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batsutousaiTitle: Abandoned: The Re-Write
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: M/R
Main Pairing: Harry/Tom, Harry/Voldemort
Side Pairings: Ginny/Theodore Nott, Seamus/Blaise Zabini, past-Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Luna, others
Warnings: SLASH, mentions of child abuse/rape/torture, language, character death, minor Dumbledore bashing, Grey-to-Dark!Harry
Summary: A complete re-write of Abandon: Before the start of his seventh year, Harry Potter is abandoned in London by his muggle family and finds himself befriending Lord Voldemort.
A/N: This chapter opens with a couple of letters because that seemed so much better than just describing them again, no matter what Shara says. ^^;
Rereading this chapter some years after writing it, I'm really not sure why Tom is so OoC in his first scene. Spirit of the original Abandon, I guess? ^^;
Chapter Three: Groceries and Lunch
-0-
'Harry,
'I'm sorry I haven't written yet this summer. I wasn't sure how to react after the end of this past year. I've been talking it through with my therapist and she thinks I should talk to you about a couple of things. She thinks it will help. Well, it makes sense, I suppose.
I heard you weren't with your relatives any more. You could come stay with me. And I'd like to talk to you again. I miss having you around. I think I've missed that for a while now, but I was just so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't notice you were drifting away. And I don't want that, Harry! You're my best friend. And I'm worried about you.
'Hermione'
' 'Mione,
'I know I freaked you out, so I don't blame you for needing some space. Don't apologise for that, please. If anything, I should apologise: I hadn't meant to hurt you – either you or Ron – but I think I hurt you both. For that, I apologise.
'If your therapist thinks it would help you to talk to me, I'm certainly not going to turn you away, but there are some things I just can't tell you. And, for that, I also must apologise, because the concerns I know you have, the reasons you want to talk to me... Well, I don't think talking to me will do much good.
'And I would love to stay with you, 'Mione; your parents are fantastic, but they're also muggles, and if I stayed, your home would become a target. It's already enough of a target, with you being my friend, but I don't see any point in making it more of one. I'm safe here; none of Voldemort's people have thought to look for me in London, and I'm far enough from both Headquarters and the Leaky that a casual stroll won't have me walking into anyone who might want me dead.
'I miss having you and Ron around too. Ron's still not talking to me – Gin's working on him – but I wouldn't mind having you back in my life, if you're open to it? We can try having lunch together? You just tell me when and where and I'll be there. Promise.
'Harry'
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about Voldemort. On one hand, the man had gone shopping with him, been almost...kind...when Harry had run off in France. He'd come and found Harry, made that guy leave... but perhaps the last was more so Riddle could use magic to get them home. But he hadn't laid into Harry about running off, which Harry had expected him to. He hadn't tried to continue their argument.
'Potter, I can feel your indecision,' Riddle had said back at the bistro. Had he felt Harry's fear in that alley?
And the emotion in the Dark Lord's eyes. It had looked like concern, but he couldn't feel concern. Could he?
Harry spent the next few days wondering about what to do when he saw Riddle again. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were still enemies, and the prophecy said that one of them would kill the other, but... This summer, their meetings so far...were they still enemies? Yes, they picked at each other and challenged each other and Riddle had already crucioed Harry once, but they weren't really fighting.
What's wrong with me? I should just take a rusty pipe to his head and be done with it.
Finally, Harry realised he needed to go out and get more food if he was planning to continue eating more than one meal a day – and eating more than one meal a day was vital, since he'd apparently moved in with a building full of mother hens. So he made a quick mental list of what he'd like, then headed down to the nearest grocery.
Riddle fell into step with him as soon as Harry was far enough from the hostel that anyone peeking out after him wouldn't notice. "Finally get tired of the muggles?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Finally got sick of eating crumbs. Do you mind?"
"Not at all." Riddle shot him a smirk. "Life is so very boring when you avoid me, Potter."
"If you say so," Harry replied, picking up a hand basket just inside the door of the grocery. "It hasn't been boring to me. Perhaps I've just picked the better company?"
"Those dirty insects? Not likely."
"I noticed you didn't seem to mind such 'dirty insects' when one was making you a sandwich and soup in France."
Riddle shot him a glare, then looked around the market a bit. His eyes lit on a squabbling couple and he was off to egg them on before Harry thought he might be looking about for trouble to cause.
