Inside Out

Pairing: Tom/Harry

Warnings: This story contains SLASH, meaning male/male love. Don't read, if you're offended by that.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, settings etc. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. Except for the characters & things that I invent myself. And I'm not trying to make any money with this story either.

Author's note: I love you all so much!! I really can't emphasize it enough! Your reviews make me incredibly happy! Thank you sooo much for reading my story and for liking it of course, haha! I'm doing the best I can with every chapter and hope I'm improving! akuma-river I'm sooo sorry to disappoint you, but you must obviously know already, that I can't possibly answer any of your questions! XD But thanx a lot for you review! Stay with me!! BlueEyes White Dragon Socerer You'll be happy to find out that many of your questions are answered in this very chapter, haha! Enjoy!

Special thanks to Pareidolia for beta reading my story! hugs her very tightly I'm really grateful for your help! And I hope you won't get fed up with this story and especially not with me always writing "stared" as "starred" XDD I know the correct writing, but I really can't figure out, why I keep on repeating this mistake. Lots of love to you!!

/T/H/ indicates start of a new scene

Please enjoy and let me know, how you liked it!!


When Harry awoke the next morning, he felt weirdly exhausted, but at the same time very happy. Both were feelings which he couldn't quite explain. Although, his still sleep-fogged mind did not seem to care too much anyway. It was too early to start worrying already.

Unwilling to open his eyes just yet, Harry sighed and turned to the side, pulling his blanket with him and snuggling it around his shoulder. The moment that he stretched his legs however, he felt himself bump into something.

A frown tugged on his brows, as he blinked slightly and opened his eyes, looking up.

It hardly took him a second to jump into an upright sitting position, after he had spotted the person who sat at the end of his bed. Wide eyed, Harry stared at the other.

"You…!" The young wizard exclaimed ineloquently, sounding accusing all the while.

Riddle's lips stretched into an amused smile as he chuckled. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Uh…" Harry kept on staring at his opposite, feeling slightly stupid by now. He had just woken up, how was he supposed to be articulate and witty already? "No. No, you didn't." He muttered eventually and frowned.

Unconsciously he had grabbed his blanket tighter, holding it as if for protection.

He didn't watch me sleep, did he? That would be really creepy… although that's exactly what I did yesterday.

Immediately Harry's memory from last night came back to him and his cheeks seemed to grow a bit warm. Trying to fight back his blush, he managed to keep his face blank.

"Your friends are gone. They left a note in the kitchen." Riddle suddenly broke the silence that had become a little awkward. By the look on his face however, it appeared as if he had rather wanted to say something else.

"I see… thanks." Harry said cautiously. He did not know what else to say, still remembering their last talk, which really could not have gone any worse. He wasn't exactly afraid, but he did not need for the situation to repeat itself.

"About yesterday…"

Oh, coming right to the point, are we?

Quite honestly, Harry had not expected the other to bring the topic up, but was interested in what Riddle was going to say either way. An apology sounded rather far-fetched; this was still Voldemort they were talking about.

"I usually don't lose my temper like that."

Oh, you don't? That's surprising really.

Riddle must have guessed by the look on Harry's face what the younger had been thinking and gave him a slight scowl, before he returned to his composed self and carried on.

"I have to admit that I was quite impressed, however. You see, usually people don't talk to me like that. They wouldn't dare to."

"I can imagine." The younger blurted out, before he could hold back. Wincing at his own stupidity, he nevertheless had trouble to biting back a false apologetic grin. "Oops…"

"You're really pushing your luck, Potter." Riddle gritted out.

"That's what I'm always doing, don't you think?" Faking indifference, he returned the other's glare with an equally defiant look.

"I suppose."

Harry thought these words could have come from Snape as well.

Snape. He felt his temper rising, as he thought of his former teacher of Potion and Defense Against the Dark Arts. His hatred for the bastard had escalated drastically since Dumbledore's murder and Harry had sworn to himself to find Snape and make him regret he was ever born.

