Lesser Virtues, Greater Goals | Tomarry

Chapter 8: Quietly

It's four o'clock in the afternoon.

Harry is in his room, sitting on the bed, Hedwig nestled on his lap, peaceful, sleeping. He writes to Ginny.

'Hey. It's me again.'

'Hey, Harry. What happened? How are you?'

'Fine. Well, as well as I can be. Things are getting weird.'

'You know you can't trust him.'

'I know, but -'

'No, Harry, listen to me. He is not a good person. He can be charming when he wants to, but you shouldn't lay any hopes of escape on him.'

'I know.'

He stops writing for a while. He tries to gather his scaterred thoughts in one place. Then he takes the pen in his fingers again.

'He... he wasn't exactly 'charming' that day, but honest. He said he took me in to get to Dumbledore.'

'That doesn't surprise me. I had a feeling he never liked Dumbledore.'

'He also said some things about you. I don't know if you want to learn them.'

'I prefer for that bastard to tell me his thoughts on his own, so don't waist your energy on that.'

'Okay. He also told me that... I might be getting attached to him.'

'Oh, Harry...'

'Don't scold me, Ginny. I know it's wrong.'

'I wouldn't scold you. Not when I was stupid enough to fall for the exact same trick. It would be hypocritical.'

'He brought Hedwig here yesterday.'

'Oh, really? That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you.'

'Yeah... and, sorry I haven't found out how to free you from there yet.'

'Don't apologize. At least you're trying. You're not the one that put me in here.'

'I don't know. Everything feels... strange. He has been really distant since that conversation, and though I hate him now, because he's a jerk, I still want...'

'Acceptance? Yeah, he's an expert at making you feel exactly that. Don't let him in. You have my mother, Ron, Hermione, professor McGonagall. You have people who care for you. Who does he have? No one. Don't forget that.'

At that point, Harry hears a knock.

He writes a quick 'It's him, Gin. Talk to you later' and hides the journal beneath his pillow.

He holds on to Hedwig, who had woken up from her little nap and now hoots at him to get his attention. He strokes her feathers and makes a shushing sign with his index finger, for her to be quiet.

She gets it and buries her white head onto his arms, not wanting to look at the Slytherin with the dark energy all around him.

Harry glances at the door. "Come in."

Tom enters the room with the same manner of superiority Harry has especially associated with him.

He doesn't speak at first. He takes a look around. His eyes land on the boy and that fluffy white ball that is his owl, which he holds so stoically, like a baby.

"She has settled in quickly." He comments. "She is very attached to you, isn't she?"

"She is." Says the boy, his arms pressed tightly around the frightened creature, that doesn't even turn her head away from his sympathetic gaze. 'Good for her' Thinks Harry. 'She doesn't miss anything, besides the git.'