A/N- PLEASE NOTE. I WILL BE MOVING THIS STORY TO AO3 UNDER THE SAME USERNAME. Bleu_Tsuki. I just feel that some of this stuff is not great for...people with morals. I WILL KEEP THESE FIVE CHAPTERS UP ON THIS SITE, HOWEVER, I WILL ONLY BE UPDATED ON AO3. THANK YOU.

Summary: HP/TR Harry's tired of playing the meek Gryffindor hero. Now in his sixth year, a deal with the devil has Harry questioning whom he can trust. Light, Dark, Grey. Easy right? A story in which loyalties, morals, and political values don't always correlate with Light, Dark, and Grey.

A/N: The events leading up to this scene in the Chamber of Secrets take place in September. This story will cover sixth year and a bit of the summer. Snape is a right bastard in this one! I couldn't resist, sorry Sev. Also, I plan on this being 20 chapters at most. It will certainly be a priority of mine to finish before next September. It is different from what I'm used to writing, but not from what I'm used to reading. I suck at slash. Forgive me. Skip it if you want. It's mainly power plays anyway.

Dedicated to:

The Fictionist whose mastery of the English language leaves me breathless. Thank you for writing. If you need more HP/TR or HP/LV or just want to read something well written, please check out her stories!

The Judas Kiss part, while perhaps originating from the dementors, was inspired by Ansketil and Lilacs in their joint story In Somno Veritas. It was a lovely story! HP/LV as well.

Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
...

"Since there 's no help, come let us kiss and part" by Michael Drayton

Chapter 1: When to Surrender

"She doesn't have to die, you know," Tom whispered, dark eyes glinting in the torchlight. "You know why I need to do this...but it doesn't have to be this way. You could- ah...offer to make a donation."

Tom cocked his head to the side, a smile playing lightly on his lips. He regarded the Boy-Who-Lived calculatingly, reveling in the way the sixteen-year-old's body shook, though he tried to hide his fear beneath squared shoulders and a steady jaw. Both stood alone in the Chamber of Secrets, a dying girl between them. In the distance, the basilisk lay slaughtered.

Harry was covered in blood.

And still, Harry refused to show a hint of fear. Stupid Gryffindor heroism. It really was a waste of time to try when Tom could literally hear the rapid pulse of blood through Harry's scarlet veins.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.

"I don't understand," Harry spoke carefully, regarding Riddle with a practiced eye. "Donation implies I won't be a carcass afterwards." He glanced pointedly at Ginny before looking at the nearly corporeal form of Tom Riddle Jr.

"So it does," Tom conceded, giving him a toothy smile to show he was pleased. Harry suppressed a shudder. If there was anything scarier than a Dark Lord in rage, it was a Dark Lord in pleasure.

Harry had been writing in Riddle's diary for little over a year now before the boys' dormitory had been broken into, ransacked, and destroyed last month. It was painfully obvious now as to who had stolen his most prized possession. The girl was paying for it now. With her life.

"Tick tock, Potter," Tom whispered, "Miss Weasley is looking quite pale, don't you agree?"

Harry swallowed. Damn him! Damn him to hell- because that's where he was going without a doubt. He just needed time to think. It was all a game to Tom, and if he was expected to make the right move, then he needed time! But Tom had seen to it that he wouldn't be getting any. Just another game, another restriction to see if Harry could jump through the hoop. And meanwhile, Ginny was dying by the second. "You're not being fair!" Harry protested, making an effort to keep his voice even, "You need to tell me exactly what I'm agreeing to, if I decide to agree to it."

Tom's mouth twisted, belying his displeasure that Harry was taking so long.

"Are you confused, Potter?" he began softly, in that voice which made Harry go weak in the knees, "Are you wondering why I'm finally here in my corporeal body when I could have done this the moment I met you? The moment you poured your soul over my sheets," Tom carefully stepped over Ginny's limp body, not wanting to taint himself with the chit. "I could have had you bleeding out your life force on the floor. Months ago. The very instant you deigned my pages with your rambling thoughts. Or perhaps you're confused because I've given you a choice. I can make it for you know, if you'd like." Again there was that feral grin, fit for a devil whose hands were grasping rapaciously over a new conquest.

Harry growled softly, looking from Ginny to Tom to Ginny. Ginny's pale, innocent, dying life, and Tom's maniac glee. Dammit. Tom was enjoying this.

"Whether she walks out of here alive is entirely up to you," Tom continued silkily. "Is making a donation really that hard of a concept? A simple yes or no should have sufficed minutes ago."

"You haven't told me what I'm donating yet," Harry reminded him harshly, emerald eyes smoldering with barely concealed frustration.

Tom took one look at him and sighed. "Isn't it obvious, my dear Harry? I need your life force."

Harry choked. "My—! I'll die!"

He couldn't possibly see how he could survive if Tom decided to do to him what was now being done to Ginny.

"You won't," Tom assured him lazily, studying his nails as if answering his petty questions was all very taxing.

"How can you be so sure?" Harry demanded, angry at Tom's apparent lack of concern. "Why does it cost Ginny her life but not mine?" Why are you doing this?-was left unspoken.

Tom's intense black eyes snapped to his. "Because you're special, Harry Potter." The way Tom said his name, as if his tongue were caressing the very syllables, sent almost delightful shivers up Harry's spine. It didn't help that Tom had advanced even more until he was nearly touching noses with the boy. "That pureblooded Weasley chit is worth nothing compared to you," Tom whispered, voice dripping of honey. "Nothing! Oh Tom, I worry Harry doesn't love me anymore. Why is he always writing in his room? Oh Tom! Oh Tom! Oh-! It's sickening!" He grimaced in disgust as if the memory was enough to make him ill. "But if you want to save her, like the good little Gryffindor you are, all you have to do is share this with me."

