Take Me As I Am

XI

Tom Riddle is acting stranger than usual, and Harry is quite concerned for his mental state.

Okay. Maybe not quite concerned, but confused enough to not scowl at him every five minutes.

Tom had been acting strange in the days previous, but in the sense that he would just not leave Harry alone. Then he became indifferent to him, which Harry preferred. But now... now Tom is being nice? Like, genuinely nice? It's bullshit, Harry knows this. It's unnerving, and quite frankly, it's unexpected. But he'll take it over all of Tom's nosy questions.

Harry skips breakfast for the fifth day in a row, and Tom says something about it for the first time.

"How are you doing, Hadrian?" Tom asks, clearing his throat as he reaches for a biscuit.

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. "Fine?" It comes out more unsure than he wants it to, which only makes Tom's eyebrows crease more.

"I noticed you haven't been eating lately," Tom continues. "And you've been looking thinner than when you got here, which I didn't think was possible—"

"Your point, Riddle?" Harry sighs.

"I'm just worried about you," Tom's cheeks flush slightly, which stops all functioning activity in Harry's brain.

"I... uh..." Harry struggles to find words. Harry! This is a blood supremacist! A mass murderer! He killed your parents! 

But Harry pays his brain no mind as he feels his face heat up slightly.

Tom smirks like he's achieved something before putting a piece of toast on Harry's plate.

"I'm not hungry," Harry manages to get out, eyes darkening.

"I don't care," Tom returns. "You look like you're going to drop dead any minute. Merlin knows what those Healers have been doing in the Hospital Wing. You look positively dreadful."

Abraxas and Orion, who have been watching this exchange for the past five minutes, whisper something to each other. Harry ignores it and settles on giving Tom a death glare.

"Hadrian Peverell, you will eat this toast, or I swear on Salazar's bollocks I will shove it down your throat," Tom declares.

Harry's eyes widen in alarm as he starts choking on air in an attempt to get words out.

"Quite eager, aren't you, Riddle?" Abraxas grins.

"What prompted this sudden change of heart?" Orion adds cheekily.

Harry picks up the toast and stares at it while Tom stutters through an explanation.

Stuttering? The Dark Lord doesn't stutter.

He doesn't blush, either, a voice in Harry's head reminds him.

Harry manages to take a bite of the toast and forces himself to swallow it, though his body isn't used to the sensation. He grips the table with one hand, his knuckles whitening, as his stomach throbs angrily.

His head lightens, and all of a sudden, he can't breathe.

This is a trick.

This is a trap.

This is not right.

No, no, no, no, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no nonononononononononono—

"Peverell. Breathe." Tom grips Harry's right shoulder. Somehow, Harry takes a breathe and allows the air to flow through his lungs, clearing his brain of the smoke.

"Hey, you had one bite, that's progress, is it not?" Tom smiles encouragingly.

Harry scowls. The Dark Lord is smiling. Why the fuck is he smiling?

Abraxas and Orion seem to share Harry's concerns as they eye him, eyebrows raised.

Harry shoots them a look that says "I - don't - know - why - the - hell - he's - acting - like - this -he's - your - friend - not - mine."

"Let's do something about that hair tonight, yeah?" Tom finally says towards the end of their meal.

Harry frowns and reaches back to touch his short ponytail.

Abraxas narrows his eyes at his friend while Orion stifles a grin.

"Oi!" Harry frowns as Tom gets up from his seat and brushes the dust off his robes. "Why the fuck do you care about my—"

"Have a nice day, Hadrian." Tom inclined his head politely, maintaining eye contact with Harry, before disappearing out the Great Hall doors.

Harry, Abraxas, and Orion stare after him incredulously.

"Bloody hell," Abraxas voices what they're all thinking.

"Someone's Imperioed him, mate," Orion shakes his head. "Either that, or he's gone for you."

"Gone for me?" Harry squints at the older (younger? But technically older? He doesn't know) boy.

"Nah," Abraxas grimaces. "Someone's definitely Imperioed him."

— — —

Tom's plan is going wonderfully.

He's managed to throw Hadrian off enough that any questions he might ask later could lead to an accidental slip up. In fact, Tom is counting on it.

Not to mention that he's succeeded in flustering Hadrian into miraculously eating a singular bite of toast. Which, considering the state he was in before, is a significant improvement.

Of course, Tom doesn't actually care, but it had been extremely satisfying to see Hadrian grudgingly take a bite of the toast that Tom had given him. Himself.

If that's not a shred of trust, Tom doesn't know what it is.

Tom continues to flirt with Hadrian throughout the day. Hadrian, to his credit, doesn't fold immediately (much to Tom's dismay) but Tom can see the effects of his words in the pink tinge that spreads across Hadrian's cheeks towards the end of the day.

Step 1: Get Hadrian Peverell Off Guard — complete.

Onto Step 2: Kiss Him.