The Mirror of Eidrokcuf

by Kayliana

Harry never imagined that he'd find himself cooperating with Voldemort, but that was before the two of them were locked in a room without their magic and ordered to have sex by a very angry mirror. (Or: a crack-y f*ck-or-die fic that grew feelings. Takes place early in Deathly Hallows.)

3. chapter 3

A/N

: Trigger warnings for this chapter: more references to past canon-typical child abuse/neglect. Also some fatalistic but not exactly suicidal thinking, and a minor PTSD-type reaction

Chapter 3

"Are those peacocks?" Harry asked, staring in amused disbelief as the birds strutted across front lawn of Malfoy Manor. Night was falling, and the white peacocks stood out even more starkly in the gloom of dusk.

"Yes, yes they are," Voldemort said in a resigned tone, leading Harry and Hermione up the front path. He had Apparated them to the outside gate in order to key them both into the wards on their way in.

The manor was huge and imposing but also beautiful—it was nearly a castle, with tall towers and a truly ridiculous number of elegant windows set into the stone walls. It looked entirely too big for a family of three, no matter how wealthy.

"It's lovely," Hermione said quietly.

"I suppose," Harry said, a bit reluctant to compliment anything of Malfoy's.

Halfway up the path, Voldemort said, "Harry, you'll be staying with me. Hermione, you can have the guest room in my suite, or I can arrange your own private suite if you would prefer."

Hermione thought it over for a moment, then said, "I'd rather stick close to you two for now, if you don't mind."

"That's probably for the best," Voldemort said. "It wouldn't do to run into Bellatrix on your own."

"Wait," Harry blurted out, "that bitch is here?"

Voldemort side-eyed him and said, "She's Narcissa's sister. Just avoid her and don't pick any fights—she's very useful and I'd rather not lose her unnecessarily."

"You're telling me not to pick a fight?" Harry demanded. "She's the one who taunts me about Sirius's death every time she sees me!"

Voldemort paused a moment, then said, "I suppose I can send her off on a bogus mission."

"Ta ever so."

"But not tonight—if I have to endure any more drama after the day I've had, I swear I'm going to snap."

"So then I probably shouldn't pick a fight with Malfoy either?" Harry asked, only halfway joking.

"Do try to refrain," Voldemort said dryly.

They arrived at the front door, which opened to reveal Lucius and Draco waiting to greet them. Voldemort stepped through the door, leading Harry and Hermione inside and then closing the door with a wave of his hand.

"My Lord," Lucius said, bowing.

"Professor," Draco said, with a hint of a smirk. Harry's eyebrows went up, and he felt a stab of annoyance that Draco was evidently already in the loop about the Hogwarts plan.

Lucius shot a horrified look at Draco for the apparent breach of etiquette, which made Voldemort smirk as well.

"Lucius, Draco," he greeted. "As you probably noticed, I've keyed Harry Potter and Hermione Granger into the wards." Draco eyed them both curiously, and Lucius didn't quite scowl but his expression became slightly more pinched. "They are to be treated as honored guests, and no harm is to come to them. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Yes, Sir."

"Where is Bellatrix?" Voldemort asked.

Lucius hesitated. "I believe she's still in the dungeons."

"Oh, right," Voldemort said under his breath. He'd forgotten about sending her there. There was a reason that he didn't drink often. "Leave her there for now."

"My Lord, if I may," Lucius said hesitantly, "there have been some—developments—since today's meeting," he trailed off, waiting to see if Voldemort seemed receptive to a discussion.

"Fine," Voldemort said, sounding less than pleased. "Draco, give Harry and Hermione a tour of the Manor while your father updates me. And all of you had better behave civilly," he added, looking pointedly at Harry and Draco.

Draco nodded respectfully, while Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, dear."

Lucius looked scandalized and snapped, "Show some respect, Potter!"

"Lucius," Voldemort said coldly, "if I object to the way Harry speaks to me, I will tell him myself."

Lucius bowed his head and said, "Yes, My Lord."

"That means mind your own business," Harry chimed in, giving Lucius an insincere smile.

Lucius gritted his teeth and held back whatever retort he was clearly itching to throw at Harry.

"The update, Lucius?" Voldemort said pointedly. "Shall we go to the dining hall?"

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius said, and tore his glare away from Harry.

Harry caught Voldemort's eye and said, "Try not to snap."

"Yes, dear," Voldemort deadpanned, then he turned to lead a very gobsmacked Lucius towards the dining hall.

Harry watched until they were out of sight, then turned back around to face Hermione and Draco.

"What?" Harry said to the looks they were both giving him—Hermione's was fond and knowing but still slightly concerned, Draco's was surprised and calculating but quickly hidden behind an impassive mask. "Thought we were going on a tour?" Harry said pointedly, catching Draco's eye.

Draco nodded, then said, "Right. Potter, Granger, follow me."

Draco led them all along the ground floor, keeping up an unnerving mask of detached professionalism and pointing out the sitting room, the smaller dining room, the grand dining hall (they very quietly walked past its closed door, as Voldemort and Lucius were holding their briefing there), the swimming pool, the door that led down to the cellar and the dungeons, the music room, the conservatory, and the guest library. Harry and Hermione remained mostly silent, only offering up an occasional awkward "Oh," or "That's nice," while Draco continued to play tour guide without any sneering or name-calling at all—it was quite frankly unnatural.

When they ended up outside the library, Hermione finally asked, "May I take a look around the library?"

Draco raised an eyebrow as if to mock her predictability, but he only said, "Certainly," and held the door open for her. She gave him a slightly suspicious look, but went inside.

"Are any of these books cursed?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Of course not," Draco said. "We keep the cursed ones in the private library upstairs." He let the door close behind her, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the hallway.

Harry started to follow after Hermione, but Draco caught his arm and gave him a very serious look. "Can we talk? Privately?"

Harry glanced down at Draco's hand on his arm, then raised his eyebrows and said, "Can you stop acting like a pod person?"

"Like a what?"

"You're suddenly like a—a Stepford Wife or something."

"That made even less sense."

Harry tugged his arm free from Draco's grip and vaguely waved a hand at him. "You're being all polite and professional, and it's creeping me out. You're supposed to be an annoying git, not a robot."

Draco's mask finally cracked, and he gave Harry a severely raised eyebrow and a hint of a sneer. "It's called good manners, Potter, but I wouldn't expect you to—" Draco cut himself off, took a breath, and forced his expression back into something polite and neutral. "What I meant to say was—"

"No," Harry interrupted.

Draco snapped again and demanded, "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean stop trying to suck up to me, or whatever you're doing. I'm not buying it and you don't mean it, so why are you even bothering?"

"If you really must know, Potter, I was told to not be a nuisance to you. Forgive me ever so much for trying to be civil," Draco said sarcastically.

"Since when do you ever just do what you're told?" Harry asked, part of him actually enjoying the argument.

"Since the Dark Lord personally fucking ordered it!"

Harry blinked. "Oh."

Draco scoffed and mockingly echoed, "Oh."

Harry laughed, which seemed to confuse Draco. "Okay, well, what you were doing before with the whole 'civility' bollocks—that was a nuisance. Just be your usual annoying self—oddly enough, I like that better," Harry said, giving Draco half an awkward smile.

Draco gave him a strange look, then finally said, "If the Dark Lord kills me for getting shirty with you, I will be haunting you, Potter. Just so you're aware." He offset the severe tone by offering a faint smile.

"I'm pretty sure you'd haunt me regardless," Harry said, absently tugging at the neck of his own shirt—it was buttoned all the way up, and it was uncomfortable and nearly too tight. He undid the top two buttons without thinking, and heard a resulting gasp from Draco.

"What the hell, Potter?"

"Oh, er—" Harry started, remembering too late that he'd buttoned his shirt up all the way specifically to hide the massive hickey at the base of his neck, which Voldemort had given him that morning.

"Merlin," Draco muttered, staring at the hickey, "I thought he was just winding me up."

"What?"

Draco blinked and seized Harry's arm again, steering him towards a door across from the library. "In there. Now."

Harry was too startled to protest, and he found himself shoved inside a broom cupboard with Draco Malfoy—although given that this was Malfoy Manor, it was a very large and elegant broom cupboard without a single cobweb or spider in sight. Draco tapped his wand on the doorknob to lock it and then cast a privacy spell before turning to face Harry, still looking pale and disturbed.

"Okay then," Draco said, sounding a bit shaky. "I was going to ask if we could start over and try to be friends—I had a whole speech planned out, but as usual you've gone and ruined it for me."

"I did not," Harry argued, wondering whether he should draw his wand. "What are you on about?"

