Chasing Harry

Chapter Six: A Bitter Taste of Regret

He crawled to his bed silently, slipping under the covers while trying not to wake anyone. His body throbbed everywhere, and not just because of pain. He would have tried to think about it, but he didn't really feel like being rational at the moment.

He touched his shoulder, pushing his fingertips to his skin. He imagined he could still feel the signs of his kiss: the press of his lips, the sweep of his tongue, the bite of his teeth... He was marked. And not just within.

He pulled the pillow towards himself, crushing the soft material in his arms. In the company of someone, he had found isolation.

***

"Tom?"

"Yes, Draco?" Tom turned to his friend, trying to smile.

"What the hell is the matter with you? You haven't touched your plate since the food arrived."

The blond gestured to Tom's plate. "Do you plan to eat?"

"Of course I do." Tom shoved the peas to one side and half-heartedly speared a piece of meat. "I'm just not very hungry."

"Hmm... That's unusual, coming from you. The past few weeks you have been eating like crazy, probably to make up for the lack of food in the diary. I was actually afraid you'd get horribly fat."

Tom laughed, tapping his tummy. "I figured I should start watching my weight."

"Is that the reason why you're not eating that?" Draco pointed at the fork Tom had put down almost immediately. "Or is there something else that's bothering you?"

"Nothing. There's nothing."

"It's either you're a bad liar or you're not even trying." He placed an elbow on the table and stared at Tom, knowing how uncomfortable he made the other boy with his questions. "Is it someone from Gryffindor?"

"What?" Tom stared back with wide eyes. "Where did you get that idea?"

"You looked over at their table once," Draco replied smugly. "So, who is she? Not that I'd approve, you know. I just want to know."

"Once isn't enough. And I wasn't looking over at them." Tom raised an eyebrow. "There's no one. If I do choose, it won't be in Gryffindor. Credit me with a little taste, will you?"

"Once is enough if you look the way you looked. And you do have a Gryffindor friend. Harry Potter. Who's to say you won't find a girl from their crowd?"

The mention of Harry almost made him choke. "Draco, there's no one. This topic is closed." Tom shoved the food in his mouth, hoping that it would stop the other from asking any more questions.

"Suit yourself. But if you think I'll forget about this, then you're dreaming." Grinning, Draco turned to his food.

Relieved, Tom swallowed. He should be more careful. But for now he couldn't help but be distracted. He was anxious to see Harry. And yet, at the same time, he didn't know if he wanted to see him.

What would he say when they meet? He can't really say 'I'm sorry I shagged you. I was just lonely.' That would be heartless. Besides, that wasn't what he really wanted to say. What did he want to say? He didn't even know how he felt! He was just a jumble of nerves today.

He controlled the urge to sneak another look at the Gryffindor table. He knew Harry wasn't there. Draco was right. He looked earlier. As much as he wanted to skirt the issue, he knew that he had to see Harry sooner or later. What happened couldn't be ignored, and he had to make amends with his Gryffindor friend.

Make amends. As if he had done something wrong. Tom pressed his temple with his fingers. Was it wrong? He didn't even remember how it happened. He knew it just did. But, if one thought about it... he did do something wrong! He... he made love with Harry!

He put his hand on the table, feeling not the wood, but the smoothness of Harry's vanilla skin.

"Tom, you're blushing."

"Shut up, Draco."

***

"Remus?" Harry knocked on the open door.

"Harry!" Remus turned from his painting. "You're here!"

Grinning, Harry hugged his friend. "I found the door unlocked. Where's Sirius? I thought I'd drop by since I wasn't able to come last night."

"He's in muggle-London buying something for his beloved motorcycle. I swear, he spends more on that monster than he does on himself."

"Like you spend more on this studio than you spend on food?" Harry asked pointedly, his grin widening.

"Well..." Remus flushed. "I love this more than anything."

Harry sat on the floor and glanced around the spacious studio. It was filled with Remus' artwork. Canvases of all sizes leaned on the walls, the people within them shifting and dancing in their eternal worlds. The shiny wood-paneled floor was spotted with drops of paint that Remus had failed to clean-up, distracted as he was all the time. The faint smell of turpentine hung in the air, despite the breeze that flew in from outside. One wall was made of French doors that opened onto a balcony. The glittering waters of the lake reflected the sunlight beyond the grills.

He turned back to Remus. "I understand. I'm so glad that you've decided to live here permanently. I always feel peaceful whenever I'm here."

"Well it sure beats having to travel around a lot. One can't really paint while on the road." Remus picked up a brush, angling his head slightly. "You sound troubled. Is there a problem?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It's the way you said 'peaceful'. I could sense another reason for your coming to see us."

Harry smiled, drawing circles on the floor with his fingers. "I'm just confused."

"Ah! So there is one." He touched the brush on the surface of the stretched canvas, flicking a shot of Prussian blue on white. "I'm listening."

"No. There's none, really."

"I believe you."

The silence stretched for a few seconds before Harry broke it.

"Remus, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Ask away."

"Have you ever had a one night stand?"

Remus' hand stilled. He dipped his head slightly and continued painting. "Somehow, I did not expect that. To answer your question... yes, I have. Why? What happened last night?"

