"Everyone has a secret the world knows not, and sometimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad."

¤

Hogwarts knew that what she'd done could be considered bad. Her poor Tom had tried so hard to hide his scars, after all.

But…she just couldn't let her child so utterly destroy himself.

Tom had been alone all his life, no matter what he might say of his allies in Slytherin. He knew perfectly well that they would turn on him in a second if offered power. He sorely needed someone who would listen and understand, if not sympathize. He needed someone to stand beside him so that he would not utterly lose his hold on life. Tom needed someone who would teach him not to see the marks as disfigurements, but rather just another part of him.

Harry, though he didn't realize it, also needed an anchor. He'd only just lost his ties to his time, and didn't yet realize how much he needed them. This would be a true test of his inner strength, staying here.

Locking wards were absolutely nothing for her to disable.

She'd known in that instant that Harry had no idea what he was walking in on. Now it was up to the two children to clean up the aftermath.

Hogwarts huffed wearily and sat back to watch the future unfold.

¤

Harry's mind was working furiously as he paced silently to the Great Hall.

He'd known that Tom must have secrets. Last year he'd killed a girl with a basilisk, after all. The castle was still damp from the dregs of fear left behind.

This wasn't a secret he ever would have guessed. Even that small glimse he'd had of Tom in the bathroom had been enough to convice him that there was much more to know about him than he'd ever understood before.

Those lines he'd seen were obviously very old, from when he was a little kid, maybe. Harry knew enough of scars to tell. His left arm was even now adorned with the jagged mark of a foul blood ritual, and his right bore a round piece of tissue that had never fully healed of the deadly venom injected into it. His hand still bore shiny pink lines that read 'I must not tell lies', though along with his lightning scar it was concealed behemoth a glamour.

He knew enough to see that at least half of them couldn't have been self-inflicted, as they were present on his back. Harry'd been too surprised to notice much more than that, but the word and expression written across Tom had been more than enough. He'd stumbled onto a secret--he was going to have to be careful.

Harry already knew Tom Riddle well enough to realize that he should be chary of his own safety, if not his life. This was a precarious game he was starting to play, and it'd just gotten more treacherous.

When Aspen finally arrived in the Great Hall he simply collected his schedule from his Head of House--who to his surprise turned out to be Horace Slughorn--and left without eating. The only price he would have to pay for it would be a few more drops of blood potion to stave off hunger pains later in the week.

Right now he had a free period of time, and needed to take his mind off of the mystery that was Tom.

Harry knew just the person to do that.

¤

Any observant person who stepped into his office would immediately see his preference for little to no sunlight. Dark black curtains thickly swathed each window, and candelabras burned dimly, for appearance's sake.

Conner leaned back in his squashy desk chair, relaxing before his classes would begin with a frenzy. Luckily his lesson plans were already complete, because all he'd been thinking of was the new Ancient he'd encountered last night and he had no time to work.

There was absolutely no way to fake the power or utter darkness of an Ancient aura; few humans or otherwise even knew of their species' existence. It was possible to copy the Line Traits, but not in such a way that it was undetectable to his senses. Nor was the boy's look of shock upon seeing him faked in any way.

And after many hours of pondering, his mind had come to only one remotely logical conclusion.

'Time traveler.'

And it really was plausible in today's wizarding world. The wizards were meddling in ways to bend time and space around them, trying to break the known laws of reality, but there were countless unknown laws that they would never discover.

Such as what has been done can never be undone. Ever.

He didn't need his proximity wards to feel the person standing behind the door.

"Enter," he said shortly, choosing to fall into his more natural French accent, rather than his careful British one. Conner watched with slight respect as the wards were skillfully parted, though they were by far weaker than the strongest ones he was able to produce.

The boy walked in, and he could see the turmoiled emotions his aura projected. Despite those, the boy seemed genuinely glad to see him. Conner motioned for the child to stand before he desk. For now, he ignored the faint shimmers that were the tell-tale signs of intricate glamours.

The boy wasn't meeting his eyes. He seemed to find the plain wooden floor spellbinding. Conner frowned. He couldn't keep calling the young Ancient boy, even in his mind.

Conner spoke first. "What is your name?"