"Look, Potter," Draco said urgently, "I can get you out of here—I know all the ways around the wards, and my father still has a few safe houses that no one besides us knows about. He'd never find you there."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord," Draco said, gesturing towards the enormous hickey on Harry's neck. "I was trying to be delicate, but if he's been, well, hurting you, or forcing you to—you know—" he trailed off awkwardly, then met Harry's eyes and repeated, "I can get you out of here."

Harry's eyebrows went up, and he said, "That's suspiciously nice of you, but I'm not a prisoner and I promise I'm fine. He's not forcing me to do anything. So let's just forget this entire conversation, all right?"

"Not a chance. I meant what I said about starting over," Draco said stubbornly.

Harry blinked and gave Draco a bewildered look. "Where's this coming from, anyway? You've always hated me."

"No I haven't," Draco said, so quietly that Harry almost missed it. Before Harry could pounce on that comment, Draco continued in a louder, falsely confident voice, "It's just self preservation, Potter. Things have been changing dramatically around here, and I wouldn't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," he paused, smiled a little self-depreciatingly, and said, "Maybe you could help me there."

Draco held out his hand to shake Harry's, mirroring that first day on the train.

Harry looked at it, then smiled slightly and said, "I think you can probably tell who the wrong sort are for yourself by now…but all right."

He took Malfoy's hand and they shook.

A blinding grin spread across Draco's face before he caught himself and schooled his features into something more neutral. "All right," Draco echoed. After a moment, he finally let go of Harry's hand and said, "Now what?"

Harry smirked and said, "Now we get out of this broom cupboard before somebody finds us and gets the wrong idea."

Draco blushed a bit and said, "Right. Wouldn't want that." He unlocked the door and took down the privacy spells. He was reaching to open the door when Harry's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Erm, Draco?" Harry said uncertainly, trying out his first name. It felt a bit weird to call him that, but Harry supposed he would get used to it eventually.

Draco swallowed before looking up to meet Harry's eyes somewhat apprehensively. "Yes, Harry?"

"Just—thanks. For trying to help. I don't need it, but I appreciate it all the same."

"Of course," Draco said, looking away at the ground and almost reluctantly pulling his wrist free from Harry's grip. "Offer's open, if anything changes."

"Okay," Harry said, and this time he let Draco open the door.

Draco cautiously looked both ways down the corridor before stepping out and telling Harry, "It's clear."

Harry followed him out into the deserted corridor, pulling the door shut behind him. Draco lingered outside the closed door to the library and Harry stood beside him, leaning slightly against the wall. After a moment, Harry said, "So, you do realize that being my friend means you have to be nice to Hermione, right?"

Harry was fully prepared for some kind of biting, sarcastic comment, but Draco merely shrugged and said, "Granger's not so bad, I suppose."

Harry's eyebrows went up but he agreed, "She's not bad at all. She's brilliant."

"I'm brilliant too, you know," Draco said with a sniff.

"It's not a competition," Harry said, smiling a little.

"Everything's a competition, Potter," Draco said, giving him a disbelieving look.

"It's Harry," he reminded him, nudging Draco's arm with his elbow.

"It's still Potter when you're being an idiot," Draco teased. "Speaking of idiots—why isn't the Weasel with you?"

Harry glared and said, "Don't talk about Ron like that." Draco held up his hands in mock surrender, and Harry continued, "We had a bit of a disagreement, is all."

"Over?"

"Over the fact that me sleeping with Voldemort apparently means I'm betraying my parents' memory and the rest of the world."

Draco blinked. "Oh."

Harry gave him a sharp look and said, "Are you going to be weird about it too? You already assumed that he's fucking me—or am I suddenly a traitor once you find out it's consensual?"

"I didn't say that," Draco interjected, quickly continuing when Harry opened his mouth to argue, "and I wasn't thinking it either. It's just…I don't know, it's surprising."

Harry nodded, calming down quickly at the lack of judgment in Draco's tone, then he said, "Can't argue with that, I suppose."

After a few moments of not-quite-comfortable silence, Draco asked, "How did this happen, anyway—the two of you?"

"Well," Harry said, "long story short, we were trapped together in a life-or-death situation and we had to, er, cooperate to get out of it. Things just sort of—happened—from there."

Draco gave him an unimpressed look. "Riveting. Truly a tale to tell the grandchildren. If you don't want to tell me, just say so," he added, seeming to close off a bit.

Harry bit his lip and considered for a moment—he was sure Voldemort didn't want any more people than necessary to know what happened. Even so, as strange as it was to suddenly think of Draco tentatively as a friend after years of animosity, Harry had already decided to give it a serious go and he didn't want to ruin it before it even began. And this was definitely the kind of major life event that one didn't conceal from one's friends—especially since Draco had just offered to more or less risk his life to help Harry escape from what Draco had thought was imprisonment and abuse.

"I'll tell you," Harry finally said, "but only if you'll take a Wizard's Oath first, and promise not to tell anyone else or to use the information against me or Voldemort."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's surprisingly Slytherin of you."

Harry smirked at him. "Oh, didn't you know? The Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You're lying."

"I'm not. And it's rude to call your friends liars, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, I take it back. In the interest of being a good friend and all."

Harry smiled and so did Draco, but then a voice from down the hall interrupted.

"This is adorable," Voldemort said dryly, "should I come back later?"

Draco froze and his smile faded into a guarded expression. Harry's smile stayed put as he turned to see Voldemort casually leaning against the wall where another corridor intersected the one they'd been chatting in.

"Nah," Harry said, "get over here. We were just about to braid each other's hair and make friendship bracelets. You can join in."

Voldemort smirked, but uncrossed his arms and started towards them, pausing when he got close enough to notice Harry's unbuttoned shirt collar and the hickey on his neck. He glanced at it pointedly, then his eyes roved over the rest of Harry's neck, and he asked in a strange tone, "No other bruises?"

"Hmm?" Harry's brow furrowed, then he realized Voldemort was referring to his temper tantrum earlier when he'd grabbed Harry by the neck and shoved him against a wall. "Oh, no. I'm all right," Harry assured him, finally placing the tone in Voldemort's voice as guilt, which was something he'd never heard or expected to hear from the man. Harry smiled and said, "I'll forgive you if you kiss it better." He tilted his head, offering up his neck.

Voldemort smiled slightly but still looked contrite as he stepped closer and leaned down to kiss Harry's throat, whispering a healing spell against his skin that made the hickey vanish, and also dispelled a slight soreness that Harry hadn't even noticed until it was gone. Voldemort kissed his way up Harry's neck before capturing his lips.

Harry pulled back after a moment and said, "Erm, I think we're traumatizing Draco."

Draco blinked and finally looked away, his cheeks bright red and his expression something odd that Harry couldn't quite interpret.

"Nonsense," Voldemort said, possessively kissing Harry again, "I think he's rather enjoying the show."

Harry blushed and pulled back, putting a hand on Voldemort's chest to keep him from leaning in again. "I think I've had enough of putting on shows, if it's all the same to you." Draco's eyebrows went up when Harry glanced over and accidentally made eye contact. "Long story," Harry muttered to Draco, whose face was still extremely red.

"Right," Draco said awkwardly, edging away towards the library door. "I'll just, er, see if Granger needs any help with the books."

"Stay close to her," Voldemort ordered him, "and show her to my rooms whenever she's finished with the library."

"Yes, Sir," Draco said, practically fleeing into the library.

Once the door closed behind Draco, Harry asked, "Why does he get away with calling you Sir when everyone else is all Master and My Lord?"

"I told him to get out of the habit of saying My Lord so he doesn't blurt it out during class at Hogwarts."

Harry laughed. "That would be kind of hilarious, actually—'Turn to page 138,' 'Yes, My Lord!' and then everyone panics."

"Your sense of humor is concerning." Voldemort stepped back, casually linked his arm with Harry's, and said, "Walk with me. It appears that Draco didn't finish the tour."

"We only did the first floor," Harry said, leaning into Voldemort's side as they walked down the corridor. "Hermione got distracted by the library, and then Draco cornered me and asked if we could start over as friends, so we're giving that a try."

"Splendid," Voldemort said, and Harry couldn't quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

They walked in silence for a moment, climbing a set of elegant marble stairs that seemed to curve upward forever. Voldemort steered Harry onto the top floor landing and into a long unlit corridor, the outside wall of which seemed to be more window than wall. There was a domed glass roof that let in the moonlight and created the illusion of walking outside under the stars, and the floor was mosaic of tiny tiles in varying shades of green. The glass corridor provided a beautiful and—dare Harry say it—romantic view of the sky and the sprawling grounds of the Manor.

"Speaking of names," Voldemort finally said, even though they hadn't been for several minutes now.

"Yeah?" Harry prompted, after a few too many beats of silence.

"I'll be going by my birth name at Hogwarts," Voldemort said quietly. "You should probably start calling me Tom, so we'll both have plenty of time to get used to it."

