Author's Note: Well, this is going to be the last part of "Bound" (Don't worry, there's going to be a sequel)
Chapter Twenty Four -- Book of Revelations
-- "Why did you kill my parents?"
"I love how you ask that right after we've had sex. I killed your parents for reasons . . . That you don't need to know about, Harry. Harry Potter . . ." --
That small segment of last night's conversation remained fresh in Harry Potter's mind. He sat on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitories, red sheets curled around him reflecting on the words spoken: "I killed your parents for reasons . . . That you don't need to know about, Harry." What were these "reasons" and why couldn't Tom tell him what they were? What was Tom hiding from him?
The events of the past month began replaying in his mind. He tried to remember everything, any loose end that hadn't been tied by the charming, yet evasive, Tom Riddle. There was that matter of Dumbledore's "projects" for the first thing. Harry had confronted him once about those, wanting to know what they were all about.
-- "Has Dumbledore recruited you for his 'projects' yet?"
"Not yet. But when he does, I'm not sure if I'll be able to discuss them with you."
"Come on! We're bound. That means that you can't keep secrets." --
What had those projects been about? What had Dumbledore wanted from Tom? Why were the projects so important that Tom doubted his capability to confide in Harry about them? And why couldn't Tom tell Harry the truth about his parents? Tom had blatantly insulted the Potters numerous times. And, looking back on Tom's glib comments, Harry doubted it was simply a matter of spite. Some of those comments ran deep -- Maybe a bit too deep.
-- "How much time every day do you spend thinking about your parents? And are they really worth all the time you spend on them?"
"Of course they're worth it."
"You never met them. How do you know they're worth the time of day?"
"I just know. And I'm always thinking about my parents. They mean more to me than anything in the world."
"Suit yourself." --
It was as if Tom knew something about Harry's parents, something that no one else knew. It was one of those deep-rooted secrets, meant to be hidden under a rock or buried in the backyard. What connection did Tom Riddle have to Harry's family? Harry was going practically wild with confusion. Why hadn't he seen all of the spots conveniently left blank before?
And suddenly, Harry knew that there was only one thing to be done.
He had to go and talk to Tom about this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
Tom sat in the middle of the library, flipping through a book. All of the chairs around him were left empty. Anyone wanting to sit in the library chose a seat on the outskirts of the room -- Far away from Tom and, in their opinion, far away from danger. Tom quickly jotted down some notes and turned the page. He was so preoccupied with his work that he didn't notice Harry rush into the library.
"Tom?"
The book was laid down on the table and Tom sat at the table, his eyes flashing cold crimson at the young boy. Harry pulled out a chair, sitting opposite Tom.
"Yes, Potter?"
"Oh," Harry said, slightly hurt. "So I'm back to being 'Potter' again, I guess." Tom just stared at him without a response. "I have some questions to ask you," Harry continued. "I just need some loose ends tied up before . . ."
"Before what?" Tom laughed. "Before you can leave this room, go back to the lovely Gryffindor towers, and forget that I even came to Hogwarts in the first place? So that you can completely neglect your responsibilities . . ."
"My responsibilities?" Harry scoffed. "Like what? Sleeping with you?"
A slew of gasps went up from the shadows of the library.
"We'd best retire for the evening," Tom said, glancing around nervously. "The Hufflepuffs are becoming offended."
Harry didn't protest, he simply let Tom Riddle lead him out of the library and upstairs to their private chambers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
"So," Tom asked, lying down on the bed. "What did you want to ask me about?" His voice was low, threatening. It made Harry uncomfortable. The young boy slowly eased his way over to the oaken vanity in the corner of the room, slowly sitting down on the stool. Tom kept his eyes firmly attached to the boy, watching his every move meticulously.
"I just . . . It occurred to me that some questions have gone unanswered."
"For example?"
"Those projects that Dumbledore wanted you to help with." Tom looked down at the bed, breaking the stairs. "So you have been hiding something from me . . ." Harry whispered, examining his partner. "What were those projects? What does Dumbledore want you for?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," Tom replied tersely.
"But what about the fact that . . ."
"I can't tell you!" Tom shouted, losing his temper for a moment. His hands were rolled into fists, kneading at the green bedclothes. His face was florid. "Don't you understand, you insolent child! Even if I wanted to tell you about the projects, I can't! I'm bound to my word!"