"Aspen Noir," the boy answered in a flat tone, not looking up. Conner scowled, his patience running thin. He could only wait so long. They both knew that he knew the boy's secret, so why was he withholding his simple name?

"No, boy. Your real name!" he barked, hoping for a reaction.

Twinned eyes snapped up to meet his own, and he immediately regretted his harshness when a flicker of pain shoot through the youngster's wide orbs before disappearing.

"It's…the name you gave me."

That whisper struck him with the severity of a blow. Could he really have cared so much for the boy, to name him? Naming was sacred in all magical races.

A warm feeling that he usually associated with Michelle and Toki filled him, and the barest of fanged smiles fell into place. Maybe he could grow to understand this child.

"Remove your glamours and sit down." This time the curtness was gone, replaced by smooth consonants. Aspen gave him one unknowingly rare, brilliantly hopeful smile, and sat. He eliminated the illusions with a small flick of his wand. The disappearance of the glamours also gave way to a jagged scar, pointed teeth, and several rings. Not the least of which was an exact copy of the one he wore on his own finger, that read Sang de Nuit on it's inside circlet. Conner immediately recognized the wand as one of Michelle's creations. The thinness of the rod was one that only she could produce.

'So she is still around then, at least.'

"You don't know how glad I am to see you again, Noir."

"I trust that I shall soon be able to say the same. Now, Aspen, tell me what you can about how you came to this time."

¤

He had been avoiding interacting with the boy all day, and the other had done the same with him.

Now, as Tom trudged silently along the dungeon halls, he found himself dreading potions for the first time.

The intial shock--that had lasted through his first and second classes of the day-- had worn off, leaving him feeling drained and irritable. Tom had declined both Nex's and Liam's offers to walk with him, preferring the dark solitude as he slowly made his way to the Potions classroom.

-Oh, Tom you're here! Have you ssseen my human?- the questioning hiss startled him, causing him to turn too quickly and fall to the the floor. Letalis hissed in amusement. Tom glared darkly at her. He was definitely not in the best of moods.

Letalis ignored him however. -Ssso, tell me. Have you tried to lie in Parssseltongue yet? It'sss most amusssing, that the creature that humansss think ssspoutsss only liesss can ssspeak not but the truth.-

In the time she was speaking Tom had picked himself up off the ground. He made to walk away, but she blocked the corridor between them. Tom growled quietly, then sighed. He still had no idea as to the potential danger Letalis could present to him, so it might be best if he just played along with her.

He took a moment to think.

-You are able to tell lies in Parsel…- he stopped abruptly as the rest of the word refused to come out. The utterance felt as though it had lodged itself in his throat. Tom looked at the snake and saw her watching him with a pleased expression.

-You sssee? That wasssn't ssso hard.- Before he could reply she departed, leaving Tom muttering darkly to himself in Snake as he walked the halls, testing her account further. Aspen Noir had been driven from his thoughts for the moment.

¤

Letalis was waiting for him in the corridor around the corner from the Potions classroom.

-I ssspoke with Tom again.- Then she quietly informed him of what had just occurred.

When she finished, Harry asked, -Did you give away that I can speak Parseltongue also?-

Letalis shook her head as she settled under his robes. -You asssked me not to, ssso I didn't. I think it would be a good idea though. Now he knowsss you cannot lie in thisss language, you can gain hisss trussst back.- Harry nodded and re-adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. He wondered distantly why he cared enough to try and apologize, but couldn't find a solid reason.

By the time he reached the classroom five minutes early, half the class was already there. Professor Slughorn was nowhere in sight and Tom was sitting on the far side of the room, not quite detached from the Slytherins but not in the hub of their group either. He'd left that position to Abraxas Malfoy and Liam Nott. The rest of the room was filled by a mix of the other three houses. Apparently few enough people had gotten into NEWT potions that they only needed one class period.

Aspen hesitated for a moment, but with Letalis' reassuring hiss he mustered all his resolve and went over to sit next to Tom. The other Slytherins looked up when he passed but didn't stare after him. They'd lost interest in the new student already, as he'd shown nothing remarkable about himself in their other classes. Soon he would be just another faceless classmate, lost among their pureblood politics and intrigue. That suited Harry just fine. It was easier to get along in Slytherin if he didn't draw attention to himself.

