He's the Raven (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Chapter 10: <Balance>

Welcome, loves, to the rebirth of this story
btw, How'd yall like the art? Once again, it's by Reapersun, and I'm still well bloody terrified posting it here, but please do note not to repost it on one of those websites like Pinterest. He really doesn't like it.
Enjoy

Dark creatures lurked in the shadows and the corners of the dark room. The silver moonlight, seductive in its own rights, filtered through the murky green curtains, twinkling and taunting at the man. Or boy, whatever.

The former Dark Lord rubbed at his eyes drowsily, the hallucinations of dancing dark figures vanishing from his sight. A forceful exhale burst from his chest as he settled on a cosy armchair, elbows on his knees as he stared down at the ground and pondered his life. Two bottles of Firewhisky lay abandoned beside the armchair, one overturned and its contents spilling on the carpets.

"What is going on..." the man-boy murmured wearily, his head spinning with all his troubling thoughts about the events that had recently transpired. His robes were ruffled and messed up (Tom had purposely done that to his own clothing, he needed to stop looking so young, so perfect-), his right hand was clenched around his wand, and his eyelids drooped.

"Nice to see you coping well, Tom."

The tired boy glanced to his side, a clean-shaven man in a Muggle suit coming into view. A chuckle of mirth slipped out of his mouth. "You don't say. I've not exactly been cured of my insanity and turned back into a boy, thanks."

The figure cocked his head to the right. "That is true, but I've definitely seen others similar to your position. That trademark look of exhaustion? Way too common for your kind."

"Are you here to humour me, or yourself?" a swell of frustration grew uncomfortably in his chest, Tom groaned, pushing himself up from his crouched position and sinking further into his chair.

Death sighed, fixing his tie and suit jacket. "Harry called for you. He's not in the best of shape now, Fate decided to throw a nightmare at him. And he also woke up coughing blood."

Tom's eyes widened. He pushed himself from the chair with a renewed energy, shoving a wand in the immortal's direction. "Take me to him, now," he demanded. (NotHarrywhyHarryhe'ssufferedenoughmyfault)

The room faded around him, and he found himself standing in the shadows of another room, watching worriedly as Malfoy and Snape fussed over his bloodied nose and disoriented mannerisms. He surged forward, and the two other males looked up, eyes widening as they moved away from the Dark-Lord-Turned-Boy.

Harry's eyes flickered up to look at him, filled with such conflicts that he couldn't help but envelop him in a hug. The boy's form started to flicker- and to the people present in the room's amazement, Harry's familiar short, scrawny, ruffled bespectacled form morphed into a man, dressed in a button-up shirt, pants, and a suit jacket slung over his shoulders. The familiar spectacles seemed to grow along with the transformation, and Snape had to inhale sharply as he looked at someone who looked similar to James.

"I... Fate is a bloody arsehole," Harry murmured into Tom's ear, shaking off a bit of his fear and regaining a bit of his usual swagger. Tom chuckled softly, eyes flicking to the two standing beside them to signal them to leave. "Well, we certainly can't complain to Death, man's definitely screwing him, he wouldn't appreciate someone insulting his partner like that..."

A weak, muffled giggle emitted from the angel, whose eyelids slowly started to droop down. "Yes... Death is fucking Fate, we can't do anything about it..." With a final sigh, he slipped off into the hands of Morpheus, feeling safe in those warm arms of his ex-enemy.

(part 2- continuation from chapter 9)

yes, it was a filler chapter to show off my writing skills, if you didn't notice.
Well, welcome back to this book if you're an old reader. To be very honest I might not even update this much, but I'll try. Ta.