The thought startled the young wizard for a second and he blinked, looking at Riddle with a confused expression, who just raised his eyebrows in bemusement.

"So why are you here? I don't think this is about apologizing for almost killing me yesterday?" Harry asked.

Surprised, the other's lips quirked slightly. "Why would I suddenly start apologizing for trying to kill you?"

"Tz…"

"But well, if you would stop interrupting me all the time, I would actually be able to say something." Harry could tell by Riddle's expression that he was annoyed. "I do want to speak about yesterday."

Seeing the other taking a deep breath, Harry had the feeling that talking about what happened wasn't too easy for the dark wizard. What would the reason for that be? Obviously Riddle wasn't sorry, so…?

"I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that."

His eyes widening a bit, Harry tried to look awaiting rather than gawking.

This does sound suspiciously like an apology.

"You're just an insolent boy and it's quite immature of me to let myself get provoked by your simpleminded accusations and assumptions."

Oh well, maybe not…

And before Harry could stop himself: "Why would you suddenly care? I'm almost 17. You didn't feel too concerned when you tried to attack me as a baby!"

Harry saw Riddle's jaw tightening, but to his wonder the other didn't say anything.

Yeah, maybe he's right. Maybe I'm pushing my luck, so what? I'm not going to listen to one of his pretty articulated speeches. I'm not one of his admirers, hanging on his every word.

"I'm not surprised anymore that you're getting yourself in trouble all the time. You just don't know when to be quiet, Potter." Shooting Harry a dangerous stare, Riddle was finally able to shut the other up, who looked sulky nevertheless. "Ever heard of the saying 'Think before you speak'?" Not waiting for an answer, he went on. "Obviously not."

Harry could have strangled Riddle for his smugness.

Bloody… bastard!

"In any case, I'm really glad you never took me up on my offer to join my ranks. You would have wasted my time to outrageous proportions, just looking at this ridiculous situation here."

"Are you finished whining?" Harry grumbled, slightly disgruntled.

Riddle smirked.

"Oh right! Tell me again I'm wasting your time! You're just loving this, don't you?!" His cheeks flushed faintly because of his irritation and he glared daggers at the other.

"You look almost cute, when upset."

Harry was about to go on in his rant, but halted and felt his face grow hot, which definitely wasn't anger anymore. "You…" At a loss of words, he pursed his lips, embarrassed.

"Idiot!" Doing the first thing that came to his mind to wipe the amused smile off of Riddle's face, he grabbed his pillow and threw it at the other, who was able to catch it with no real effort.

What an… idiot! How dare he…?!

What seemed to evaporate Harry's fury to great parts was the unexpected sound of Riddle laughing. Stopping his mental muttering, he felt himself looking at the elder, unable to move his eyes away from Riddle's face again.

It sounded… genuine.

Not false and cold. Not the high-pitched and hollow laughter he remembered from the memory Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. This was real and…

Why does it make me feel so… funny?

His forehead furrowed, Harry tried to get his confusion under control. He still could not help but wonder how a simple smile or a laugh could transform a person's face so much.

With his cold behavior, he's just like Voldemort, even if he doesn't look like him anymore, but… when he laughs like that… he is so…different.

"You're really pathetic, Potter. Jumping at everything one throws at you." Riddle was still chuckling.

"Well, I wonder how you would've looked in my position!" The younger shot back.

Why did he have to turn into Voldemort?

Harry kept looking at Riddle, as he remembered all the appalling things Ginny had written in her letter. It wasn't like he had ever expected Tom Riddle to be a nice person. Besides, the person on his bed wasn't him anymore anyway - this was the dreadful monster the young Riddle hadn't been yet.

Studying the other's features, Harry felt a pang of disappointment that confused him.

Why had somebody like Riddle became such a terrible person? He could have had the world at his feet with his talent, brilliance and looks alone. He would not have needed to threaten and kill people to become famous and unforgotten. It had just been a path he had chosen to go.

Why?

He really does hate people.