Harry stared at him. "All right…Tom…but I'm pretty sure the entire Order knows that name. Dumbledore wasn't shy about throwing it around, especially after the incident with the journal in my second year."

Voldemort—er, Tom dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "I created a spell, not unlike a blend between the Fidelus and a Taboo, which will keep those who can connect my birth name with my chosen name from communicating that information in any way with anyone else. It's already in effect."

"Is it also going to prevent them from attacking you, even if they can't explain why they did it?"

"No, but that's its own deterrent. They wouldn't be able to justify to the Aurors why they attacked an apparently innocent Hogwarts professor, and they'd likely end up in Azkaban for it."

"Some people would probably still take that risk," Harry said uncomfortably.

Tom hummed noncommittally before saying, "You would, undoubtedly, if we were still fighting each other."

"Well, yeah," Harry said. "But we're not."

"And we're going to make that clear to the world, well before term starts. Your very public truce with Lord Voldemort should deter the Order and its supporters from doing anything too drastic."

"Maybe. Or maybe the public will just turn on me again, call me a traitor, and attack both of us."

"Not if we spin the story the right way."

"Which is?" Harry prompted.

"Everyone loves a redemption arc, Harry," Tom said, smirking. "We tell them that we share a mysterious connection, and that since my return you've brought me back from the brink of insanity and shown me the error of my ways, and now I'm dedicated to making reparations for the harm that I've caused."

Harry snorted and said, "No one's going to buy that."

"They might be more inclined to if we give them a different villain to focus on—if we tell them how Dumbledore repeatedly sent both of back to dangerous, abusive environments, and how he manipulated multiple students into life-threatening conflicts with Dark Lords over the years."

Harry thought 'villain' was perhaps a bit harsh, but decided not to argue it. "I think Rita Skeeter has a head start on us there," Harry said, remembering the preview he'd seen in the Prophet about her upcoming book. "She wrote some kind of exposé/biography about him, and the preview didn't seem too flattering."

"Perfect," Tom said. "Maybe we can arrange an interview in time for her to add a few chapters before it goes to print."

Harry nodded, but after a moment he said, "We won't be able to say very much about your past, or she'll figure out that Voldemort and Tom Riddle are the same person."

"Believe it or not, Harry, I do have some experience with keeping secrets and manipulating people." Harry rolled his eyes at that, and Tom dropped the sarcastic tone and continued, "Besides, I don't intend for it to stay a secret forever."

"So we take over the Ministry, and then what? You take out a full-page advert in the Prophet that says, 'Surprise, everyone, Voldemort's been teaching your kids at Hogwarts'?" Harry said, laughing under his breath.

Tom smiled despite himself and said, "I'd envisioned something a bit more dramatic and impressive, but I suppose I could do it your way if the thought of it amuses you so much."

Harry smiled and said, "You know, you're awfully indulgent for a big bad Dark Lord."

"Are you complaining?" Tom asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nope. Not at all," Harry said, playfully bumping his shoulder into Tom's as they walked down the seemingly endless moonlit corridor.

Tom smiled, bumped him back and said, "Good." Tom glanced over his shoulder, casually cast a handful of privacy spells, then gently took both of Harry's hands in his own and walked backwards until Tom's back was pressed against the wall of windows. "Beautiful view, isn't it?" he said, his own eyes never leaving Harry's.

"It is," Harry agreed, not breaking eye contact.

Tom gave him a smile, which fell away when he traced his fingers along Harry's throat, the gentleness a deliberate contrast with the moment of violence earlier that night. "Allow me to indulge you a bit more?" Tom asked, stealing a brief kiss before gently pushing Harry backwards a step and sinking to his knees.

"Oh," Harry said, surprised and almost instantly hard. "Er—we're out in the open," he said hesitantly, looking over his shoulder while Tom played with the button of Harry's trousers.

"I put up privacy and silencing spells," Tom said, stroking a teasing finger down the outline of Harry's erection through his trousers. "No one else can enter this corridor right now."

"Oh," he said again, still stunned and extremely turned on by the sight of Lord Voldemort on his knees for Harry.

"Is that a yes?" Tom asked.

"It's a hell yes," Harry breathed—no way was he going to turn down what seemed to be an apology blowjob.

Tom smirked and undid Harry's trousers, tugging them down just enough to get at Harry's cock. He wrapped his lips around just the tip of it, swirling his tongue against the head, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the breathy moan he elicited from Harry.

Harry found himself unable to look away as Tom closed his eyes and started to take him deeper. Harry clenched both his hands at his sides and tried to think of Quiddich statistics so he wouldn't embarrass himself by coming immediately. When Harry's cock hit the back of Tom's throat, Tom choked and pulled back just slightly with a frustrated growl that sent the most delicious vibrations along Harry's cock.

"Come on," Harry breathed, after Tom seemed to recover—the stillness was torture. Tom looked up at Harry, locking eyes and smirking as best as he could with a mouthful of cock. Then Tom showed mercy and pushed forward again and again, taking Harry incrementally deeper each time before pulling back. It took Harry a stupidly long time to realize that Tom was determined to deep-throat him, and that epiphany had Harry breathing, "Oh, fuck," and involuntarily tangling a hand in Tom's hair. He kept his touch light and didn't pull Tom's hair, just carded his hands through it as Tom sucked him. Tom hummed around him, sending more of those exquisite vibrations along Harry's cock.

"Fuck, Voldemort," Harry gasped, his hands tightening slightly in his hair.

Tom moaned around him again but then pulled off completely, licked his lips, and glanced up at Harry. "You're supposed to be calling me Tom now," he said, his voice rough.

"But you hate that name."

"Maybe I won't anymore if I hear you moaning it enough," Tom said, smirking and taking Harry in his mouth again, this time—finally—taking him in all the way to the root, his nose pressed up against Harry's groin.

"Oh, fuck," Harry gasped, "Vol—Tom, fuck!"

Tom pulled back about halfway and glanced up at Harry until he caught his eye, then very deliberately wrapped his hands around Harry's hands where they were combing through Tom's hair. Once Harry got the hint and tightened his grip, Tom's hands slid around to grasp Harry's arse and then pulled him forward, encouraging him to fuck Tom's mouth.

"Tom," Harry breathed, thrusting forward once, twice, before pausing when he noticed Tom's eyes watering slightly while he attempted to keep his throat relaxed. Harry started to pull out, but Tom's hands on his arse stopped him and Tom sent a glare up at him. "I don't want to hurt you," Harry said. Tom rolled his eyes and smacked Harry's arse, sending a mild stinging hex through the touch. "Ow, damn it," Harry said, involuntarily jerking forward and choking Tom with his cock again. "Fine," Harry said, when Tom managed to relax his throat again. "But you stop me if it's too much."

Tom rolled his eyes again, as if to say 'obviously,' and then gripped Harry's arse and urged him forward again.

Harry very carefully thrust forward into the wet heat of Tom's mouth, pulling back and then pressing in again, almost losing it each time his cock pushed past the back of Tom's throat. Harry closed his eyes at the fluttering, clenching sensations of Tom's throat working around him.

The window behind Tom was fogging up from Harry's hot, frantic breaths and the heat of both their bodies.

"Tom, god, you feel amazing," Harry said, clenching his hands tighter in Tom's hair and pulling him forward at the same time Harry thrust in again. Tom moaned around him, encouraging the roughness. Tom's breath hit Harry's skin in quick pants every time his nose pressed flush against Harry's groin, and his red eyes locked with Harry's, goading him on with a smug but wrecked expression. "Tom," Harry gasped, his thrusts getting shorter and more erratic, "Tom, I'm gonna—"

Tom moaned around him and pulled him forward roughly one more time, his hands clenching Harry's arse as Harry's hands clenched in Tom's hair. Harry came with a strangled shout, spilling down Tom's throat and slapping one hand against the fogged-up window to catch his balance when he nearly toppled over forwards.

Harry stayed there for a long moment, trying to catch his breath. Tom kept his grip on Harry's arse but allowed Harry's softening cock to slip free from his mouth before leaning his forehead against Harry's hip and trying to catch his own breath.

"That," Harry finally murmured, straightening up and looking down adoringly at Tom's flushed face, "was bloody amazing."

Tom looked up into Harry's eyes and smiled, casually pressing a brief kiss to Harry's cock. "I know," he said, his voice a bit raspy after the rough treatment of his throat.

Harry huffed a laugh, gently carding his fingers through Tom's hair which was usually so perfect and impeccable but was now a sexy disheveled mess. Harry somewhat reluctantly tucked his cock back into his trousers before sinking to his own knees and pulling Tom into a deep kiss, chasing the taste of himself on Tom's tongue.

"Whatever you want, after that," Harry murmured against his lips, reaching for Tom's belt to unfasten it, "just tell me."

Tom's hand closed over Harry's. "No need," Tom said, kissing Harry again.

