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 Five
“I hear you were offered a position on the team,” Dorian commented, back in the dormitory. He was, as usual, lounging on his four poster and observing Harry, who in turn was leaning against the wooden post of his own four poster, opposite.
“Yeah,” he answered absently. His thoughts were lingering on the expressionless hazel eyes that had followed him from his entrance in the common room to the door of the dormitory.
“But you declined?”
Harry sighed. “Yes.” He was far too busy quietly rejoicing in his current un-famous life to pursue something that would undoubtedly bring him more attention. He was vividly aware that he was already receiving far more notice than he would have liked, perhaps due to Tom’s reputation.
He glanced up at Dorian. The frown on friend’s face vanished when their eyes met.
“What don’t you like about Chris?” Harry injected suddenly, bluntly, his curiosity growing wildly with every distasteful look they directed at the blond boy.
He received a surprised look, then a startled life. “You may find that Doyle isn’t quite as innocent as he seems.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that he is simply using you to get back onto Sluggy’s good side.”
Harry frowned at him, unsure of what he was supposed to make of this sudden news. Dorian sighed patiently and slid onto to the floor to sprawl opposite Harry.
“It’s already about the castle that Slughorn is taken with you, mainly because you’ve been adopted by Tom.”
He raised a hand at Harry’s protests.
“The thing is, you are with Tom. Whether you’ve accepted it yet or not, Tom has picked you out and everyone is aware of it. That aside, Doyle most likely believes that, with you by his side, he’ll be welcomed back into the circle of favorites.”
“I suppose you’re in that?”
“Naturally. Anyone considered close to Tom is immediately in.”
Harry snorted. “Of course.”
They paused.
“What did he do to… er, leave the circle?”
Doyle merely waved a hand. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Even so, that doesn’t explain your dislike of him. Somehow I doubt it’s because he’s trying to use me.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s personal.”
Harry frowned. “Alright.”
“Anyway, you might want to stay away from him.”
Harry dragged himself up to sprawl on the four poster. “What for?” He could feel Dorian’s incredulous expression.
“I don’t really care what he does. Besides, I like him; I don’t exactly lose or gain anything either way. And as far as I’m concerned, I doubt Tom has ‘adopted’ me simply for my personality.”
“Not everyone in this house is out for their own personal gain.”
Harry stared at him. Finally he sighed. “I know. Sorry.”
Finding the floor uncomfortable, Harry toed of his shoes and climbed onto the four-poster. He looked up to find himself under the Slytherin’s scrutiny, which made him shift awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
Dorian got up and crawled onto Harry’s bed, sitting alongside him and mimicking his sprawl.
Harry turned his face to look at him. They’re faces were inches apart, and he was immediately engaged by the other boy’s ridiculously blue eyes.
They kissed, and Harry vaguely remembered their conversation about being used. But frankly, when he was messing around with Dorian like this, he didn’t care. He knew what they were doing. It was more of a game than anything else.
He only laughed when Dorian pushed him forcefully onto his back and rolled on top of him.
It was later, when he lying on his own in the dark, gazing up at the black ceiling, that Harry felt an ounce of betrayal towards Christopher Doyle.
By morning Harry was vaguely aware of the dream that had once again returned, and had, he found to his dismay, again left behind a mess on his sheets. Try as he might, he could not recall the face of the dream-stranger that had visited him, but the person (and Harry was certain it was a he) had come accompanied with an unaccountable amount of pleasure.
Harry could only acknowledge silently, as he followed Tom down to breakfast, that it most likely wasn’t the last time the dream would visit him.
Of course, the first subject that he was to start in turned out to be his least favourite: double potions. Fortunately, he had Tom’s help to rely on, as well as Cedrella’s, who was apparently brilliant at potions and had listened to him explain beforehand that he had never been correctly taught in the subject.
So it was that he sat in between Cedrella and Tom on the back row in the potions classroom, staring confusedly at the instructions on the board and wondering how long it would take for Tom to get fed up with his incompetence.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Cedrella said reassuringly, apparently noticing his puzzled expression. As far as Harry could tell, the potion they were meant to be making was a weaker version of the future’s Veritaserum, which he hardly knew how to brew anyway.
