Good Night, Darling

[ What's in My Mind? ]

That night's dream was definitely Harry's, unless Tom had spent a considerable amount of time in the Gryffindor Common Room from the 1990s.

It was a perfect rendition of how it had been when Harry lived there, but empty except him. He could see one of Ron's stray socks wedged underneath the sofa, and a chess set stuck in the middle of a game on the coffee table. The candles hovered in the air, and the window was pitch black. It would have been one of the times when Harry was alone in the common room, at night, perhaps when he'd slept here one time during the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry moved over to one of the sofa's, running a hand over the worn, crimson tassels. He vaguely recalled how Fred had told him they'd gotten new sofas, the same style as the ones in the 90s. The Hogwarts budget must be low.

"How tacky," Tom Riddle drawled, appearing in front of Harry.

"It's cosy." He replied with a shrug, taking a seat.

Tom sat opposite him, looking mildly disgruntled at the apparent 'state' of the common room.

"It's no wonder you're dreaming about Gryffindor... with that performance you put on earlier today."

"You enjoyed it?" Harry drawled, trying to show his confidence even when he felt a twinge of embarrassment. He could play the game, Tom wasn't the only one who could do nonchalant sarcasm.

"It's not everyday I get a show like that."

He cocked his head to the side, watching Harry with the dark eyes that betrayed his interest. At least they weren't lined with red.

Yet.

"I'm glad."

"Are you?"

Harry gave him the look.

Somehow, Tom had gotten himself a glass filled with some kind of orange liquor.

"This is my dream, you know." Harry said lightly, watching as Tom took an exaggerated sip from his glass.

"But not a seer dream?" Tom prodded.

"Evidently not. I can dream of normal things, too. I still wonder why this happens. Why it stopped, and why it started again."

"So do I. I've dreamt of places from my past, mostly, and a memory of my day. You've had dreams of the future, not your future, and now this. It is rather strange."

Harry hummed slightly, gazing at the fire.

"If I asked you to let me leave, would you?" Tom asked, interrupting Harry's musing.

"Depends."

He didn't need to look at Tom's face to know that it looked shocked.

"Why shouldn't I get revenge for how you treated me?" Harry continued, wondering if Tom would believe him. He hoped so.

"Have you never heard the saying- 'treat others how you wish to be treated'?"

Harry scoffed, "That's a muggle saying."

"I was raised by muggles, Hadrian."

"I know." Harry said, rather more forceful than he'd intended.

"Then why are you so shocked?"

Harry turned to face Tom, an incredulous look plastered on his face. A better man would have shrugged, sat back, and continued on a more safe line of conversation. Harry was beginning to learn that one couldn't be the better man when faced with Tom Riddle, or else you'd drown in his presence.

"Tom." He deadpanned, conjuring his own glass.

"You preach blood purity, for someone whose father was a muggle. For someone who grew up in a muggle orphanage and yet you talk down to muggleborns as if they are scum. Forgive me if I'm shocked that you'd deign to use a muggle expression."