Mark of Slytherin

Chapter 8

In Harry's mind there was only one possible resolution. So for a second time he found himself outside of Riddle's apartment, Hermione at his side. As backup. Just in case. She would never have let him go by himself and Harry was rather grateful she was joining. He didn't much feel up to being alone with the warlord again so soon.

The porter let them in without a word and Harry wondered if it was the same man who had opened the door for him last time. Much as he tried, his mind had been too jumbled at the time to take in any details. But he hoped that it was, and that Riddle hadn't given orders for them to let him in. The idea that they might have a picture with his face on it behind the desk was embarrassing.

The elevator ride left Harry feeling jittery and he couldn't stop himself from pacing anxiously across the small area.

"Stay still..!" Hermione hissed.

Harry tried but ended up bouncing his back against the wall instead. Hermione just shook her head.

"Sometimes you're hopeless..."

It was ridiculous, Harry thought, to be so nervous. Hermione was there so he was fine. She would stop Riddle if he tried anything bad. In fact, they didn't even know if Riddle was home, but it was during the day and Harry was of the firm belief that people like Riddle was most active during the night. And by people like Riddle he meant criminals, full stop.

The elevator stopped and the sound of the chime had Harry pressing himself against the opposite side. His heart was beating fast and for some reason his lips were tingling. Just seeing Riddle's door across the hall was enough for him to almost feel the ghostly sensations of hands caressing his body. He wished fear was the only thing he was feeling.

Still, a part of Harry thought sourly, was he really going to let himself be reduced to this? A man cowering in an elevator at the mere memory of what had happened? No. That would be giving up, and if there was anything Harry had decided to do it was that he would never give up and let Riddle win.

He squeezed his hands into fists and marched out, closely followed by Hermione. If his palms were sweaty when he banged on the door, well then that was only his concern.

A long moment passed yet nothing happened.

"Maybe he's actually not here." Harry said, glancing over at Hermione. She frowned.

"It's possible... But according to the schedule he used to keep before he could almost certainly always be found at home by midday on a Wednesday. Almost like clockwork."

"Oh." That was more than Harry was aware of. "Since when did you figure this out?"

She shook her head. "Of course I would look into it. I figured 'know your enemy', since it was obvious you wouldn't back down. And Dumbledore helped me by assigning a man to keep an eye on the place."

"Oh." Harry said again, feeling slightly dumbfounded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would..!"

There was a sound of a heavy bolt being lifted and then the door cracked open enough for Harry to catch sight of Riddle. The man was, as always, smirking at the sight of him. Even worse he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and his hair hung in wet curls. Harry froze.

"Harry..." The man purred, "Always a pleasure..." his eyes shifted to Hermione for a fraction of a second. "I'd invite you to join me in my shower, but I do believe your friend would disagree." Riddle opened the door completely and stepped back. "But by all means, do come in."

"Uh... We can... we can come back later..."

"Nonsense. Come on in, make yourself comfortable."

At Hermione's push, Harry stumbled across the threshold. He had issues with taking his eyes off Riddle and the other man was nearly preening at the attention. There was a drop of water running down Riddle's chest, glistening in the light. Harry's eyes tracked its movement as it ran down, until it met the soft edge of the towel. With a force of will that was nearly beyond him, Harry turned his head, walking mechanically to the couch and sitting down. Harry was grateful that it faced the windows.