Death's Son (Originally done by Little.Miss.Xanda)

Drawing Lines

He stiffened slightly when he felt eyes on him. It seemed he had been right. Dumbledore would do something. He had no idea what he would do, but those looks... they were somewhat similar to the ones he had received in his fifth year. Could it be that Dumbledore was actually expecting him to have those visions? He couldn't remember if he had told Dumbledore anything about them. Did he have any visions during the summer? He couldn't really remember. There had been something related to Riddle Manor, hadn't there? But he hadn't told Dumbledore about it, had he? He didn't think so. Though he had told Sirius about it, now that he thought about it. Had Sirius already told Dumbledore? 

Either way, he didn't like that look. It made his skin crawl a little bit. It was hard to forget that the man still wanted him to die for his 'greater good' and he was only waiting for the signs of the horcrux waking.

It was rather ironic that Tom's soul was more awake than ever, but there weren't any signs of it. There was no pain, only a soft buzz in the back of his mind. Proof that he wasn't alone. He would never admit it, but he rather liked it. After the war, knowing that he wasn't alone was such a comfort. He didn't think that Tom truly understood just how much it meant to him that Tom had let him keep his soul. Not only keep it but actually give him another piece.

He was brought out by his thoughts by someone clearing their throat behind him. He looked back and saw a small Slytherin standing behind him, looking a little uncomfortable to be in the middle of Gryffindor territory.

"Yes?" he smiled warmly at the small child.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this," he held out a piece of parchment and as soon as Harry took it, he scurried away as fast as possible, making Harry chuckle.

Really, Dumbledore sure was crafty, sending a Slytherin to deliver a message. He remembered how he had viewed the Slytherins when he was fourteen. It was just another way for Dumbledore to try to see just how he ticked, especially now that he seemed to be slipping out of his leash. How would he treat the little, helpless Slytherin?

He sighed and shook his head. How hadn't he noticed that it was always about mind games with Dumbledore? The man thrived on knowledge. Knowing how someone, especially his shinny, golden weapon, thought must be one of the most important things for the man. Otherwise, how could he manipulate them into their supposed proper place? All for the 'greater good,' of course. Please, do note the sarcasm.

Well, he was working for the Greater Good too. Dumbledore should be proud.

Harry contained a snort and opened his missive. He wasn't really surprised when he saw that it was a summons for a meeting with the old man. He glanced up, noticing that the man in question wasn't at the Head Table anymore and let out a long-suffering sigh.

Sometimes he really envied Tom. Tom didn't have to deal with all of this. Maybe he should stage a kidnapping. Dumbledore must at least suspect that Tom was back, so him being kidnapped wouldn't be all that strange, would it? He was sure he could talk Barty into helping him.

Well, it was something to think about. Now though, he had an old goat to wrestle.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked him, looking at him in concern. She had been rather worried about the breakout, especially since they blamed it on Sirius. She didn't know he was safe in Grimmauld Place.

"Dumbledore called," he replied, showing her the note.

"Alright. Will you be in the common room later?"

"I think so, why?"

"It's just..." she sighed and looked away, though not before he saw a bit of sadness appearing in her eyes, "You've been busy lately. It seems as if we haven't talked in ages."