When A Slaughterhouse Becomes A Home (selfcest/tomarry)

six

Harry is losing his mind. He's battling a constant tide of guilt inside him, and it's guilt that wasn't there before.

Not before Tom. Not before Harry.

He's not sure friendship is supposed to feel this way.

Being friends with Ron and Hemrione, however much he hides from them, is easy. They cause problems and each have a role in it, each have fun. They laugh and joke and play games, Quidditch, chess. They work on classwork together, helping each other out where they need it (Hermione mostly does this, bless her heart.)

And though a lot of this happens with his friendship with Tom... Ron and Hermione does not make him feel so terribly. Every word Tom says seems to be with an underlying hatred, a second meaning that Harry will always twist and turn in on himself.

He is not sure friendship is supposed to hurt so bad.

He says this to Tom and Tom says, "That's because this isn't friendship."

Harry's heart sinks far into his stomach. He didn't expect for those words to hurt so much, but a part of him always knew they were coming. This is what happens when you trust; that trust is betrayed. Even if his friendship with Tom was hurting him, he did not want it to end. His heart could not take it.

"It's not?" He sounds small. Like a child. He hates himself for the vulnerability, unaware how much he emits it in general.

Tom smiles. Like this is funny. Like there is anything to smile about, and Harry is angry, insulted -- and then Tom says, "Because this is more than friendship."

Hesitance. "What do you mean?"

Tom pulls Harry closer to him. "Because this is love, Harry. This is what it feels like to love, to be loved."

A pause. Harry's heart warms. Tom loves me. "And is love supposed to hurt?'

"Oh, Harry," coos Tom. "Love always does."

So when Potter's statements toward him are two sided, are barely insulting, and when Harry points out they crossed a line, are then filled with love bombing... Harry doesn't know what to think. Other than he must be loved.

Love hurts. Harry absorbs their words, aware that they are not meant to maim (too stupid, he is, to realize that they are having exactly the intended effect), and feels the sick pool of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Thoughts about self blame seem to multiply. He doesn't know who he is or what he's doing; all he knows is that it's his fault. He killed Tom in the Chamber and not once has he apologized for it -- and Tom's apologized to him multiple times, so many times. He hurt Tom and he pushed away Potter without even knowing him first, even when he was just being helpful, and his trust issues aren't an excuse. That's what he keeps getting subtle told, at any rate, and why doesn't he have it in him to disagree?

He always hurts people. Always. His parents died because of him, for him, sacrificial and stupidly and lovingly. His parents are dead and for what? For Harry to live? They died so he could live and it is not just Voldemort's fault but Harry's. Or at least he can't stop thinking. And when a thought like that enters his mind, it's hard to get out.

He starts avoiding Ron and Hermione, and can't explain the decision to them. He hides his marred hand with extended robe sleeves (hides it from both Ron and Hermione and Tom and Potter... though Potter must surely already know, all things considered, if not at least suspect. There is the inexplicable guilt here too) and cares all his burdens alone

He does still have Potter and Tom, and he soothes himself with assurances that these two cannot die, not like Ron and Hermione, children in training, cna die, so easily and frightfully and all Harry's fault.

Tom seems pleased. "I'm glad you're spending more time with... us," he says, though Harry can tell he wanted to say 'me.' The relationship between Potter and Tom is not one that Harry very much understands. He doesn't question it, and they don't act like they want him to.

"I feel bad," says Harry, cuddled up to him. He places his ear against Tom's chest and tries not to be unnerved by the lack of heartbeat. "What is Ron and Hermione think I'm avoiding them because I hate them? I was a real jerk to them during the summer..." He admits to Tom that sometimes his anger gets the best of him, and he becomes an out of control monster... though most of the time lately he's just been sad.

"If they think the reason you're avoiding them is because you hate them," says Tom, "then they probably won't reach out to you, right?"

"I guess," mutters Harry, still disquieted.

"Maybe it's for the best," Tom tries. He smiles down at Harry. "I wouldn't worry about it. They're safe now, and that's all that matters." He doesn't say that a real friend is okay with being put in danger, okay with fighting with you, for you, side by side, and that they would rather Harry be in danger with them than Harry be in danger alone. He doesn't say this, because it's what Harry needs to hear.

Harry sniffs and wipes away his tears quietly, and Tom pretends he didn't see them. "I'm lonely," says

"Don't you have Potter? He's with you, always. I'm sure he's a great friend to talk to."

But Harry shakes his head. "I can't talk back to him in public. He's invisible to everyone else, except us. So... yeah."

"Hm," says Tom. He has two choices here. Let Her be lonely. Or... "What if I transformed the diary?"

Harry allows himself to hope. "What do you mean?" he asks, cautiously.

"I could make it so you could write it in and I could respond again. That way, you won't be so lonely."

Harry smiles with watery eyes. "Okay," he says, quietly. "You're the best, Tom."

He sinks deeper and deeper into Tom's trap, Tom is so sure of its success, so sure that Harry is in so deep he'll never be able to back out...

Of course, it had to backfire at some point.