Mark of Slytherin

Chapter 18

When Harry next woke up, Riddle was still missing. The doctor was huddled up in the chair, looking miserable. He wasn't asleep, just staring at the floor. When Harry moved his attention shifted to him. Still, he remained quiet.

"Wh.." Harry cleared his throat, sounding gruff from sleep. "What time is it?"

"You haven't... you haven't been asleep for more than a couple of hours..."

"Oh." Harry blinked, trying to shake the last remains of sleepiness. He looked over to the bedside table where, for the last couple of days, a glass of water had stood. Harry had already finished it earlier, and it remained empty. Which hadn't happened before. And the difference was that Riddle had been there. He shook his head slightly at the strange notion that Riddle must have been refilling his glass. "Uh, could I.. could I have some water?"

"What?! Uh, yes, of course..." Even with Riddle no where to be seen, the doctor remained nervous and tense as he walked over to a cabinet and produced a bottle of water. His hands were shaking as he poured it.

"Uhm... maybe, maybe you should have some too, doctor? You don't seem too..." Harry cut himself off at the stricken look. "Well, I mean, you don't have to of course, it's just that you..." When the doctor didn't say anything, Harry averted his eyes, picking the glass up instead and taking a long drink.

The doctor seemed to take that as his queue to retreat, as he set the bottle down on the table and went back to his chair, eyes seeking the floor like he was reading the word of god in it.

Harry let out a sigh and leaned back. The man clearly wasn't up for conversation, and he could only imagine what Riddle had done to make him so nervous. As a matter of fact, he wondered what Riddle was up to now. After weeks of apparently not leaving Harry's side, his absence was suspicious. It was unnerving. Harry was quite aware that Riddle came up with nefarious plans when left on his own, thank you very much, and the way he suddenly left screamed of something going on.

But what it could be escaped his comprehension. Riddle had been fine, basically trying to kiss him to death and then Harry had opened his wound and... Riddle freaked out, again. So what was he trying to do, figure out a way to stop Harry from getting hurt?

... Actually, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Well, from a Riddle point of view at least. This was the man who had gone and cursed himself in the hunt for immortality. Of course he would try to find a way to stop Harry from dying as well.

Crap.

Crap, crap and once again crap.

Harry assumed that whatever Riddle had done, it would have had to be a one time kind of thing, or he would probably have woken up halfway through a ritual. Right, so it was probably a good thing, then. It meant there was time. And he was wasting it, lying in bed, too weak to actually move further than the bathroom. Actually, too weak to even go there on his own.

But something needed to be done, and Harry wished intently Hermione had been there. Or rather that he was at her location. Safe and out of Riddle's grasp. At least he hoped very dearly that she was out of harm. He couldn't let himself think anything else, or he might actually break down. Riddle would have told him, surely, if he had captured Hermione. And he hadn't. There hadn't been any bragging or threats. The good thing with being shot was that it probably had been enough of a distraction for her to get away. To run and find Sirius and find somewhere safe to hide out with him. Although she would have tried to get to him, regardless of the danger. Hermione was the smartest person Harry knew, but that didn't mean she never acted unreasonably.

He could imagine her running out after him, ready to drag him back, only for the shooting to start and... No. He'd seen her, hadn't he? She'd made it to the soldier, and he had seemed like a reasonable person. He would have stopped her.