71 pages, 28737 words. I basically wrote a fucking book for this one. And the reason it's so late was because I was honestly dreading copy-pasting it, until I figure out there was a 'Select All' function in google docs. I feel like an idiot.


1. Nightmare

The dream always started out the same.

He was standing in a field of chrysanthemums, the beautiful field stretching far beyond the horizon, the sun warming his skin pleasantly. There would be a young boy, around Harry's age, sitting amongst the flowers, twirling one between his fingers with a bitter expression on his face.

There would be a pause, a moment of bliss between them, before the sound of sirens would sound, causing the sky to darken overhead and the flower's around him to begin to wither. The boy would drop the flower and get to his feet, and pull the gas mask over his face before running from the field. It was at that moment planes appeared over the horizon, dropping their cargo onto the field as Harry fled as well, his little legs carrying him as fast as they could from the bombs dropping onto him.

He was never fast enough.

2. Closure

The world between the living and the dead were the closest on All Hallows' Eve, the veil thinning enough for those who wished to speak to those beyond the grave could do so.

Harry took a deep, calming breath, approaching the tall structure in the middle of the room. He could hear the whispers as he neared, rising in volume as he moved closer only to suddenly stop when he was directly before the curtain.

His hands grabbed the tattered piece of cloth and took a deep breath, thinking hard about his parents and godfather before pulling the cloth back.

Through the wisps of semi-transparent smoke presented before him, he could make out three figures.

"Mom? Dad? Sirius?" Harry asked, releasing the cloth and barely registering that it remained where he had been holding it.

His mother smiled. "Hello, honey."

Tears formed in Harry's eyes and he quickly wiped them away, a nervous and embarrassed laugh bubbling from within him. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't cry."

"It's alright. We understand." Lily said, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears. "We've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Harry said, giving them his brightest smile.

"He has your smile." James mused, before hesitating for a moment, looking unsure of what he was about to say. "We've been watching you."

Harry stiffened, remembering the reason he had traveled here as opposed to spending the night with his lover, the floor at his feet suddenly becoming very interesting. "Oh?"

"And we've seen…quite a lot." James trailed off, a heavy silence settling over them.

It was better this way, Harry reminded himself, like ripping off a bandage. To get it done and over with as quickly as possible; though, he mused to himself, that didn't mean it was going to hurt less.

A cool hand settled on his cheek and Harry jerked his head up, green meeting green. Of all the things he prepared for -anger, bitterness, hurt, disgust- the soft look in her eyes took him by surprise.

"We aren't angry at you." she said softly, gently wiping her fingers along his cheeks to wipe the tears he had not known were falling. "Why would we be? You can't help who you fall in love with."

"Yeah," Harry agreed bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself in comfort. "Sometimes I wish it was someone else too."

"You're good for him, we've seen it." James offered softly, coming closer to stand beside his wife. "I don't think things would have played out quite like this if you hadn't been there to soften him a bit."

"He makes you happy." Sirius spoke suddenly, drawing Harry's attention to him; he had almost forgot he was there. "That's all any of us have ever wanted for you."

"Plus, did you see the look on Snivellus's face when he reinstated Remus as the DADA professor?" James said, his joyful voice cutting through the tension in the room. "I only wish I was still alive so I could save that in a pensive."

Lily slapped his arm as Sirius laughed loudly and Harry felt himself relax in the presence of his parents and godfather. It was comforting to know they weren't angry at him for selfishly choosing his own happiness, nor the arguable better world that had been made from it.

3. Buried Alive

"Would you like to find out what happened to your boyfriend?"

Tom had awoken in a dark and cramped space, his breathing picking up when he noticed he couldn't move his legs. His worry quickly turned into full panic when he realised where he was, clawing uselessly at the lid of the coffin above him, the words he had heard before the tainted coffee had kicked in echoing in his head.

4. Mistaken

The silence that had descended on the battlefield was unnerving, both order and death eaters stopping to stare in shock at the horcrux beside Harry. Harry could understand why, the last time they had seen this visage of the Dark Lord was nearly seventeen years ago, before he had been presumed dead.

And yet here he stood, tall and proud, his cold eyes sweeping across the battlefield before landing on a shocked Voldemort, his own head tilting in acknowledgement.

