaker’s house – he was in there for hours, until our little Sarah heard the yells-”
A second voice interrupted. “Yes I know what you mean. Last week Toby mysteriously fell down the stairs and broke his ankle. No one saw it, but… the only other one up there was that boy.”
“I just don’t know what to do! And you know they say strange things happen around him…”
“Yes, I did hear… all the animals gone, including Richard’s lovely old dog, you know the one, Jess I think her name was-”
“And the odd pieces of furniture turning up everywhere? Of course that could have nothing to do with the boy, but still…”
“Yes, I know what you mean. Nothing odd like this ever happened before he turned up-”
“We’ll never be rid of him, will we? His poor mother died and no one is going to want to take him in. Not with the way he is…”
“That boy is weird. You’ll have to keep a close eye on him-”
“We’re trying, we really are. But he just keeps... well, suddenly going missing and turning up in the oddest places-”
The voices suddenly stopped as Harry heard a door open and a muffled voice speak. He couldn’t make out the words, but the chattering women left with it.
Harry glanced around, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. He was sitting on a small cot in a cramped room. A large cupboard sat opposite him and the door was on the wall to the right of him. A few smashed toys were scattered on the floor. Other than that, the room was empty. And damp. An onslaught of emotions hit him – mostly fear and hate. But gnawing at the back of his mind, he felt a horrible want. Something he wanted more than anything, something that would give him a great amount of satisfaction. Revenge.
The door suddenly opened and a light flicked on- but with that, the memory ended.
-*The next morning found Harry waiting in the Entrance Hall, Anton resting on his shoulder and Tom standing patiently beside him. Professor Priggs, whom Harry had had still yet to meet, would arrive any minute now.
As he lingered, Harry’s thoughts drifted over to his knew timetable. Luckily, Tom had selected subjects that Harry was familiar with; Advanced Potions, Transfiguration, Defence against the Dark Arts (although, the reason why Tom Riddle took this class was beyond Harry). However, he would have to try and catch up in lessons such as Charms, which he had dropped. A quick glance at the list of books he needed to purchase revealed that he would have to familiarize himself with all the texts, since they were far out of date in his own time.
His thoughts were interrupted when finally the Professor strode briskly through the doors to stand before them. He was a tall, simple looking man with brown hair and a tired expression. Apparently, he had been a Hufflepuff.
"Good morning," the Professor said, his eyes resting on Harry. "As you probably know, I am Professor Priggs. I am to take you both to Diagon Alley via portkey. When we arrive you will receive the money you need, but I will be following you. Try not to get out of sight. I trust you will use the money sensibly." At this he drew an old hat from his pocket.
He held it out. "Are you ready?"
Harry glanced at Tom, who gave a slight nod.
"On the count of three then. One, two, three-"
Harry grasped the hat and experienced a few moments of huge discomfort before landing messily in what looked like the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Right," Professor Priggs said, adjusting his robe, as Anton hissed irritably in Harry's ear.
"Stop complaining," Harry said to him absently as he steadied himself and ignored his protesting stomach. He noticed with envy that Tom appeared completely fine, standing casually with hands in pockets and a bored expression adorning his features.
"Right," the Professor repeated, this time averting his eyes, clearly in dislike of Parseltongue. From the same pocket he drew out a small bag and handed it to Harry. "You’ll find all the money you need is in there." he said. "Let's be going, shall we?"
As they meandered through the bustle of Diagon Alley, Harry noticed that as a whole the alley did not look very dissimilar to its existence in his own time. Puzzled, he mentioned this to Tom.
The taller boy glanced sideways at him. "I expect change moves very slowly in the Wizarding world," he mused. "It's a very close-kept community."
"Do you know where you are going first?" Professor Priggs asked, catching them up.
Harry glanced down at the list. "Where can I buy casual clothes?" he asked, having no idea himself. Usually he would be subjected to wearing borrowed clothes or Dudley’s huge hand-me-downs.
Tom took his arm and led him to a cluster of small out-of-the-way shops. Harry soon found himself standing in the midst of a rather expensive clothes pile that the shop assistant had jumped to accumulate for him. Tom leant against the doorway, arms crossed and eyes darkly amused, while the Professor sat some way away by the shop window.
“Right, right,” the shop assistant was muttering, his wand sending tape measures flying about and clothes folding and unfolding. “What colours do you prefer?” he asked suddenly.
“Um, black, I guess,” Harry said, unsure of whether he should trust the man not to pick out vividly bright coloured items.
“Dark colours, then. Dark blues and greens for you, I think.”
In the end he ushered Harry into the changing rooms with a bundle of selected clothes and a nudge, almost ordering him to try them on.
