Harry Potter and the Bucket List

Year 5 - 13

Beta:

This was meant to be a double update but my eye swelled shut so I had to take care of that. It's mostly okay now!

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Sleep did not come easily, and I gave up a little after midnight.

Since I could not rest, I decided to be productive. I brushed through my hair, slipped on my pants, and crawled into my vanishing chest. Once the falling sensation subsided, I climbed out of it and into my home at Lunar's Orchid.

There only lights were some candles and the fireplace.

Tom Riddle sat on the living room floor. The furniture was pushed aside to make room for the dozens of scattered diagrams and filled parchment paper. He was surrounded by the tornado of paperwork, but upon hearing the chest creak open he looked up at me.

Cinnamon eyes regarded me with surprise. "You look dreadful."

My lips curled back into a sneer. "Thanks."

He cocked his head, unminding my attitude. "Ill?"

"No." I turned away from him, glancing at the paperwork I had left out on the kitchen table since my last visit. "Just... had to think about some things."

"Not good things, I assume," he observed. "Need an ear?"

I hugged myself, giving a small shrug.

Tom gracefully waved his hands, a rush of cool magic pulling him to his feet. He glided over the paperwork, landing delicately in the dining room where I kept the chest. He stood before me, dark eyes regarding me carefully.

"What's wrong?" he asked, not unkindly.

I hesitated, torn between wanting to keep this between myself and Harry, and wanting to talk to my best friend about it. Eventually, with a heavy heart, I swallowed back my tears and confessed to Tom what I had been thinking about. He listened patiently as I recited what Harry and I talked about and my thoughts afterward.

"... When he's safe, maybe I should leave," I mumbled quietly, hating how painfully my chest seized at the thought.

It was one thing to think it, but saying it out loud hurt. More than any broken bone I had. I would rather take a thousand tennis balls to the face from the Whomping Willow than say it again out loud.

"Maybe he would be happier without me," I confessed, tears slipping out of my eyes. "I'm not a good person, Tom, and he is. He's got a kind heart. He's a good boy."

Tom gently cupped my face, using his thumb to wipe at my tears. He was warm, consoling, and so terribly kind as he murmured, "Maybe."

The wind was taken out of me.

Tom had not disagreed with me.

Am I right to think like this?

He pulled me into arms, embracing me tightly as he tenderly ran his fingers through my hair. "No matter how well-intentioned you are, not everyone can accept the actions you were forced to take. If your brother is already so upset over this... It is something to consider, at least."

My heart sank into my stomach. Pain and shame relentlessly tore into it like a rabid beast. I sniffled, biting hard on my bottom lip. I had already cried plenty, I truly did not wish to do so again. Even so, it was hard not to. The wave of misery crashing to me made it difficult to keep my composure. I clung on tightly to Tom, thankful he had initiated the hug.