"Oh."
Harry stares up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, flushed cheeks smeared with red and more dripping from his hands.
"Hello Tom, you're not supposed to be here." Harry's brow furrows and his head tilts to one side and the familiarity of his confusion in this insanity makes Tom feel like he is loosing his mind.
Who wouldn't, in his situation?
When he had woken up this morning, he was not expecting this... scene to be waiting for him to stumble upon.
Maybe Tom is dreaming, Merlin he hopes so.
Harry is still staring at him, the yellow of his Hufflepuff robes juxtaposed with the vivid red bloodstains soaking into the fabric. As if to further the sacrilege of his robes, Harry wipes his mouth across his sleeve; ridding it of the damming evidence that Harry Potter is not so good after all.
"Yes, well Slughorn's party was cancelled so I thought I'd come and find you. I did not anticipate you being so... preoccupied." Tom says, gaze lingering on the still figure behind Harry.
The question is evident in his voice, the what the fuck are you doing hard to miss.
"Me and this pillock here were just having a little chat about respecting others and those better than him." The figure seems to rouse as he is mentioned, groaning and clutching at his head.
Harry's face twists into something urecognisable, something cruel. He kicks the boy viciously and Tom is enraptured.
He is captivated, ensnared by this version of Harry Potter that he doubts few have ever seen and lived to tell the tale. He wants to learn of this facet of the Boy Who Lived, wants to gater it up and keep it safe in his chest, right next to his heart.
He wants to possess this aspect of Harry, wants to be the only one to see it in its entirety.
But curently, his desires need to take a back seat because he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on.
"Mmh," Tom acknowledges "But that does not explain why his blood - well I'm guessing its his blood - is curently staining your robes and your mouth." Tom's carefully controlled tone sharpens involuntarily at the end, conveying his opinion that Harry is being a bit idiotic currently.
"Right. Well, let me tell you a story." Tom frowns, unsure at the directioj this is going in, but nods anyway.
"Once upona time, there was a little boy called freak." Harry spits out this word, as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
"Freak never knew his parents, they had died when he was a baby you see, and so he lived with his aunt and uncle.
"His aunt and uncle had a baby boy themselves, and they doted on him; indulging his every wish. But they hated Freak, and Freak just didn't know why.
"They locked him in a cupboard, doing their best to forget about him, forgetting to let him out for sometimes weeks on end.
"So Freak thought that if he was bettter, if he did nothing to displease his aunt and uncle, then maybe they would love him.
"It didn't work." Harry draws a shuddering breath, eyes gistening with unshed tears.
"In fact, no matter what Freak did, they just seemed to hate him more.
"Of course, it just got worse when he started school. Freak learned that his name was actually Harry James Potter and that teachers were blind to his situation.
"Although some teachers noticed his hand-me-down clothes and ratty school shoes.
"But that just made the punishments worse, with him spending weeks in his cupboard instead of days.
"Naturally, Freak was a very hungry child. In fact, it never quite went away." Harry grins at him now, dried blood on his gums and a smile so wide it looks as though his face is split in two.
He laughs, leaning towards Tom in a conspiratory manner as if he was sharing a particulary funny joke with him.
"And then, Freak discovered a way to satiate this insatiable hunger - albiet briefly - and it was a revelation."
Harry's giggling now, the laughter hicupping from his mouth like he can't quite control what comes out. It quickly becomes full blown laughter, Harry bent over double with tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.
"Do you-" Harry pauses, attempting to catch his breath. "Do you want to know what finally got rid of that hunger, do you?" Tom nods, although he already thinks he knows what it is.
Harry stands on his tiptoes and raises a hand to Tom's ear, breath ghosting over his neck in a way that makes Tom shiver.
"Human flesh." He breathes, and Tom can't hold back the shudder of disgust at the thought.
"Yes, it's horrid isn't it. And dreadfully messy." Harry tuts at this, "The amount of robes I've had to burn because of this little habit is obscene." Harry whines, as if he was complaining to Tom about being forced 'to do politics' as he so often has before.
"It is a rather horrifying thought though, eating someone alive, but I assure each of my victims deserve exactly what they get.
"For example, this shining example of a guy who doesn't know how to take no for an answer." Harry stands on the boy's hand this time, crushing the bones under his boot.
The boy squeals, - high and long - not unlike a pig, Tom thinks with detatched amusement.
Harry is not amused, face contorting into a captivating look of impatience and scorn. "Shut up will you?" He hisses.
"Sory about that." He smiles apologetically at Tom, boy apparently forgotten.
"Ah yes, the people who I eat always deserve it." Harry's eyes darken slightly, gaze narrowing.
"Now, if you'll excuse me I have some buisness to attend to." Harry claps his hands together, making the boy whimper.
"Can I watch." Tom asks, barely more than a breath.
His mouth is uncomfortably dry, and he wets his lips compulsively as Harry studies him for a moment.
"Of course!" Harry agrees warmly, dried blood cracking on his lips as he smiles.
"I'll be sure to put on a show." He promises, voice low and making something coil tight in the pit of his stomach.
Tom walks over to a pillar, settling himself against it as he watches Harry.
"Oh hello, you silly little boy." Harry croons, sitting on the boy's chest - effectively pinning him in place.
The boy attempts to shove him off, arms pushing feebly against the unstoppable force that is Harry Potter. Harry tuts disapprovingly at him, shaking his head.
"You're not just silly, you're also very stupid. You should've realisedd by now that disobedience means more pain."
Harry lifts a dagger encrusted with blood to the boy's arm and sliced.
The boy screamed and screamed and screamed. His screams echoed round the chamber, creating a ringing noise that just wouldn't leave his head.
Harry seemed oblivious though, seemingly solely focussed on the bloody slice of flesh in his hands. And then he lifted his eyes to Tom's.
And, avada green eyes meeting Tom's wine red ones, he lifted it to his mouth and bit. Blood squirted all over his face, smudging on his nose and leaving a ligt film of red over his spectacles.
Harry moaned open mouthed, blood trickling out the corners and down his chin.
He was stunning.