Tom, on his other side, merely gave him an amused look.
“This is the latest version of truth serum,” Cedrella was saying. “Father says it is absolutely useless; it does the same job and takes longer to brew.”
“The effects are supposed to last longer, I’ll assume,” Tom said, standing up to fetch the ingredients. Each student had their own cauldron.
“Yes, but the problem is, they don’t. Why do they think adding Unicorn hair will prolong the effect? It’s only meant to be used in healing potions.”
Someone in the front row turned round to answer, since Tom had wandered off.
“I think they think it reacts with the roots, so long as it has a chemical base.”
“Perhaps, but the entire thing cancels out when you add the Wormwood.”
“No, no, that reacts with the Skrewt’s blood before it can mess the rest up. That’s why you put them in first.”
Harry started at the boy, utterly lost. The boy grinned at him. “Potions not your favorite subject?”
“Um, no, I just had a crappy teacher,” Harry answered solemnly as Tom returned.
“What, did they refuse to explain anything, or something?”
“Something like that. They could have, but I’m not their favorite person in the world.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” Cedrella said. “Here, let’s set everything up. Right. First we need to make the base, which has to be chemical-”
“Why?”
“Sorry?”
“Why does it have to chemical?”
Cedrella stared. “They really didn’t explain much at all, then?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
“Okay, fine, right from the beginning. Every psychological potion needs a chemical base. I don’t know why. That’s just what they drill into us in our first year. Now…”
Cedrella explained the purpose of every ingredient, why they needed to be put in at certain times, how each one reacted differently to the contents, and with Harry’s concentration and many amusing remarks from Tom, he got the hang of it. For once, he admitted to himself, he was enjoying and actually understanding the subject. This could partly be due to the fact that he didn’t have a greasy Potions Master leaning over his shoulder.
“Okay, that looks about right,” Cedrella said towards the end, staring intently at the substance in Harry’s cauldron and then turning towards hers.
Professor Slughorn then announced that they could test their potions on the person to their right, on the condition that they asked responsible questions and kept the antidote handy.
Tom, on Harry’s right, gave him a sly look. Cedrella smirked at Harry. Thank Merlin he had taken the vow before it was too late, Harry thought. Otherwise he might go blurting his and Tom’s secrets all over the school.
Harry edged his chair away from the narrow-eyed look Tom was giving him.
“Here you are.” Cedrella said, scooping up some of the transparent slop from her cauldron into a small vial. She handed it to Harry, who took it reluctantly. “Knock it back,” she said.
Harry did. He made a face, it tasted awful. He turned to Cedrella, who was giving him an intent look.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Harry James Potter,” he answered automatically.
“When were you born?”
Harry panicked. “Thirty-first of July.”
“What Year?”
Harry could feel Tom watching him. He opened his mouth, under the influence of the truth potion, but no sound came out, due to the vow.
“Um,” he said eventually.
Cedrella frowned. “What is it?”
They also had the attention from the boy in front. “Maybe there’s a problem with the potion,” he suggested, unwisely.
Cedrella scowled fiercely at him.
“I don’t know. Ask another question,” Harry said.
She looked thoughtful, then smirked slightly and said, “What do you think of Dorian Rosier?”
Harry cocked his head to the side. He answered carefully, “He’s very Slytherin.”
Tom snorted.
Cedrella smiled. “Do you fancy him?”
“In what way?”
“In a sexual way.”
“Who doesn’t?”
She laughed and handed him the antidote. “Well answered.”
Harry knocked it back, tried not to gag at the taste, and then turned to Tom.
“You know, if I hadn’t had help, this would probably kill you,” Harry said thoughtfully as he handed his vial of potion to Tom.
The boy in front snickered.
Tom looked at him intently, with the hint of a smile. “Would you care?”
“Of course not.”
Tom smirked at him. He drank it.
Harry stared at him, wondering what to ask. He decided to take the Cedrella route. “What do you think of Dorian Rosier?”
Tom looked contemplative. “He has a very talented mouth,” he mused.
Harry laughed at him.
“Do you fancy him?”
“In what way?” Tom mimicked.
“In a sexual way.”
“Oh yes.”