The sudden realization seemed to literally hit Harry. Could it be true that it was all the same to Voldemort how he got the people he needed, even if he had to deceive or kill them? As long as he got what he wanted, it did not matter by which means.

Maybe Riddle never wanted to be famous by being loved and admired. Maybe he wanted to be feared, to scare people, make them shudder with fright by the sound of his name.

But why would somebody want something like that?

Harry had been too lost in his thoughts that he did not noticed Riddle watching him.

"If you ever wondered, I ate some of it."

It took the younger a moment to focus on what the elder had said, but then he nodded, feeling awkwardness coming back to him. "Uhm,… good."

Where did that come from? And… did he have to mention it? How does he know it was me anyway? Uh, well… I'm probably the only person weird enough to do something like that. Ron and Hermione would never…

Harry had to snicker inwardly at the thought. If he would ever tell Ron, his friend would most likely think he was mental and even Hermione, with her knack for house elves wouldn't have gone that far in her way to feel sympathy for others.

And Taylor…? Oh, Taylor!

He really spaced off too much. Harry looked back at Riddle and gestured to the other's bed, on which lay a little stack of folded clothes. "Taylor uh… brought these for you."

"Muggle clothes?"

"Well, you should be grateful for what you got. You didn't really expect any of us to spend money on you anyway, let alone wizarding robes, did you? Besides, what's wrong with Muggle clothes? It's not like you have to keep up a reputation around here." Harry found himself defending Taylor, for he thought Riddle was going to complain or sneer at the clothes. "And because you're not allowed to use any magic and we-"

"I got the hint. Did you hear me complaining?" Riddle interrupted him with an indignant look.

The younger glowered, offended.

"You must be getting this from the Mudblood."

"Don't call Hermione that! And as far as I know, you're just a half-blood yourself!"

Riddle sneered at him. "That's what you think."

"No, that's what I know!"

"Well then you don't know a great deal about me."

"Think what you want!"

"I tend to do that." Riddle chuckled, which cause Harry to glare at him.

"You really think that you've got it so damn tough? Well, you don't."

"You just can't stand to be outsmarted by me."

Slapping his hand against his forehead, Harry couldn't refrain from grinning. This was so absurd. What were they actually doing? "Are you ever going to admit for once that you're wrong?"

"Not unless I really am."

"You must've been such a pain for the other poor students at Hogwarts, when you were still at school. I can see it now. And I thought Hermione was hard to cope with at times. Prefect, Head boy, best in every class, teachers loved you. God, I would've just hated you!"

"That's what a lot of people did." Stated Riddle calmly.

Suddenly sorry, Harry grimaced. "How can you say that so easily?"

A shrug. "Because it's the truth. People always envy others that have everything they want for themselves. It's pathetic really, but that's how people are."

"Not everybody is like that."

A lot though, Harry had to admit. Too well did he remember how touchy Ron had acted at times, when all the attention had been on Harry, when he had entered the Quidditch team in his first year or the Triwizard Tournament. But he pushed the thought away.

"Everybody is different, it's just normal that people aren't all as successful or famous as others, but that's no reason to treat them any different. Everybody has their strengths and weaknesses."

Riddle snorted.

"You might not believe it! But maybe that attitude was exactly what got you all that hatred from everybody else! I wouldn't like you either, if you'd treat me like dirt under your shoes. So much about calling me immature and you act like a little stuck-up prat!"

Harry saw the other narrow his eyes.

"Yes, I'm telling you what you don't want to hear and yes, I'll do it again and again. I don't care how highly you think of yourself! And a lot of other people don't either. Maybe you would've needed somebody far earlier to bring you back to the ground from your high horse of 'I'm-the-best-and-everybody-is-below-me!'"

"And you seem to be entitled to do that?" To Harry's confusion Riddle sounded amused.

"Well…" He scowled at the elder. "At the apparent lack of people who apply for the position, I might as well. Do you actually like that?"

The dark wizard looked at him questioningly. "Like what?"

"To surround yourself with people that always say 'yes' to everything you say."