The silence was broken then by Voldemort, his laughter cold and high. "Of course, how could I have been so foolish not to have noticed." He smirked at the horcrux, earning a raised eyebrow. "A horcrux. No wonder you've managed to survive this long."

"You've been very foolish indeed." Harry declared, trying to ignore the victorious smirk that was slowly making its way onto Voldemort's face. "As you can see, we have the upper hand."

"Do you really now?" Voldemort asked, making Harry frown. "Don't you know that blood will always call to blood."

Harry tilted his head, confused at what exactly Voldemort meant, when he felt the horcrux beside him move, striding across the field towards Voldemort.

"Tom?" Harry asked, his hand desperately trying to grab onto the horcrux's robes. He felt something in him die when the horcrux's robes slipped through his fingers as though they weren't there at all, his determined stride never breaking.

Harry could feel himself began to shake, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as his insides went cold. Why would Tom do this, put up such a rouse, going as far as to destroy several pieces of his own soul, only to turn his back on them at the last minute? If blood truly called to itself so strongly, shouldn't he be here with Harry, the one whom he had resided inside for so long?

The victorious smile on Voldemort's face soon morphed into one of shock, his eyes flicking down to stare at the knife now embedded in his abdomen. It was removed then quickly pushed back into place, a vicious smile making its way onto the horcrux's face as he twisted the knife, digging it deeper into Voldemort.

"You really shouldn't put so much faith in one person." The horcrux whispered, leaning closer to speak in Voldemort's ear. "You should also know that we'll do anything to save our container, including eliminating the threat."

5. Do Not Enter

Tom was a handsome man, tall and dark with piercing blue-gray eyes and hair darker than the night's sky. Harry was very lucky to have married a man of such stature, but he couldn't help but think something was off about his husband.

He was thankful not abusive but he was distant, almost cold in his interactions with Harry. He was also very controlling, demanding to know where Harry was going and when he intended to return.

Or the most troubling piece of information, as Harry had learned a few days after their honeymoon, was the amount of spouses that had mysteriously vanished while married to him. Healthy men and women who had went missing the day after Tom returned from his annual trip abroad, the same trip he was telling Harry about as he placed the chateau key's in Harry's hand.

"I only ask one thing of you." Tom said, kissing Harry's cheek. "Do not go in the basement. I will be forced to punish you if you do."

Harry had nodded, clutching the keys in his hand as he waved his husband off, wishing him a safe trip.

Now, three days later, he found his curiosity growing harder and harder to ignore, burning to know what was kept in the basement. And here he found himself, standing before said door, the golden key Tom had specified to be the correct one clutched in his hand.

His hand was already slipping the key within the lock and turning it before he could decide if he really wanted to betray his husband's trust. Well, one little peek couldn't hurt, right? And it's not like Tom would know.

He giddily pushed the door open, squinting at the darkness of the room. He took a cautious step in, feeling along the wall for a light switch, shivering at the feeling of something cold squishing beneath his feet and wrinkling his nose at the smell of the room; really, Tom should fix the pipes down here. He successfully located the switch and flicked it on, only to immediately regret it.

Corpses. Nothing but a room of corpses. Harry quickly placed his hand over his mouth to stop from retching at the sight of several strung up while more were laying on the floors. He didn't need to look down to know what he was standing in wasn't water.

He quickly flicked lights off and backed out of the room, slamming the door and locking it. He removed the key, his shaking hands losing their grip and causing it to fall to the floor, right into one of his bloody footprints. He cursed and quickly snatched the key back up, wiping it off on his pants, only to make the horrifying discovery that the blood would not come off.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Harry was not stupid. He wasn't a genius like Tom, but he had completed all of his schooling and knew a magical item when he saw one. He knew the blood was never going to come off of the key and, he realised with a growing horror, he was going to wind up another corpse in Tom's basement.

6. Never Again

Harry woke up sore and aching, a stubborn stream of light hitting his face directly and the sound of his pillow's rhythmic breathing. He paused for a moment, taking in his surroundings -faded yellow curtains that were doing nothing to block the light and a pale chest- and took a deep breath. "Fuck."