Cedrella was laughing behind him. Harry smiled. “Alright, here you go,” he handed him the antidote.
A glance at his new time-table told Harry that he was granted with a free period before Transfigurations. He was wandering through the castle aimlessly, after lunch, as he had been doing lately when he heard what was undoubtedly a heated argument going on in an empty classroom, which turned out, surprisingly, to be Charlus Potter scolding his quiet nephew.
Harry listened by the door.
“But who did you tell?” Charlus was saying, sounding agitated. He was probably towering over his second year nephew, who Harry remembered was small and quiet, if not shy.
“No one, I didn’t tell anyone.”
“But you must have. I certainly wouldn’t have, and who else knows, apart from the family? That leaves you.”
“But I didn’t. I don’t know how she found out. She must have eaves-dropped.”
“Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. No one must find out, do you hear? Or that’s my reputation down the drain. I swear, if I find out you told…”
“I didn’t, I promise.”
“Yes, well, remember that I can easily obliviate you, should it come to that.”
There was pause. Harry was scowling fiercely. Why would a Potter threaten to obliviates their own nephew over a secret?
“Is that what you did to her?” Henry said quietly.
“What?”
“Did you obliviate her?”
“Obviously. I couldn’t just let her go around blurting it out to everyone.”
After a moment, Charlus’ tone changed. He said consolingly, “Now, you know that I trust you, don’t I?”
Harry gaped.
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Just keep quiet, the way you usually do. Don’t blurt anything out. And stay away from that ‘new’ Potter. I don’t know how much he knows.”
“He… he helped me out, the other day.”
“I don’t care, just stay away from him. This is too important.”
Harry took his cue to leave. He silently left the corridor for the dungeons, thinking.
What reason would a seventeen year old Potter have for threatening to obliviate their twelve year old nephew in order to keep something quiet? It made Harry think of how he was related to both those Potters. Was Charlus James’ father? He didn’t know, but he hoped not. Mostly, Harry felt disappointed.
When he was nearing the dungeons he found Chris walking towards him with an irritated expression which vanished when his eyes landed on Harry.
“Hello,” the blond boy said, seeming to force a smile.
“What’s wrong?” Harry replied genuinely.
“Oh, nothing, just that prattish friend of yours.”
“Tom?” Harry asked worriedly.
“No, the other. Rosier.”
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing much, just trying to manipulate me the way he usually does. Think nothing of it.”
Harry frowned. Dorian manipulating Chris?
“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”
“Sure, why not,” Harry said agreeably. He had an hour or so left.
“Let’s go outside, then. The weather’s nice.”
They were wandering at a slow pace along the edge of the lake, chatting, when Chris said, “I still can’t believe you wont play as seeker. You’re quite brilliant.”
Harry smiled, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “Thanks, but I just…”
“Don’t want the attention, I know.”
Harry shrugged. “What’s the current team like?”
“Oh, it’s alright. At least, it will be when I find a seeker. Look, the nearest match is in two weeks, and if I haven’t got one… will you play? Just for that game.”
Harry sighed, but couldn’t resist the earnest look the blond boy was sending him. “Oh, fine. But just that match.”
Chris grinned at him, happily. “Good. Very good. I think, with you, we could easily thrash Ravenclaw.”
“What’s their seeker like?”
“That would be Sam Archer. He’s good, but too heavy.”
“He can’t be that great with dives, then?”
“Exactly, and maneuvering, but he has brilliant eyesight. Let’s sit here.”
They sprawled out on a grassy bank, not far from the Forbidden Forest. The last day or two were marginally hot, for October.
“Mind if I take my shirt off?” Chris said absently. He rolled it into a ball and lay back, using it as a pillow.
Harry contentedly observed him, while he played with a blade of grass. Chris certainly wasn’t lacking, body-wise.
“What?” he mused, catching Harry observing him.
Harry smiled. “Nothing.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“Will you go with Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” Chris asked suddenly.
Harry was taken aback. He wondered if the Slytherin meant as friends, or…
“Unless you’re going with Riddle, or someone.”
Harry smiled. “I’m not. Sure, I’ll go with you.” He received a slightly relieved look.
Chris smiled. “Good.”
