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Chapter 21: Twenty One

Notes:

I've decided to give you this half of the chapter early (be aware though, that I'm naming them as separate chapters so they match up with the number of chapters xD) I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Text

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Draco's POV

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Draco was seething as he picked himself up from the floor with shaky legs.

He could feel the primal rage bubbling inside him, and his nails drew blood as they dug into his palms as he clenched his fists too tight.

Voldemort smirked at him, and he knew his eyes must have flashed the bright amber that shone whenever his emotions were too volatile. Luna had mentioned it during their secret rendezvous' at night, though she rather liked it. Draco didn't because it was just another reminder of the cursed life he now led.

The amber would flash, no matter how he tried to disguise his eyes. Though he would never tell a soul, Harry's suggestion of Muggle contact lenses had been the best solution for the general hiding of them; of course as far as everyone else knew he used a Glamour charm.

He scowled as he thought of Harry again; it was all his fault he had spent the last fifteen minutes under the Cruciatus Curse.

The boy hadn't turned up to their usual meeting place, and Draco had waited, but still nothing happened; not even a message was sent. That pointless waiting made him two minutes late; five seconds late was too late for the Dark Lord, and he had paid the price for it. He was further tortured for not having killed Dumbledore yet, some more for not having found the Death Eaters a way into Hogwarts, and a lot more torture simply for the fact Voldemort was a sadistic bastard.

He took one glance at Riddle, and saw that his torture was not over yet.

"Get out of my sight, beast," the Dark Lord hissed menacingly, and Draco scrambled from the room as fast as he could on shaky limbs.

He could scent Riddle walking behind him, but he said nothing, knowing the Dark wizard wouldn't respond well to it.

Draco pulled the door to his room open, and then an elegant hand slammed it shut.

Draco turned slowly, not surprised to see a vicious Tom Riddle standing before him. Draco wondered faintly if Riddle knew Harry had told Draco his real name, but even if he did, Harry wouldn't be punished for it, at least not publically. Remembering the Gryffindor made his anger rage again, especially knowing that Harry was the only reason Riddle was here.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" Riddle asked politely, but Draco could hear the cold, menacing tone in the voice.

Draco opened his door and gestured for Tom to step inside. He shut the door and opened his mouth to tell Riddle he had no idea of Harry's whereabouts, but he was writhing on the floor in pain before he had a chance.

"Where is he?" Riddle demanded, standing over Draco with his wand still shooting red sparks.

"I-I don't know," Draco stammered, and Tom cast Cruciatus again; Draco had to bite down on his fist to stop from screaming.



"Go and find him, you worthless animal," Riddle hissed, bringing Draco to his feet with a wave of his hand. "I don't know what Harry sees in you, but remember, dear Draco," Tom mocked, his eyes flashing as red as the torturous curse, "you could be chopped to bits and thrown in the River Thames, and Harry would believe whatever I tell him; the cowardly werewolf who chose to run away from his worthless life, perhaps."

Draco shuddered, because he knew that Riddle was right; Harry would believe whatever Tom told him, and strangely, Draco didn't pity him.

X

Draco landed back at Hogwarts, for once having a shaky landing, though he knew if he hadn't been tortured so much he'd have stayed presentable, but it wasn't like anyone saw.

He sighed; he had no idea where to start looking for Harry. Once he found him, he was going to release all his anger on the boy, and then drag him to Riddle.

As he neared the Slytherin common rooms, he heard a screech and then Pansy was upon him.

"Draco? What are you doing back?" the girl asked, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him towards the staircase which would take them to the higher levels of the castle. "Guess what happened?"

"How can I guess? I've not been here," Draco replied shortly; he wasn't in the mood for gossip.

"I'll tell you the least interesting thing first," Pansy continued, not deterred in the slightest by Draco's lack of enthusiasm. "You know that oaf Hagrid? Apparently he has a brother who's full giant, and Longbottom and Granger accidently released him, and he came storming into the castle."

"Hopefully he'll finally get the sack then; Father was furious when he was allowed to stay after that hideous creature of his nearly killed me," Draco scowled, thinking back to the incident with the Hippogriff in his third year; the animal had been slaughtered though, which was some consolation.

"But that's not the main thing that happened," Pansy said, dragging him over towards a group of students who were watching Filch scrub at the floor frantically. Draco's nose turned up as he eyed the Squib, but then his nose caught scent of something…was that blood?

He looked down at the ground, and Filch was indeed scrubbing away at blood stains on the floor. The students were all standing around, gossiping with each other and pointing up at the staircase above them, where Aurors were marching about; they had been at Hogwarts far too much lately.

"You know Harry? Harry Potter?" Pansy asked.

Draco frowned; of course he knew who Harry was-wait, what did he have to do with anything? He felt his blood freeze as his eyes zoned in on the red stains on the stone floor.

"He fell from the staircase; third floor people are saying," Pansy told him, a serious look now on her face.