"That already happened." his pillow said slowly, shifting beneath him to stretch. "We could go again if you want."

"Shut up, you know what I meant." Harry grumbled, sitting up and surveying the room they were in. A dingy hotel room, in what looked like Knockturn Alley. No surprise there. Now, where had his clothes gone off to?

He heard a hum behind him and felt an arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as a face nuzzled his lower back. He was disgusted with how much the action didn't bother him.

"Come on, don't be that way. You were so much nicer last night." was spoken into his lower back, followed by a trail of opened mouth kisses.

Harry decided to end this before it started again, throwing the blanket off himself and standing, beginning to search for his clothes in the room. A sock had ended up on top of the bathroom door, bizarrely enough.

His companion turned on his side, propping himself up on one arm and hiking one leg up, the blanket covering his modesty.

"What a lovely view." he purred, watching as Harry bent over to pick up his shirt.

"Shut it, Riddle." Harry spat, giving up on his search for his underwear and beginning to put on his pants. The bastard probably hid them on purpose, like all the others before it.

Riddle hummed, his eyes watching as Harry shimmed into his pants, enjoying the way his butt bounced as he did so. "Don't be like that. You know you like what we do."

Harry glared at him, shoving his shirt over his head and spat out, "That may be, but this is never happening again."

Riddle smirked, making Harry's blood boil. "Isn't that what you said last time? Or was that the time before? It's happened so much I can't remember."

Harry glared once more and yanked the door open, slamming it shut in anger as Riddle's laughter followed behind him.

7. Hate

Horcruxes were born from negative emotions: hatred, envy, jealousy, greed. All these swirled within them, tainting the vessel they had been placed within and infecting the world around them.

The one within Harry rarely felt anything other than hatred; hatred for the filthy muggles that stuffed his container within a closet at the age of five and declared it to be his new room, hatred for that nosey squib neighbor who always smelled of cats and depression, hatred for the teachers who saw the bruises that littered their skin and did nothing about it, hatred for the whale of a child that instigated the infamous "Harry hunting", hatred for his disgusting mudblood and bloodtraitor friends, hatred for that bastard Dumbledore.

Hatred for his container, who, despite all he had been through, would still lay down his life for these awful people, who longed to see his parents once more, who willing walked to his own death with no regrets, whose smile somehow broke through his cold facade and made him push his soul out of the way, taking the killing curse aimed at them for himself.

8. Burn

"Hey, Potter?"

Harry sighed, setting his juice down on the table and turning to face his rival. "What, Malfoy?"

"Me and buddies were talking and we got to wondering how the Minister's dick tastes. Figured I'd ask the expert here."

Everyone in the hall immediately quieted, all curious to see how he was going to react to the now public knowledge of him and their very attractive Minister.

Harry was silent for a moment, taking a calm sip of his juice before replying. "I don't know, Malfoy, why don't you ask your father?" With that, Harry gathered up his things and exited the hall.

"Damn, Draco, you want some ice for that burn?" Pansy asked as the hall went wild and Draco turned an unhealthy shade of red.

9. Crash

Tom watched as a car thundered by, yet another person not stopping to help him. He crossed his arms, eyes tracking them as they drove off, mentally berating them for not helping him, just as a car from the other lane drifted into theirs, smashing into them at a speed much higher than the speed limit. Both cars slid across the road, ending on opposite sides of the road.

Tom turned off his hazards and got out of his car, turning on the flashlight on his phone as he walked towards the wreckage, easily avoiding the large metal scraps that littered the road.

A man was lying face down in the headlights, a puddle of blood around him and his limbs contorted into odd angles. His car- Tom assumed it to be his, seeing as the windshield had a human shaped hole in it- was totalled, the front end completely crushed and tires tilted towards the hood.

The other car had fared better, it's front bumper completely missing, but it's passenger had not. The man was collapsed against the steering wheel, a piece of shrapnel lodged deep within his cranium, a worrying amount of blood spilled on his shirt; Tom safely concluded him to be dead.

The woman had no injuries that Tom could see, her body curled in on itself and a curtain of red hair obscuring anything from view. Tom could conclude she had survived and turned to leave, only for her hand darted out, grabbing his and startling him.