"You got off just from getting me off?" Harry asked, a little bit awed.

"Yes and no," Tom said, smiling. He traced a finger over Harry's scar and explained, "I opened up our connection physically, just the one way—I could feel what you felt."

Harry blinked. "You felt yourself sucking me off?"

Tom smirked. "Amazing, wasn't it?"

Harry laughed and playfully smacked Tom on the chest before kissing him again. "You're such a smug, narcissistic—"

"Extremely talented," Tom interrupted, in between kisses.

"—extremely talented," Harry admitted, kissing Tom again before losing his train of thought. "Where was I going with this?"

Tom chucked and said, "I think you were making the point that I'm amazing."

"Yeah, all right. You're amazing," Harry said, kissing him again and trying not to grin.

Tom cast a cleaning spell over himself to get rid of the sticky mess in his pants, then waved his wand and conjured an oversized chaise lounge behind Harry. He stood, helping Harry to his feet as well, and then both of them laid down on the chaise, with Tom on his back and Harry on his side cuddled up against Tom.

Tom stared at the fogged up section of window in front of them. The view of the stars was distorted there except through the handprint Harry had left. Harry noticed the focus of Tom's gaze and laughed, "Fogged the window right up, didn't we?"

"Indeed. How scandalous," Tom teased. He pulled out his wand again and waved it silently at the window.

Nothing seemed to happen, and Harry asked after a moment, "What was that?"

"Hmm?" Tom said.

"Don't play dumb, what'd you do?"

Tom pressed a brief kiss to Harry's lips, then said, "Your handprint will never fade away. Any time that window fogs over, it'll be right there. Not even house-elf magic can get rid of it."

Harry blinked, swallowed back his first two overly-sentimental responses, and instead teased, "Show off," snuggling closer into Tom's side. Tom wrapped an arm around Harry, and for a long moment they laid there quietly while the fog slowly cleared from the window.

Finally Harry couldn't take the too-full silence anymore. "So, what did Malfoy have to tell you that was so urgent?"

"Apparently something was stolen from the Department of Mysteries," Tom said, absently running his fingers through Harry's hair.

"What was it?"

"Somehow no one knows exactly what was stolen, only that something was."

"That's a bit useless, isn't it?" Harry said. "When did it happen?"

"Last week, but Lucius only found out tonight."

"How is that urgent? Or even relevant?"

Tom hummed and said, "I like to keep as close an eye as possible on the Department of Mysteries."

"Because of the prophecy?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Among other things."

"You know that it smashed that day," Harry said, aware that this was another one of those awkward difficult things they were going to have to talk about eventually. Harry decided that 'eventually' might as well be now. "But—I know what it said," he whispered. Tom's hand paused in Harry's hair, and Harry held his breath for the three seconds it took for Tom's hand to resume its motion.

After another moment that felt endless, Tom whispered back, "It doesn't matter."

Harry flinched and sat up, pulling out of Tom's embrace. "Don't you dare—don't just say that it doesn't matter when it's the whole reason you went after me, the reason you killed my parents," Harry said, his voice breaking for a second at the end.

Tom sat up as well and reached for Harry's hand. "Harry—"

Harry pulled his hand away and turned to stare at the floor. "It said one of us has to kill the other," he interrupted. "It said that you would mark me as your equal, and I would 'have power the Dark Lord knows not' whatever the hell that means. And then it said 'neither can live while the other survives.'"

Tom was silent for a moment, then he said, "All we have to do is ignore it going forward, and it'll never be fulfilled."

Harry let out a noise that was half-laugh and half-sob. "Yeah, that's a great fucking idea! You couldn't have thought of that seventeen years ago?" he said, his voice rising into a shout as he stood up and glared at Tom through watery eyes.

"Harry—" Tom said, scrambling up from the chaise lounge and grabbing Harry's wrist when he started to storm away.

"Don't!" Harry said, trying to pull away again. His composure was thoroughly lost, and he couldn't stand the thought of breaking down in front of anyone right now, especially Voldemort.

"Harry, stop it," Tom said, managing to grab Harry's other arm and pulling him against his own chest.

Harry shoved at him, but only struggled for a few more seconds before giving in and hiding his face against Tom's chest, finally letting his tears fall. He felt Tom's arms wrap more tightly around him as Harry let a few silent sobs escape, overcome with grief and anger and the goddamned irony of it all.

Tom held Harry close until the sobs turned to muffled sniffles, then he brought one hand up to gently brush through Harry's hair again. "I know that it doesn't make this any better," he said softly, "and I truly hate to admit that Dumbledore was right, but—I was incredibly unstable. I'd split my soul far too many times and my mind was paying the price." Harry sniffled against Tom's chest but didn't speak. "I became—fixated—very easily on things, on people, on grand visions of plans that didn't hold up to logic…on prophecies that I should never have lent even the slightest credence to."

"Dumbledore said the prophecy was self-fulfilling, because you chose to act on it," Harry said quietly, his head still leaning against Tom's chest.

"I see that now, and I should've known better then."

Harry sniffled again, and said, "Are you allergic to the actual words 'I'm sorry'?"

"Dwelling too much on remorse can be dangerous for one's Horcruxes," Tom said mildly, still carding his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Implying that it does exist to dwell on?" Harry asked quietly.

Tom didn't reply, but he pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead.

After another long, silent moment, Harry reached up to dry his eyes. He turned to look out the windows, not quite ready to face Tom just yet, but the night sky that had looked so beautiful earlier just seemed cold and distant now so he closed his eyes.

"Harry?" Tom said cautiously, "May I ask how you managed to view the prophecy before it shattered? You were never out of sight of my Death Eaters for more than a few moments at a time after you took it."

"I didn't," Harry muttered. "But Dumbledore was there when the prophecy was originally made—he showed me his Pensieve memory of it."

"What." Tom said it so flatly that it wasn't even a question anymore.

"What?"

"So all you really have is Dumbledore's incredibly dubious word that the memory he showed you was the actual prophecy and not his own manipulative fabrication?"

"Well…yes," Harry said.

"Harry."

"In my defense, I never had any reason to doubt him until recently."

"Show me the memory?" Tom asked, and Harry finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Go ahead," Harry whispered, concentrating on the memory.

Tom whispered, "Legilimens," more out of courtesy than necessity, and then he pulled the memory forward.

As one, he and Harry watched Dumbledore's Pensieve prophecy as the ghostly Sibyll Trelawney spoke. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Tom immediately played the memory back again, and then twice more, almost making Harry dizzy from it.

"So what's the verdict?" Harry asked after a moment. "Is the memory real, or did he lie about that too?"

A frustrated sigh escaped Tom. "Inconclusive. If it's an altered or fabricated memory, it's the best one I've ever seen—completely seamless. But Dumbledore was a master Legilimens, so that's entirely possible."

"What, so we'll never know if that's the real prophecy?"

Tom gave him a humorless smile. "Good thing we're choosing to ignore it. Supposing that it were the true prophecy, however, I would argue a bit with your interpretation."

"Oh?"

Tom nudged Harry towards the chaise lounge, and they sat back down beside each other while Tom elaborated, "I don't think the 'must' in that line necessarily means that one of us is required to kill the other—I think it's simply stating that we're the only ones who would even be capable—no one else would be able to defeat us. So theoretically, if one of us were to be killed, it would have to be done by the other one. Also, having spent thirteen horrendous years clinging to existence as a formless spirit, I can tell you that there is a vast difference between living and just surviving… And the prophecy seems to imply that we're so tangled together we can't truly live without each other—neither can fully live if the other is only surviving."

"That's…possible, I suppose," Harry said, thinking that Tom's reinterpretation was romantic in a twisted way.

"Or," Tom continued, "there's the possibility that 'The Other' is referring to a third person and not to one of us."

"So…one of us has to be killed by this Other because otherwise, them surviving threatens both of us? That doesn't make a lot of sense. And who would The Other be, anyway?"

"The other Dark Lord, perhaps?" Tom suggested solemnly.

"Grindelwald. Shit. Okay, if that's true, do you think Dumbledore would've told him the prophecy? Is that why they forced that ritual on us? Because if he's acting on the prophecy, it doesn't matter whether we try to ignore it or not."

"I don't know, Harry," Tom said, suddenly sounding exhausted and on edge. "Don't jump to conclusions. If he's involved in the prophecy and Dumbledore did tell him, it seems like Grindelwald is choosing to ignore it too—he said he had no plans to interfere with us again, unless he was lying. But the ritual ultimately only made us stronger—if he wanted to kill us he shouldn't have let us go."

"But that's the thing," Harry said carefully. "What if there really was more to the ritual that we don't know about? I don't remember anything before he threw me in that room with you, and I have no idea how he caught me. Last thing I remember was going to sleep at Grimmauld Place with my friends after we decided to hide there. What about you?"