Harry sighed and rubbed at his scar, accidently knocking his cap off. By the time he'd retrieved the cap and had it back on his head, Riddle had managed to get the male of the squabbling couple to turn on him and the two were moments from coming to blows. "Blast," he muttered and hurried over to grab the other wizard's wrist before he could go for his wand. "Forgive him," he pleaded with the couple. "He forgot to take his medicine this morning."
The man huffed a bit, clearly not intending to let it go, but the woman pinched his arm and offered Harry a tired smile. "Of course, dear. Just...keep a closer eye on your brother." Then she led her man off.
"Now we're brothers," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes and letting go of Riddle's wrist. He continued on his way, picking up fruit as he passed ones that caught his fancy.
Riddle followed along after Harry, scowling. "I don't need muggle drugs, and I'll thank you not to suggest I might."
Harry shot him an unimpressed look over his shoulder. "Normal people don't go looking for fights."
"I am not normal."
"You don't say."
Riddle opened his mouth to retort, but a scream cut him off. He turned to try and spot the scream, a smile creeping across his lips.
"It's a baby," Harry told him, recognising the sound from having gone shopping for groceries in Surrey in the past. "Not some poor sod being tortured for his money."
Riddle turned to him with a disgusted look. "It sounds tortured to me."
"I'm sure it is tortured," Harry replied, picking through some onions, "but not by anything that would amuse you."
"I can give it a real reason to scream."
"I've no doubt of that, but please restrain yourself. If you can."
Riddle responded to that by running his hand along a shelf of cereal, causing boxes to go tumbling to the ground.
Harry sighed and decided he was best off not reacting to anything Riddle did. Honestly, it was rather like shopping with Dudley. Or a toddler.
The next few aisles were spent with Riddle making a mess of displays and shelves or throwing out biting remarks to other patrons. Harry did his best to ignore him, but he could feel a tick developing and found himself wondering how much magic he could get away with before the Ministry came down on him for being underage.
Finally, when Riddle sent a small girl running off in tears, Harry had enough.
"What the hell's your problem today, anyway?" he demanded, turning on his companion. "I get that you're a bastard and you get off on other people's pain, but don't you have an ounce of self control?"
Riddle sniffed. "Self control is over-rated."
Harry raised an eyebrow at him, then reached up and smacked him. "Hm. You might have a point."
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and he grabbed Harry around the throat. "I will kill you for that."
Harry smiled and whispered, "Then you'll never have your answers."
"Then I'll kill your little friends, instead," Riddle hissed, red eyes lit with glee at the mere idea.
Harry felt his blood boiling and snapped his knee up toward Riddle's crotch. "Don't you dare."
Riddle avoided the knee and shoved Harry back into some shelves, pushing himself against the teen so Harry couldn't use that trick again. "I'll go after that little mudblood first," he whispered into Harry's ear. "Flay her parents while she's forced to watch–"
Harry dropped the basket and shoved against Riddle as hard as he could. The man stumbled a bit in surprise and Harry quickly ducked out of the way, sliding a foot against Riddle's ankle as he moved.
Riddle almost fell to the floor, but he quickly caught his balance and had his wand in his hand before Harry was back to his own feet. "Interfico."
Harry gasped as the Dark cutting curse hit his shoulder. He ducked the next three curses sent his way and tossed whatever he could get his hands on at the Dark Lord on his way. Another interfico hit his left leg and he went down, hissing in pain.
Riddle was standing over Harry, a Killing Curse on his lips, when pops of apparation surrounded them and brought both wizards out of their fight. Their fight, which had taken place in a muggle supermarket. Aurors and obliviators would have been sent to deal with them and the muggles. If Riddle was caught, someone would die. If Harry was caught, his current residence would become public knowledge and the Death Eaters would come, or he'd be forced to go to a safe house.
Riddle reached down and grabbed the hand Harry was holding out to him and apparated them away before any of the new arrivals could get more than a brief glance of them.
As soon as they'd reappeared, Harry let go, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Damn it."
Riddle leaned back against the wall of the alley he'd apparated them to. "I hate aurors," he grunted, rubbing at his cheek, where a box Harry'd thrown had left a mark.
Harry glanced up at the Dark Lord for a long moment, then started snickering.
Riddle glanced down at the teen and snorted, feeling a smile pull at his mouth. Suddenly, the whole fight seemed so ridiculous.
Once they'd both calmed down again, Riddle shot a couple of healing spells at the teen, then helped him to his feet. By that point, Harry had recognised the alley they were in and asked, "Hungry?"
