A Thread of Time

Chapter Ten - Part One

*

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. “Fair enough.”

“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,” said 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 the snake a lazy grin.

“It’s their weakest one,” Tom mused. “Any others would prevent us from walking back to the castle in conscious state.”

“Well, it’s vile. We need an in-between.”

“Harry seems to like it,” Tom pointed out.

“Thirsty,” Harry explained.

“They must have something else,” Dorian insisted. “I’m going to take a look.”

That left Harry with Tom, who moved to sit as close as possible so that their thighs were pressed together. Harry scowled at him.

Tom smiled. “You will realise how much you like me when you’ve had a few drinks.”

Harry laughed. “Is that your plan in bringing me here? To get me drunk?”

“Well, no. I don’t need you to be inebriated to get want I want. But if it will make you loosen up a notch…”

“Look, I’m sure Dorian will be more than willing to...to assist you with your bodily needs.”

Tom gave a shrug. “Perhaps, but I’d rather try something new.”

“Then try this!” Dorian said on arrival, placing glasses of dark liquid on in front of Harry and Tom. “It’s the next one along.”

Harry took a tentative sip, and grimaced. “It’s what I imagine soot to taste like.”

Dorian frowned and slid in beside Harry on the curvy bench. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Liquorice,” Tom murmured on drinking his. Harry frowned.

Dorian tried it. He shuddered. “Strawberry. Disgusting. You’d think it would taste vaguely nice…”

Harry snickered. “No use taking it back.”

A while later, empty glasses of Butterbeer and whatever it was that Dorian had bought littered the table.

Harry was busy contemplating a visit to the Men’s room while Dorian ordered more drinks. He was on the verge of forgetting Chris and having a ridiculously good time with what he considered to be two evil Slytherin perverts, when he felt Tom’s hand on his thigh and reality came crashing back.

“Get lost,” he demanded, moving along.

He received a smirk. Tom moved along with him. “I’ve lately decided that you’re not very nice,” the Slytherin said.

Harry grinned. Dorian returned and stared down at the very small space left for him at the end of a bench. He looked at where Harry and Tom appeared to be glued together. With a dramatic sigh he rounded the table and sat on Tom’s side.

“Drama queen,” Harry accused, taking his drink.

“Princess, I would say,” Tom murmured, sipping his.

Dorian scowled. “I despise both of you. I hope you realise this.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry said, feeling Anton wrap around his neck. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. Maybe it was time to approach the toilets.

The Men’s turned out to be dirty and unaccommodating, and he stood there wondering whether to go any further, grasping his head when it began to ache, when arms slid around his waist from behind.

“Go ‘way,” he ordered, doing nothing to push the boy away. Tom just smiled against his neck.
“Make me,” he said, nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

Harry scowled. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make Tom do anything. Tom was Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort was, well, scary. Being slightly drunk simplified things a lot more, Harry realised.

“It’s not fair,” he said aloud to himself, staring intently at the tiled floor. They really ought to clean it, he decided.

Tom made an agreeable sound, and turned Harry around. “You are delightful like this,” he commented, pushing Harry against the wall. “Remind me to bring you here more often.”

Harry frowned. “Not here? It’s dirty.”

“Mmm, true. A bed would be more suitable.”

“I don’t want you in my bed. You’re evil.”

“You’re welcome to stay in mine.”

Harry considered it. Would sleeping in Tom’s bed make him evil? “Maybe,” he said, unsure.

For a few moments he accepted Tom’s kisses, and then decided that he wasn’t so drunk that he would get off with him here of all places.

They returned to find that Dorian had abandoned the table in favour of flirting with the barman.

“Fetch him, Harry,” Tom said with a sigh.

Harry did so without a thought.

“Time to leave?” Dorian said, smoothing down his shirt.

“Drank too much,” Harry muttered.

“Fine, but let’s not bump into Bulstrode’s group unless you want to get caught up in nonsensical gossip for hours on end.”

They spent the next few hours meandering around Hogsmeade, working off the affects of the alcohol and discussing topics at random.

At one point they passed the place where Harry had once met Sirius – except there was no stile, just a ditch. It gave him a painful pang and he looked away, wondering if fate would ever let him see his Godfather again.

In the end they headed back to the castle to get changed. They had a party to attend.

TBC