"Well, it's definitely less irritating than having to bother with somebody like you."

"Thanks!" Harry hated that smug expression on Riddle's face.

A short knock on the door interrupted their conversation and both looked up. It was Taylor who opened the door and stepped into the room, but he halted right behind the threshold and looked at the dark wizard with an unreadable expression.

Harry's eyes were back on Riddle with a slight start, as the other stood up abruptly.

"No worries. I didn't harm the Golden Boy." Riddle's voice was cold and distant again, his face wearing a haughty mask and for a moment Harry felt slightly annoyed by Taylor intruding like that.

Remaining quiet, the younger watched Riddle leaving the room and Taylor seemed to narrow his eyes, as his gaze lingered on the retreating form for a few seconds.

My conversation with…

Harry halted his thoughts and frowned.

Tom? I shouldn't think of him with that name. No matter how Dumbledore had always stuck to addressing Voldemort as Tom… it doesn't have the same meaning for me. Tom means making him more… human. And his appearance is confusing me enough already.

"Harry?"

Blinking the younger looked up. He had completely forgotten about Taylor.

"Sorry. I was…" He shook his head. "Never mind, what is it?"

I liked talking to him…

/T/H/

Boredom had always been the worst for Harry. Especially, when there was so much he should actually be doing instead. Like trying to find more Horcruxes and finally figuring out by which means they could be destroyed.

Riddle knows probably everything about that… obviously I can't ask him.

Rolling onto his stomach, Harry stared at the wall. He felt quite useless and superfluous. His friends were out, perhaps somewhere in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley or maybe even in Hogsmeade. They were around people - they could feel like they were actually doing something. Helping.

And he?

I'm forced to stay put and not do anything, when it was really me who was entrusted with the task to find and destroy the Horcruxes. The prophecy says I'm the one supposed to bring Voldemort down. And all I can do is sit around here.

"Eleven more days." He breathed out frustrated and let his head slump into his pillow.

After lying around for another fifteen minutes, Harry decided he could write back to Ginny and see how she was doing. Maybe he would even be able to get some information about what was going on at The Burrow, or maybe Ginny even had some news from her dad about the Ministry.

Yes, that seemed like a good idea.

With newfound vigor, he went to get some parchment and a quill out of his wardrobe.

Hi, Ginny,

Halting, Harry tapped the end of the feather tip against his nose and tried to find the right words. He would have to be careful not to let anything slip about Riddle to Ginny.

Good to hear that everybody is okay! Hope the wedding is going to be great, looks like you're having loads of people at The Burrow. To tell the truth it's quite boring where I am at the moment.

Thanks for everything you wrote about Riddle.

Tell Luna I said 'hi', since she read the letter anyway. By the way, did your dad say anything about what is going on at the Ministry at the moment? We can't get the Daily Prophet, which will probably tell lies anyway, but maybe you know something new.

I'm waiting to turn seventeen.

Can't do magic yet without being tracked, so I have to wait. Ron and Hermione go by themselves to find out what's happening on the outside. I don't want to complain, but it's really dull to just sit around. You're not missing anything.

/A bond…/

"Huh?" Harry looked up and around, but there was nobody in the room besides himself. Frowning, he rubbed over his forehead. Where had that voice suddenly come from?

A bond?

/Yes…/

What was going on? He sat up, feeling slightly uneasy all of the sudden. Did he imagine that or had there really been a voice inside his head? And what was a bond?

Harry stared down at his letter, but the little parchment was still lying peacefully on his pillow, the last words showing exactly where he had left off. For a few minutes he just sat there and listened into the silence. The voice however did not return.

Ginny… do you know what a bond is?

Leaning back once more, Harry looked at his question. Wasn't that a bit odd of him? Then again… it couldn't hurt to ask, could it? He had never heard the word connected to the wizarding world before. For Muggles, it usually meant something that connected things. Or people… something supernatural. Like magic.

Harry chuckled.

Yes, just like magic. Just like…

"A binding charm?" He voiced the question without even meaning to, but the thought made him freeze and bit his lip, as he drifted off to more intricate questions.