With a sigh, Harry dumped the pile on a bench and stared at it in protest. A dark chuckle signalled Tom’s presence.
“What are you doing in here?” Harry asked, confused.
Tom leant against the opposite wall, hands in pockets. “He sent me to help you try them on.”
Harry scowled. “I’m not that incapable.”
“No? then get on with it.”
Harry gave him an incredulous look. “And you’re just going to stand there?”
“Of course. What happens if you suddenly slip and need my assistance?”
Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the shirts. “Then I’ll call for help?”
“And disturb the other customers? I hardly think so.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.” Honestly, he wasn’t too bothered about Tom watching him undress, as long as he kept his distance. Quickly he tugged his shirt off and pulled the other on.
“There, done,” he announced, hands on hips.
Tom gave him a lazy smirk. “You still need to try the rest on.”
“I could just lie,” Harry argued, looking in dismay at the large pile.
Tom simply raised an eyebrow at him, so he scowled and sat by the pile, grabbing a pair of dark jeans.
“Dark blues and greens, huh,” he murmured, when Tom suddenly came to crouch down next to him. He ignored Harry’s confused look, and instead took a gentle but firm hold of his chin and kissed him.
Not even bothering to resist anymore, Harry returned the kiss, one hand landing on Tom’s shoulder, the other leaning on the floor.
He heard a gasp and a swish of robes before he pulled back and looked at Tom questioningly. “Were you trying to scar him for life?” he muttered, referring to the assistant who had just run off.
Tom smiled at him and stood. “Of course not, Harry. He would have made a fuss, is all.”
Harry sighed and finally began to tug his trousers off to pull on one of the many pairs as Tom returned to his spot by the wall. Thirty minutes later, he paid and they left the shop to a nervous, stuttering assistant. By now Harry’s pockets were loaded with shrunken brown packages.
The next stop would be for school robes. He imagined Ron's expression if he saw Harry in Slytherin robes and had to conceal a laugh.
A while later, as they made their way to Flourish and Blotts, Tom reminded Harry that he needed to visit Knockturn Alley for Professor Slughorn.
Warily, Harry agreed that they would stop there next after he bought his books. By the time they reached the small Potions shop it was around lunchtime. "Wait here," Tom said expressionlessly, leaving an anxious Harry and a curious Professor Priggs on the doorstep. Next to the door sat a dirty sign that read: 'Maurice Magle: Supplier of Potions and Ingredients.'
As they waited, Harry wandered slowly along the dirty cobblestone path, ignoring the lurking strangers and looking with interest at the dark shops. In curious dismay he noticed an extremely out-of-date broom through one of the dusty windows. Meanwhile, Anton's head slid up from the neck of his robe. "I'm hungry."
"Again? What happened to that poor mouse I gave you this morning?"
"I am bored of mice. I want to try a mole."
"Why a mole?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"The others say that moles are especially tasty."
"And where am I going to find a mole?"
"Use your magic."
Harry was startled when he suddenly felt a hand grab his elbow. He had been too busy conversing with Anton to notice the small elderly man watching him with an excited expression in his beady eyes.
"Young master!" the man said, delightedly, hands rubbing together in glee. "Indeed, am I pleased to meet you!"
Harry frowned and moved away slightly. A glance around told him that Professor Priggs had wandered off to talk to some woman.
"Excuse me?" he asked, hoping Tom would hurry up and save him.
The man invaded Harry's personal space once again and lowered his croaky voice to a hushed whisper. "Long has it been since I have heard the language of the Great one!"
"What do you mean?"
"Salazar, young master! You speak his tongue. Why, if ever I can do anything for you, my shop is just over there." He pointed to a small rundown shack in a nearby corner. He gave a horrible toothy grin and quickly scurried off before Harry could tell him to get lost.
“What a vile human,’ Anton remarked. He appeared to have watched the whole encounter on Harry’s shoulder with some form of curious disgust.
“That was your fault,” Harry replied mildly, noticing that Professor Priggs had finished his conversation with the woman only to turn and talk to the person behind him.
“Do not be absurd,” Anton hissed, tickling Harry’s ear. “Where is your human?”
“My human?”
“The one who speaks.”
“Oh, you mean Tom? We’re waiting for him.”
“Is he your mating partner?”
“Er,” Harry said with a mixture of dismay and amusement. It was at that moment that Tom exited the shop to stand beside him.
“Well?” Anton pressed, rising and swaying a little.
“No,” Harry glanced at Tom, absorbing his questioning look. “He’s not my mating partner.”
Tom’s lips quirked upwards and Harry rolled his eyes amusedly.
“What is he for, then?” Anton hissed impatiently.
“Um,” Harry managed. Luckily he was saved as Professor Priggs finally gestured for them to leave the Alley.