"I don't remember how he captured me either. I was here at the Manor beforehand, and I can just barely remember receiving a summons request from someone's Dark Mark, but I don't recall whose. That's the last thing I remember before waking up in that room—obviously we've both been Obliviated."

"It can be undone, right?" Harry asked nervously.

"Not easily, and not without an extremely high risk of damaging the mind and memory even further."

"Of course," Harry said with a sigh. "Well, all right," he turned his head and made eye contact with Tom. "I trust you. Go ahead."

Tom flinched back as if he'd been slapped. "Absolutely not! I just said that it's almost guaranteed to damage your mind even more."

"I understand that, but we need to know what he did to us. It doesn't matter if I get a little more damaged in the process," Harry said self-depreciatingly.

"It fucking does matter!" Tom snapped, making Harry flinch back this time. Then something occurred to Tom that he hadn't cared about when it happened, but which sent his blood cold now to recall it. "Back in that room when you tried at first to convince me to just ignore the mirror's demands, you said I wouldn't die because of my Horcruxes—but you would've died, Harry!"

"I know," Harry said quietly, awkwardly looking at the floor.

"Do you really care so little about your own life?" Tom demanded, sounding both angry and perplexed at the possibility.

Harry shrugged, and said, "After everything with the Dursleys and then, well, you—I never really believed I'd actually live to adulthood, so I'm still always waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be honest."

Tom huffed out a frustrated breath, then took Harry's chin in his hand and gently turned Harry's face towards his own. "You are going to live forever along with me," he said, his tone firm but affectionate, "so start getting used to that, and stop acting like you're disposable."

Harry swallowed, meeting Tom's eyes and nervously asking, "Forever?"

Tom nodded. "Properly-enchanted Horcruxes are inherently almost indestructible. Permanence is rather the point."

"Oh," Harry said, stunned, "I didn't realize… I guess I hadn't thought it through all the way."

"Clearly." Tom leaned forward and briefly kissed him, then said with finality, "And seeing as neither of us want you to spend eternity with permanent damage to your mind, I will not be retrieving those memories."

"All right," Harry conceded, staring at Tom in something like awe. "You really do care about me, don't you?"

"More than I've ever cared for anyone," Tom confessed quietly. Then, in response to Harry's pleasantly surprised grin, he quirked a smile and added, "Believe me, it's strange for me as well."

Harry replied, "Strange as it is, I'm quite fond of you too," and then kissed him deeply. Some distant logical corner of his mind reminded Harry again that this man had killed Harry's parents, and had been trying until two days ago to kill Harry as well. A different, much louder segment of his mind was positively buzzing with happiness and the certainty that Tom cared about him, wanted him, would protect him—all of the things that Harry had craved but had been denied his entire life—and it was overwhelming in the best way. "We really should get back," Harry said, when he finally pulled his lips away from Tom's. "We've left Draco and Hermione alone together for way too long—he's probably annoyed her into turning him back into a ferret by now."

Tom chuckled and said, "If you insist." He made no move to stand, however, and he took Harry's hand in his. "One more thing, first."

Harry turned to meet Tom's eyes. "Yeah?"

Tom took a breath, then said, "I am sorry, Harry, for being violent with you earlier."

"It's fine," Harry said, looking down and trying to wave it off.

"It's not fine," Tom insisted. "It was—" Tom paused and continued in a quieter, more hesitant tone, "for a moment it was like I'd lost control and reverted to the way I was before the ritual—that madness and destructiveness—" he trailed off again, and Harry felt something leak through their mental connection—a flash of worry and guilt, and confusion over feeling the guilt because it was so unfamiliar that Tom didn't even recognize the emotion.

"You didn't hurt me," Harry quickly assured him, "not really. It's fine."

"Stop saying it's fine—I never should have raised a hand to you. It won't happen again, I swear it," he said with finality.

Harry just looked at him for a moment, then quietly said, "All right. I believe you."

Tom squeezed Harry's hand. "All right," he echoed. After a moment he added, "I do hope you understand it was a rather extreme situation—I'd returned from that clusterfuck of a meeting where over half of my followers either turned on me or fled, only to find that another follower had idiotically used Fiendfyre in the presence of two of my three remaining Horcruxes and endangered them while I was away—being stopped from punishing him was just the last straw."

"I did pick up on that, yes." Harry sighed, and then tried to lighten the mood by teasing, "You just had to go and ruin a perfectly good apology by making excuses."

"Explanations are not the same as excuses. And I was actually getting around to making the point that if this truce is to be believed and if our future plans are to have any chance of succeeding, you absolutely cannot challenge my authority like that in public and especially not in front of the Death Eaters. We must be perceived as equals—you can't appear to be under my control, and I can't appear to be tamed—or neither side will respect either of us."

"Yeah, well, I would have to be being controlled to stand by and let you torture someone."

"And Lord Voldemort would have to have completely lost his edge to let someone interrupt a spell by grabbing his wand arm without punishing them severely as an example to others. So you see my dilemma, if a repeat of tonight's incident were to happen in the public eye." He traced a finger along Harry's jaw, softly tilting his face towards his own. "Please don't ever put me in that position."

"Then don't put me in a position where I have to choose between doing what's right or preserving some public image. Because I already know what choice I'd make. Do you?"

"Of course I do," Tom said, leaning forward and giving Harry a brief kiss as his answer. Both were quiet for a long moment, and then Tom said, "Enough of this. Let's go rescue your friends from each other, shall we?"

"I suppose we should," Harry said.

They stood up, and instead of letting go of Harry's hand, Tom laced their fingers together as they walked side-by-side once more down the moonlit corridor.

They went down one flight of stairs, but Tom steered them onto the second floor landing instead of continuing down. Harry caught his eye and quirked an eyebrow in a wordless question.

"My rooms are this way," Tom answered.

Harry shrugged, and said, "If Hermione had her way, she'd stay in the library all night. They're probably still down there."

"Perhaps, but Draco knows how much I hate to be kept waiting. I imagine they've been outside my door for a while now."

Harry side-eyed him and said, "Normally I'd suggest betting on it, but you've probably got some kind of proximity ward on your door, don't you?"

Tom smirked. "Perhaps," he repeated.

Harry laughed softly as they turned a corner and found Hermione and Draco sitting in wingback armchairs outside a massive ornate wooden door that blocked off the rest of the corridor. A round table piled high with a stack of books stood between the two chairs, and Draco and Hermione each had a book open in their laps.

"Here's something," Hermione said, leaning closer to her book while Draco leaned forward and tried to read it upside down. "Amora's Principle, it states that—"

"You don't have to read it out loud to me, Granger, just move that disaster you call hair out of the way and I can read it myself."

Harry frowned at the words, but he also recognized the same lighter, friendlier teasing tone Draco had used with him earlier.

"Berk," Hermione said, also in a tone that was more teasing than angry. She swept her hair back from where it was falling in a curtain around the book and pulled it into a messy bun instead.

"Bint," Draco replied, leaning closer to try to read the book in her lap.

"Charming," Tom said, announcing his and Harry's presence.

Draco and Hermione both jumped and looked up.

"There you are," Hermione said, her tone just this side of scolding.

"Yeah," Harry said, "we, er, lost track of the time."

Almost in unison, Hermione and Draco glanced from Harry's rumpled clothes to Tom's ruffled hair to their still-clasped hands, and they both raised an eyebrow.

"Clearly," Draco said dryly. Then, to Harry's utter shock, Draco glanced sideways at Hermione and they exchanged a look before looking back at Harry.

Harry's eyebrows went up. "What was that?" he asked, gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

Hermione gave him an innocent look, and Draco merely raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tom let go of Harry's hand and headed for the door, glancing at the books on the table as he passed and casually chiming in, "I believe that's called flirting, Harry. Or perhaps there's another reason they've gathered all those books on sex magic."

Draco spluttered, "It was not flirting!" at the same time Hermione blushed and said, "You're well aware of the reason."

Tom glanced over his shoulder at the two of them and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't seem angry at their cheek or their lack of deference. Harry was starting to think Tom secretly liked it when people talked to him normally instead of cowering in fear or constantly trying to win his favor—probably only certain people though, and Harry was glad that he and his friends seemed to count among them for the time being.

"Well I'm not aware of the reason," Draco said, glancing between Harry and Tom. "She's unable to tell me, apparently because of an Oath. Care to enlighten me?" he asked Harry.

"It's, er, to do with how we ended up together," Harry told Draco, then he glanced at Tom and asked, "Are you going to be cross if I tell him?"

Tom kept his expression blank, but Harry was getting better at reading those and this was definitely an annoyed kind of blankness. In Parseltongue, Tom said, "The story won't make sense unless you tell him that I have Horcruxes and that you're one of them. Every person who knows of them becomes a liability, and Draco's loyalty to me is questionable at best—he only joined me because his father expected it of him and he didn't think he had a choice."

