Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Harry's Inner Thoughts

Harry's brusque walk was really more like a half-run. His hand was clamped tightly over his mouth, and his eyes were bulging insanely from their sockets. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. It was stupid, it was careless, and he didn't understand why he'd been overcome with the sudden urge to kiss Tom. Even less comprehendible was why he'd succumbed to that feeling.

He passed little packs of students as he traveled aimlessly through the castle, trying to put as much distance between himself and Tom as possible. None of them paid him any mind. One or two students here or there curiously watched him rush away, but that was about it. No one tried to follow him or ask what was wrong.

That was one of the advantages of not being the Boy-Who-Lived. The entire population of Horwarts–of the wizarding world wasn't forcing their way into his business; business they had no place being.

He replayed the event over and over again in his mind. It didn't seem real.

An optimistic thought sprung up that maybe, just maybe, it hadn't really happened. That it was all just a figment of his imagination, and that Tom was still out on the grounds, utterly baffled as to why Harry had suddenly run off. But that hope was soon trashed. He knew it wasn't possible; he shouldn't try to convince himself of otherwise.

When Harry finally looked up and paid attention to where his feet had taken him, he was in front of a long stretch of wall on the seventh floor across from a tapestry depicting a wizard attempting to teach trolls to dance.

The Room of Requirement. Despite the situation, the corners of Harry's lips twitched in barely noticeable satisfaction. It would seem that, if he was ever in need of a place to lie low, his body would bring him to the Room whether he was fully conscious of it or not; and he did need to hide. Previously, he'd only been thinking of getting away from Tom before the older boy could take action against him, but now... Yes, tucking himself away there was probably the best thing to do.

He paced the length of the wall three times thinking, I need a place to hide, and a door morphed into existence. Taking the brass knob firmly, he pushed the door open and grinned feebly, despite himself.

The Room never disappointed. It had fashioned an almost exact replica of Harry's Slytherin dorm, with the only differences being that the number of beds had dwindled down to one and there was a window beside his desk.

Closing the door and locking the deadbolt feature generated by the Room, he strode over and threw himself facedown on the bed, letting out a frustrated scream. He didn't understand. Why had he kissed Tom? There was no point to it. Nothing to gain from it; Tom was a boy–

So? began a traitorous little voice inside his head, springing into existence. You've been dreaming of him for weeks.

Harry wanted to deny the claims and murder the voice, but he couldn't. One, because it was a manifestation of his mental being, and the other–

Because I'm right.

Go away.

You know it's true. Just like you know what you feel for Tom is–

What about Cho, what about Ginny? I loved her–

'Loved' being the operative word there. Feelings change, and you haven't seen Ginny Weasley in a decade, at least.

Harry ignored the voice and turned on his side, curling up into a ball. There were people who didn't see each other for extended periods of time, and their feelings didn't disappear...

Their feelings also run much deeper than anything you ever thought you felt for darling Ginevra. Why is it o hard to admit that maybe you just like Tom? A lot.

Harry grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, as though coming to terms with his emotions gave him great physical pain.

Fine, so maybe he was a mildly attracted to Tom. The voice snorted, but he continued to pay it no mind. Tom had been making a regular appearance in Harry's dreams, as of late, and so, logically, attraction was the correct option to choose when you added in the scenarios in which he was cropping up.

But I don't have to like it, Harry thought vehemently.

Don't kid yourself, the voice scornfully replied. If you didn't like it, why would you dream of him? If you didn't want it, why would you kiss him?

Harry cursed the rationale of the voice's argument. No comment.

Don't purposefully blind yourself to the facts; it's terribly unbecoming. The first step is acknowledgement. Step two, coming to terms with it. And the third, most vital step is to simply go on with life.

HOW CAN I CONTIUE ON AFTER KISSING TOM? He'll kill me!

The voice heaved a mental sigh (if that was even possible). Face it, mistakes get made all the time. You think you've done a cosmic wrong, so what? The sun will set tonight and rise tomorrow. Some things will continue living; others will die. Life. Goes. On. Deal with it.

Harry decided it was probably his inner voice of reason speaking with him because everything it was saying made an epic amount of sense. He still didn't like it.

But Tom–

If Tom ends up murdering you just because you happened to give him a little kiss in the snow then he wasn't a very good friend to begin with, the years you spent in his company meant nothing to him, and no matter what you tried in the future or did in the past, he's already predestined to become Lord Voldemort, and you might as well die now than spend half a century fruitlessly trying to stop it, the voice snapped rudely. Do you really have such little faith in him?

No–

Then either one of three things will happen. One: he cuts all ties with you, because he's an arse. Two: he ignores it and acts like it never happened, which is a good thing. Or, three: he liked it.

How is– Harry opened his eyes and sat up so fast his vision blackened, and he momentarily felt the effects of vertigo. WHAT!

Hmm? Came the nonchalant response.

What do you mean by 'liked it?'

Exactly how it sounds. Maybe he has hidden feelings for you–like you for him–that he hid in order to avoid a possible confrontation that would result in a severed friendship.

But, I would never break off–

And yet you expect he would? If the voice had a corporeal form, Harry was sure it would be staring down at him and smirking in triumph. Stop looking at him as though he's Voldemort, and look at him as Tom. Tom, the boy you grew up with. Tom, the only one whom you befriended out of the scores of people you met in the muggle world. Tom, who chose only you to be his friend as well. There's a bond between the two of you, forged the day you walked into Wool's, so stop acting and thinking as though he'd seriously injure you over such inconsequential matters.

*
*
*
AN: This chapter was a lot of fun to write :) and thank you all who have been voting and commenting and reading! I really appreciate it!!
Happy New Year