Riddle snorted and led the way down the street to the bistro. Fletch greeted them both with a wide smile and set about making them food. When Harry pulled out pounds to pay, Fletch blessed him with a teasing grin and said, "You'll pay me in francs one day."
"Alas, not today," Harry replied, picking up his food and following Riddle out to the table they'd sat at last time. The two ate in silence for a while before Harry asked, "You're not really going to attack Hermione, are you?"
Riddle eyed him over his soup for a moment before admitting, "No. When she joins Dumbledore's Order, maybe."
"Or after you've wrung all my secrets out of me," Harry added drily.
Riddle smirked. "A distinct probability."
Harry snorted and pointed his spoon at the Dark Lord. "Definitely not telling you."
"You'll tell me," Riddle said with the air of someone who knew everything.
Harry snorted again and returned to his soup, intending no such thing.
Harry was using a bit of his sandwich to mop up the last of his soup when Riddle commented, "We'll have to find some way to make your protectors think you weren't at that grocery."
Harry sighed. "Good luck, there. I mean, there's another grocery in the other direction, but it's not as close. And unless you've got a time turner..." Harry trailed off as Riddle pulled just such a device out of a pocket. "...Do laws mean anything to you?"
"Laws are meant to be broken," Riddle replied, slipping the restricted magical artefact back into his pocket. "I believe you're also familiar with that motto?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Why would I go to the other grocery, then? I was clearly headed in the right direction when I left the hostel."
"Potter, you've spent a week in that shabby muggle hole–"
"It's not shabby."
"–and you've gone out all of five times: once to Diagon, thrice to the pub 'round the block, and once to go clothes shopping. All of your destinations have been in a different direction than that grocery. Perhaps you took a wrong turn, got lost and went to the nearest grocery you saw."
"Which just happened to be the one I knew of in the other direction?" Harry suggested drily.
"It would make sense that, once you recognised the part of town you were in, you'd go to the nearest shop, even if it's not, necessarily, the shop that's nearest to the muggle hole."
"Would you stop calling it that?"
"I refrained from calling it shabby."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "You're not shopping with me again."
Riddle rose an eyebrow. "Oh? You're planning to stop me?"
"You're intending to call the aurors to a second grocery near my hostel?"
"Are you suggesting I can't keep from cursing you?"
Harry just shot him a knowing look.
Riddle twitched minutely, then nodded. "If you're ready to go back...?"
Harry glanced down at his empty tray, then sighed and stood. "Yeah. Might as well."
Fletch stepped out as Riddle stood. "You're off, then?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the meal, it was brilliant," Harry replied, smiling an honest smile.
Fletch made a comment in French which had Harry frowning in confusion and Riddle snorting. The Frenchman smiled at them. "Don't be strangerz."
The two wizards waved, then started down the avenue. They could still see the bistro when Harry asked, "Why this shop? Surely you could find a soup and sandwich shop in England, somewhere?"
"I'm too well known in England."
"Not like this you're not," Harry replied, waving at Riddle's human form. "I can count the number of people who might recognise you on one hand."
Riddle shrugged. "Fletch is discrete."
"Plenty of discrete shops in England."
Riddle stopped as they reached the alley he used for apparation and gave Harry a vaguely irritated look. "Why do you have to know?"
Harry shrugged. "It doesn't fit. You can go anywhere for a soup and sandwich, so why here? Why some muggle shop in southern France?"
"Squib."
"Huh?"
"Fletch is a squib," Riddle repeated.
Harry's mouth formed an 'o'. That...explains so much. Why Fletch takes British pounds, why Voldemort is willing to eat at his shop...
Riddle sneered. "Now that your curiosity has been sated, will you get over here?" He pulled out the time-turner.
"Oh. Yeah." Harry offered the Dark Lord a sheepish smile and walked over so he could loop the cord around Harry's neck and take them back in time.
Harry rolled his eyes at the painfully-obvious wizard who was sitting at a bench across the street from the hostel. He'd been almost done with his shopping, take two, when Tonks had shown up and offered to help him carry his bags back to the hostel. Tonks had never explained why she'd 'just happened' to be in the area, and Harry had pretended he didn't know.