Harry set his bag gently on the table. Tom turned in his chair and stared at him with cold, blank eyes. Harry nearly flinched at the lack of feeling he saw in them. There was no way that could be healthy. He had no clue just how often he, himself had draw on that look.

Harry looked around, and saw the others still had their eyes decisively turned away. He didn't know the measures Tom'd gone through to ensure his own privacy. If you'd caught Tom's interest, everyone else stayed away.

He sat down on the wooden chair and turned to Tom. By now the taller boy was looking elsewhere, which surprised Harry. He was sure the other would be making death threats as soon as he entered his general vicinity.

-I'm sorry,- he hissed near silently, so none of the room's other occupants could hear. Harry watched as Tom's shoulders tensed, obviously recognizing the stressed S's of Parseltongue. -The door was unlocked and I did not mean to walk in on you. I will tell no one, and I won't ask questions. -

Tom's entire posture was stiff, disbelieving and shocked. Harry waited for his words to sink in, along with the fact that there wasn't any way he could be lying. He really, genuinely wanted to get along with the wavy-haired boy.

Tom's hands were gripping his chair so hard, Harry knew if he'd been doing the same he would've already disintegrated the wood. Suddenly his hands relaxed, and he slowly turned to meet his eyes.

-I will accept your apology,- he hissed back quietly. -if you tell me who you are.-

Harry stayed silent for a moment, his mind scrambling for some kind of answer. He finally settled on cryptic.

-That's not something easily answered. I am Aspen Noir, not a natural Parseltongue. I guess the rest will be for me to know and you to pry, snoop, and spy for.- This time is was he who offered the hand in truce. The other looked at it with narrowed eyes.

'Of course he doesn't trust me yet.'

But Tom took his hand and shook it firmly, just as Professor Slughorn entered the room. Harry sat back in his chair and turned his eyes forward. Just like every other teacher, Slughorn was probably going to test where he was when it came to the subject. Harry sighed quietly, ignoring the prickles he felt from Tom staring at him. It was going to be a long day.

¤

Weeks seemed to pass in an instant, and still Tom had not gotten anything more from Noir. It seemed that the other was a master at avoiding questions, just as he was. He knew the boy had a secret even more than speaking Parseltongue, but he didn't know what it was.

He'd tried asking Letalis, but the snake was so strange and obscure that he never got a straight answer from her.

Orion once asked quietly as to why he was so interested in the boy, but Tom simply brushed him off. Black had no right to pry into his business, and he knew it. Besides, Aspen didn't seem particularly concerned with socializing with anyone but him and Letalis, which Tom found not unusual for a Slytherin. Some of his house never spoke outside of class. It was just the way things were.

Things fell into a comfortable rhythm between them. They both kept to their own routines, namely Tom burying his nose in some research project or leaving to pry information out of a fat professor, and Aspen coming back to their room sweaty and tired, with neither of them ever asking about it.

But for Tom, even with the other's promise of secrecy, the advantage Aspen had with knowing so much about him seemed to hang over his head like some half-departed ghost. All of that changed two months later…

¤

There were no windows in the dungeons, and so there was no sunlight to indicate morning. Students of Slytherin learned quickly to rise on time at daybreak or, failing that, to set a tempus alarm.

Tom strictly ensured that he woke early each morning to give himself enough time to shower out of pure habit. He stopped suddenly when he noticed a immobile figure on the opposite bed, still fast asleep.

'Strange. He would usually be gone by now.' Aspen disappeared somewhere every morning, and Tom had still not managed to find out where. He could see the other's long hair poking out from where he'd buried his head under the blanket. Tom glanced at his own bed. He smirked evilly. Suddenly he had this urge…

Aspen leapt up with a yelp when a pillow smacked into his head. His legs became tangled in the sheets and he fell to the floor with a crash. The normally rather graceful boy scrambled up, cursing and sputtering.

Tom found it highly amusing to watch. It was significantly harder to remain stoic when the red faced male grabbed the pillow and whirled toward him, eyes accusing. Tom shrugged and his smirk grew.

That was promptly wiped away when the pillow hit his own face with astounding force and he smashed to the floor. Tom was too surprised to even cry out and he was shocked even further when the gold-eyed boy suddenly burst into laughter.