Harry’s Transfigurations class with Professor Dumbledore was certainly interesting. The man’s beaming eccentricity and infinite knowledge applied to Transfiguration certainly left Harry bemused by the end.
He was called back after class.
“I trust your lessons so far have been satisfactory?”
Harry smiled. “They’ve certainly been interesting.”
“And how are you getting on with your classmates?”
“Very well, thank you, Professor.”
“Good, good. Has that vow come in handy?”
Harry told him about the Veritaserum.
“Ah, we were just in time, then. Very well, it is good to know you are fitting in.”
Harry was soon dismissed. The rest of the class had already left, and he was alone once more. In daydreaming he soon found that he was subconsciously making his way toward Gryffindor tower. Cursing silently, he began to make the long trip down to the dungeons.
A sound in the corridor made him stop in his tracks. He knew what it was. In the classroom nearby, someone, or someones, were panting.
He could see from where he was that the door was half open, and in walking pass he would be able to see the suspects. Well, there was nothing for it. This was the quickest way to the dungeons.
It was Tom. He was leaning over a boy, in fact the same boy who had sat next to him in Transfigurations, and with his hands gripping the panting boy’s thighs, was thrusting into him carelessly.
Harry soon managed to recover his composure. He was shocked. He was near horrified. Most of all, he was hurt, and it was this that led him to keep his face completely blank when Tom’s eyes rose and met his.
Harry raised a mocking eyebrow, and then darted away.
Tuesday for Harry was awkward. As he quickly made his way down to breakfast, earlier than usual, he knew he would have to face Tom. And he knew that he would get a vaguely amused mask of indifference in return for his awkwardness. Having grudgingly accepted that he had been hurt, Harry was furious with himself for letting Tom Riddle, of all people, get to him. In a burst of cynicism he decided that the situation would be fittingly ironic had Voldemort sent him back in time only to fall for Tom Riddle to bring about his downfall.
Harry had spent half the night brooding, wondering how it was that Tom could grow up entirely emotionless, and the other half was spent being plagued by the same mysterious dream-persona. Added to this his tired collapse in the bathroom that morning, Harry was fairly moody by the time he set off for breakfast.
He knew, as he meandered into the hall, that Tom had done nothing out of the ordinary. Harry had rejected him days before, and Tom had no reason not to continue his trysts with other random students. Besides, Harry had been having his own rendezvous with Dorian. What right did he have to feel jealous?
A few students littered the hall already, but only Cedrella sat at the Slytherin table.
“Morning,” Harry said solemnly, claiming the spot next to her.
“You’re up early.” She snapped her book shut and looked at him strangely.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Something happened. What is it?”
Harry stared at her incredulously. “What?”
She just gave him a calculating stare.
“Am I that obvious?”
She smirked at him. “It’s the art of being a Slytherin. Everyone else is easy to read, but Slytherins keep their emotions hidden away.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Harry muttered, flicking a bit of bacon off the table.
“It comes in handy. But even a Hufflepuff could sense your moodiness a mile away.”
Harry scowled. Then he sighed. “I’ll get over it.”
“You’ll get over what?” Dorian joined them, and then scoured the hall. “Where’s Tom? You usually come down with him.”
Harry shrugged.
“Hogsmeade soon!” Bulstrode sung, sitting opposite Harry. “Going with anyone, Potter? Oh wait; you’re with Tom, aren’t you?”
He scowled at her. “I’m not with Tom. I never have been with Tom. I’m going with Chris.”
Dorian paused in his reach for the scrambled eggs. “Doyle? You’re going to Hogsmeade with Doyle?”
Harry frowned at him. “Yeah. Why?”
Bulstrode snickered. “Tom isn’t going to be happy.”
“Mind your own business,” Harry snapped.
“Oo, someone’s grouchy this morning.”
Harry blew out a puff of air and stared defiantly up at the ceiling.
“Harry, Harry. Why are you going with Doyle?” Dorian said, ignoring Bulstrode’s antics.
“Because he asked me. Why would I refuse?”
“I can think of a few reasons,” Bulstrode said cryptically.
“Well, keep them to yourself,” Cedrella said. “Here comes Tom.”
“Good morning,” Tom said lazily, waiting for Dorian to move over so that he could sit between him and Harry.
