Chasing Harry

Chapter Three: Impressions

A tall, dark man rushed into the room, doors slamming behind him.

"Tom Riddle is alive."

"I know." The one who answered stopped pacing around his study and faced the new arrival. "My son told me."

"I see." This man was bulkier, and wider. His dark hair was cut short and curled at the back of his neck, just over the collar of his mahogany robe.

"Why haven't you informed us earlier?"

"I just received the news yesterday."

The visitor glanced at him sharply, shrewd brown eyes scrutinizing his host's face. "I got the impression your son is already quite... chummy with him."

"I wouldn't know," the blond answered coldly. "He didn't divulge the extent of their companionship. What does this have to do with us?"

"Why, Lucius! This has everything to do with us."

***

"Harry."

Harry Potter looked up from his Potions textbook and met a pair of vivid green eyes.

"Tom?"

The Slytherin gave him a short smile. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a while."

"Well, sure." Harry glanced at the librarian's desk where Madame Pince was sitting, looking sharply at them. She pointedly gestured to a sign overhead that simply said: Silence Please.

Tom caught the signal and angled his head to the exit. "Maybe we should continue this outside."

Harry followed him to the hallway. When they got there, the passage was empty as most students were either in their classes or in the dormitories.

"I heard you've been hanging out with Malfoy," Harry blurted out unexpectedly. His face coloured instantly, embarrassed with his outburst.

Tom's face first registered surprise but he had the grace to look contrite in a second. "I'm sorry. I know I should be spending the time with you. Dumbledore told me--"

"No!" Harry interrupted. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have phrased it that way."

He breathed deeply and looked back at Tom. "What I meant was that I'm happy for you. I'm glad you've found friends from your own House."

Tom smiled. "We do hang out together sometimes. Although two of his other friends don't seem to speak much aside from occasional grunts and nods."

"Ah, yes. Crabbe and Goyle." Harry nodded sagely. "They aren't known for their communication skills. Was that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh no. To be honest, I want to ask for your help."

"My help in particular?" Harry's eyebrow rose.

"Yes. It would be quite useless to ask someone else." Tom shrugged and looked around. "But if you're busy..."

"I'd be glad to help you. What is it about?"

"Ginny."

"Ginny?"

"I know I promised Ron I'd talk to her but I can't seem to be able to do it. Not that I haven't tried. But every time I get within twenty meters of her in the halls she runs to the opposite direction. And I don't see her much during meals." Tom gestured helplessly. "I really want to get this over with."

Harry's brow furrowed. He was not aware that Ginny had been avoiding Tom this much. "Gosh, Tom... I don't know what to say. You really hurt her that year. She almost died."

"I know. I know that and I'm sorry it all happened. I'd take it back if I could." He ran his hand tensely over his dark hair. "God! You cannot imagine the things I've had to see to realize that... But she wouldn't let me come near her. I would never hurt her. You know that, Harry."

Harry kept silent for a moment. No, I don't know that. I don't even know you that well, Tom. Oh stop being so suspicious, Harry! He might be really sincere about all this. He set aside his doubts and looked back at Tom.

"I'll tell you what... I'll help you meet up with her but I won't help you with the apology. You have to explain that to her yourself."

"I'm very sure I can handle that on my own."

"Well, that's settled then." Harry glanced at his watch. "I'll be having class soon. I'll talk to her this afternoon and just drop you a message when she agrees to see you."

The green eyes brightened. "Thank you, Harry. You won't regret it."

They separated soon after. Harry walked to the Potions classroom, clutching his book bag tightly. He couldn't help but think back on the conversation, particularly the part about Draco Malfoy.

Why did I even ask that? What did it matter if Tom was friendly to his archenemy? Actually, it would've been ironically apt: the younger self of Voldemort and Draco Malfoy together against Harry Potter. But, although Draco would probably be happy to oblige, Tom would never do that. Or would he?

He should be glad that Tom has found a friend amongst all the other students who shook in their boots just because he happened to walk near them. Tom needed someone who understood. Even if it was Draco Malfoy.

He thought about Dumbledore and his plan to cultivate a close friendship between Harry and Tom. Well, too bad for him because for once, the Headmaster seemed to have made a mistake in his choice. Before their library conversation, Harry had last seen Tom the night he met Ron, and that was almost a week ago. The past six days, Tom had been quite happy to spend his time with Draco and the other Slytherins. Well, Harry, you can't force a friendship where it's not wanted.

Maybe they would never be close, but it would be nice if they could at least be casual friends and put the horrors of the past behind them. This thing with Ginny could serve as a beginning. With that, Harry shoved all thoughts of Tom aside as he entered the Dungeons.

