Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Planning to Reconcile

Two days passed before a chance presented itself to Harry to make good on his promise. He and Dmitry had gone outside during their free period after lunch to play in the snow, and they weren't the only ones. It was fresh snow, fallen just the previous night, and no one was immune to its temptation for long.

As he was doubled over laughing at Dmitry's bewildered expression from having been smacked in the side of the head by a Hufflepuff's snowball, he caught sight of Tom at the top of the castle steps ten meters away. Tom, watching, face stonily impassive but eyes betraying the unhappy swirl of emotions within. When the taller boy realized Harry had seen him, he spun on his heel with his robes billowing in a circle around him, and stalked inside.

Now or never...

"I'll catch you later," Harry said to Dmitry, who was slightly puzzled by the hint of resignation in Harry's tone.

"Alright," he replied, but he needn't have bothered. Harry had already taken off, running with difficulty through the drifts of snow.

Harry was already out of breath by the time he reached the entrance hall, but he pushed on when he noticed Tom disappearing up the marble staircase at the other end of the room. Chasing after the elder boy, he became annoyed that he was running while Tom was simply walking fast, yet it didn't seem to be making much of a difference. He turned a corner, skidding on the stones and saw Tom, hand moving to open the door to the girls bathroom.

"TOM!" The slender hand flinched to a stop. Cold eyes turned to him but he jogged, undeterred, to where the taller boy was standing, panting because of the physical effort he'd just displayed. "Talk with me?" was the simple answer to the questioning gaze.

"Class starts soon," came the clipped reply. Harry shrugged, trying to appear calmer than he was. His rapidly beating heart was the only thing that betrayed him.

"I don't have class this period." He looked Tom dead in the eyes, all vague nonchalance replaced with utter seriousness. "We need to talk."

Tom's gaze flicked to the bathroom door and back to Harry's face. He dropped his hand. "Lead the way."

And Harry did, right down to the Slytherin common room, passing only a cluster of chatty Hufflepuffs and subdued Ravenclaws on their way to potions. When they arrived, Harry let loose a sigh of relief that it was deserted. Tom passed him, taking the lead, and crossed to a leather armchair near the fireplace. Harry followed but remained standing a few feet away. It didn't feel like a conversation he could have sitting down.

They stared at each other, the crackling of the low-burning fire distracting Harry every time he thought he'd found the right sentence to begin their conversation. The blunt words he ultimately ended up blurting out, he immediately felt like smacking himself for.

"Why are you acting like such a child?" Yep, he was mentally bashing his head against a brick wall for coming up with such an antagonistic phrase to try and begin their discussion that was supposed to hopefully bring an end to the hard feelings between them.

So much for that, he thought with a wince while maintaining his impassive façade as Tom opened his mouth to speak.

"I am not," the older boy snapped, darkening his already lethal glare.

"Yes you are," Harry pressed on, deciding to just go with it. "You're throwing a tantrum because I'm speaking with Dmitry and not you."

"Like you weren't throwing your own tantrum this past month by ignoring everyone," Tom retorted with a scoff.

Harry squashed his minor desire to leap over and strangle the other boy. It didn't stop his fingers from giving a slight twitch though. "That doesn't matter right now. I'm not saying that how I behaved was perfect, but it's not like you're acting faultlessly at the moment either. Setting the basilisk loose because you feel neglected–"