“Heard the latest news, Tom?” Bulstrode said. Harry glared at her. He decided to concentrate on his bacon. Really, he’d never seen bacon so well-cooked.
“Oh?” Tom said indifferently, leaning over Harry to take Cedrella’s book. He observed the cover while Bulstrode talked.
“Potter here is going to Hogsmeade with Doyle.” She laughed hysterically for a moment as if it were the funniest thing one could ever hear.
Cedrella gave her an odd look. “Are you still taking that Dreamless Sleep? I told you it’s addictive.”
Bulstrode scowled fiercely, while Harry was relieved that the conversation had moved on.
“Marie!” someone called from down the table. “Go with me to Hogsmeade!”
“Not on your life!” Bulstrode snapped back.
Dorian snickered. “Still with Carrow?”
“Not that it’s any of your business-” Harry snorted “-but yes. What’s so funny, Potter?”
Harry was suddenly filled with an alarming bout of unexplained energy. Dismissing his confusion for now, he said joyously, “Nothing, nothing.” It was alright for Bulstrode to pry into other people’s business, but for someone to interfere with hers…
She glared at him.
To his relief, Harry’s lessons that day did not put him in a situation where he would be alone with Tom. He knew he would have to talk to the boy alone eventually, and he was aware that Tom wouldn’t bring yesterday up since it was none of Harry’s business - a factor that he was marginally relieved about. But by now Harry had decided that while he liked Tom, he hated his almost-constant pretence of everything he encountered. He was manipulative, and he was cruel. And addictive and charming. And, well, quite handsome. Harry hated him.
However, he didn’t receive Tom’s attentions that day. Nor the next. It didn’t take a genius to guess that junior Dark Lord was ignoring him. Not that Harry cared. He was a mixture of confusion and exasperation, but eventually he put it down to the fact that Tom had gotten bored of him. Which he could handle.
On Wednesday, he was flicking through an old Dark Arts book when Tom entered the otherwise empty dormitory.
Harry gave him a silent stare, which wasn’t quite as effective when Tom came forward and he had to crane his neck up.
“Still ignoring me?” Tom said, an amused smile adorning his face. Harry felt like hitting him. “Don’t I even get a ‘hello’?”
“Hello,” Harry answered flatly, standing up, annoyed at the advantage Tom had in standing over him.
They stared at each other for a moment, until Harry broke the ice. “Dorian’s in the library.”
“Is he?” came the nonchalant answer, to which he scowled.
“What do you want, then?” he demanded, tired of the conversation already.
Tom gave a casual shrug and turned to wander about the dorm, eyes on the wand in his hand, although Harry was aware that he was the sole object of Tom’s attention.
“I wanted to see you,” Tom said.
“What for?
“A number of reasons. Firstly, Dumbledore still hasn’t found anything and thinks it likely you’ll have to stay here for Christmas.”
Harry stared. “But that’s ages away.”
“It’s only a few months. Also, I’m slightly curious as to why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t,” Harry said defensively. “I’d say it’s more of the other way round.”
“Perhaps. I’ve been busy lately.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Tom smirked. “Is this about that boy?”
“What boy?” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets.
“You know very well what boy.”
Harry snorted. “Does he even have a name?”
Tom looked thoughtful for a moment. “Joseph, I believe. I’ll have to check later.”
Harry was torn between wry amusement and frustration. It must have shown on his face, because Tom came to a halt in front of him and smiled.
“Remind me why you’re here?” he said, annoyed.
“I missed you.”
Harry laughed at the prospect. “Right.”
Tom continued to give him that annoying smile. “So are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“What the problem is. If it’s not the boy, then what is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m trying to get over who you really are. Maybe I wish I had ended up in my parent’s time in Hogwarts so that I could meet them, instead of ending up here to play pointless manipulative Slytherin games with the person who killed them in the first place.”
Tom stared at him silently for a while. “You still think of me as… Voldemort.”
“Yeah, well, you’re very much the same. Except Voldy has a foul temper.”
Tom snorted. He reached out to put his hand on Harry’s waist but Harry wasn’t having it. He stepped back to find he was stuck between Tom and the four-poster. “Don’t. Go and find Joseph, or whatever his name was, if that’s all you’re after.”