Almost as soon as Tonks had left, someone had taken up residence on the bench across the way and switched out with someone else every few hours. Harry had been making bets with himself about how much longer they were going to be guarding him; it had already been two days, and Harry was hoping they wouldn't last more than a week. He wasn't in any actual danger. (Well, okay, every time he left the hostel without one of his new muggle friends, he was joined by the Dark Lord, but since Riddle didn't intend to kill him, that pretty much counted as safe. Right?)
At any rate, he had a lunch date with Hermione on the other side of London in an hour and he needed to decide if he would be letting his current protector know. If he knew the Order – and after a year of being trained by Mad-Eye and months of trading owls with Remus, he knew how they worked, even if he didn't always know what they were doing – they didn't mean for him to know they were watching him, but they'd freak out if he called the Knight Bus and left his residence without a word to anyone inside the Order.
In the end, Harry shrugged and made his way out of the hostel, waving his goodbyes to his hall mates when they called after him. (He'd told them the day before that he'd be out for most of the day with a school friend and they'd been a little nervous about it, but Harry wasn't about to let one of them come with him.) Once he was outside, he carefully crossed the street and made his way to Dedalus Diggle, raising an amused eyebrow at the nervous expression on the man's face. "Hey, Dedalus."
Dedalus groaned and slouched on the bench. "Cheers, Harry."
Harry smiled and leant casually against a parking sign next to the bench. "I thought I'd let you know that I'm going to be out for a while. I've a lunch date with Hermione on the other side of town. Didn't want you freaking out when I got on the Knight Bus."
The grown wizard sighed and nodded. "Thanks."
Harry pushed off the sign, hands in his pockets. "You might consider wearing some trousers," he suggested, then turned and started down the street. He had no intention of calling the bus this near his hostel. Anyway, he'd probably have someone else to dissuade.
As expected, Riddle fell in next to him once the hostel and Dedalus were both out of sight. "They seriously think they're being covert?" he snarked.
Harry shrugged. "Apparently." He glanced up at the Dark Lord from beneath his cap. "You're not coming with me."
"You're planning to stop me, then?"
Harry stopped and gave the Dark Lord an unamused look. "You're not coming with me. Period."
Riddle cocked an eyebrow at him. "What if Death Eaters attack?" he said with mock fear.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I should hope you have enough control over them to keep them out of Chelsea for the day."
Riddle's eyes gleamed. "Where in Chelsea?"
"Oh, not sure yet. Why don't you just keep them away from the whole area? Perhaps even out of London completely. Go raid a muggle town near Ipswich."
They spent a moment staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. Harry probably would have missed his lunch date entirely if a couple of kids hadn't been running down the pavement and crashed into them.
Riddle looked absolutely murderous, but Harry jumped between him and the two kids, who were on their behinds, looking shocked. "You two okay, then?"
The two kids just kept staring up at him, their shock turning to awe.
Harry frowned, wondering if they hadn't knocked themselves together a bit hard. Then his cap was firmly put back on his head, over his scar, and he grimaced. "Ah."
Riddle sneered at the kids. "I could obliviate them," he suggested with a hint of pleasure at the chance.
Harry rolled his eyes and reached out his hands to help the kids to their feet. "Come on, girls. Ignore him."
The two girls looked like they couldn't believe they were going to be touching Harry Potter's hand, but with Riddle looming imperiously behind the Boy-Who-Lived, they both reached out and let Harry help them up without a word.
"Nothing broken?" Harry asked. When both girls shook their heads, he smiled. "Good. Now–" he leaned in, dropping his voice a bit "–I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention to anyone that you saw me, yeah? We don't need any Death Eaters mucking about here, trying to catch me."
"Especially not Him," one of the girls whispered, eyes wide with fear.
Harry nodded solemnly. "Especially not the Dark Lord," he agreed.
Both girls swore they wouldn't mention having seen Harry, then dashed off, shooting awed looked over their shoulders.
"You should have let me obliviate them," Riddle grouched as they started walking again.
"Probably," Harry agreed with a shrug, "but they're enough in awe of me – and scared of you – that by the time they actually tell anyone they saw me, I'll be of age and it won't matter. Anyway," he glanced up at Riddle with a hint of a smirk, "if someone mentions that I might be in London, I have every faith that you'll call them an idiot and tell them I'm in Northampton or some such."
Riddle's lips twitched with a smile. "And how might I know that?"
Harry tapped his cap over his scar. "You always know where I am, clearly. How dare they question you!"
Riddle outright laughed at that and Harry grinned. "They'd never question me," Riddle said once he'd stopped laughing.
