The Love Of A Good Wizard

A Touch of Mystery

The Slytherin common room was nearly empty when Harry and Tom arrived there, except for a handful of second years and two fellow fifth years - one of them John Avery, to Harry's annoyance.

"You look like you're ready to murder someone, Riddle," Avery drawled from the chair closest to the stairs.

Tom stopped. "Three guesses who."

Avery laughed. "It's probably a Gryffindor, or worse - Dumbledore?"

Harry, still horrified by being on the receiving end of Dumbledore's disdain, stared at Avery, then at Tom. What he saw in the boy's eyes sent cold shivers down his back. Tom, realising Harry was watching him, put on a placid expression. "Good guess, Avery. But I don't think we need to get into that."

Avery shrugged, clearly surprised that Tom wasn't willing to verbally tear into the head of Gryffindor house. He glanced at Harry. "So what do you think of the old man, Potter?"

Before Harry could open his mouth, Tom said coldly, "The topic is over and done with, Avery. Leave Harry alone about it."

Avery stared. "Right," he muttered. "Okay."

Tom was halfway up the stairs when Harry caught up with him. "I can speak for myself," he protested.

Tom was quiet until they got inside the dorm, which was thankfully empty. He flung the door shut behind them. "Sorry about that, Harry. I have a bit of a temper if I don't watch myself, and there are few things that make me as furious as that sanctimonious fool Dumbledore. And Avery seems to enjoy it when I get that way. He likes to stir things up."

"Avery is a sick bastard," Harry said before he could stop himself. He immediately regretted his words, because Avery seemed to be Tom's friend, though why, he couldn't imagine. But the expected defence of the other boy, or anger, didn't come.

Instead, Tom smirked. "You're quite right. And he's not much of a wizard either - he likes to look powerful by association."

Harry frowned. "Why are you friends with him?"

"Who says I am?" Tom asked, surprised.

"He does."

Tom snorted. "That just goes to show how deluded he is. I endure him, that's all. I could never be friends with hangers-on like him; I like people who do their own thinking." When Harry looked relieved at this, he smiled. "You have nothing to worry about, Harry," he said smoothly. "No one is going to take your place."

Harry spluttered indignantly.

Tom chuckled. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get into bed."

Startled, Harry stared at him. "What?"

"I'm off to bed," Tom clarified innocently. "I'm really tired. What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing!" Harry exclaimed. "I... yeah, I think I'll go to bed by... um, my... myself, I mean. Just have to go and brush my teeth."

Tom watched him scurry away, smirking.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep much that night. He'd come back from the bathroom to find that Tom had set up a temporary home for their moon adder in an empty drawer between their beds, and try as he might, he couldn't help but be charmed by his thoughtfulness. They'd conversed with the snake for a little while, then transfigured a few old socks into rocks and small plants for it, before retiring to their respective beds. Harry was hyper-aware of Tom that night - of his breathing, his quieter dreams, and the fact that when he woke up, Tom was already facing him with his eyes open. They shared a shy smile.