Tom had no idea how ridiculous he looked, sprawled there on the stone. His wavy black hair was a mess from sleeping, his sleeping robes wrinkled, and his green eyes wide with a slack-jawed expression on his face. How could Aspen not laugh?

Suddenly his face started heating up. Tom's jaw shut with a click and he scowled. He swiftly gathered his clothes and left the stupid boy on the floor, still chuckling.

That red hadn't been from embarrassment, and Tom sorely needed to know why.

¤

Nauseous and woozy. From the moment Tom had thrown the pillow that morning, those two words were all he could use to describe his whole day.

Granted, he had been very surprised at Tom's most uncharacteristic action and had made a great show of exuberance, but it had been too funny not to laugh.

When the other boy left, Harry's stomach returned to him, seemingly quite intent on dancing a jig inside his mouth. He nearly bit through his lip when it's small contents threatened to come up. Nevertheless, his fangs still came away bloody.

Harry frowned to himself. It couldn't be hunger. He'd taken the blood potion two days ago, so he shouldn't need it at least for another three days! Harry shrugged. It couldn't hurt to take it again, and he really couldn't think of anything else that could be causing the condition. With a great effort he made his way to his trunk and opened the lid, shifting through his clothing to find one of the small bottles he carried there. There was about a quarter of the vial left, but that didn't bother him, for the prescribed amount he needed was small.

The brown-red liquid was warm and spicy, and went down in just two gulps. Harry sat back and waited for it to take effect as it usually did. He waited, crouching there for several minutes. Nothing.

Was it his imagination, or did his vision get a bit blurrier just now?

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but it was no help. There was no way he'd go to the Healer Kira or Pomphrey either. Letting someone look that closely at him was just asking for his inhumanity to be discovered. Because of waking up so late, he also didn't have time to visit Noir about the matter.

Harry sighed and grumbled. He still had to go to class!

¤

Harry was walking in a constant daze. His Transfiguration teacher had reprimanded him several times for spacing off during class, rapping smartly on his desk as she walked by. He would bet the entire Black estate that she was the person Mcgonagall had based her teaching personality on. If fact, he recalled that particular seventh year getting very starry-eyed when the professor passed by her in the corridor.

But getting back on track, Harry was unable to say anything for fear of being sent to the nurse.

He might have taken notice of how withdrawn Tom was suddenly being. Unfortunately, he wasn't coherent enough to think of anything past the current class.

Harry walked slowly to his room, taking special care not to stumble. No longer was his stomach bucking. No, now it had decided that it didn't like being inside his body anymore and was trying to knaw it's way out of his body. It didn't help that every few seconds one or another of his muscles would spontaneously convulse. He was definitely too far from Noir's classroom to get there without being seen in his sick state.

It was with this in mind that he finally staggered into his room.

Tom was already inside, reading a heavy tome when he came in. He hastily stuffed it in a drawer when he entered, but Harry took no notice. His hand was on the wall with his fingernails digging in, in attempt to support himself. All balance was lost when his stomach gave a mighty heave. Black blood and stomach acid was wretched all over the floor.

Tom was already up and hurriedly running over to him, coming almost too close in an aberrant show of concern.

"What happened? Are you all right?!" He leaned in closer to get a look at Aspen's dead white face. Sweat beaded on his skin in large droplets, and suddenly Harry found his gaze fixed on a point on Tom's neck. A vein pulsed there, flowing with life and sustenance. He could just bend forward a little and-

"No! Get away from me!" Harry shoved Tom out of his line of sight with one hand, the other still burrowed into the wall. He didn't turn to see the hurt expression that flickered across the other's face before it was replaced by blankness. "J-just get Professor DeLune…please…"

Then Aspen fell into a void filled with blood and gloom.

¤

A/n: Hey all! Sorry this chapter is unbetaed, but I really wanted to get it out for my birthday! Spring Equinox, hooray! To everyone, thanks for reviewing.

To those of you bugging me to update, please go and have a nice little look at the A/N at the end of the very first chapter. If anyone's wondering when I'll update, I keep my stats in my profile! (Though I don't guarantee they'll always be updated either!)