In Company of Wolves

There wasn't any sunlight to herald the morning. Hoards of ominous dark clouds obscured the sun from ever reaching the earth, dark and gray, heavy with impending rain. Nothing good could come of such a turn of weather, the shift in wind sending shivers down the spines of any who dared to stare out into it. The crash of thunder in the distance caused several of the animals in the forest outside the huge manor to jump in fright, the flash of light that preceeded it illuminating the entire sky with it's brilliance. The cloud covering moved faster, overtaking the castle with it's wake.

The window panes rattled, branches scraping against the glass withing them, the erie sound reminicent of nails on a chalkboard. The strident screech continued slowly, ever so slowly, just loud enough to make the boy asleep on the bed within the room awake, eyes wide with fright. No one came to calm him however, the occupents of the castle busy with their duties or still asleep in the early morning hours. The thunder crashed louder, and louder still, shaking the sills with the storm's fury until the violet tinged sky darkened to the point of absolute blackness and torrents of rain poured from the open expanse to rail against the castle and grounds.

None of this seemed natural to the lone occupent of the bedroom as he clutched the black sheets in his hands. The buffets of the wind as it screeched around the corner of the house resounded into a continuous wailing noise, hollow and broken. His messy, black hair fell into his green eyes, unfocused with sleep. Small wings folded against his back, mettalic in the half light and shadows of the room. Taking in his surroundings, it took him a while to realise where he was, and in whose house he was in.

Melencholy, his eyes focused on the sheets before him, and where his hands rested. He traced patterns in the smooth material with his eyes, meditating on the simplicity of it, and wishing that the nightmares would stay away. The stone wall of the castle mocked him from across the room, with it's multitude of stones supporting each other in a way that his friends never would for him. Tears pricked his eyes, but he forced them away, pressing his lips together so hard that it hurt. Betrayal... what a word.

Hesitently he slipped a foot from the bed to rest on the cold, stone floor, shifting aside his sheets with his right hand. Weight resting on his left foot, he lifted himself from the bed, the silk rubbing discordently with his tatterd clothing. He must not have changed before he fell asleep the night before, he mused. Rain dribbled down the window in droves, pattering incessently against the smooth surface. He padded softly over to the ledge before the window, and raised a hand softly to touch the cold glass. The chill travelled up his arm to lodge in his heart.

He sighed, slowly. There would be no more sleep for him now. He could sympathize with the weather - free and unbidden by another's whims and yet contrained to it's preset patterns. Controlled by an unseen hand. Harry sat down on the stone and starred out into the storm, watching the lighting as it crossed the heavens, wild in its fury. It continued, unabated for some time, and the boy lost himself in it, focusing on each raindrop as it merged into the next, an inending stream of amusement for him.

Sirius. He was gone... his fault. He could accept that now. He was a freak, an oddity of nature, something that would always be reviled and feared. To think that he was the supposed 'savior' because of some prophecy... well, that was something that only a fool could believe. He was only a child, and a deformed one at that; not meant to be the figurehead of mighty wizards such as Dumbledore. What did the man ever see in him? A reckless youth that had already led others to their deaths of course. Cedric... Sirius... two of the most prominent. He was sure that he had caused other deaths, ones that he didn't remember.

Mother... Father... He didn't even realize that his cheeks were wet until a teardrop trailed off the path of the others to slide off the tip of his nose and land wetly against his folded hands. A small sob wracked his chest, only one, for he tried to stiffle it yet again. It wouldn't do for him to cry; men don't... they just don't. Unlike other boys... never to hear his mother's lullabye, her warm laughter. Her praise.

All his fault...

He couldn't stop it this time, and the tears continued to come. Wet, trickling down his face, the salty drops mixing with his saliva as his mouth opened in mute agony. Never... never normal. No one would ever love him, no one. No one for the freak... Vernon was right. He was a nobody; a nobody with unwonted fame, that hurt more than it helped. Everyone would turn on him, just like they did when they found out that he was a parselmouth in second year, or like fourth year with the tournament. Ron even turned against him then. Just as his should.

Worthless...