Tom closed the short distance between them and brought up his fingers to rest lightly upon Harry's scalp. He then proceeded to drag one long finger around the entirety of his skull, a look of utmost concentration on his angelic features.

His...head? Was Tom insane? Did he really think Harry would just let him into his mind when the last time- well the last time, Harry had woken up with blood encrusted nails and the taste of blood in his mouth. He shivered, remembering the morning after as he discovered these interesting facts. Come to think of it, he never did find out what happened that night. He wasn't really sure he wanted to.

"You want my mind?" Harry clarified blankly, trying to ignore Tom's cold fingertip as it made another trip around his head. Clincal...no, creepy. "You don't want to...suck the life out of me?"

Tom abruptly took a step back, removing his cold hand from Harry's scalp as he did so, for which Harry was grateful.

"On the contrary," Tom drawled, "I've dreamed of your death so often it has become like a fond memory of mine, the way the Avada Kedavra will reflect the same emerald green as your eyes and then snatch the color from you as you fade into death. Just...beautiful." His eyes regained their focused clarity, "But sometimes, necessity does behoove us to make sacrifices. Me, for instance. I'm accepting her unworthy life force into my veins when there is a much more powerful, a much purer, source of life inches from me. Close enough to just...take."

Harry swallowed as Tom pinned him with a predatory gaze. "So what's it going to be, boy hero?"

.oOo.

"What do I have to do?" Harry demanded, determination and fear mingling in his emerald eyes.

It was truly delicious, if Tom were completely honest. The clash of weakness and strength, the utter vulnerability that came with making a choice that condemned him solely. And Tom had made him make it himself. Tom let a smile slip onto his handsome face as he walked towards the boy once more.

"I can sense your magic, did you know that? Can you feel the thrum of power when I touch you?" Tom asked with curiosity evident in his eyes. Before Harry could even think to move away, Tom had lunged forward and seized his arm with one tight fist. Immediately, Harry felt a wash of calm pass over him, accompanied by an almost dangerous amount of confidence in his abilities.

It felt as if he could flood the entire world if he wanted to, like he could bend the wizarding world to his whim with only a few well-placed words. Mere whispers away from having every one of his dreams fulfilled. Did Dumbledore know he was no match for his power? Did Voldemort?

And just as suddenly, it was gone.

Without realizing it, Harry had shut his eyes, but now he snapped them open to meet startling black.

"I take it you felt it then?" Tom stated the obvious, looking bemused at Harry's awestruck expression. He too had felt the wave of magic, but then, he was used to large quantities of such raw power. Harry was not, if the way he was swaying was anything to go by. He had hardly unlocked any of his potential.

Tom frowned. He would be sure to remedy that. "I need you to search in your head for the area which connects you and me. Only then can I meld with your mind."

Harry swallowed. Meld with your mind. Had he really thought this one out?

"Of course..." Tom remarked lightly, picking up on his hesitation, "you can still decline this course of action, if you wish. Miss Weasley is just about used up, so I recommend deciding now."

"I'll do it!" Harry shouted vehemently. "Just give me a second!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, furiously searching for any connection he had with Tom. He hated Tom for making him do this. Maybe if it was just the two of them alone in his room together and Tom had casually asked him a favor one day, he would consider it. But here, Harry felt like Tom had stripped away his will with clever manipulations. He knew the other boy lived and breathed for plays of dominance, but Ginny's life was on the line and even Harry Potter knew when to surrender.

Everything in his mind was pitch black. What the hell did Tom expect him to see? But then in the distance, he felt a presence which was altogether foreign and innate. It reminded him of all the times Tom had taken him through his memories, and Harry grabbed it with all his might. "I've got it," Harry murmured.

"Don't let go," Tom whispered in his ear. "Focus on our connection. Remember, you agreed to this."

And suddenly, Harry was tugged forward so that he was pressed up against a hard body which was far too realistically warm for his liking. An arm snaked up to grasp a fistful of his unruly black hair, another hand rising to caress his cheek. The thrumming sensation was back as Tom pressed himself against him, molding their bodies together. He could barely focus on that little area of his mind when the magic began to flare.

Tom's lips were upon him, tearing thoughts from his mind as they scattered and fled.

Harry moaned as his body was unwillingly (or was it willingly?) conquered. It shouldn't have felt this good. This was Tom, here after all. Sure, they had experimented quite a bit as psychical dominance was a favorite weapon in Tom's arsenal. But why did it have to feel so bloody good? This was Tom. This was the Tom that had Ginny paling on the floor...

It had to be the magic, Harry tried to convince himself. His body couldn't possibly be reacting to this of its own accord. This was Tom. Tom deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue down Harry's throat as far as it would go, causing the boy-who-lived to go limp in his embrace. Harry had half a mind to bite Tom, but then where would that lead him? With Ginny dead and the possibility of doing this all over again. And it did feel so good...

It was the need for air which ultimately spurred Harry to start flailing against the other boy. His hands found Tom's hard chest and he began to push, but it was like pushing against a mountain. When Tom still refused to acknowledge him, he began to claw. Harry hoped to Merlin he wasn't too late to save Ginny even as his vision began to black out. With one final shove, Harry felt the obstacle give way, and then, he wasn't leaning against anything at all.

A/N: So how was it? This is the fourth draft of this scene since I couldn't quite get it right. I'm not used to writing any physical...affection, but I certainly want to try! Let me know what you think about Harry and Tom's relationship. Is it too one-sided? Next chapter has more of a balance I think. I'll answer any questions next chapter, but for now, please review!