You Can't Con a Con Man (Part 2)

You Can't Con a Con Man

"Tom?" Julian asked, quiet and unsure.

"See you in Defense," Tom nonchalantly threw over his shoulder as he walked away from the table. He didn't glare at the High Table, not wanting Dumbledore to see him coming, but he was furious. What he needed was a plan.

*

Tom's lips thinned at Harry's message. The poor eagle looked tired as all hell, but had managed to get back to him the next day at breakfast. He sighed, annoyed.

Dear Tom,

I am sorry.

When can you get to our fireplace? I know you have a lot of questions and I have to give many explanations, but I really didn't lie to hurt you—know this, if you won't hear anything else. I'm so sorry. You must know why I lied to you. Still, I'm in the wrong in this, I'm aware of that. You have been there for me when I needed you, you are my friend and you know me, you know all I mean when I say that. Tell me you'll come eventually and talk.

Hopefully still yours,
Harry

Maybe it's for the best that Harry couldn't have thought about a career in politics, his diplomacy was still sub par—even if Tom could not find any particular thing to comment on. He blew out a breath. Tom was still holding on firmly to his annoyance.

However, Tom found himself grabbing a quill to write an answer, which was something he wouldn't have done for anybody else as it constituted at least the possibility of forgiveness. Using the same paper showed symbolically that he expected to hear the words from the man's mouth; at least he would get some satisfaction knowing Harry would wince at that.

'Saturday at five in the afternoon, my time.'

Tom strengthened as he regarded the paper. He had a little less than a week to have his revenge. "Still mine Potter, always mine—like I could give you up," he thought viciously. Whether he was vicious toward himself or Harry, Tom didn't analyze too carefully.

"Yes," Tom told the eagle firmly, "I have an answer." When the eagle let out a pathetic shriek and hid its head under a wing, Tom sighed exasperated, but pushed his sausages toward the bird. "Fine, you can go tomorrow after you are refreshed," he graciously allowed. The eagle shirked happily and started in on his sausages, ravenous. Tom watched it for a couple of seconds and rolled his eyes; he was going soft.

Harry would probably say something full of sentiment with his big green eyes opened wide. It would be something simple that couldn't be argued with. Maybe something along the lines of 'he's a bird Tom, of course you can be soft to a bird', careful not to call 'him' a 'it', or 'why would you want to cruel to a bird?' or even 'he can't betray you, that's the beast reason I could think of for being soft to him'. Tom had to admit that even in his head it was difficult sometimes to argue with Harry.

Tom reached out and petted the eagle on the head, lightly scratching at the small feathers there. The bird stopped eating, enjoying being petted, even going so far as to lean in Tom's touch, eyes half closed in bliss. Tom smiled, letting his hand slip naturally down the creature back, allowing it go back to its food. With a squawk it did, but not before bumping Tom's hand in silent gratitude.

Larissa fell into a seat next to him with a pensive frown. "Is that eagle Harry's?"

Feeing his eyebrow rise, Tom said simply, "It's ours."

With a nod, Larissa smiled bitterly. "I was wondering..." She took a deep breath, "Do you even have an idea of how you look at it?"

Tense, Tom looked from the corner of his eyes at the students sitting close by trying desperately to hide the fact that they were listening avidly. "I like it."