"Bound to your word?" Harry asked quietly.
"I promised Dumbledore that I would tell you nothing. Do you understand me?" Tom began to calm down. He got up and walked over to Harry, kneeling before the stool. It would have been a romantic gesture if the overall mood of the conversation hadn't been so tense.
"I understand," Harry replied. "Maybe later then?"
"You're absolutely obstinate," Tom sighed, trailing a finger along Harry's jaw. "Maybe someday. Are there any other questions that you want to ask of me?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "I wanted to ask you . . . Why did you kill my parents?"
Tom sighed, standing up in front of Harry.
"Didn't we already go over this?" Tom asked, exasperated. "I thought you asked me this exact same question last night."
"I did," Harry said. "You never answered it."
"There's not much to say. They were against me. It was a matter of survival of the fittest. I persevered when it came to your parents. The Light fell to the Dark. End of story."
"No it's not," Harry scoffed. Tom glared at him. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Harry asked. "People have been telling me that sorry explanation for years and you know it. If that had been the only reason, you wouldn't have hesitated telling me about it last night. No, you killed them for another reason, didn't you? You told me that you killed them for reasons that I don't need to know about. Well I do need to know about them."
"Too bad," Tom spat. "I'm telling you, the only reason that your parents are dead is because they fought against me."
"And I'm calling you a liar," Harry said quietly, rising to his feet. The tension between the two was practically palpable. They stood there for a long time in an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Tom was the first to speak.
"You're quite the little interrogator aren't you?" he smiled. It wasn't a warm smile though. It was frigid and frostbitten. It sent a quick shiver down Harry's spine. "If you must know . . . I'm going to have to ask you to sit down, Harry."
Harry obeyed the command, taking a seat on the bed. Tom paced the room a couple times, sorting out what he was going to say, what had to be said. He glanced down at Harry. The young boy was looking up at him expectantly, his eyes glistening with anticipation.
"Fine," Tom said. "I'll just tell you straight out then . . ."
Author's Note: This way to the sequel -- http://www.fanfiction.ws/read.php?storyid=560849
Chapter Twenty Four -- Book of Revelations
-- "Why did you kill my parents?"
"I love how you ask that right after we've had sex. I killed your parents for reasons . . . That you don't need to know about, Harry. Harry Potter . . ." --
That small segment of last night's conversation remained fresh in Harry Potter's mind. He sat on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitories, red sheets curled around him reflecting on the words spoken: "I killed your parents for reasons . . . That you don't need to know about, Harry." What were these "reasons" and why couldn't Tom tell him what they were? What was Tom hiding from him?
The events of the past month began replaying in his mind. He tried to remember everything, any loose end that hadn't been tied by the charming, yet evasive, Tom Riddle. There was that matter of Dumbledore's "projects" for the first thing. Harry had confronted him once about those, wanting to know what they were all about.
-- "Has Dumbledore recruited you for his 'projects' yet?"
"Not yet. But when he does, I'm not sure if I'll be able to discuss them with you."
"Come on! We're bound. That means that you can't keep secrets." --
What had those projects been about? What had Dumbledore wanted from Tom? Why were the projects so important that Tom doubted his capability to confide in Harry about them? And why couldn't Tom tell Harry the truth about his parents? Tom had blatantly insulted the Potters numerous times. And, looking back on Tom's glib comments, Harry doubted it was simply a matter of spite. Some of those comments ran deep -- Maybe a bit too deep.
-- "How much time every day do you spend thinking about your parents? And are they really worth all the time you spend on them?"
"Of course they're worth it."
"You never met them. How do you know they're worth the time of day?"
"I just know. And I'm always thinking about my parents. They mean more to me than anything in the world."
"Suit yourself." --
It was as if Tom knew something about Harry's parents, something that no one else knew. It was one of those deep-rooted secrets, meant to be hidden under a rock or buried in the backyard. What connection did Tom Riddle have to Harry's family? Harry was going practically wild with confusion. Why hadn't he seen all of the spots conveniently left blank before?
And suddenly, Harry knew that there was only one thing to be done.