“Do you need anything else?” Tom asked, appearing to dismiss the conversation.
“I don’t think so,” Harry murmured, checking the list. “No… I’m done. You?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you done?” the Professor asked impatiently as they approached him.
“Are we leaving now?” Anton demanded with a similar tone.
“Yes,” Harry answered. “Yes, we can go and hunt some mole.”
Anton gave a delighted hiss and slithered back down Harry’s shirt.
“Good, let’s be going then.”
*
That evening, Harry wandered lightly through Hogwarts’ brightly corridors, dismissing sombre thoughts of Ron and Hermione and silently rejoicing in his abrupt un-famous existence. Tom was off at a prefect meeting of some sort, and almost everyone else was scattered on the grounds or studying vigorously in their common rooms.
The corridors were empty, and by the time Harry abandoned his daydreams he had reached the Entrance Hall. He roamed outside to sit on the large stone steps by a blond figure in the weak autumn sun. The person turned out to be a seventh year Slytherin who dubbed himself Chris.
“You’re the new student?” Chris asked, moving up a step to sit by Harry, who introduced himself.
Chris said, “I’ve seen you in the Slytherin common room with Rosier.”
“Yes, he’s a friend, I suppose.” Harry answered, unsure of what the boy was implying.
“Are you…. In a relationship with him?”
“Er, no, not at all.”
“What about Riddle?”
“He’s… also just a friend.”
Chris gave a soft laugh. “Alright. So what do you think of the school?”
Harry sighed and looked off at the grounds, elbows leaning on his knees. “It will do.”
Chris smiled in amusement and rested his chin on his hand, staring at Harry.
“You’re quite pretty, you know,” he murmured.
Harry turned to stare at him in surprise. He then laughed. “Pretty?”
“Would you prefer something else? Dazzling, perhaps?”
Harry, embarrassed, felt his cheeks grow warm. “Um. ‘Pretty’ will do.”
Chris laughed quietly at him and inched closer so that their thighs touched. “So if you’re not with Riddle and you’re not with Rosier, who are you with?”
“Am I allowed to be with no one?” Harry asked.
“Well, no, not really. Everyone is with someone.”
“Oh? Who are you with, then?”
Chris smiled. “Why do you ask?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m… temporarily unengaged.”
Harry smirked at him. “So you’re not with anyone either. Pathetic.”
Chris gave him a mock insulted look. “I’ll find someone soon enough.”
“Hmm, keep telling yourself that,” Harry said absently as he went back to gazing at the lake. He felt nice; happy, like he wanted to float.
“You’re not very nice, you know,” Chris stated. “I decide to befriend the new boy and all he does is imply rude things.”
Harry laughed. “I’m so sorry. If I knew I was causing so much pain, I wouldn’t have said a word.”
Chris smirked at him, but changed the subject, “I hear you’re in the club.”
Harry made an agreeable sound.
“What do you think of Slughorn?”
“He’s strange,” Harry murmured.
“He favours Riddle, you know.”
Harry turned to face him. “Are you jealous?” he said straightforwardly.
Chris appeared slightly taken aback. A thoughtful look then crossed his handsome features. “No,” he said slowly. “I’m not jealous. Although, It is rather unfair that he manages to capture all the pretty ones.” He looked at Harry pointedly.
“Capture?” Harry asked incredulously, amused.
“Of course. By the end of the week, I’m sure you’ll be smitten with him and his charm in one way or another. Just like the rest of them.”
Harry frowned and leant his head on his hands, elbows on knees. “No, I don’t think so,” he said finally. “I don’t want to be just another one of his….”
“Just another one of the many people he uses?”
“I guess. I’m pretty sure I won’t end up smitten with him, at least.”
Chris raised a brow at him. “We’ll see,” he said, eyes flickering with some form of emotion.
Harry suddenly felt a jolt of pity for the other boy. It could not be nice to live in Tom’s shadow all the time.
Chris stood up and Harry followed suit. “We’ll talk again some time?” Chris enquired, staring intensely at Harry.
“Of course. Do you… want to meet up at some point?”
Chris smiled. “Sure. Why don’t we meet here again tomorrow evening?”
“How about at eight?”
“Eight it is.”
*
The common room was full and warm, its contents separated into hushed groups. Harry slumped in one of the chairs in a dark corner and attempted to ignore the giggling and pointing. It was dark and comfortable, and soon he drifted off into his own lazy world. A moment later Dorian came to sit by him.
“Nice day out with Tom?” he asked casually, inspecting his fingernails.
“I guess,” Harry said absentmindedly, watching Anton lazily coil up on his lap.
“I like this one,” the snake hissed sleepily, head resting on his coils.