Harry hissed back, "Then let me win him over for you. I'll make him swear a Wizard's Oath about the Horcruxes. And if we have to, we can always Obliviate him like Ron," Harry added, a twinge of sadness hitting him at the thought.

Tom was unmoved. He switched back to English and said, "I allowed you to tell your best friends, and one of them turned on you—and by extension me—within a day. Why should your school nemesis be given the same trust and the same opportunity to betray us?"

"Ron's problem was with the fact that we're together, it wasn't about how we got there or our, er, connection. And anyway, Draco's not my nemesis anymore—I'm starting to think all that animosity might've just been because we knew deep down we were supposed to be friends but we didn't know how to fix it, so we fought," he said, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Draco but faltering when Draco blinked and briefly looked devastated before composing his expression back into a blank mask. Hermione gave Draco a sympathetic look and awkwardly patted his arm. Harry gave him a worried look but Draco avoided his eyes. Harry turned back towards Tom, even more determined now to tell Draco the full story and not exclude him. "Please?" Harry said, biting his lip before glancing up at Tom with wide, earnest eyes and adding, "My Lord?"

For a moment Harry was sure Tom would be furious with him for attempting such a blatant manipulation, especially in front of other people—his expression didn't change and he simply stared at Harry for what felt like ages. Finally Tom growled under his breath before pointing a stern finger at Harry and saying, "This is the last time. You're not telling anyone else after him."

Harry broke into a grin and quickly agreed, "All right."

"And I'll be the one to determine the wording of the Wizard's Oath while you serve as bonder."

"All right."

"If he betrays us, I'm never letting you live it down," Tom continued.

"All right."

"And stop looking so pleased with yourself, it's nauseating."

"All right," Harry said, trying to wrangle his smile back into a neutral expression.

"Stop saying 'all right'!"

"Okay," Harry said, grinning again.

Tom rolled his eyes and turned in exasperation to open the door to his chambers. He pressed his hand flat against it and hissed "Open," in Parseltongue. "Get inside, all of you. We're not having this conversation in the hallway."

Tom had barely stepped through the massive doorway when a loud hiss of "Master!" sounded and Nagini launched herself at Tom, wrapping herself around his chest in a snake's version of a hug. Harry paused in the doorway and Draco and Hermione stayed even farther back, both frightened by the sight of the giant snake.

"Nagini," Tom half-scolded, even as he stroked her scales and put an arm underneath her to better support her weight.

"I was worried when the Old One sent me back without you," Nagini hissed, eye-to-eye with Tom.

"I'm fine," Tom told her. "Better than fine, as you can see."

Nagini flicked her tongue out, then ducked her head and said, "The Old One took away the gift you gave me—I couldn't stop him, Master. I'm sorry."

Tom stroked her head, and she leaned into the touch like a cat. "It's fine, Nagini. It was returned to me. No harm done."

"Feel empty now," Nagini hissed sullenly, winding more tightly around Tom.

"I can't give it back to you. It must remain with me, or else I'll become…unstable…again."

Nagini lifted her head to meet Tom's eyes again, and after a moment she said, "You brought guests…or are they snacks?"

Harry chimed in from the doorway, "Definitely not snacks."

Nagini's head swiveled and she pinned her unnerving stare on him. "Another Speaker?" she asked, flicking her tongue out again. "He smells like you, Master."

Harry blushed while Tom explained, "This is Harry Potter. He's not an enemy anymore. He is now my…mate—I suppose, is the term you'd use. He also carries a part of my soul. You are never to harm him, or to allow anyone else to harm him if you can prevent it."

"Yes, Master," Nagini hissed, her intense stare never leaving Harry.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and added, "I'd also appreciate it if you don't bite my friends. You're kind of making them nervous," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Hermione and Draco, both pale and clutching their wands at their sides.

Harry turned back around as Nagini's posture shift into something agitated and offended—she straightened up as much as she could while wrapped around Tom, and lifted her head higher to look down at Harry as she replied, "I am not doing anything to them! It is not my fault they are scared and Speechless. Silly humans, always afraid of me just for existing, pointing their wands at me when I've done nothing wrong."

Harry felt a pang in his chest—he could sympathize with that a little too well. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel that way—I used to live with some particularly awful Muggles who treated me like that for being a Wizard."

Nagini tilted her head and studied Harry for a moment, before declaring, "I will accept your apology, Harry Potter. Now tell your friends to stop stinking of fear so badly—it's making me nauseous."

Harry smiled, and finally noticed Tom glancing back and forth between Nagini and Harry with a small, fond smile.

"She likes you," Tom told him.

"Really? That's not the impression I got," Harry said.

"If she disliked you, she'd have made it abundantly clear."

"If you say so," Harry said, then looked over his shoulder again. "Guys, put your wands away. She's not going to attack anyone, and you're hurting her feelings acting like she's a monster or something."

"Potter, I've literally seen that snake eat someone," Draco said.

Harry's eyebrows went up, and he turned back to Tom for confirmation. Tom merely shrugged as though it were inconsequential. Harry looked back at Draco and said, "Well, that's disturbing. But Tom's not going to let her hurt any of us, right?" he directed the last bit at Tom.

"Your friends are safe here, Harry," Tom answered, carrying Nagini further into the suite and calling over his shoulder, "I believe I told you all to get in here."

Tom crossed the sitting room and disappeared behind one of the doors set into the right-hand wall. Hermione and Draco finally followed Harry into the room and the door closed on its own behind them. With the excitement over for the moment, Harry took a second to look around the room—it was like a cross between the Slytherin common room and Grimmauld Place, with dark woods, shades of green, and ornate, expensive furniture. The enormous sitting room had three sofas and two chairs positioned around the fireplace, bookshelves along the wall on either side of the door they'd entered through, enormous windows with floor-to-ceiling curtains on the outward-facing wall, and three ornate doors set into each of the walls on the left and right sides of the sitting room.

Hermione stepped closer to Harry and asked pointedly, "So, you're calling him Tom now?"

Harry shrugged. "He asked me to, so that we'll both get used to it. I can't exactly keep calling him Voldemort once we get to Hogwarts." Harry caught the speculative looks Hermione and Draco were giving him, and added, "You two probably shouldn't push your luck though, not unless he says it's okay."

"Unless I say what's okay?" Tom asked, reentering the room without Nagini and closing the door behind him.

Harry glanced over at him and said, "Them calling you Tom too."

Tom gave the three of them a severely raised eyebrow and archly said, "I suppose I can tolerate it, if they must. But," he said sternly, catching Draco's eye in particular, "never in front of any Death Eaters, or I'll Crucio you on the spot."

"Of course, Sir—er, Tom," Draco said nervously.

Harry gave Tom a half-smile, pleased that Tom was making allowances for his friends, but also annoyed that he felt the need to save face by tacking on torture threats.

Tom nodded curtly, then said, "Come here and take your Oath, Draco, so we can get this over with."

Draco bit his lip nervously, then composed himself and walked over to Tom, taking his outstretched hand.

"Harry?" Tom said, nodding towards their hands.

"Right," Harry said, taking out his wand and resting it on their clasped hands.

"Draco, do you swear never to reveal what we are about to tell you regarding Harry's connection to me or the events that brought us together unless Harry or I give you express permission to disclose it?"

"I swear," Draco said.

"And do you swear never to intentionally sabotage our safety or our future plans, directly or indirectly?"

"I swear."

A string of light swirled around their joined hands before disappearing.

Tom let go and stepped away, taking a seat on one of the smaller sofas and beckoning for Harry to join him. Harry sat next to Tom and leaned back against his chest when Tom wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Sit down, Draco. Hermione, you're welcome to listen as well."

Draco sat on the longer sofa that was perpendicular to the two smaller ones, in the corner closest to Harry and Tom. Hermione took a seat at the opposite end of Draco, and said, "Thank you. I might've missed something the first time in my shock," she said lightly, giving them a half smile.

"Right," Harry said, launching right into it and hoping it would be easier to get through the second time around. "So, Grindelwald escaped from prison, and he and Dumbledore's portrait invented this crazy ritual to repair Tom's soul—he, er, made too many Horcruxes. Do you know what those are?" Harry asked. Draco shook his head, and Harry continued, "Horcruxes are objects that contain part of someone's soul, so they can come back to life if they're killed."

Draco glanced at Tom and paled. "How many is too many?" he dared to ask.

"Don't worry about it," Tom said coldly. "The ritual reincorporated two of them with my main soul, but I have more."

"Anyway," Harry cut in, "we didn't actually know who captured us or why until the very end—he'd Obliviated us, and we still don't know how he managed to catch us in the first place."

"You're telling it all out of order," Tom complained.

"You tell it then," Harry griped.