"See, you don't even have to come up with some nonsense excuse," Harry replied as he stopped walking and pulled out his wand to call the Knight Bus, since they'd reached the Leaky Cauldron. "Now, go curse someone and let me enjoy my lunch. Without Death Eaters, if you please."
Riddle snorted and twitched his hand in an approximation of a wave before he stepped into the Leaky.
Harry called the Knight Bus and climbed on, still smiling. "Fulham Road and Edith Grove," he requested, handing over his fare before Stan could tell him the additional amenities he could get if he wanted. He'd barely managed to reach a seat before the bus was zipping through early afternoon London traffic, and Harry sort of fell into the chair sideways, one hand grabbing for the wall while the other made sure his cap stayed on – he didn't need anyone on the Knight Bus recognising him.
One dizzying ride later, Harry climbed off the bus with a relieved sigh. I can't wait until I can apparate, he thought to himself.
"Harry?" a quiet voice asked and Harry turned to smile at his friend. Hermione smiled back. "You went shopping," she observed.
Harry shrugged and reached up to push his sunglasses a bit further up on his nose. "Yeah. My hall mates insisted that I needed a wardrobe that wasn't hanging off my bones. Is it okay, then?"
"You look fantastic," Hermione admitted, reaching forward and lifting the cap just a bit so she could actually see his face. "Almost didn't recognise you with the hat and the sunglasses."
Harry grinned. "Sort of the point."
Hermione shook her head, amused. "Yes, well..." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, then. What do you do indoors? You can't wear the sunglasses, then. And if you went to a nice restaurant where you couldn't wear the cap?"
"Ah..." Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, just hope no one thinks anything of my eyes? And... hm..." He shrugged. "Haven't had to go to any nice restaurants. I'd have to go shopping again, first, anyway. Dunno. Sort of limited without magic."
Hermione smiled a bit sadly. "Well, you've only got another month."
"Exactly!" Harry darted forward and slipped his arm through Hermione's with a grin. "This okay?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure." Hermione loosened her stance so their position was a bit more natural, then started walking along the pavement, Harry with her. "I'm not sure what all you'd want to eat, but there are a couple of shops down here, so we can pick whatever."
Harry shrugged. "Not too picky, really. I've been eating mostly my own cooking of late, with the occasional side of pub food, so..."
Hermione sort of rolled her eyes and directed them to a steakhouse that served a bit of everything. There, Hermione got a chicken salad, while Harry got himself a fish pie and a side salad. They sat back and chatted about the jobs they were considering after they graduated – Hermione was looking into finding something in the Ministry, while Harry was still considering the aurors a bit – and what they were looking forward to learning that year.
Once their food arrived, Hermione discretely put up a silencing charm and a mild muggle repelling charm.
Once he was sure they wouldn't be overheard, Harry said, "I am sorry, 'Mione."
Hermione sighed and poked at her salad. "I know. I just... Harry, what was that spell?"
Harry swallowed a bite of his pie before saying, "The Curse of a Hundred Daggers. A successful casting conjures one hundred daggers and sends them at the opponent. A skilled caster can direct each of the daggers where they want them to go, and the Ministry legalised it because there have been a few aurors who were skilled enough to use it in cornering and disabling Dark wizards."
Hermione gave him a worried look. "Are you skilled?"
Harry snorted. "No. I've only cast it successfully three times, counting the battle."
Hermione chewed her bottom lip, watching Harry work on his pie without any apparent concern. "Why? Why learn any Dark magic? What does it prove?"
Harry considered his friend for a long moment before saying, "It proves nothing. It's not meant to." He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. "Hermione, most aurors learn Dark spells, both to use against those they have to hunt down and so they have a chance of recognising a spell coming at them. There are any number of Dark spells which look similar enough to some of the common Grey spells, that a witch or wizard who doesn't know the difference would use the wrong sort of protection against it. That's not so bad for normal witches and wizard, who avoid the Death Eaters; for me, though, that's a death sentence."
"Couldn't you just be taught to look for the differences? Do you have to learn them?"
"I..." Harry shook his head. "No. I could just learn what to look for. But..." He sighed and made an aborted movement to rub at his covered scar, even though it wasn't actually bothering him. " 'Mione, I'm facing one of the worst Dark Lords in centuries; there's no way I can beat him using only Light or Grey magic. If I hadn't used that spell at the end of the year, they would have destroyed us."
"You don't know that!"