"What?" Draco questioned, his brain not quite processing what Pansy had said; surely Harry hadn't fallen. "What's happened? Is he-?"

"He's alive," Pansy finished for him, but she looked grim. "I can't imagine he'll be in much of a state though; heard he's in the Hospital Wing."

Draco suddenly felt sick, and all the rage he felt towards Harry seemed to disintegrate.

"Draco?" he heard Pansy's voice say, sounding strangely distant. She repeated it, clearer. "Draco? Are you alright? You've gone really pale."

"I need to-" Draco started, but he was running before he could tell Pansy what he was doing, and he ignored her calling after him.

He sprinted down to the dungeons, and as he fiddled with readying the Portkey doubts started to kick in.

If he told Riddle, there was a chance the sociopath would blame him and torture him for what happened, or likely do worse. But he couldn't hide from Riddle forever, and doing that would also involve avoiding the Dark Lord, which definitely wouldn't end well, plus Riddle would do worse to him if he hid what he knew. Either way it didn't look good.

He took a deep breath before activating the Portkey, and when he landed he ran to Riddle's room before he could change his mind.

He hesitated for only a moment before knocking; even if Riddle reacted badly, he knew wasting time would cause a worse reaction.

Riddle answered and looked at Draco impatiently, narrowing his eyes when he saw Draco was alone.

"Well?" Riddle snarled, making Draco shiver, and he realised he didn't dare tell this terrifying man in front of him, but his Occlumency shields would never stand against Riddle, no matter how surprisingly good a teacher Aunt Bellatrix was.

"He's in the Hospital Wing," Draco blurted out before he chickened out. Riddle's expression darkened. "H-he f-fell from the Grand Staircase," he stammered, flinching as Riddle immediately had a wand pressed against his throat.

"That's not possible," Riddle hissed. "There are wards preventing people from falling."

"I don't know, but there's Aurors all over the place and blood on the floor and-" he yelped as Riddle hit him with his wand, but the pain he expected never happened. Draco opened the eyes he hadn't realised he had shut, just in time to see Tom wave his wand over himself, morphing into Draco.

"Stay in your room until I return," Riddle demanded.

Draco was more than happy to comply.

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Tom's POV

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Tom grabbed the Portkey Draco had left him, focusing his magic on the Horcrux inside of Harry so the wards would become confused and allow him entry to Hogwarts.

He wasn't surprised when it worked and he had a gentle landing in the dungeon corridor of Hogwarts.

He headed straight for the first floor; that was where the Hospital Wing had been during his time at Hogwarts, and he doubted that had changed.

He was curious as to whether the Malfoy boy had been telling the truth, or if he had just been listening to the mindless gossip that pleased the simple minds of the students. If Harry had been involved in a fall, however, he found it peculiar he was able to fall through the wards; they must have been removed before hand, which would have made the fall intentional, either on Harry's or another's part; he was certain it was the latter.

He blew a strand of blond hair from his eyes, and made sure to straighten his posture as he prepared to enter the Hospital Wing.

He had taken no more than a step inside when the matron seemed to descend on him, a scowl across her face.

"I must ask that you leave, Mr. Malfoy," she said sharply, "unless you are having a medical emergency."

Tom scowled back. "I'd like to see Harry," he told the woman. "I'm his friend; surely I'm entitled to?"

"He is with family," the matron said in a dangerous tone; if only she knew who she was really talking to.

"He's okay to come and see him, thank you, Madame Pomfrey," a small voice said, and the pair looked to see Harry's sister watching them with red eyes. She sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand; Tom found her rather disgusting.

"Very well," Madame Pomphrey agreed, "but if I hear one snide comment from you, Mr. Malfoy, then you're out."

Tom decided she wasn't going to be working at Hogwarts much longer; who was this woman to think she could talk to him that way? If she was any sort of real Healer, she'd be working at St. Mungo's, not a school.

"Thank you for coming to see him," the girl muttered to him as they walked over to Harry's bed; he believed her name was Heather, but he didn't particularly care. "It's nice to know he has a friend who cares."

Tom made a 'hmm'ing noise, brushing aside the curtain surrounding Harry's bed impatiently and looking at the boy in the bed, paying no attention to those standing around him, though he could sense their questioning looks. He heard Heather explaining who he supposedly was to them.

Harry's body was covered by the thick blankets up to his collar bone, but even so he still managed to look so small in the hospital bed. He was asleep, or perhaps unconscious, and his head was bruised, with large patches of murky green and brown across his face.

The matron had admittedly done a good job cleaning Harry up, but Tom wished he could have seen how the boy looked when he had first fallen; he longed to understand Harry completely; understand how his mind ticked, and how his body worked too.

He shifted as he imagined slicing the bruising on Harry's face open; watch the blood mar the stained skin, trailing down his soft features. Perhaps it would pool on Harry's lips, feeding the boy with his own life.