"My...my baby…Harry..." she managed to choke out before falling limp, her head logging uselessly to the side and allowing Tom to see a large piece of glass that had been lodged within her throat, previously obscured by her hair, and a mop of black hair in her arms.

Tom secured his phone in his mouth and pulled her limp arms away, revealing a surprisingly still sleeping toddler. Tom reached in and pulled him out, taking a moment to observe the child. He was small, maybe a year or two old, and otherwise unharmed save for a piece of glass in his forehead.

He easily removed the glass from the child's head, a small amount of blood streaming from the wound as he lifted him up. He adjusted the child so that he was comfortable curled against Tom's chest, wiping the blood from Harry -at least he assumed it be his name- forehead and taking his phone from his mouth.

Checking for other cars, Tom darted back to his car, opening the door and placing Harry gently inside. He moved to the other side of the car, opening the trunk as he walked past it. He grabbed the thick rope and shovel that rested on the ground, laying them in the trunk before closing it.

It was a disappointing night, Tom decided, picking the child up carefully and sliding into the seat. No new victims to play with always made him a little sad, but getting a child out of the deal was just as nice.

"Papa?" the child muttered sleepily, shifting closer into Tom shirt and falling back asleep, earning a snort.

"Not quite." Tom said, cranking up the car and pulling the seat belt over them both. A child would pose more of a challenge in the long run, he decided, especially since he intended to raise it.

This would be a good opportunity to dispose of his and Bellatrix's little accident, he decided as he put the car in drive, adjusting the child so that he would be more comfortable in his lap. He was sure they were about the same age and her birth certificate was going to come in handy if anyone started asking questions.

10. Blood

"What's that on your shirt collar?"

Harry started slightly, his hand coming up to grab his collar as he spun in his seat, looking at the man beside him. He was rather handsome, Harry noticed, his dark hair neatly combed and his suit pressed. He even managed to make sitting at a student desk seem refined.

"What?" Harry asked, nervously trying to flip is collar to conceal the red smudge that ruined his otherwise pristine white shirt. He had been extra careful this time, remembering that James had mentioned his parent-teacher meeting. Had some gotten on him?"

"There's a smudge." The man said, motioning to his own collar. "It looks like blood."

"It's nothing. I spilt some wine on myself."

"Really?" The man asked, leaning a bit closer and lowering his voice. "I didn't know wine had fingerprints."

Harry felt his heart rate pick up, his hand beginning to shake with nervousness. Shit, he had been busted, hadn't he. And he had been so careful, even going as far as to wear a rain slicker over his clothes. He hadn't counted on the girl being a fighter.

"N-no. It's wine." Harry stuttered, cursing himself for his inability to lie under pressure. "Those are my fingerprints."

The man laughed softly, causing a few other parents to glance their way. "There's no need to be nervous, dear. I'm not going to tell anyone. That would be a bit hypocritical of me."

Harry felt himself relax as the man reached into his pocket, only to tense when he realised the implication of the man's words. Oh God, were they all in danger now or was he just trying to scare Harry?

He breathed a sigh of relief when the man pulled a card out, holding it out to Harry. He reluctantly took it.

"The name's Tom Riddle. Give me a call next time you're feeling a little...trigger happy. It would be nice so have some company for once."

11. Splatter

"This is disgusting." Tom spat, shaking the red material from his fingers. "Clean it up!"

"You're the one that made the mess!" Harry said back, only to sigh when Tom huffed and walked away. Really though, how did he manage to splatter strawberry sauce on the ceiling?

12. Fade Away

It had happened during dinner in the Great Hall. One minute, Harry was laughing and enjoying a cold glass of pumpkin juice, the next his glass was shattered on the table and the juice spilling on the table, everyone's eyes staring at him in shock.

"Harry-" Hermione began, only for Harry to cut her off.

"I have to go." Harry said, quickly standing and making his way from the hall, ignoring the whispers and pitiful stares that followed behind him.

Harry took a calming breath as he made his way through the corridors and fighting down tears of frustration. He hadn't wanted them -anyone, really- to find out about his predicament.

The universe had a sick way of assuring you would be with who you were supposed to be with, slowly ripping you from reality if one dared defy its wishes. The only consolation he got was that when he eventually faded from the world, Voldemort would surely follow him.

