Good Night, Darling

[ I Never Meant to Start a Fire ]

Harry let out a short laugh, "You're insane, absolutely not. Choose something else."

Tom only raised an eyebrow, "If this is so important to you, then what's the harm?"

"The harm," Harry mocked, "I'm not going to be your slave, Tom. Come on, I'm sure you have more requests ready and waiting to go."

"If not a slave," Tom said, not seeming put off or surprised by Harry's refusal, "Then an equal."

Harry silently prompted him to continue. Tom looked eerily pleased.

"As you know, I am to be King of Slytherin next year. I want you as my Second in Command, to sit at my right hand in all our meetings. You refuse invitations to my informal gatherings of friends, but this is far more legal. I'm sure it would be more agreeable for your moral code, Hadrian."

Harry tried his best to not look taken aback, "I didn't think you had any interest in the Slytherin court, or else you would have become its King years ago."

"I let the upper years play at royalty for a while, but I am the obvious choice. How could I refuse a crown?"

"You don't actually get a crown, do you?" Harry replied quickly, before thinking, while scrunching up his nose. Tom didn't even deign it with a response.

"Well?" Tom prompted.

Harry didn't see any harm in this request, having lived amongst Slytherins for the past few months and become aware of the way their illustrious court worked. It was a subtle and mostly silent hierarchy, there was no torture and no death and for the most part they focussed on keeping the younger Slytherins safe and in line. More importantly, it was known by a quarter of the whole Wizarding population (those who had been Slytherin) as children playing at politics.

"Deal," Harry responded, "Now, the vow?"

"Not so fast," Tom crooned, "I have other requests to make of you. This is, after all, an important vow. I would never be so flippant about it."

Harry rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand in Tom's direction.

"You get me as your 'right hand man' and I would vow to entertain your disastrous ideas and conversation topics. What more could you want?"

Tom cocked his head to the side, contemplating, "What makes you think I would settle for those things? Maybe you aren't as important as you think you are?"

"I am," Harry drawls, "very interesting."

Tom grins fiercely, a lion getting ready to pounce.

"You'll vow to tell me about my future, about your seer dreams of me. This is why you want me to forgo Horcruxes, isn't it? You've seen something that frightens you, that disturbs you, and you want to stop me from making mistakes?"

"5 points to Slytherin," Harry deadpans, but he could feel his heart quickening, "And fine, I'll even draw you a life like picture of what you would've looked like in fifty years."

Tom didn't respond, taking the time to stand and make his way over to the kitchen. Harry scowled, now that Tom couldn't see him. He just wanted this done and dusted, victory was right around the corner and Harry could practically smell it.

Or maybe that was the fresh bottle of firewhisky Tom had opened, and was now pouring into a glass.

"It's not even noon," Harry criticised, eyeing the glass distastefully.

Ignoring Harry's frown, Tom took his seat once again and spoke lightly, "You are looking pale, darling, have you practiced your Necromancy recently? Maybe you should add it to the vow, so you don't wither away."