"Nothing. I was just curious." He raised his eyes. "What did you feel afterwards? Do you ever speak to the person?"

"Most of the time, yes. But not if we fight. But generally, it's okay. After all, we both got to the situation willingly. One just leaves and tries not talk about it in front of others."

"But what if it happened accidentally?"

"Accidentally?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Like, if the other didn't know what was coming?"

"Hmm... That's different. Non-consensual sex is dangerous. It could create trouble for both and a lot of pain for the aggrieved party." Remus eyes widened, as if he had just realized something.

"Are you talking about rape?"

"No, no. Not that kind. The type where..." He wrinkled his brow, trying to find the right words. "Where it just happens. You know... you just realize later what the other did."

"Ohh... that kind. That really depends. Did the person like it? What did he or she feel afterwards? If one is angry or hurt, then it was rape. Otherwise.." Remus shrugged. "Of course this is just my opinion. I'm not speaking for the law or anything. Did this happen or is it just a hypothetical situation you're wondering about?"

"It's just something I thought about on the way," Harry replied. He didn't really feel like going through the details. He was still digesting the fact of what happened last night.

"It's a strange thing to think about. For a second there, you had me worried. I was afraid you knocked up some girl." He smiled as mixed the tints on the palette.

Harry laughed strangely. "There's really no danger of that happening."

For a few minutes, Harry just sat there, watching Remus paint. It was a pleasure to do that. Remus looked so focused. Like the rest of the world did not exist. It was just him, the canvas, and the paintbrush. The sweep of the colors was intoxicating, and he felt himself drowning in their depths.

Drowning. Yes, he was prone to that. Last night, he hardly even remembered breathing.

"Harry?"

He awoke from his reverie. "Yes?"

"Maybe you should talk to this person. It could be more than a one night stand, you know?"

He stared at Remus, his mouth hanging open.

***

Did the fact that he left mean that he regretted it? Was he angry?

Tom flicked the page of the book he was reading. He was sprawled on the floor of the library, leaning on a corner bookshelf where he knew he wouldn't be bothered (and where he could escape from Draco's probing questions). All the thinking and wondering was killing him. He supposed he should talk to Harry so he could end this torturous speculation. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to face him.

Why so guilty, Tom?

Because I didn't even consider him.

He had not been a saint in the past. Like most, he had indulged willingly in the more delicious human activities. And he had enjoyed each and everyone of them. It wasn't really challenging. He didn't even have to try very hard. He wasn't close to anyone but everyone seemed eager to have him share their bed, girls and boys alike. They wouldn't even care if he'd take the trouble to say hello the next day. The fact that the brilliant Tom Riddle was willing to sleep with them once was okay. He may have been a loner, but he was definitely not an innocent.

But was Harry one?

He wouldn't forgive himself if he ruined Harry last night. Granted that the sex was unavoidable (he was just there on the bed!), he was not even conscious enough to make sure that the whole experience would be good for him too. He was stupidly blinded by his own lust to even care about the other person. That was one thing he was proud about himself: no matter who he was with, he never ever tried to hurt someone else in bed. But now, he may have had. And of all people, it had to be Harry Potter.

He tossed the book onto the shelf. It was his fault. He had to fix this. Or at least try to. But he also knew that whatever Harry said, nothing would ever be the same between them again.

***

"...and you have been staring at the fireplace too long!"

"Ow!" Harry gripped his arm. "What was that for?"

"For not paying attention to everything Ron and I have been saying the past half-hour," Hermione replied after giving Harry a hard, naughty pinch.

"I was listening!"

"Yeah you were," Ron snickered. "You grunted every time someone paused."

"If you were listening, then what were we talking about?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry," Harry flushed. "I was a bit distracted."

"See. Now he admits it!"

"So what were you guys talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing important. Too trivial to repeat anything anyway." Hermione waved her hand. "Why were you not at lunch today?"

"I went to see Sirius but he wasn't there. So I just talked to Remus for a while."

"I see."

The both of them stared at Harry with odd looks on their faces.

"Hey, if you don't believe me, then ask Remus!" Harry said defensively.

"Oh we believe you," Ron said. "We were just staring at that hickey on your neck."

"Hickey? I didn't see that!" His hand traveled to his throat. "Where?"

"See, he's hiding something!" Ron gave Hermione a high five and rolled off the couch, laughing.

"There's no hickey. Sorry, Harry, I couldn't resist."

His hand on his throat, Harry flushed and poked Ron on the ribs. "That wasn't funny."

"The look on your face was funny," Hermione giggled. "You looked so guilty."

"Whatever, guys," Harry stood. "I need to take a walk for a while. Don't follow me."

"Oh... meeting somebody?" Ron's head popped out from behind a throw pillow.

"Nope. Just walking. Go bother someone else." Harry grinned and walked out of the common room.

He took a deep breath as he stepped into the hall. If he wasn't careful, they might actually squeak the whole incident out of him. It had been a close call with Remus earlier. Lucky for him that the man wasn't the type to pry. This thing with Tom was not something he wanted to talk about.

