In Company of Wolves

Riddle was the one who woke up first, a sharp intake of breath hissing out as his eyes snapped open, still fogged slightly with sleep. A soft weight rested against his chest, elegent hands entangled in his outer robes as the boy held onto them as tightly as he could in his sleeping state. Messy black hair fell softly into Harry's face, his cheeks still tearstained from his previous breakdown. It was understandable, really, he was only a teenage boy after all. Riddle frowned to himself, eyebrows creasing with frustration. If only that meddling old fool hadn't...

Well, what was done can not be undone. Didn't stop him from hating the bumbling bee any less. So many years wasted... oportunities lost... and his inablility to cope with it all was still maddening. Voldemort gazed up at the dark velvet canopy of his bed, the sight and feel familiar to him, save for the addition that was currently curled up against him. The fabric cascaded fluidly to the stone floor, enveloping the bedposts with it's finery, a beautiful emerald green. Very similar to Harry's eyes, in fact, Tom mused to himself. So unlike everything that he had come to believe, he was, so powerful and yet still so innocent. He sighed, deeply, running his free hand over his eyes. This wasn't going to end well, just as soon as the doddering coot got wind of it, he would bet.

Harry whimpered slightly in his sleep, tossing his covers off as he clutched his scar. Oh... that notorious scar, the one that had marked him for fifteen years. He... Voldemort as it were, did take responsibility for it... casting the spell that did it however... Tom soothed back strands of ebony as he comforted the teen into deeper sleep. He couldn't tell him. And... he couldn't let himself dwell on it anymore. Just live in the moment, and all that rot... sodding old coot. He would get what was coming to him, and his sodding brood as well. Doddering bloody...

Why did he even want to continue this line of thought? Yes... he would pay, as surely as he was the Flight of Death, pay for his wretched presence on this fair earth!

Feeling himself getting to worked up to remain still, Riddle managed to extract himself from Harry's embrace and staggered from the room. Bloody sodding blood circulation and it's nesscesity for working body parts... He ranted to himself as he felt about for the knob to the bathroom, despreatly needing to relieve himself. Several tries were all it took before he made it to the loo and took care of his business. Pausing at the sink to wash his hands, he looked up into the mirror at his reflection.

Haunted green eyes stared back at him, dull jade a far cry from the verdent color of the boy's. The orbs peered back at him from a delicately featured face, the strong tilt of his jade attesting to his unrelenting attitude and fine dark hair close cropped to his scalp. Not much different from when he attended school in his late teens. He frown deepened as he noticed more gray and white hairs appearing around his temples. It was decent considering his age, but still... Well, he sighed, it did make him look distinguished. He pushed away the memoried that threatened to resurface ruthlessly. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was not it. After everything was taken care of... only then...

A string of curses left his mouth, and he finished spashing water on his face to help him wake up. He would take a shower later.

xXxXxXxXx

Harry wasn't in the same state as Riddle was at that moment. He was currently having the most wonderful sleep in his life, in a comfortable bed, finally free of nightmares for more than five minutes. He was grateful to the man that had slept beside him and comforted him through the night, more grateful than he had ever been to Dumbledore. When had he ever comforted him when he was kept awake from his nightmares? Never. He never would, and Harry was beginning to think that he was only seen to him as a weapon. A mindless object to do his bidding. Why else would he abandon him, year after year, calling him out only when he needed a hero or a scapegoat?

Morbid, aye, but Harry had plenty of time to mope about and think. It just made sense. Why else would we have allowed his godfather to follow him into the Department of Mysteries... or let him go in the firstplace? Dumbles wasn't omnipotent, but as the Headmaster for God knows how many years, Harry was sure that he had more than a fair share of knowing what went on in that Castle. How else could he explain The Mirror of Erised? Fawkes in the Chamber of Secrets? The list could go on and on, spanning his years at the castle.

And his dear friends... to abandon him as they had. Not one bloody letter. And he supposed that it was 'for his own good' as dictated by Dumbledore. And another, puzzling, confusing mess... the Dark Lord that he was currently sharing a castle with... and bed. It didn't feel wrong... not in any way that Harry had ever considered, but it was comforting. Not to mention that he hadn't been killed yet.

The prophecy... perhaps it was wrong. Tom didn't seem like a bad guy, especially as he spent more time around him. Dumbledore had been the only one around when Treleweny gave it. Could he have tampered with it? Harry imidiatly chastised himself for thinking that about the old goat. There were lines that people could and could not cross... he couldn't see Dumbledore as so manipulitive and evil. It was just wrong!

Harry sighed, and opened his eyes. Tom had left the bed sometime before he had woken up, and his half was cold. His eyes hurt, still puffy and red from the night before. Or morning... whatever time of day that it was. He scrubbed at them with the back of his hand, annoyed when that only made the problem even worse. Deciding to forget about his annoying problems for the time being, Harry gingerly stepped out of the bed and went in search of a bathroom.

