All I Ever Wanted Was the World

chapter 28

Harry gulped.

"Of course."

Tom's teeth were displayed, showing the ever so slightly sharp canines he owned.
For no real reason at all, Harry felt suddenly very hot.

"Yes, well, I am grateful." He stated, his vision solely focused around the stretched lips belonging to what should have been his enemy.
"I see."
Tom leaned forward and brought Harry's chin up, his eyes seeming so dark despite the light of the fire.
He was staring into Harry's own green eyes, and he felt weak, as if his knees would give up on him.
He closed his eyes in embarrassment and shoved his head under the chin above him.
"Uh- right! Maybe we should rest tonight, huh? Anyways, I best be getting to bed, a big day for tomorrow." Harry rushed, patting the back of the taller boy before pulling away.
Tom stood there, his eyes fixated on the short boy's face.

Harry cleared just throat and moved to his bed, transfiguring the spare clothes he had and turning to Tom.
"You think some curtains would be nice?" He said sheepishly.
"We are boys, Harry. We aren't going to be completely nude anyways." The other uttered, though his eyes never left Harry.
"Right."

Harry turned around to the corner of the tent and began to undress, feeling the upper half of his body become hot with a blush that didn't want to go away.
He could practically feel the eyes on him, and whether or not they actually were, he didn't want to know.

He tugged on a shirt and his pajama bottoms. He felt comfortable in the loose material and turned around.
He was met with the sight of Tom Riddle undressing.

He focused on the bed instead and averted his eyes, walking over to what he wished he could call his safe haven before crawling into the sheets.
He turned on his side away from Tom and placed his wand under his pillow, letting out a faint sigh as he placed his glasses on the far corner of the bed.
He shut his eyes and snuggled into what comfort he could get before beginning to drift.

He could hear the light shuffling of feet against the floor, could feel the slight presence of chill even when the tent itself had been cast with warming charms to shield them from the cold.
He heard the rustle of clothing as it was folded and placed away.
Then, there was a small creak as a body was dropped onto the other bed, and he could hear the sheets moving as Tom began to settle into a comfortable position.

Harry let out a breath, and, soon enough, darkness began to sprinkle across his vision as he fell asleep.

He felt cold, too cold.

He was in the forest and surrounded by ice. Snow began to fall from the sky, though he had no real idea of what month it was at this point.
Harry let out his breath and watched as it dogged up the bottom half of his glasses.

He began to walk aimlessly with no sense of direction before he spotted him.
The man was cloaked in all black and had twisted his body towards Harry, his thin and pale lips twisting into a menacing grin.
"Harry Potter..." he hissed, a soft and breathy whisper as his eyes began to glint a crimson red.
"Finally, you've accepted your inevitable doom...you can't run forever... I'll corner you, and when I do, I will not hesitate to take you down, boy."
The words rang through his ears, and he could feel the oncoming ache behind his eyes the more the serpentine-looking man talked.
"Could you be any more annoying? You're just part of the dream, some false idea in my head meant to torment me. I'm not scared of you." He uttered, his green eyes never once leaving the red ones that looked at him in disdain.
The smug features twisted, and the yellowed teeth were bared in a snarl.
"You're a foul, little boy, Harry. I don't fear anything, but your fear of me is rather strong, isn't it? I'm real enough, and you shake and tremble like a babe, so tell me, are you really as fearless as you stay?"
He stalked forward, and his cloak billowed around his pale body that seemed to blend in with the snowy area.
Harry stood still for a moment, feeling the slight presence of dread rest in the pits of his belly as the footprints in the show were left behind from the man's walk.
"You're nothing more than what I stand on." Harry declared, and he drew his wand.
"Ah, but I know everything, Harry. I know where you reside now, and soon, your death will be inescapable."

Harry screamed at him, his wand-less hand winding back before he threw a punch, supposing not only Voldemort, but himself.
The blow landed on the sharp, protruding cheekbones of Voldemort, and he heard an enraged scream as the white, ghostly hands reach out to grasp him in anger.

He ducked down and fell to the ground, quickly turning his body in a maneuver as he staggered before running.
"You damned child!"
The voice bellowed in a high scream.

He ran, his legs pumping hard underneath his body that refused to give into the biting cold that stung his cheeks. His feet began to become cold as they sunk into the snow, which melted as his feet met with it. His shoes became soaked, and the water seeped in.
Pushing on, he let out a cry as he forced his body to move forward. He did his best to move his body to dodge and maneuver around the onslaught of trees in the never-ending forest. He weaved between the bark and ran into a clearing through the brush.

He could hear the firing of spells behind him, and he jolted as he fell forward towards the snow.
His vision was obscured, and all he could see was black.

He shouted as he woke up, his body coming up in a sitting position as he drew his wand.
Tom was there in the dim light of the fire, his eyes dark and questioning as he looked at Harry.
With a realization, Harry removed his wand from the throat of Tom and felt the cold sweat dampen his clothing.
He let out a sigh of relief and fell back onto the bed, his head falling heavily on the pillow and letting out a pocket of air.
"Harry?"
Tom's voice filled his ears and he reached out with both hands without thought.
He grabbed the taller of the two's hands and pulled him down onto the bed, making the other reluctantly move to sit.
"It was him." He whispered quietly before shoving his wand back under his pillow.
"He chased me and he- he taunted me. It wasn't bad but I-" he choked and cleared his throat.
"It was a promise. A promise to kill me." He smiled bitterly in thought, remembering the exact moment in which his fist made contact with Voldemort's horrible pale skull.
He looked at the hands still holding Tom's and removed them slowly, returning them to his lap as he observed to see if his knuckles had any sort of damage.
He turned his hands over and saw nothing but the scars from his previous years.
Tom took his hands back and held them, his fingers wrapping around his now balled fists.

"I wouldn't let him." Tom had growled then, a low sort of noise emitting from the back of his throat.
"It's not something that can be helped." He said gently, his eyes making contact as if to try and soothe the rage that Tom wanted to let out.
For a moment, he felt much too wary to be in a sixteen year old body, and Tom being seventeen made him feel strangely.

Tom shook his head and took the smaller boy into his arms, inhaling sharply as Harry leaned into the strong chest.
"I wouldn't let him." He repeated.