***

"I don't want to see him!"

"Ginny, he just wants to apologize." Harry touched her shoulder comfortingly. He didn't expect this to be easy.

"He has nothing to say to me nor I to him. Harry! How can you even stand to stay near him? He's a monster!" She sobbed and flung her Gryffindor scarf to her bed as she sat down heavily. "I cannot face him."

"He's not a monster." Harry sat beside her and took her hand, trying to soothe his agitated friend. "Gin, I know this is really hard for you but please, I want you to reconsider. He won't harm you. It wouldn't hurt for you to hear his side."

"Nothing he says will ever make me forget. He nearly killed me, after making me believe for months that he was my friend! He almost even made me murder all those Muggle-borns! How could you ask me to do this?"

"Because I'm sick of hatred." Harry stood and turned to the window and sighed as he stared at the Forbidden Forest outside. "I've had enough of it all my life. I just want things to be over so we can all get on with our lives."

"We need to move on." He looked back at her. "Please, Ginny? Just listen to him. You don't have to accept him if you don't want to."

After a long, tense silence, she nodded curtly. "I'm doing this for you, Harry. But I'm not promising anything."

He exhaled, relieved. "Thank you."

***

Tom Riddle walked to the arranged meeting place. He was feeling apprehensive. This was strange for him. He didn't usually feel nervous, unless faced with something particularly dangerous.

Harry was waiting outside a classroom. He nodded to the approaching Slytherin.

"She's inside. I'll stay here outside while you talk."

"You won't regret this, Harry." Tom reached for the knob when Harry suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"She's still scared. Be gentle."

Green stared into green. "I will. Promise."

Harry released him and watched him walk inside the classroom, not without misgivings. As much as he wanted Tom and Ginny to set things straight between themselves, he couldn't help but feel uneasy about subjecting her to Tom's presence. She was more than a friend and a housemate. As a close friend of the Weasleys, Harry had come to love Ginny as one would a sister. He hated to see her upset.

After fifteen minutes, Harry paused from his rhythmic pacing and stared at the shut door. What's taking them so long? Is she all right? Is he all right? Why am I even concerned about him?

Half an hour later, Harry felt like he'd go mad with worry. They were still inside and he had absolutely no idea what to do. He had thought about leaving but hesitated, thinking that it would be better if he stayed and waited it out so he could help Ginny if ever she freaks out. But as much as he wanted to protect her, he really hated waiting outside like this--not knowing whether everything was all right inside. Part of him wanted to listen in to the conversation but he forced himself to resist the temptation. They had the right to their privacy.

Just when he thought he'd go crazy from impatience, the door opened and Ginny walked out. Harry rushed to her side.

"So, how did it go?"

She smiled faintly and shrugged. "Okay, I think. But I'd better get back to the dorms. See you later, Harry."

With that, she walked away briskly, leaving a gaping Harry behind her.

"She wouldn't tell you?"

Harry looked behind him and saw Tom lounging in the doorway. "No. She just left. She said it went okay."

Tom nodded. "It did."

"That's it? After almost an hour of talking?"

"Well, I think I'm almost forgiven. Almost, but not quite." He walked over to Harry in the middle of the hall. "You're friend Ginny is not as soft as you think. She can be very... surprising."

"So you won't tell me anything, either?"

"The details could wait. You'll know in time."

They stood there for a moment, not moving. Harry wondered if this was his cue to say good night and leave when Tom spoke first.

"Harry, would you accompany me for a walk?"

"A walk? At this hour?"

"We still have half an hour before curfew. And besides, there are ways of getting back to the dorms without being caught by Filch. I still remember a few tricks from fifty years ago."

Harry laughed. "All right then. Lead the way."

They left the building and headed for the field near the Quidditch pitch. The moon was full, and all the stars were out, casting a glow on the grassthat served as adequate lighting for their walk.

Harry looked up. "I hope Remus had some Wolfsbane ready."

Tom chuckled and put his hands in his pocket. "I remember that day when he found me. Man, I was terrified!"

Harry grinned. "He wouldn't hurt you. He was rational at the time."

"Yeah, well, I wish I knew that. But when it's in the middle of the night and there's suddenly a werewolf chasing you around, you wouldn't really think that he's harmless."

"What happened that night?"

"I climbed a tree and waited. Naturally, morning came and I had a ball screaming at him for scaring me. But we're okay now. He brought me here to Dumbledore."