"Yes, I do. And if you'd stop and think about it for longer than the five minutes it takes you to envision the outcome again, you'd know I'm right!" Harry snapped, glaring.
Hermione looked for a moment like she might cry, but she gathered herself and frowned at him. "We could have conjured mirrors along the wall behind them and ricocheted stunners at them."
"They'd have done it right back with something worse," Harry replied quietly, angry at himself for yelling at her. "I simply ended it before they had the chance."
"You're rationalising using a Dark spell! Harry, you killed people!"
Harry looked away, knowing Hermione wouldn't accept his claims of self-defence any more than Riddle had. "I did what I had to, to protect the other students," he said to his salad, then looked up at her, eyes dark. "It was us or them, Hermione. I chose us. And, yeah, people died, but now there's eighteen less Death Eaters threatening people. There are twenty children – including you and me – that got to walk out of that castle under our own power."
Hermione sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and looked down at her salad. "If you could do it over–?"
"I would do the same thing."
Hermione nodded and stared down at her salad in silence.
Eventually, Harry picked his fork back up and turned it on his pie again. Shortly after he started eating again, Hermione followed suit, and they finished their meal in silence and paid.
When Harry pulled out his money to pay for his half, he made a mental note to run by Gringotts before he went out shopping again; his muggle funds were running a bit low.
Their silence continued out onto the pavement. They had passed a few shops when Hermione suddenly reached out and slipped her arm through Harry's, making him flinch, then look over at her curiously. "How do you live with it?" she whispered.
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I tell myself it was worth it; add up how many people would be dead if I hadn't done what I did." He sighed and glanced around them at the clueless muggles who went about their lives, all unknowing. "I accept it as best I can. Shove it away in my mind to think about when all this is over. Perhaps, then, I'll break down and cry for all the fathers and brothers that I felled. For now, I just think of all the children and siblings I've saved."
Hermione nodded, then admitted, "I have nightmares. About the blood."
Harry sighed and reached up to squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I wish you hadn't seen that."
Hermione shrugged, but leaned against him a bit awkwardly. "You weren't bothered by it."
"Before I mastered Occlumency, I saw Voldemort's dreams at times. That was...not so bad."
"Oh, Harry..."
Harry forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"You always say that."
"That's because I'm always fine."
Hermione let out a choked laugh and shook her head.
They kept walking past where the Knight Bus had dropped Harry, enjoying each other's company. After another block, Hermione pulled back a bit so they weren't so awkward and admitted, "I missed you."
Harry glanced over with an easy smile. "I missed you, too," he replied.
"We should do lunch again."
"Okay." They stepped out of the way of foot traffic, slowing to a stop outside an antiques shop. "Same time and place next week?" Harry suggested.
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. And bring lighter topics to talk about."
Harry chuckled. "I'll do that."
Hermione smiled in reply and, for just a moment, Harry saw her as she'd been six years ago when she'd come dashing into their compartment, asking about Neville's toad and being excited about being the first witch in her family.
But then the moment was gone and Hermione was wishing him a safe trip home and turning to leave. Harry felt a terrible sense of loss as he waved and made his way to the kerb to call the bus.
It hadn't been hard for him to track Harry down. Ever since the failed possession a year ago, Tom had always known where the boy was; it had taken quite a bit of getting used to that first summer, especially before he figured out what was happening. It hadn't been until he'd had Harry's wand, however, that he was actually able to tap into that skill and hunt the boy down. Before that, he'd only really had the sense that Harry was south of him, or whatever, but he didn't have a focus to help him pinpoint the exact position. The wand solved that.
He'd still had trouble tracking the boy while he was moving around, so he hadn't managed to actually find him until he and his friend had sat down at the steakhouse. He'd been a little surprised that Harry had actually ended up in Chelsea, but since the boy clearly suspected that Tom could track him, he'd probably not seen the point in lying. Wise brat.
Tom settled down across the street from the steakhouse and cast a quick spell to let him keep an eye on Harry and the mudblood without seeming to. He didn't have any audio, but he could make a guess from their stressed body language that they were discussing Harry's usage of Dark magic. Tom wished he could hear them – maybe Harry would slip and Tom's questions would be answered. That would be brilliant. Then they could go back to trying to kill each other.
