Harry sighs, as he looks up at Thomas. He's across the table from him, writing to his heart's content. He looks down at his own artwork, a painting of him. It's him alright, but without the angry creases in his forehead, the furrow of his brow as he scribbles down his memoirs, a piece of hair falling down his face.
Harry's painting blurs out all of his imperfections and enhances the things that once made him the happiest royal in the land.
"What", he looks up at Harry, almost snarling. He loses his temper often nower days. "N-nothing my king", he stutters, trying to sound as genuine as possible. He heard a contemptuous "Hmm" leave his lips as they went back to work. it wasn't always like this, Harry thought.
He pictures last night, a picture of beauty and grace, an image of ethereal dance and song. He imagines Thomas twirling him around as he spins bare foot on the cold tile floor at midnight; except it wasn't Thomas. It was Harry's secret lover. the secret lover who has loved him for years, once yearning for him.
Shouting up to the castle doors, only carrying the finest of deep red roses. He truly fell for him, and after time of fighting and pain with his past lover, Harry fell for him too. But he was married, binded for life to a person that wouldn't hesitate to kill him. Harry lived in fear, but when he, his secret lover showed up, he lived in romance.
Dancing with him at midnight in the ballroom breeze, skipping through the forests of apple trees with him while telling his darkest secrets, whispering sweet nothings to him as he walked away in the darkness. He hoped to see him once again soon.
Looking back up, Harry realized not only has half an hour passed daydreaming about his secret lover, but his legal partner has left the table, only a note sat on the table in front of him. Was this what he had been writing? He opens up the crumpled paper, shaking. "I know about you and Riddle because I am him, why else would we meet up at night? To hide away from ME? Oh no, my dear. it was so you couldn't see my features that I so often see you staring at in hatred, and as much as I love our midnight gatherings, I must say, I am surprised you kept it up this long. Well now I know just how much you care for me, meet me tonight."
— end.