“Jealousy is unbecoming.”
“Who’s jealous?” It was said scornfully, but Harry knew he was sinking in denial.
Tom took another step forward and Harry had an overwhelming sense of de ja vu. However, he was tired of Tom’s games and didn’t want to give in so easily.
“Harry, Harry...” Tom said, all amusement.
“Don’t.” Harry pushed him away and moved towards the door. “I’m not going to be another one of your…your…”
“Whores?” Tom suggested thoughtfully.
“Exactly.” His journey out of the room was halted when the door snapped shut with a click.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Tom said pleasantly, pocketing his wand.
Harry turned to him, eyes narrowed, very aware that his wand was lying pathetically on his bed, behind Tom. “No thanks.”
“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.”
“I’m sure it will be manipulative somehow.”
“Well, of course.”
“Well, then.”
“Perhaps you should hear me out before you jump to conclusions? I was going to say-”
“Look, I don’t want to know-”
“It is rude to interrupt, Harry.”
Harry blew out a puff of air and tugged at his hair in a dramatic act of frustration.
Tom smirked at him. “Anyway. If I refrain from trysting with nameless schoolboys, will you stop ignoring me?”
Harry stared at him. “No. You can tryst with as many nameless schoolboys as you want. Don’t let me hold you back.”
“I want us to be friends.”
“You’re lying.”
Tom began to look annoyed. He crossed the room, wand out again, and backed Harry against the wall. “I’m beginning to get irritated, Harry. I don’t like being called a liar when I offer my friendship.”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Harry managed, mentally cursing his stupidity. The tip of Tom’s wand seemed to sit comfortably against his throat. “It’s not friendship you want. I know how you use people. And I’m not willing to be used like the rest, and certainly not by you.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You haven’t even given me a chance. Perhaps you’re not the devout Gryffindor I thought you were.”
Harry glared at him. “Give me a decent reason for being your friend.”
Tom gave him a cool look. “As I said, Dumbledore thinks you may have to remain here for quite a while. Which means you’ll be with me for quite a while. And unless you want every lesson to be immensely awkward, I suggest we stay on speaking terms.”
“Look,” Harry began, before suddenly grabbing hold of the nearest thing to prevent himself collapsing, which just so happened to be Tom’s arm. “Woah,” he breathed, a hand on his head.
“What is it?” Tom said urgently, supporting him.
“All of a sudden…really tired.” With that, everything went black. Again.
When Harry awoke, it was dark. Either that, or his exhaustion had left him temporarily blind, but he was inclined to believe it was the former.
He was lying in his four-poster, and if the warmth on his right was anything to go by, so was Tom. Sitting up quickly with a bounce of energy, he decided that he didn’t want Tom in his bed, and so proceeded to tug on one of the boy’s black locks.
His invasion came to a halt when Tom raised a sleepy arm and dragged him down again. “Sleep, Harry.”
Harry lay there and fidgeted. There was definitely something wrong with him. He could go and see Madam Pomfrey – or whoever the nurse was in this time, but he was certain that whatever was happening to him wasn’t normal. Since when did people faint from exhaustion and then have bursts of energy an hour later? It wasn’t normal. Not that he was normal, but it would be nice if something normal did happen to him.
He sat up again, and discarded the idea of trekking down to the kitchens. He didn’t have his Invisibility cloak and besides, it was cold. He wouldn’t have Tom keeping his side warm.
Harry suddenly decided that it was odd that they only had one pillow between them. With an excited grin he rummaged around the bed for his wand. He was sure he had left it here earlier…
“Harry…” Tom said, voice slightly colder and more like his future-self. “What are you doing?”
“What did you do with my wand?” he demanded, kneeling with hands on hips. It was dark enough that he could see Tom’s outline.
“Why?” came the suspicious reply.
“We need more pillows.” Harry grinned.
With a frustrated sigh Tom sat up, pushed Harry back down and leant over him so that he could fish the wand out from down the side of the bed.
Instead of giving it to him he used it to multiply the one pillow by ten, leaving Harry frowning.
“Now there’re too many,” he complained.