Can it be something like a binding charm? Is it the same? Maybe I could ask Hermione…

A knock on the door startled Harry and ripped him out of his musings.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Hermione entered the room, followed by Ron.

"Hey, we're back."

For a moment Harry just sat there and watched them shuffling their feet. Was that his imagination or did they act a little funny? Well… they certainly did just stand around there at the door, starring at him with an uncertain posture, as if he was dangerous or something.

"Hey." Remembering the letter, Harry rolled up the little parchment and stuffed the piece and his quill into the drawer of his nightstand, feeling his friend's stares in his back. What was going on?

"What was that?" Hermione asked with a cautious voice and pointed at Harry's bed stand.

"Oh, nothing." He hadn't told them yet that he had written to Ginny.

"Harry…"

Rolling his eyes, Harry gave her a look. "It's nothing. I just wrote something, okay? So, did you find out anything new? Did something happen? Any important news?" He was already sick of his friends looking at him as if he was contagious.

Ron and Hermione both shook their heads.

"Nah, nothing new, mate." The other boy walked over to him.

"Yes, it's very… quiet at the moment." Hermione agreed and came over too.

Am I going crazy here, or are they lying to me?

"Harry, are you ok?"

Blinking in surprise, Harry looked at the young witch. "What do you mean?"

"Well… with being tied to Riddle and everything. Do you feel ok?"

Ok, now that's just plain weird.

"Of course I do. What kind of a stupid question is that?" He had not even meant to raise his voice at his friend, but could not hide the slight frown at the two.

"We just wanted to know. It's probably not easy-"

"Not easy? What's the problem here? Riddle and I hardly see each other; the charm can be adjusted, remember? It's not like he's on my back all the time or something. I can cope quite well."

When both Ron and Hermione just nodded, Harry decided to simply ignore their strange behavior and instead get some questions answered. Who knows what had gotten into them all of the sudden, he could only hope that it was just a temporary thing.

"Hermione, do you know what a bond is?"

Thinking that he had asked a completely harmless question and had braced himself already for an exact and very extensive quote from one of their school books, he was the more surprised and bewildered when Hermione, instead of answering him, just stared with wide eyes and then looked at Ron, who seemed just as startled.

Slightly annoyed, Harry watched his friends. What in the world was going on?

"What?!" He snapped. "Did I say something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head a little too vigorously, as she blurted out: "Oh, no! Not at all, Harry. Where… where did you hear about a… a bond?"

Harry shrugged. Seeing as they had reacted rather shocked about a – what he thought had been a totally innocent – question, he did not feel like it would be a good idea to tell them about the voice in his head. They might faint or whatever…

"Did You-Know-Who tell you about that?" Hermione sounded shrilly.

What the…?

"No, he didn't! Why should he, anyway?"

Unable to take Hermione's doubtful expression anymore, he looked at Ron, only to find his other friend with exactly the same face. Anger and annoyance started to bubble up in him.

Now this is just ridiculous.

"Look, what the hell is going on here?" Harry gritted his teeth, but it did not help to control his irritation. "You're looking at me like I'm some kind of a head case and it's getting really annoying, you know? So, I'd really appreciate it, if you'd tell me what this is all about!"

To his complete bewilderment, Hermione muttered something like: 'We've got to talk to Taylor' and they both rushed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them rather loudly and Harry was left behind, looking nonplussed.

"Fine! Go and talk to Taylor then!"

Harry grabbed his blanket and pulled it over himself. It looked very much like a futile attempt to disappear into the deep mattress, as he also covered his head under the large layer.

Even if he did his best to push the feeling aside, it was not just anger at his friend's behavior that filled him. No, another rather strong emotion washed over him. Something that felt very much like hurt. It made him ache in all the wrong places.

What just happened? Did it have something to do with the voice in his head? Was it possible that they had known about it before it had even happened to him? Why did he have the feeling that everybody seemed to know more about him, than he did himself?

Is there something wrong with me?