"When you got out of Lord Volde--"

"I really don't want to talk about it yet," Tom interrupted curtly. He touched Harry's arm, stopping the other boy. "I didn't mean to offend you. But it was a screwy time. To be honest, I think I buried it all underneath. I... I don't remember much of what happened when you killed him... or me. Is there even a difference?"

"There is," Harry said firmly. "He was evil, Tom."

"And I'm not," Tom finished softly. He suddenly felt the need to know. "Are you really that willing to trust me, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm willing to take the risk. I trust you, Tom. I'm not sure why but I know that you're not, and will never be, Voldemort."

The honesty of those words was undeniable, and Tom felt a strange, warm feeling come over him--the kind of feeling he never thought he'd associate to Harry Potter when he was still inside the diary, hating him and biding his time.

"Then I shall take care to never break that trust."

He let go of Harry's arm. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, soaking in the peace. Harry had quite forgotten about curfew as he strolled on the grass, hearing the breeze, crickets, and the sound of Tom's breathing. He had taken another step to acceptance.

"Tom, can I ask you something? It's quite private. But you could decide not to answer."

"It's okay. What is it about?"

"Your name." Harry snuck a look at Tom and continued. "In the Chamber, you told me you hated your father. Why did you decide to keep the name now? I mean, it would've been easier to live under another name. That way, no one would trouble you about your past. You could start fresh."

Tom furrowed his brow. "I thought about that. In fact, Professor Dumbledore himself suggested it. But, I decided not to. You see, Harry, my past is part of me. Lord Voldemort changed his name to become someone else. He wanted to forget about his muggle heritage so he can be a proper overlord to the magical world without the taint of his past. And look where he ended up... dead and buried with no one but filth to cry for him. I don't want to become him."

Harry kept silent, feeling that there was more coming.

"I'm not proud of my father. I still hate him with all my heart. Lord Voldemort killed him when he got out of school. If my father were still alive today, I wouldn't have done the same. I cannot and will not deny who I am, Harry, no matter how painful it is. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. I have accepted that, and they just have to accept me for who I am."

Tom ended impassioned speech, breathing harshly. He had not meant to say so much. To his surprise, Harry took his hand and gave it a little squeeze before releasing it.

"I understand, Tom. Come, let's walk to the Quidditch pitch. Have you seen it lately?"

"No. But I'd like to see it."

As they entered the pitch, Harry wondered at Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had been through so much, yet here he was, willing to move on bravely. Maybe he'll even get to be the great wizard Lord Voldemort could have been, if he hadn't been so bent on selfish power. Harry glanced at Tom's profile, at the broad forehead and the stubborn chin--very Slytherin. He looked so strong, so... determined. He had no doubt Tom would eventually realize his dreams, and exorcise the ghost of Voldemort from his life.

"They raised the bleachers!"

Harry turned, distracted. "Excuse me?"

"The bleachers. They didn't used to be this high." Like an excited child, Tom swung over the fence and hopped into the bleachers, his long legs bringing him higher. "This is great! We'll be able to watch Quidditch even better."

Harry followed him, enjoying his reaction. "Do you play Quidditch?"

"Not really. I mean, I do the occasional backyard flying but I'm not much good at it. I like watching a lot better."

"Oh, good. Then you might like to watch one of our games when the season starts."

"Of course. I heard from Draco that you're quite a good Seeker."

"Malfoy said that?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Well, not exactly. But he said he'd had a devil of a time trying to steal the snitch before you get your dirty Gryffindork paws near it," Tom answered mischievously.

"Sounds like him, all right."

"I have great respect for your skills as a Seeker, Harry. But don't be offended if I boo you once or twice during a game. I do have some Slytherin pride left." Tom grinned.

"I would be disappointed if you don't." Harry smiled back.

"Hey, you know what's great... if they add another layer over here to balance this side." Tom flung his arm to the side and accidentally hit it on one of the wooden beams.

"Ouch!" he gasped and clutched his wrist, glaring at the aberrant beam. "Nasty bugger."

"Here, let me take a look at that."

Harry took his arm, lifted the sleeve and examined the injured area. There was a splinter buried deep into Tom's outer wrist.

"I'm going to take this out but please try not to yell. It's going to hurt a little."

"Hah! Yell? Me? Over this tiny, little... Ouch! Not so hard!"

"I told you it would hurt," Harry said matter-of-factly.

The splinter turned out to be larger than he thought and the small wound started to bleed. Tom just stood there, frozen, staring at the blood.

"I... I haven't bled in more than fifty years," he said with wonder, looking as a bead of red streaked down and dropped into his robe.

"We better stop the bleeding."