13. Evil

Evil, Harry had come to realise, was a very subjective thing.

Was one evil because they simply saw a different point of view from what was considered the norm? Was one evil because they finally decided to stand up to a bully that had torment them their whole lives?

Was he evil for choosing his own happiness for once? Was he evil for siding with the man who had slaughtered his parents, the man who knew how to touch him in all the right places?

He really didn't care anymore.

14. Serial Killer

Harry Potter awoke in the cupboard underneath the stairs to a feeling of unease. The house was silent, which was to be expecting seeing as it was still dark out (he was assuming it was at least, seeing as his aunt hadn't woken him up to make breakfast yet), but something about this silence seemed wrong somehow. Not even his uncles loud snoring could be heard, something that worried him greatly.

He didn't have long to ponder before he heard the locks on his cupboard being unlatched. He quickly shut his eyes and feigned sleep, hoping that if it was his uncle thought he was sleeping he wouldn't want to play those awful games that left Harry shaking and feeling like they had just done something they should not have.

When nothing happened, Harry cracked open his eyes to take a peak and nearly stopped breathing.

There was man crouching in his doorway, his hand braced on one side of the door frame for balance and the other resting on his knees, dressed in all black from the bottoms of his beat up trainers to the top of his turtleneck sweater. But this was not what had sent Harry into a panic. It was the mask he wore. Bone white and covering his whole head, with two tiny slits for nose holes and two red eyes painted onto it. Harry knew this mask.

It was the mask that he had seen sketched and colored on the news –the only television program he was allowed to watch- that evening, described by a man who had soon succumb to his injuries and died in the hospital. The mask of the man who had been making his way around all of England, torturing families before decapitating one member –usually the youngest- and taking their skulls with him, only for them to be found at the next scene, pristine and white, with a rubber snake artfully twisted within the eye sockets and opened jaw. The mask of a man who had identified himself as Lord Voldemort at his latest crime scene, the note written on the wall in the victim's own blood after the news had taken to calling him the Skull Snatcher.

"I know you're awake. Sleeping people breathe more deeply than that." Lord Voldemort spoke softly, making Harry's eyes snap open and scramble to press his back against the far wall, putting as much distance between them as he could manage in such a small space.

"Come here." He said, beckoning Harry with a crook of his finger. Harry hastily shook his head, making the man's head tilt.

"Come. Here."

Harry hesitated for a moment, debating if angering the man by refusing to leave the relative safety of his cupboard was worth it and that's all it took for the man's patience to snap. He lurched into the cupboard, grabbing one of Harry's boney arms and dragging him out.

Harry squirmed in his grip, offering enough resistance to say that he tried but not daring to cry out. If his aunt and uncle were still asleep, they would be quite cross that he had woken them for something as trivial as getting murdered.

Lord Voldemort's grip on his arm tightened and Harry froze, watching as he leaned a bit closer to look at his hand on Harry. The thumb and forefinger had overlapped, one right on top of the other, making the man tilt his head. He released Harry's arm and immediately grabbed at Harry's exposed thigh giving the flesh there an experimental pinch. Harry squirmed but remained silent as the man trailed his hands up under his shirt, tracing the top of his prominent hip bone and the concave of his stomach. He couldn't help let out a giggle when his fingers danced over Harry's ribcages, tickling him with their exploration.

The man quickly retracted his hands at the sounds of laughter and smoothed Harry's oversized shirt he was sleeping in back down, gripping his arm once more and guiding him towards the living room.

Harry blinked several times when he opened the door to the living room, his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden assault of light and lack of glasses as he was practically dragged across the room and placed on the couch, Lord Voldemort sitting almost uncomfortable close to him, one hand resting on Harry's shoulder. Across from him, he could make out the blurry images of three figures squished onto the loveseat; he assumed they were his aunt and uncle and cousin, judging by the size of the blurs. Though, he was curious as to why they were so quiet.

"Ah, what a happy family gathering this is." Lord Voldemort said chipperly, though his voice was still as soft as before. "Now, pray tell why this happy little family had a child beneath their staircase. Perhaps this family isn't as happy as it wants everyone to believe?"