"Fine... I woke up alone in a bare room, with a magic-repressing collar sealed around my neck and the ropes of an Incarcerous binding me. There was a distorted magical mirror on the wall, which spoke to me and told me that it held two of my most precious possessions hostage. It said Harry Potter would soon be brought to me, and I would be released unharmed on the condition that I have sex with Harry within 24 hours of his arrival, whether he consented or not. Naturally I declined, very vehemently, earning myself a rather excruciating shock from the collar. Then a Wizard with his face and voice magically distorted came into the room and made a one-sided Unbreakable Vow swearing that if I fulfilled the mirror's conditions he would release Harry and I unharmed, but if I failed to comply then we would both be killed. He refused to answer any of my questions about his identity or motives. He undid the Incarcerous and told me to choose wisely, then he left the room. I attempted to break the mirror to use a shard of it as a weapon, but it was unbreakable and it shouted at me before shocking me through the collar. The man returned shortly thereafter with Harry in tow."

Draco and Hermione both watched Tom avidly as he told the tale. Harry stared at his knees, more uncomfortable than he'd expected to be hearing Tom recount his experience, especially in such detail. He tapped a finger rapidly against his leg as he listened, feeling anxious and trapped and simultaneously telling himself there was no reason to feel that way.

Tom ran his fingers through Harry's hair, unable to keep the affection out of his tone as he continued. "Harry Potter, with his magic bound but still as brave and defiant as always. He tried, as I had, to break the mirror for a weapon, and he was convinced that I was responsible for his capture until he realized we were wearing the same type of magic-repressing collar."

"You're taking forever," Harry interjected, still staring at his lap. "Are you really going to do a play-by-play of every detail?"

Tom glanced at Harry, still playing with his hair. "I was going to tastefully skip over the sex."

Agitated, Harry's foot started twitching against the floor and it seemed like the air was a little thicker and less breathable than it was supposed to be. "Can we tastefully skip over everything except the main points? I don't—this is—" Harry searched for words to explain his discomfort but came up empty, and finally just sighed and said, "please?"

Tom carefully took Harry's chin in his hand and turned his face towards him to make eye contact. Harry threw everything he was feeling at their mental connection, which, combined with the gentle Legilimancy Tom was using definitely got the message across. Tom winced slightly, then murmured, "Of course, Harry," and pressed a brief kiss to his forehead before turning back to the others. His hand stayed in Harry's hair, stroking through it slowly, comfortingly. "After that, I explained the situation and the conditions to Harry and we agreed to cooperate to survive. As we spoke, I realized that when Harry was an infant I had inadvertently made him into my Horcrux—and I told him that as such, he would be under my protection from then on. We…complied with our captor's demands…and in the process, two of my other Horcruxes were returned to my main soul. Afterwards, we learned that that was the entire purpose of our capture—Dumbledore and Grindelwald invented a ritual that partially repaired my soul, and they intended for Harry to, I don't know, turn me 'good' with love or something," he finished dismissively.

Hermione's expression turned thoughtful, and she said to Tom, "Well, you have to admit, it does seem to be working."

Draco tensed up and shot a horrified, worried look first at Hermione and then at Tom, clearly expecting him to lash out and punish her.

Tom merely rolled his eyes and said testily, "I have to admit nothing of the sort."

Draco's eyebrows went up, but after a moment he relaxed and quietly but boldly told Hermione, "I think you're right, Granger. Three days ago he would've Crucio'd you for saying that."

"And you as well," Tom told Draco, "for talking about me as though I can't hear you."

Draco immediately bowed his head and said, "Sorry, Sir."

"I rather think it's past your bedtime, so perhaps you should run along before I get the urge to remind you exactly who it is that you're speaking to so flippantly." Tom's tone was cold and threatening, but when Harry prodded at their connection he only felt mild annoyance coming from Tom.

Draco paled and said, "Yes, My Lord," and Tom pointedly didn't correct him.

"You're dismissed, Draco," Tom said.

Draco nodded and stood up, repeating, "Yes, My Lord." He glanced briefly at Harry and then Hermione, and added a quiet, formal, "Good night, Potter, Granger," before heading for the door.

"Night, Draco," Harry called after him. Draco glanced back and gave Harry a tense smile just before the door closed behind him. As soon as he was gone, Harry nudged Tom in the ribs with an elbow and said, "Will you stop threatening Unforgivables every time someone annoys you?"

"Probably not."

"Well, try," Harry said. Then he yawned.

"Yes, dear," Tom teased, then he stood and said, "Hermione, there's a guest bedroom behind the door on the left," he said, nodding towards the far wall. "Help yourself to the books, and if you want anything to eat or drink just call for a house-elf. You're not a prisoner here, but I would advise against wandering the halls by yourself—ask a house-elf to fetch Draco to escort you if you want to leave my rooms for any reason."

Hermione nodded and said, "All right. Thank you," she hesitated a fraction of a second, then added, "Tom."

"You're most welcome," he said, offering a hand to Harry to pull him to his feet.

"Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry stood. "Would you help me carry the library books in from the hallway?"

"Er, sure," Harry said, glancing at Tom only to find an amused, knowing look on his face.

"Whenever the two of you finish your top-secret discussion, Harry, my room is the one in the middle," he said, nodding towards the door next to the one he'd taken Nagini through earlier, and on the opposite wall from Hermione's guest room.

Hermione looked embarrassed, and said, "I didn't mean anything by it—I just want to catch up with Harry for a moment."

"It's fine, Hermione, Harry," Tom said, squeezing Harry's hand and stepping away, headed for his room. "Don't linger in the hallway," he said, before closing the bedroom door behind him.

Hermione sighed, and said, "I suppose that's what I get for trying to be sneaky in front of a Slytherin."

Harry followed her to the main door, and said, "It's fine, he wasn't actually annoyed with you—he thought it was kind of cute, how obvious you were."

"Oh, thanks," Hermione huffed, before giving Harry a curious look as the two of them stepped out into the hallway. "So, you're still feeling his emotions? What about the visions?"

"Just flashes of what he's feeling, here and there, and usually only when I poke at the connection on purpose," Harry said. "It doesn't hurt my scar anymore though, and I haven't had any visions since all of this started."

He followed Hermione to the round table and helped her gather up the books.

"Your scar doesn't react to him anymore?" she asked, sounding puzzled.

"No, it does," Harry said, "just usually in a good way now. It sort of—tingles—sometimes, when we're, well," he trailed off awkwardly, but Hermione caught the gist of it.

"Right," she said, looking amused. "Well that's an improvement, at least."

They each picked up a stack of the sex magic books, and took them back into Tom's suite.

"He said the room on the left, on this wall, yeah?" Hermione asked, heading for that door.

"Yeah."

Hermione opened the door to reveal a guest room with an attached bathroom and an extraordinarily comfortable-looking bed. "Oh, this is lovely," Hermione said, setting her stack of books down on a desk in the corner. Harry followed suit, closing the door behind him. Hermione took out her beaded bag and dug through it until she pulled out Harry's bag with all of the clothes he'd packed, then she unshrunk it for him. "Here's this back," she said, "since it seems like we'll be here for a while."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking his bag and sitting it by the door so he wouldn't forget it. Then he jokingly said, "So, did you want to have a top-secret conversation?"

Hermione smiled and said, "Mainly I wanted to know whether you'd asked him to let me see the book with the ritual."

"Oh, no, I haven't yet. Sorry. I will though."

"No rush," she said, indicating the stacks of sex magic books. "I've got plenty of background research to keep me busy."

Harry tried very hard not to blush. "You might want to read up on blood magic and soul magic too. Grindelwald said the ritual used all three."

Hermione's eyebrows went up, then she sighed. "Of course—it couldn't just be one type of obscure illegal magic, it had to be three."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside her for Harry to join her.

"Well, at least we know there are probably plenty of books on obscure illegal magic here," Harry said lightly as he sat down.

"True," Hermione said, giving Harry a pointed look and adding, "And I'm sure Malfoy would be happy to show you that private library he mentioned."

"Oh, yeah—we're kind of friends now?" Harry said awkwardly.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Hermione asked, amused.

"Telling," Harry said, casting a quick Muffliato before continuing. "He shoved me in a broom cupboard and offered to help me run away from Voldemort—he thought I was being kept as a sex slave or something."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What made him think that?"

"He saw that hickey and panicked, I guess."

"That's a bit of a drastic jump in logic," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "It's what Severus thought at first too—everyone keeps assuming that Tom's forcing me or controlling me somehow. It's insulting, really." Hermione looked thoughtful but didn't say anything, so Harry said, "Anyway, you and Draco seemed to be getting along. How did that happen?"

