Harry could not believe what had happened.
They were so close. So freaking close. But of course, Tom has always known what he's doing.
He had placed the glass shards there on purpose. He knew that Adrian would panic and try to escape anyway. And to think they were sure that this was starting to look too easy.
Abraxas apparated with the others as instructed, to find a clinic so there they would tend to Burga's bleeding hands and confirm Avery's death.
They had lost. All of them. The bomb was there to raise the stakes, but the real enemy was desperation. And they were all caught up on it.
He goes back inside and walks down the stairs that lead to the basement. His eyes skim through the darkly lit room. He approaches a desk. There's a small paper glued on the metallic base of the lamp.
'Damn these fucking papers'. That's all he can think of. They have been playing with his nerves for a quite a long time.
He hopes this will be the last one he will ever see. (It will be.)
The words 'Number 14 on the same street' are on it.
He walks out of the room and off to the fresh air of the surface of the earth again.
He sees that number 14 is the abandoned headquarters of a wine making company. He unlocks the rusty door and once he has stepped inside, his eyes move around the place.
He feels dead himself, to be accurate. His eyes are bloodshot. Now where is that bastard, again?
A door opens behind him, just two inches. Suspiciously in coordination with his thoughts.
He sniffs. He might as well be over with all of this. He walks towards it and peaks inside.
The lightning is dim in a room full of unused wine barrels, one on top of the other. There's a small table in the top left corner. And two chairs.
And him, occupying the one. Legs crossed, fingers entangled with one another, eyes shining with some strange serenity. A tiny grin in one corner.
Harry wants to kill him and never look back. He destroyed them. All for a 'game'. All for nothing, in the end. Tom will get nothing once Harry is done with him. None of them wins this.
"So... no explosion." Murmurs the older with the regular emotionless voice, before glancing up at him. "I assume that everyone is happy and lively?"
"Adrian is dead." Answers the Gryffindor. He feels oh so exhausted by everything.
"Is he? I'm so sorry."
"No, you're not. You ruined six people's lives today."
"Five."
"No, six." Hisses Harry and steps closer. "Adrian was my friend as well."
Riddle doesn't say anything upon that.
He doesn't care enough to.
"I hope you are satisfied with yourself."
Mutters the boy, eyes sharp, tone acid.
"I am." The Slytherin addresses him with a smile that cuts through glass, with equally scarred hands, hair a tad tousled, eyes gleaming bloody red.
"Alright, you won." Admits the boy. "What do you want now?"
"Why did you come here for, Harry?"
"You want the truth?"
The other nods.
"To kill you. I figured... it's an eye for an eye with you."
"Hmm. Well, go on then."
YOU ARE READING
No Pain, No Glory | Tomarry
Fanfic(An alternative universe where Harry was born in the 1920s and went in school with Tom Riddle. He is still the Chosen One from a prophesy with Grindelwald.) "Harry." "Tom. What the hell do you want now?" "To talk." "I have nothing to talk about with...