He had not meant to wander off earlier while talking with Ron and Hermione but something Remus had said stuck in his mind.

Did he like it?

He had been skirting around that question since last night. He had been focusing on the fact that it happened, and not on how he felt about it.

For someone from his generation, Harry somehow felt that he couldn't be as liberated as most of today's youth. There was something in him that remained quite conservative, in spite of the relatively liberal beliefs on morality that he shared with his friends. Sure, he believed in having sex for pleasure. But he never did like the idea of one night stands. And, judging from the events before the event, last night was such one. There was something furtive and forbidden about what Tom and he had done. Granted, they were not total strangers. But there wasn't even an iota of warning beforehand!

He had thought of having his first sexual encounter many times before, and they all somehow involved a relationship with someone he cared about. Someone he'd want for a reason. The question was... did he want Tom?

There was no doubt about what Tom wanted. Harry's blood rushed as he remembered the way Tom had devoured him, lapping him up like a possessed man. He must have licked every surface, leaving no inch of him unexplored. And his hands... he didn't know how he could have made each touch feel like fire. He had claimed Harry totally, as if he was afraid to leave a little for someone else. It had started so quickly, but they spent minutes... So many short minutes that lasted forever, burning, before Tom finally drifted off to sleep in the afterglow of their union.

And, coward that he was, Harry left rather than face his confusion.

Don't kid yourself, Harry. You wanted it.

Yes, he did. He didn't know how or when. But somewhere between his surprise upon waking and Tom's glorious kisses, he had succumbed. And he wasn't even sure if he regretted it. But there was one thing he knew: he didn't have an idea of what he'd tell Tom the next time they met.

Which, as luck would have it, would be now.

"Harry?"

He stopped and turned to the sound of the voice calling his name. Tom stood at the door outside the library, his expression unreadable. He was here. Just two feet away.

Harry took another step.

"Wait!" Tom grabbed his wrist. "Don't go."

"I wasn't leaving." Harry looked down at his hand. Tom let go of it abruptly.

"We need to talk."

The library door opened and someone stepped out. It was Colin Creevey. The younger Gryffindor was about to smile at Harry when he saw Tom and instantly paled. He scuttled off to the Tower in seconds.

Tom watched Colin's retreating back blankly. "But not here. Somewhere else. Where no one will overhear us."

Harry nodded silently. They walked together in silence, carefully apart, and entered an unused classroom. Tom shut the door as Harry sat on a window ledge. Tom joined him in a few moments, keeping his distance.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Harry answered softly. "What about you?"

"Fine," He cocked his head. "Why do you ask?"

"You were bleeding when I found you in the hall."

"I was?" The green eyes widened. "You brought me back to the room?"

Harry nodded. "I was worried about you." He didn't even look at him as he talked. His eyes were trained outside the window.

Tom didn't reply. Harry was worried about him. He had not known that it would feel like this. No one had been worried about him before. Harry was the first, and, fool as he was, he just had to take advantage of him.

Tom cleared his throat. What had he planned to say? "About last night...were you hurt?" Did I hurt you?

Harry slowly turned his head and met Tom's eyes. What does one say in return? What would some other teenage boy say? 'No sweat, man. It was just sex. And it was a blast! Wanna do it again next time?'

But he wasn't another teenage boy. He was Harry. And it wasn't like him to be so free... so unconcerned. He knew why he had remained unattached 'til now. Idealistic as the thought was, he wanted the first time to be special. That was why he waited for the right person. But it seemed that the waiting was all for naught.

He shook his head. "I'm okay. You didn't hurt me." You were perfect.

"I was worried... you left right after." I wished I could have seen you that morning.

"I didn't want to stay." I was afraid to face you.

"I understand." You hated me.

The moonlight played on the glass, trickling little shafts of light in between the dust. They caught on Harry's eyes, staining on the green, making them glow. Tom leaned closer. The sound of his heartbeat shattered in his eardrums. This was it... he had to say something. Something to save what was now falling apart before them.

"I'm sorry, Harry." No! I'm not. But he couldn't take it back. Don't tell me you are.

Harry smiled, his lips lifting at the corners. Even at his weakest, he always felt the need to protect.

"I know. I'm sorry, too," You regret it. "You were lonely."

"It's more than that." Tom sat back, blaming himself for opening his mouth. It sounded trite, even to him. You regret everything. You saved me. You saved me last night.

Harry linked his hands together, thinking.

"Tom... I think we shouldn't see each other for a while," Because you don't really want me.

"It's better this way." Then maybe I can forget, like it never happened.

If Harry was waiting for an answer, then he would have received none. For Tom didn't say a word. He just looked straight at him, unmoving--his expression indifferent. And maybe that was what hurt most of all.

Harry stood and walked to the door. He opened it, left, and closed it behind him without looking back.

It was almost anti-climatic--Harry's leaving.

In the silence of the room, Tom lifted his fingers slowly. He touched the stone surface beneath the window where Harry's fingers had rested only moments ago.

I used to wish I could feel.

He felt strangely blank as he pressed on the stone. He should have known that he would never really change. He always destroyed everything he touched.

And, at that moment, he felt nothing but pain.

-TBC-