He had to go and talk to Tom about this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
Tom sat in the middle of the library, flipping through a book. All of the chairs around him were left empty. Anyone wanting to sit in the library chose a seat on the outskirts of the room -- Far away from Tom and, in their opinion, far away from danger. Tom quickly jotted down some notes and turned the page. He was so preoccupied with his work that he didn't notice Harry rush into the library.
"Tom?"
The book was laid down on the table and Tom sat at the table, his eyes flashing cold crimson at the young boy. Harry pulled out a chair, sitting opposite Tom.
"Yes, Potter?"
"Oh," Harry said, slightly hurt. "So I'm back to being 'Potter' again, I guess." Tom just stared at him without a response. "I have some questions to ask you," Harry continued. "I just need some loose ends tied up before . . ."
"Before what?" Tom laughed. "Before you can leave this room, go back to the lovely Gryffindor towers, and forget that I even came to Hogwarts in the first place? So that you can completely neglect your responsibilities . . ."
"My responsibilities?" Harry scoffed. "Like what? Sleeping with you?"
A slew of gasps went up from the shadows of the library.
"We'd best retire for the evening," Tom said, glancing around nervously. "The Hufflepuffs are becoming offended."
Harry didn't protest, he simply let Tom Riddle lead him out of the library and upstairs to their private chambers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
"So," Tom asked, lying down on the bed. "What did you want to ask me about?" His voice was low, threatening. It made Harry uncomfortable. The young boy slowly eased his way over to the oaken vanity in the corner of the room, slowly sitting down on the stool. Tom kept his eyes firmly attached to the boy, watching his every move meticulously.
"I just . . . It occurred to me that some questions have gone unanswered."
"For example?"
"Those projects that Dumbledore wanted you to help with." Tom looked down at the bed, breaking the stairs. "So you have been hiding something from me . . ." Harry whispered, examining his partner. "What were those projects? What does Dumbledore want you for?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," Tom replied tersely.
"But what about the fact that . . ."
"I can't tell you!" Tom shouted, losing his temper for a moment. His hands were rolled into fists, kneading at the green bedclothes. His face was florid. "Don't you understand, you insolent child! Even if I wanted to tell you about the projects, I can't! I'm bound to my word!"
"Bound to your word?" Harry asked quietly.
"I promised Dumbledore that I would tell you nothing. Do you understand me?" Tom began to calm down. He got up and walked over to Harry, kneeling before the stool. It would have been a romantic gesture if the overall mood of the conversation hadn't been so tense.
"I understand," Harry replied. "Maybe later then?"
"You're absolutely obstinate," Tom sighed, trailing a finger along Harry's jaw. "Maybe someday. Are there any other questions that you want to ask of me?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "I wanted to ask you . . . Why did you kill my parents?"
Tom sighed, standing up in front of Harry.
"Didn't we already go over this?" Tom asked, exasperated. "I thought you asked me this exact same question last night."
"I did," Harry said. "You never answered it."
"There's not much to say. They were against me. It was a matter of survival of the fittest. I persevered when it came to your parents. The Light fell to the Dark. End of story."
"No it's not," Harry scoffed. Tom glared at him. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Harry asked. "People have been telling me that sorry explanation for years and you know it. If that had been the only reason, you wouldn't have hesitated telling me about it last night. No, you killed them for another reason, didn't you? You told me that you killed them for reasons that I don't need to know about. Well I do need to know about them."
"Too bad," Tom spat. "I'm telling you, the only reason that your parents are dead is because they fought against me."
"And I'm calling you a liar," Harry said quietly, rising to his feet. The tension between the two was practically palpable. They stood there for a long time in an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Tom was the first to speak.
"You're quite the little interrogator aren't you?" he smiled. It wasn't a warm smile though. It was frigid and frostbitten. It sent a quick shiver down Harry's spine. "If you must know . . . I'm going to have to ask you to sit down, Harry."
Harry obeyed the command, taking a seat on the bed. Tom paced the room a couple times, sorting out what he was going to say, what had to be said. He glanced down at Harry. The young boy was looking up at him expectantly, his eyes glistening with anticipation.
"Fine," Tom said. "I'll just tell you straight out then . . ."
Author's Note: This way to the sequel -- http://www.fanfiction.ws/read.php?storyid=560849