Stunned, Tom could only watch as Harry suddenly took his wrist and raised it to his lips closed his mouth over the wound. An electric thrill ran through him as Harry sucked at his skin. He felt a hot, wet tongue touch the surface and he nearly fell from the bleachers in shock.

"Here, Tom. I better wrap this up so it won't bleed." Harry lowered his wrist and wrapped a white handkerchief around it.

It was over all too soon. Tom had not yet recovered over the sucking incident.

"What was that?"

"What?" Harry raised innocent green eyes to meet his.

"That thing you just did... with your mouth..." Tom's lips twitched awkwardly as he remembered the weird sensation of Harry's mouth on his skin. Suddenly, Harry didn't look as meek and uninteresting as he used to.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure what it's for but I saw Hermione do the same thing when Ron got wounded. I suppose it's to control the bleeding."

Harry knotted the handkerchief and patted it lightly. "There, you're fine now."

"I'm fine now," Tom echoed. Control the bleeding? But it was just a drop! And why was he even obsessing over such a trifle?

Harry glanced at his watch. "Look at the time! It's nearly midnight. I think we ought to get back, Tom."

"Oh. Okay." Tom swallowed and jumped to the grass. "Let's go."

They hurried back to the castle in silence, Tom still bothered about Harry's first aid methods while the Gryffindor thought about Tom's revelations. They entered the castle door and almost immediately encountered a prefect, much to Harry's chagrin.

"Ernie!" Harry exclaimed. "We were... we were just..."

"We were walking," Tom continued haughtily, smiling coldly at the prefect. Astonished, Harry looked at him. Where was the friendly Tom he was with earlier?

Smiling weakly, Ernie MacMillan waved them off without even saying anything. When they got to the staircase, well away from being overheard, Harry frowned at Tom.

"You didn't have to be so mean."

Two dark brows rose innocently. "I was mean?"

"I think you were perfectly aware of what you were doing. What was that for? He would have let us go if I explained to him that..."

"You were stammering, not explaining. Besides, he practically quaked when he saw me. I hate that." Tom scowled.

"Ah! Now I get it. You're legendary meanness to lesser beings is merely a defensive mechanism to people who you feel do not accept you for who you are."

"Don't you dare psychoanalyze me at this time of night. Besides, he was probably trying to hide something. Why the hell was he roaming around alone at midnight?" Tom punched Harry good-naturedly as they neared Gryffindor Tower. "Well, here's my door. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Tom." Harry was about to say the password when he thought of something and turned around. "Wait! Tom?"

"Yes?" Tom hesitated on the open door.

"Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend. I was wondering if you might like to come with us. You know, visit the shops together..."

"Oh." Tom bit his lip uncomfortably. "I would be glad to, Harry. Honestly. But I sort of promised Draco that we'd hang out tomorrow."

"I see. That's okay. I understand." Disappointed, Harry faced the portrait.

"Maybe next time, then?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Okay. Next time." They grinned and entered their respective apartments.

***

It was a lovely Saturday morning. Normally, Draco would have been having a delicious supper at the Great Hall by this time but his plans were ruined by the arrival of Lucius Malfoy an hour ago. Not that he hated his father's visits. In fact, he rather looked forward to them as he usually missed his family and the manor if he stayed away too long. It was the real purpose of the visit that annoyed him.

"Father, don't try to fool me. You're not here to deliver Mom's newest package. You could have sent that easily through owl post."

Lucius started and frowned at his son. "Why, Draco... do you doubt me?"

"Under these circumstances, yes, I do." He linked his hands together, placing them on the table. "It's the busiest time of the year for you. I know you hate having your work routine disturbed and it's quite suspicious of you to suddenly show up here in Hogwarts just to wish me a good day."

Lucius sighed. He never had a reason to lie to his son before. He should have known Draco would see through him instantly.

"It's about Tom. Tom Riddle."

Draco's eyes widened. "What about Tom Riddle?"

Lucius shook his head. "I can't tell you why right now. Although I may need to later. Things are going to be very dangerous for him."

"No, Father. I won't let them." Ice-blue eyes steeled. "I won't let you."

"Do you think I'm here to hurt you, my son? I merely meant to warn you."

"Then you're warning me against yourself."

"Not necessarily." Lucius flicked an errant lock of platinum hair from his forehead and faced his son, his blue-grey eyes worried. "It's worse, Draco. They want you involved."

The boy's eyes flickered. "So that's how it's going to be."

The two Malfoys sat quietly for a long time, fully understanding the implication of those words. The war, clearly, was not yet over.

-TBC-