"Well, we talked for a while after he ran into the library to hide from your PDA. Turns out we share a mutual concern over the whole you-and-Tom thing," she said, smirking when Harry rolled his eyes at her. "He eventually apologized for how he'd treated me in the past. And, I sort of—figured out something that he never intended to tell anyone, and I promised to keep his secret," she gave Harry a warning look and headed off his question by adding, "Even from you, Harry. It's personal. It's his decision whether or not to tell you."

"All right," Harry conceded.

"Don't get all obsessive and start stalking him again to try to figure it out," she said firmly.

"I won't!" he said. "But for the record, I was right last year," he grumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, for the record, since when do you call Professor Snape by his first name? Yes, I noticed," she said to Harry's deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Er, well. We sort of talked about some personal things as well. He—god, Hermione, we misjudged him so badly."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What about—you know. Dumbledore?" she asked awkwardly.

"Dumbledore planned for Severus to kill him—he was already dying from the curse in his hand. Voldemort had ordered Draco to kill Dumbledore, and Severus got pressured into making an Unbreakable Vow to Draco's mum to finish his task if Draco couldn't do it. Dumbledore knew about all of this—he didn't want Draco to become a murderer, and at the same time he wanted Severus to earn Voldemort's trust."

"That's terrible," Hermione said quietly.

Harry nodded, and simply said, "Yep."

Hermione gave him a calculating look, and said, "There's more, isn't there?"

"There is. But it's personal," he said. "He'd be furious if I told anyone."

Hermione nodded. "Of course. Whatever the reason, I'm glad you can get along with him now."

"I wouldn't count on that—he acted like I was toxic when I hugged him."

Hermione's expression was priceless. "You hugged Professor Snape?"

"Cried on him a bit too. He wasn't pleased."

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head.

Harry just laughed, and Hermione finally cracked a smile too. She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. They were both quiet for a long moment before Harry worked up the nerve to say, "Speaking of friendships—" but something in his tone gave away his intention, and he felt Hermione immediately tense up against him.

"I still don't want to talk about it," she said.

Harry sighed, but pressed on, "Look, Ron will come around—"

"No he won't!" Hermione shouted, standing and putting some distance between her and Harry. "He can't—I took that chance away from him when I Obliviated him. He can't get over something he can't even remember."

"We can tell him again," Harry said carefully.

Hermione scoffed, looking tearful, "Because that went so well the first time." She ran a hand through her wild hair, then said, "I shouldn't have done it—I just, I panicked, Harry. I thought it was the only way to keep him safe—I thought Snape or Voldemort would do worse to him—and now I've messed everything up," she trailed off as the tears broke loose.

Harry stood and pulled her into a hug. "Shhh, Hermione, it'll all be fine. We'll fix this, somehow, all right?"

She shook her head, clinging tightly to Harry with her face pressed into his shoulder. "He'll never forgive me—and he shouldn't, either."

"He'll understand—he'll forgive you," Harry said, before adding in a lighter tone, "I mean, it takes him a stupidly long time sometimes, but he always comes around in the end." A sharp, surprised laugh escaped in between Hermione's sobs. After a moment, Harry switched back to a serious tone and said again, "It's going to be all right." Hermione sniffled but didn't argue this time, so Harry counted it as a win.

After a moment, Hermione slowly extracted herself from the hug and said, "You should probably go before Voldemort assumes we're plotting to overthrow him or something." She'd managed to stop crying, and she wiped at her eyes.

"Yeah, probably," Harry said. "But I'll stay as long as you need me to."

She forced a smile, said, "I'm all right now, Harry. Just needed to let it all out, I suppose."

Harry knew that feeling well. He nodded and said, "Well, if you need me, I'll just be clear across that massive posh living room," he said, and they both smiled a little. "The middle door."

"I'm definitely never going to risk interrupting whatever the two of you might be doing in there, but thanks," she said, smiling.

"Oh come on, we're not that bad," Harry said, blushing slightly.

"You absolutely are," Hermione teased. "So go on, don't let me keep you," she said, shooing him towards the door.

Harry went, but paused in the doorway and turned back. He caught her eye and reminded her, "Hey—war's over," in a cheerful tone, hoping that would help her through this rough patch—the thought that everything they've been through would be worth it in the end.

"War's over," she affirmed, smiling.

"Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry."

He grabbed his bag off the floor and slipped out the door, closing it behind him. He crossed the living room but paused, sitting on the arm of one of the sofas and staring idly at the fireplace. Harry wanted to reconcile with Ron, especially for Hermione's sake—he imagined Ron would forgive her, but he might never forgive Harry. Which was still bullshit, in Harry's opinion, and he wasn't eager to have the same fight all over again. Still, he made up his mind that he was going to tell Ron the truth again—maybe with a few omissions this time—and he was going to at least save Ron and Hermione's friendship.

With that decided, he was able to relax a bit. He yawned again as he stood and headed for Tom's room. He knocked twice out of courtesy, opening the door when Tom called, "Come in."

Tom was sitting up in bed, reading through the ritual journal with a slight frown creasing his face.

"Hey," Harry said, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.

"You don't have to knock," Tom said, his eyes still fixed on the journal, "this is your room too now."

"Moving in together after two days? What would the papers say?" Harry teased. He set his bag down on top of a dresser, digging out a pair of pajama pants and quickly changing into them, trading his button-up shirt for a soft tee shirt. When he turned back around, Tom was unabashedly staring. "Enjoying the view?"

"Most definitely."

Harry laid down next to Tom, resting his head on Tom's shoulder and glancing at the indecipherable journal pages. "You know," Harry said casually, "Hermione's really great at research, and puzzles, and literally every kind of magic she's ever encountered."

"Fascinating," Tom drawled. "Coincidentally, so am I."

"I know, but she could help. Two heads are better than one, and all."

"Not when one of them can't be trusted," Tom said, turning the page.

Harry bristled, and said, "We can trust her."

"No, you can trust her," Tom said pointedly, before sighing and tossing the journal onto the nightstand. "Something is missing—there must be another factor that ties this mess together and makes it all work. They've left out that detail on purpose, the bastards," he grumbled.

"I have this friend who's great with details," Harry started, already waiting for Tom to shoot him down again.

Instead, Tom sighed and said, "If, in the future, she manages to earn my trust, I might possibly let her look at the journal."

Harry lifted his head up from Tom's shoulder to meet his eyes. "Really?"

"Possibly," Tom repeated, turning his face towards Harry. "I'm not promising anything. I don't trust easily."

"But you trust me," Harry murmured, half a question. Then he yawned again.

Tom gave him a crooked smile. "So it seems."

Harry smiled back, then impulsively reached up and traced a finger from Tom's forehead down his nose and over his lips and chin. Tom quirked an eyebrow at him, but Harry just stared for a moment more before idly shaking his head slightly and murmuring, "Lord Voldemort."

Tom waited for him to elaborate, finally prompting, "Yes?" when the silence stretched on too long.

"Nothing," Harry said, meeting Tom's eyes and thinking about their past, their future, the way they've suddenly rearranged their entire lives around each other. "Just—we've both lost our minds, haven't we?"

"Perhaps," Tom said, not looking away. After a moment, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips, then murmured, "Go to sleep, Harry."

Harry snuggled closer, mumbling, "Night, Tom," and throwing an arm around him.

Tom smiled into Harry's hair and murmured back, "Goodnight, Harry," before casting a wandless Nox and letting himself drift to sleep in Harry's embrace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: let's hear it for Tom "I feel guilty for grabbing your throat Harry so here, fuck mine" Riddle ;)

In honor of Pride Month 2019, here's a playlist of Harrymort songs by LGBT artists:

~ Strange Love – Halsey (general Harrymort/Tomarry being in the public spotlight)

~ Joshua – Simon Curtis (dark/gray Harry feels)

~ Not Afraid Anymore – Halsey (Harry accepting/embracing his connection to and feelings for Tom)

~ For Your Entertainment – Adam Lambert (pure sex )

~ Perfect Illusion – Lady GaGa (angsty Tomarry where Tom only pretended to love Harry)

~ Enemy – Simon Curtis (angsty Harrymort)

~ Sleepwalker – Adam Lambert (angsty, makes me think of time travel Tomarry)

~ Pit of Vipers – Simon Curtis (Harry time-travelled and was sorted into Slytherin with Tom)

~ Underground – Adam Lambert (general codependence )

~ Nicotine – Panic! At the Disco (angsty addiction/codependence)

~ How to Start a War – Simon Curtis (Harry time-travelled and tried to stop Tom from becoming Voldemort)

~ Let It Be – Hayley Kiyoko (fluffy and angsty at the same time- figuring out feelings?)

~ Wild is the Wind – David Bowie (fluffy with quiet intensity and understated obsession? Idk I just love it )

I might put another playlist after the next chapter too, with my all-time favorite Harrymort/Tomarry songs, if you're interested.

As always, comments and con-crit are very welcome!