Some things really needed to be taken care of before anything else could be considered.

xXxXxXxXx

Tom had been working on his potion for almost an hour before he was inturrputed by a house elf. It popped up behind him, startling him so that he almost dropped a vile of crushed Billywig powder that he had been stoppering.

"Master sir, your coffee is being ready." The elf bowed, setting the cup of java on the adjecent counter top before vanishing once more to wherever it was that house elves went. Suddenly the day was so much better... Tom refused to rush to the cup of heavenly goodness and with all his strength remained composed enough to order his ingredients back to their proper places. Only then did he allow himself to indulge in the luscious liquid that brought with it sanity and life. Sipping on it, he looked over his notes, making more as he expanded on one subject or another.

It was almost finished... and he would have solved the freakish puzzle that had been mulling in his brain for the past seventeen years. If only he had access to that accursed place... but the Aurors made sure that he would never see that place again. Not in this lifetime, not unless something drastic caused a miracle to happen... and that wasn't very likely.

More notes followed the ones that he jotted down, continuing on until he ran out of immidiatly usable parchment. Growling slightly, he rubbed his temples in annoyance, calling the house elves for more paper. He got a muggle notebook for his troubles. Maladictions and a broken stool followed in its wake as Riddle's temper got away from him. Dark Lord... BAH! Fuck that, and the stupid bloody cunt, bee eyed bastard... Everything... well, loosing everything one had would cause anyone to go Dark. Justifying that righteous prick's accusations... nothing had been sweeter. There was no such thing as the rules and regulations that goverened the Wizarding world... power was the only thing that those simpering wizards would understand and by God he was going to give them power.

"Flashy." Riddle growled, looking about for the elf. It appeared before the last silible left the Dark Lord's mouth, bowing deeply. "Summon Lucius. I wish to talk to him in private, there will be no others at this meeting. Do not so much as breathe a word to anyone other than him or so help me you will never feel the end of my wrath. Understand?"

Quaking, the house elf did as he was told, popping away to summon Lucius Malfoy. Tom frowned, glaring at a spot on the table he had made during his tantrum that had been damaged by the flying wood. One less thing to worry about though, Harry didn't seem like we wanted to kill him anymore; he could focus on the dammed Headmaster now, and his ridiculous Order of the Fried Chicken. Honestly, naming his subordinates a ridiculous thing like "Death Eathers" to the newspapers...

Perhaps he should talk to his... guest... before Malfoy got there.

Pushing himself fully to his feet, he adjusted his robes, striding out of the room in a huff. He could act childish if he damn well pleased. His robes billowed in responsed.

xXxXxXxXx

Having found the bathroom, Harry wasted no time at all in showering. It was heaven to feel the hot droplets of water against his clammy skin, imbuing him with their warmth even as he spread suds about his torso, arms, and shoulders. It was unnerving for him to feel scales on his skin, as well as the extension of his wings from his back. If he concentrated, he could make them move in deliberate motions rather than the floppy, instinctive motions that happened even when he didn't think about them.

Freak...

No! He shook his head violently. He wasn't a freak! Maybe not normal, but he wasn't a freak... he wasn't. He bit his lip, pushing the thoughts from his mind as he struggled to get a grip. He was stong... he could get through this. He could get through anything! Hell.. he had gone through hell, and this is what remained; tough, a survivor. No more crying, he vowed.

Forcing his taloned hands to unclench, he finished his shower, undulging in some of the soaps that Riddle kept for hair care. Relaxing, he allowed his thoughts to drift away from the wizarding and muggle worlds, and into nature; peaceful scenes from parks, the forest about the castle of Hogwarts, these scenes took over his memory as he drifted under the droplets from the shower head.

Eventually he made himself get out, grasping about for a towel which he then wrapped about his trim waist. One thing he ws grateful for about his transformation; he was no longer short, or skinny. He could only guess that he stood around five ten or eleven at the moment, and his frame was muscled like a swimmers. Rubbing away a patch of moisture from the mirror, he allowed himself a sad smirk as he looked at himself, mimicking Tom unknowingly. Wet, shaggy black hair tumbled into his eyes, tame for once in his life. Long, serrated ears poked out from beneath the mess, mettalic, much like a dragon's. The rest of his features were normal, for the most part; he didn't think that anything had really changed, save his ears.

He turned away from the mirror without another thought... and opened the door to bump into a broad, velvet encased chest. A male chest. He looked up in trepidation to the aristocratic features of one Lucius Malfoy.

Who was in shock, his mouth hanging open in a most un-pureblood way.

Lucius fainted.

Harry blushed.

Tom stalked from the previously occupied bedroom into the said scene, with one half naked boy and an unconcious pureblood. The day couldn't get any better than this.

xXxXxXxXx

With a wide, hissing yawn, Armand blinked slowly awake, vaguly aware that his resting place was very warm and comfy. Very soft too. He sighed, a very snake like sigh, and curled deeper into the warmth... Another nap wouldn't hurt.

Hedwig was a grumpy owl. Being a snake pillow just wasn't her thing...