All I Ever Wanted Was the World

chapter 25

Harry covered his ears and felt his body tremble.
He couldn't tell where the scream was coming from but he could feel the strong, relentless vibrations shake his entire being.
He felt as if his head would split in two, and the pain was overwhelming him completely.
He felt strong hands grab at his shoulders and he tried to shake them off, tried to get away from whatever was trying to get at him.
Harry's forehead was wet and he could feel the liquid drip down his face and into his eye before continuing down its stubborn path to his cheek.
A hand wiped at his head and he felt Tom try to shake him, try to get his attention back on him.
He couldn't hear much besides the piercing cries that filled the air, and it was then he finally found the source.
It was coming from him.

His screaming ceased and for a while he felt the throbbing pain in his head until it ebbed into a dull ache. His throat hurt and felt sore and dry. He clenched his eyes harder than he had before. His hands never left his ears, and he gripped his head so harshly he thought he might pull out the hair surrounding his ears.
"Harry!"
The normally smooth voice was shaky and worried and Harry felt lightheaded.
" 'm fine."
He whispered, his voice cracking as he tried to calm himself down. His screams had been guttural and loud and raw.
He'd never screamed like that before.

"He's mad, he has to be. Or he's in pain." Harry managed out, his brows furrowing and the skin forming harsh lines against his forehead.
"I imagine. Two of his horcruxes were just destroyed." The brunette spoke, his other hand moving from Harry's shoulder to his head.
"You're bleeding from your scar."

Hardy opened his eyes and blinked, his vision red and blurry as he tried to get the blood out of his eyes.
Had he not noticed?
Tom was wiping the wet tracks left behind and was using his hands to clean the mess.

"You never get a break, do you, Tom?" He laughed wetly, letting go of his ears and wiping at his bloody and wet face with his sleeves.
"It's fine, I'll just clean the shirt later, I don't mind." Harry said quickly, seeing Tom's look and open mouth as he seemed to want to tell him to stop.
The other simply sighed and used his wand to spell them both free of the mess.

"We should sleep." Tom said finally, staring at the bloody red scar that rested on Harry's head.
The tired, bespectacled boy nodded his head and looked warily at the shards of the broken cup.
"An accident, and I have just destroyed a horcrux. Tell me, what was that crown looking thing you threw back there?" Harry asked, getting up from his place and rewrapping the sword.
"It was a diadem." Tom said simply, taking a moment before he elaborated.
"One of my horcruxes. That boy made it easier for us. Fiendfyre is a terribly hard to control spell from dark magic that can destroy a horcrux...hence why I threw the diadem into the flames." He shared, taking the broken shards and turning them over in his hands with reluctance.
He threw them into the bin by the nightstand.

"Are you okay?"
Tom asked finally, and Harry knew for a fact that this was no facade. It was just like last time, his eyes were genuine and clear and his brows were knit in concern.
He felt bad, felt so bad that he was this way, and that perhaps he had changed Tom in the few months that they had known each other.
"It happens. It's happened before." Harry gave a small thin smile and grimaced when the pain returned.
"I will sleep it off, we can talk about the locket and everything else later."
He had placed everything under the bed before crawling into the inciting warmth near where Tom sat. He curled up on his side of the bed and lazily placed his glasses on the nightstand.
He took the sheets and pulled them up to his chin, letting out a great sigh as he stared out the window.
A sympathetic Tom was a strange Tom. He wasn't sure he'd ever be quite used to it.
Tom quietly turned off the light and returned to the bed.

The bed sunk next to him, and he could feel the warmth increase as Tom slid beneath the sheets.
Harry snuggled into the pillow, and if he noticed the hand lightly draped across his waist, he pretended that it was the blanket that was folded nicely against his body.