He shifted again, making sure his trousers were arranged suitably so he didn't gain unnecessary attention. He wanted to curse Harry for making him react in these unusual ways, if only he didn't need Harry to understand why, and he had to understand. He understood everything apart from Harry.

Tom knew what being attractive was; he was aware of his own looks, after all. He knew too well that every girl swooned over him while he was at school, and the boys who were gay or bisexual, even if lying about their sexuality to avoid hatred, liked him too. He had classically handsome looks that struck a chord with everyone, and he didn't mind; an attractive face made it easier for him to manipulate people, but he just never found that attraction in other people; until he met Harry.

Of course, Harry wasn't as attractive as he was; Harry wasn't short, but he wasn't tall either. His hair was a mess and his features weren't chiseled enough, while he was slim but not toned. However he was attractive to Tom; perhaps it was because despite the differences in their looks, they were still so similar, yet despite that, Harry was still so innocent and corruptible. He seemed to be just begging to be violated, manipulated and torn open from the inside, and Tom wanted desperately to do that to him.

And Harry's eyes; they were like his mother's, but hers were tainted with motherly determination, whereas Harry's were free and open, and most importantly they were blinded to Tom's darkest side, which made gaining control so much easier. Tom had a theory their colour matched the colour of emerald exactly. He had been so convinced, he was certain he could remove Harry's eyes and replace them with the green gem, and nobody would be able to tell the difference. He had even sat one night when Harry was sleeping, with the cold tip of a blade resting on Harry's face, an emerald clutched in the other hand, as he contemplated digging the knife in and carrying out his thought. In the end he had decided blindness was not a trait he wanted in a person who was carrying part of his soul, and had thrown the blade down.

That wasn't the first time he had sat by Harry with a knife in his hand however, and most of his ideas would cause less permanent damage. He just wanted to see inside Harry; he longed to slice his skin open and watch the blood drip. He would become unbearably aroused at those thoughts, and he soon discovered that fucking Harry helped him explore his urges, as he could be inside of Harry; feel what it was like.

He licked his lips, clearing his mind so he wouldn't give away his reaction to Harry's family.

He finally tore his eyes away from the teenager, glancing at the parents.

James Potter, the pathetic alcohol addict; it was worse that he was a Pure-blood, was trembling, and his eyes never left his son. Lily Potter, the woman Tom would have gladly had on his side had she not been a Mudblood, was red-eyed, but she looked fierce too, and she had been able to get control over her emotions; Tom had to admit that was a surprise. Weren't mothers supposed to be weepy, useless things? His own mother certainly had been; she couldn't even give birth without messing it up.

The door to the Hospital Wing swung open, and then a man was running inside; if Tom hadn't needed use of Draco Malfoy, he would have cursed Remus Lupin right there, and it was probably Malfoy who had told Remus what had happened.

Tom and Voldemort had both insisted Lupin stay behind, and spy on the rogue werewolves from a distance. They had both forbidden him from leaving, and as he had nowhere else to go he had no choice but to stay, but he had clearly found a reason to fight now.

"Remus?" he heard James say in shock, his voice a mixture of anger and joy.

"Is Harry ok? I came as soon as I heard," the werewolf muttered, running and collapsing onto his knees by Harry's bed.

"You're alive? Where have you been? Why haven't you been in touch?" James questioned, and the anger rose with each word.

"James!" Lily hissed warningly, keeping her eyes firmly on Harry. "I'm glad you're here, Remus; Harry needs you."

Remus had only just noticed him, and he visibly gulped as he realised who this Draco really was.

"Can I talk to you in private?" Madame Pomfrey asked, coming over to the group and gesturing to James, Lily and Remus, who nodded and left to the matron's office, albeit reluctantly.

As they left, Luna came running in; she smiled at Tom, and he knew she knew exactly who he was, but then she turned her focus to Harry. She reached a hand out to gently stroke his face.

"Poor thing," she cooed, and Heather started to cry again. Luna gathered her in her arms, allowing the younger girl to sob into her shoulder. Luna threw a look at Tom and he smirked at her.

Harry made a small noise, and the three of them turned their attention back to the boy.

He seemed to be dreaming; his hands were twitching violently beneath the covers, and his eyelids were fluttering. He groaned again, and suddenly the adults were rushing back to Harry's bedside.

"What's wrong with him?" James demanded to know, as he and Remus tried to hold the now thrashing boy down.

Madame Pomfrey and Lily, a Healer herself, both Muggle and Magical, looked perplexed. Tom presumed Harry must be having a vision of some sort, though very likely unwillingly, and he had a fairly good idea of who had caused it, but he would prefer Harry to stay trapped longer, so he had more information to work out how Slytherin had worked it.

What none of them expected was for Harry to jerk upwards, his eyes snapping open.

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Date: 2015-12-18; view: 576


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