“Merlin…” Tom muttered. “Damn side-effects.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” He took hold of Harry’s bare shoulder and pulled him forward to kiss him.
“What are you…oh.” Harry was excited again. Everything was wrong, and all his current problems loomed down at him as he kissed his enemy, but weirdly, and for the first time, the fact that he was getting it off with the Dark Lord really appealed to him. Obviously it wasn’t something he would do often but at the moment it seemed oddly exhilarating.
With a pleasant sigh he relaxed and let Tom take complete control. He allowed himself to fall into a daze, and his mind didn’t register when Tom pulled both of their clothes off, nor did he think any longer of his bizarre mood swings. He had fallen into bliss.
In the morning he was vaguely aware of the absence of a certain dream.
Harry passed the rest of the week in a daze. He no longer knew where he stood with Tom.
He had yet to visit the Hospital Wing as he was suddenly bogged down with what he considered out-of-date homework.
In silence he had accepted the night with Tom, but they didn’t talk about it. Every now and then Tom would give him a knowing smile (which Harry found infuriating) but he seemed preoccupied with other distant things that Harry didn’t know about. They talked and laughed and Tom helped him in lessons, but he didn’t try anything. It made Harry give a tiny glimpse at the thought that maybe he had made the wrong choice in rejecting him.
And he soon began to wonder why he had become so obsessed.
Saturday morning left him standing against a wall in the entrance hall. Chris was late.
“Still here, Harry?” Dorian said, arriving conveniently instead.
Harry gave him a suspicious stare. “I thought you had gone ahead with everyone else.”
Dorian shrugged. “I found the company painfully boring. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Thomas since breakfast, have you?”
“Er, no. I thought he was with you.”
“So where’s Doyle?”
Harry crossed his arms and stared back at the condescending stare. “What have you done to him?”
Dorian laughed. “I haven’t done anything. Oh look, here comes the Almighty.”
“Still here?” Tom said, sounding entirely bored.
Harry completely ignored how good and dark the other boy looked and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just waiting. You haven’t seen Chris recently, have you?” He couldn’t keep the hint of suspicion out of his voice.
Tom gave him a cool smile. “Has he stood you up?”
“I don’t know. Has he?”
“Well, why don’t you join us for a while? Until he catches up,” Dorian suggested, looking in disdain down at the coins in his hand.
Harry sighed. “Fine.
“Here.” Tom handed over Anton, who hissed his pleasure at returning down Harry’s shirt.
“Thanks,” Harry said, pleased to see the snake.
“You ought to buy him a companion,” Dorian said thoughtfully as they began to walk.
“I thought snakes were solitary creatures?”
“I wouldn’t call Tom solitary.”
Harry snickered. “I would.”
“I don’t think Anton will appreciate a ‘friend’,” Tom mused. “He’s too attached to you.”
Dorian laughed. “Poor sod will be jealous.”
Harry smirked. He was, however, aware of the underlying meaning of the conversation.
“Maybe I should ask him,” he said.
“No. Definitely not. Not while I’m here,” Dorian muttered.
“Why?” Harry frowned.
“He feels left out,” Tom said as they reached the bustling town.
“Hardly,” denied Dorian. “Why don’t we visit the Hog’s Head?”
Harry found that the inside of the Hog’s Head had an entirely different atmosphere to its future self – in fact it was very much like The Three Broomsticks in Harry’s time. Maybe The Three Broomsticks didn’t exist yet? Whatever the case, Harry found himself trapped in a corner at a round table, Tom on one side, Dorian on the other, shoving a drink into his hand.
He wondered where Chris was. And he wondered whether Tom and/or Dorian had done anything to the blond boy. If they had, he didn’t currently know what the consequences would be.
He stared down at the drink, which appeared to be a very alcoholic version of Butterbeer, if the smell was anything to go by. A sip made him wrinkle his face in distaste, but he found himself wanting more.
He could feel eyes watching him, and looked up to see Tom giving him an amused look. Dorian was eyeing Anton warily, as the snake slid onto the table to get a taste of Harry’s drink.
“This… stuff is worse every time we come here,” Dorian commented, watching Anton take a tentative lap and then draw back immediately.
“Disgusting,’ he hissed.
Harry, chin leaning on his hand, gave
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