Tom paused, considering that. Killing him has always been something I looked forward to – the death of Harry Potter would be the end of this war; sure, Dumbledore will still be around, but he seems intent on letting Harry face me – so why is it that I'm no longer pleased? What is this... sorrow? Why sorrow? I enjoy this time with him, when he's not dodging his actions. To kill him means no more shopping or lunches at Fletch's bistro, but that’s hardly a great loss.
Tom shook the paper he was pretending to read and stared at the silent image of Harry and the mudblood. He recognised the expression on the boy's face from the times he tried to make excuses for his murder of the Death Eaters. Then, Harry's expression darkened, and Tom realised that the boy wasn't going to excuse himself, for once. No talk of self-defence. No dehumanising the men he'd killed. And Tom felt...jealous.
Tom shifted angrily in his seat. Sorrow at the thought of killing the boy; jealousy because Harry was honest with someone else... They were fully his emotions, not echoes from Harry. He could feel the echoes from Harry, the awkward happiness, the pain and anger, the self-hatred...
What's wrong with me today?
Tom wished he could hear Harry's honesty, but he settled for being amused by the mudblood's obvious struggle to accept the boy's response.
When they left the steakhouse, Tom fell in a distance behind them and another spell allowed him to hear them. He almost smiled at Harry's brutal honesty about how he lived with himself, even as a part of Tom mourned the knowledge that there was a high chance that Harry wouldn't live to see the end of this war.
But, perhaps, that's for the best.
The knowledge that Harry used to see his dreams almost bothered Tom. He, himself, had never been bothered by some of the things he and his people did, but knowing Harry as he did... He wondered what horrors the teen had seen. He wondered how Harry – Gryffindor and self-sacrificing idiot that he was – wasn't falling to pieces.
Tom stood back and watched their parting, debating whether he should make himself known or not and offer the teen a quicker way home, when he was hit with such a feeling of loss and grief that he had to throw out a hand and catch himself on the nearest building. He looked up at the teens, but all he saw was the mudblood saying her goodbyes.
Tom gathered himself and hurried forward, calling, "You're an idiot, Potter."
Harry turned to look at him, his eyes shining with sorrow for a moment longer, then, strangely, pleasure, which was quickly masked by irritation. "Why this time?"
"You could have had the mud–" the ugly expression that crawled across Harry's face had Tom correcting himself without even thinking about it "–muggleborn apparate you back to your hole."
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not a hole."
"I've seen that room, Potter. It's a hole."
Harry shrugged. "It's not a suite, but it serves its purpose. And I don't really want to chance her running into you."
"Your faith in my ability to avoid your friends is heart-warming."
Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, then shrugged. "Whatever. So, was your appearance and calling me names some code for, 'Harry, would you like me to apparate you back to your hole', or do I need to call the Knight Bus?"
Tom snorted and motioned for Harry to follow him to a nearby alley. There, he made sure Harry's scar and eyes were sufficiently covered, then apparated them to the Leaky Cauldron.
They walked in silence for most of their trip, but a few blocks from the hostel, Tom asked, "You felt loss when she was leaving."
Harry blinked and glanced up at the taller wizard. "You felt that?"
Tom sniffed. "Yes. It was irritating."
Harry smiled and shrugged. "I saw a vision of the past: 'Mione, the first time we met, before all this death."
"You're an idiot."
"I know." They both stopped just out of sight of the hostel and Harry turned to look at him. "Thanks."
"What for this time?" Tom snapped, uncomfortable with the way the brat was always thanking him.
"For apparating me back. For worrying about me."
"I don't worry about you!"
Harry smiled an obnoxious, knowing smile and turned towards the hostel. "Bye, Tom."
"Potter!"
Harry just walked away, chuckling, and Tom couldn't help the answering smile that stole across his lips as he turned to walk the other way; it was the first time Harry had used his given name.
-0-
A/N: So, the steakhouse that Harry and Hermione go to in Chelsea wasn't, technically, opened until 2002. *shifty eyes* Creative license, thanks. (Never been to that area before, myself, but there could be another steakhouse near there, right? *sweatdrop* )
~Bats ^.^x
Spell Explanations:
- Interfico -- meaning 'slay' in Latin.
Very much like the cutting curse of the books, except a hit to the chest or throat will kill the victim, even just a glancing blow. Does not work on inanimate objects.
Abandon the Prequel: Sixth Year
Abandon chapter 01
Reclaim chapter One
Abandoned Chapters:
One || Two ||
Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || Fifteen || Sixteen || Seventeen || Eighteen || Nineteen || Twenty
INCOMPLETE
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