“I think he likes Tom,” Harry answered. Dorian watched them with mild interest.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I think he wants Tom to be his mating partner. Or they are already mating partners.”
Anton, suddenly more awake, raised his upper body to stare at Dorian. “But this one wants you.”
Harry frowned. “I doubt that. I’ve only been here a few days.” He looked directly at the curious boy who raised an eyebrow at him.
“Gossiping about me?” Dorian asked.
“Foolish human. He wants you. And so does your Tom. Do humans have multiple mating partners?”
“Um, sometimes,” Harry answered. “We’re just, er… discussing mating partners,” he explained.
The other boy offered him an amused smirk. “Is that what you snakes call it?” he said.
“What’s he saying?” Anton demanded.
“He thinks it’s funny that we are talking about potential mating partners.”
“Ask him if he wants you,” the snake suggested sibilantly.
Harry gave him an incredulous look. “No!”
“Why not? You have Tom. Why not have this one as well? He smells delicious.”
“You like him because of the way he smells? Oh, never mind.” Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Remind me never to get dating advice from a snake,” he muttered absently.
Dorian decided to snicker at him. “Your sense of ‘mating partners’ is really that bad?”
Harry scowled. “No. He just seems to think that I can pick and choose anyone and everyone I like.”
“What are you saying?” Anton interrupted impatiently. Harry ignored him.
“Perhaps you should simply decide who you want, then,” Dorian replied, back to inspecting his fingernails.
“What if I don’t want anyone?”
“Oh, come now. Everyone wants someone in some form or other. Take Tom, for example. He’s permanently horny and tends to fuck anyone he likes.”
“Dorian!” Harry exclaimed, shocked. But that comment prickled at the back of Harry’s mind. Is that what Tom was doing with him? Was Harry just the latest person for him to use?
The Slytherin raised an eyebrow at him. “Why so surprised? You didn’t think he was all romance and sunshine, did you?”
Harry snorted. “Well, no.”
“Well then. Anyway, my point is, you must want someone.”
“What’s it to you?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Me? I’m just interested in the latest gossip, is all. By the way, the entire school believes that you and Tom are officially together.”
“What!” Harry exclaimed, and a little too loudly, for heads began to turn.
Dorian smirked at him. “So, it isn’t true. I just wanted to check.”
Harry scowled. “I bet it was Bulstrode,” he muttered.
“Because she walked in on us…” Harry murmured absently, staring at the floor and wondering what advantage the girl had by doing this.
“Oh? So you’re fucking, but not together?” Dorian said amusedly.
“Huh?” Harry said, frowning. “What, no! We’re not fucking. We’re not anything.”
Dorian sighed patiently. “Then…”
“He keeps kissing me, that’s all.”
“He keeps kissing you,” came the dry reply. “Have you ever considered why?”
Harry scowled. “He won’t tell me.”
Dorian began to laugh softly at him. “You are lovely but pathetic, Harry.”
Harry gave him an incredulous look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing.” The boy returned his eyes to his fingernails as they fell into a comfortable silence.
“Well?” Anton voiced.
“Well what?”
“Are you going to mate with him?”
Harry sighed. “No, I am not going to mate with him.” Then he added, to keep the snake quiet, “Not right now, anyway.”
Anton gave a satisfied hiss and returned his head to his coils.
“Come to a conclusion?” Dorian asked.
“No, I think I wore him out.”
“Well you are rather wearisome.”
“Thanks. I only just realized what a great friend you are.”
Dorian smirked at him. “Maybe that’s because I’m your only friend.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Tom’s my friend,” he argued weakly, knowing full well that he was nothing more to Tom than a new toy. And strangely, the thought was somewhat painful.
“Of course. And you understand him about as well as Bulstrode understands mutual sex.”
Harry smiled. “What’s wrong with wanting to have a relationship? Even if the other person is an idiot…”
“Oh, nothing is wrong with a relationship. Nothing at all. But why tie yourself to one person when you can have a bit of everyone?”
“Everyone?” Harry said, visibly edging his chair away.
Dorian smirked at him. “Well, maybe not Bulstrode. Or her idiot boyfriend, for that matter. Or Slughorn.”
Harry answered with something along the lines of, ‘Ugh,’ and shuddered.
Dorian just continued to smirk.
“Your human is coming,” Anton said sleepily, and Harry glanced up to see Tom entering the common room.
“There’s a party coming up, you know,” Dorian said casually as Tom’s eyes landed on them.
Harry dragged his eyes away from the approaching figure and fixed them on Dorian.
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes. Tom tells me you have been invited into the club. I’m sure you’ll be allowed to attend the party.”
“What’s it for?” Harry said as Tom
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