He brough up his arm to his mouth, stuffing the fabric into his mouth as harsh sob wracked his body, even as the storm panted it's last breaths outside. Hot tears streamed down already damp cheeks, his eyes heavy and swollen, irritated from his unchecked emotions. A lethargic feeling stole through his tense muscles, weak and helpless as a babes. Mucus clogged his nasal passageways, the clear saline drying against his upper lip, even as he wiped it away. It seemed that he would never be able to breathe normally again, his uneven breaths hitching in his chest as he tried to level his breathing.

As he contemplated the world around him, he would forget about his misery for a minute as his thoughts trailed off to some innane subject, until something reminded him again and he would bite off the sobs that would stem from that thought. Eventually, his head sagged against the stone behind him. He counted the tiles that made up the arch of the window, a mindless task to take his attention elseware. The itchy feeling crept up against his lids as the fluids began to dry against his skin, leaving it flaky and sensitive.

Heavy once again, his eyes drifted shut, his self recriminations more hurtful and yet more helpful than he would have thought. Deep scars resided against his young psyche, that would have to be resolved eventually. He didn't know this, however, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep, propped up against the damp window, his legs hanging off the ledge to trail against the floor.

x x x x

Riddle blinked his sleep crusted eyes as he sat up, blearily. It must be morning... he hadn't meant to fall asleep. He looked down, disgusted at the small puddle of drool gracing his potions notes. He yawned, raking a hand through his messy hair, more the antithisis of a Slytherin in that moment than a Griffendor could be. Pushing his chair away from his desk, he straightened his robes and left in search of coffee.

Getting to the kitchens was no easy feat, navigating the stone tunnels was truely difficult to one who had yet to become fully aware of his surroundings. Alone, his quiet footfalls were heavy in the pristine silence; they echoed in the distance of the immense stone structure. He passed several portraits, and doors, as well as several open passageways until he discovered the staircase that sloped down into the kitchens of the house.

At this time of the morning, the house elves were still sleeping; he had grown accustomed to making his own coffee in the morning before getting his servents up and about for their duties.

A kitchen like a muggle resturant stretched before him, but he only went to the nearest counter where he had a muggle coffee maker hooked up to a magical adaptor. Some things that muggles invented were so useful... Somehow he managed to get the thing loaded and started, complete with the filter without the need for coordination. Slumping against the counter, he breathed in the blessed aroma that the steeping beans made. Sanity...

A soft pop and a distraught house elf appeared in front of him.

"Master sir, Nancy did not mean to fall asleep watching the young Master wizard sir, please don't give Nancy clothes!" She cried, wringing her hands in her white apron. Her little brown feet shuffled back and forth in fright, but refusing to do anything that would upset her master any more.

His eyebrow twitched. Not this early in the morning. Coffee... "What do you want." His voice was flat and cold.

"Oh, Master sir! The other Wizard sir is woken! He is upset too, sea water leaks from his eyes. Very distressed he is. Master sir should go." She said, looking at the floor, misery written in her posture. Tom's eyes widened. Bloody shit. Bullocks!

"What! When? How long as this been going on? Wait, no, never mind, I'll see to it myself. Make my coffee. Why didn't you get me sooner!" With that, a blur raced from the kitchens, aparating as he went. Too bleeding early in the effin morning... he popped into the bedroom with ease, eyes immediatly falling on the sleeping boy pressed up against the window pane. Soft sobs shook him still, even in his sleep. Voldemort's heart contracted at the pitiful sight the boy made, his slender form in his tattered garments, and his ruddy, tear streaked face. He brushed back the hair from his scar, smoothing it back gently in a calming motion.

Even as Harry slept, he leant into the gesture, accepting it's wordless comfort from his inner demons. The pang in Riddle's chest grew. Why did it have to be now... like this. Slowly gathering the bundle into his arms, he helped him back to the bed, wandlessly switching his oversized muggle clothes with one of his own sleep shirts. He should have done that before...

Harry whimpered as Tom tried to pull away from his embrace, tightening his hold on Tom's robes. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he decided that it wasn't worth it to get out of the bed. Besides... his boy needed him. Probably regret it in the morning, but what the hell, aye? Embracing the boy, he pulled up the covers around them and drifted off into Morpheus' hands.

When the elf arrived with his coffee he was already asleep.

x x x x

The owl and snake called a truce as they both could not stay awake any longer.