Silence reigned over the room, broken by ragged breathing. Harry decided to be brave and speak up.

"It's my room. I sleep in there." Harry said honestly, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt nervously. Aunt Petunia had said to never mention that to anyone or he wouldn't eat for a week, but since they -or, at least, he- was going to die, it didn't really matter anymore.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, making him wince.

"Really now?" Lord Voldemort asked, his voice taking on a deadly edge. "Now, why would they let such a cute little boy like yourself sleep in such a horrible place?"

"I-I don't know." Harry said, trying his best to shift out of the man's hold, but only succeeding in making him pull Harry closer. "They think I'm a freak?"

Lord Voldemort hummed, his eyes observing his relatives. Or, Harry thought he was looking at them, it was very hard to tell with everything so blurry.

"Are you hungry? You're very skinny, you must be starving." Lord Voldemort said suddenly, startling Harry.

"N-no, I'm okay." He muttered, trying to focus on the man's face.

"Nonsense." Lord Voldemort insisted, releasing Harry and getting up from the couch. "I'll be right back. Don't move or you'll regret it."

Harry tensed as he watched him leave, tensing further when he heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, the sound of plates and glassing clicking together filling the house. He found it strange that his uncle wasn't making a fuss over him being in the kitchen, the only sounds coming from the couch the same wheezing and muffled sobs.

He was about to ask if they were okay when he heard the microwave ding and Lord Voldemort return a moment later, a plate of steaming food in one hand and a glass of juice in the other.

"Here you go." Voldemort said, setting the plate on Harry's lap. "Eat up, it's very good."

It contained a baked chicken breast and a side of broccoli, with a little roll on the side. Harry was hesitant, picking up his fork and lightly poking at the chicken on his plate. His stomach twisted with hunger and he hesitantly stabbed the food, ripping a chunk off and placing it within his mouth.

It really was delicious, the chicken tender and flavorful and the vegetables cooked to perfection, nothing compared to his own dinner of bread and water. He quickly scarfed down the vegetable, the roll following suit. He abandoned his fork then and picked the chicken up with his hands and bite into it, uncaring if his tongue was burnt in his haste.

"Have a drink." Lord Voldemort said, holding the cup out to Harry. He dropped his mostly eaten chicken and wrapped his greasy hands around the cup, hastily drinking the sweet liquid.

However, as he took the last gulp, he could feel his eyes begin to droop with each bite, his vision starting to swim slightly.

"Oh, it looks like such a big meal made you feel sleepy." Lord Voldemort said, taking the plate from Harry and setting it on the coffee table, grabbing a one of the napkins that rested on the table and wiping Harry's hands and face. "Why don't you lay down and take a nap while me and your family have a little...chat."

Harry wanted to object, but found himself nodding along, pulling his feet onto the couch and stretching out, his head resting on Lord Voldemort's lap.

The last thing he remembered was Lord Voldemort placing a pillow beneath his head and standing up, making his way over to his relatives, something long and glistening in his hand.

15. Love

Harry had awoken one morning to the usual sounds of the sun screaming and The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lived In His Home rearranging his kitchen rather loudly. However, what was rather unusual was the tiny little heart floating above his head.

They were thankfully cartoonish in their appearance, all a dark red color and surrounded by a pink glittering mist. They were rather cute, Harry noted, watching as one drifted closer and lightly booped his nose, causing it to shimmer brighter.

They were particularly annoying when he had tried to shower, though that could have been because the shower had suddenly turned a bit shy around strangers and took more coaxing than he would have liked to get it to produce even the tiniest trickle.

Once he was sufficiently clean (the water had turned green halfway through), he had to make the tough decision of either staying at home and suffering in silence, or making the trek across town to Tom's shop for any kind of help.

He decided that Tom would probably be the best option, considering that the hearts were starting to do what he assumed was the tango, and bravely made the trek to Tom's shop, glad that no one in town seemed to take note of the hearts. For a second, he worried they were in his head, but then he remember the city council's ban on personally hallucination, claiming it was unfair to the less creative, so that was comforting thought.

Once he had stepped into Tom's shop, he was slightly delighted to see that there was already several heart loitering in the room, their bodies bright pink and their mist a dark red, signalling that they were not his.

Tom came from the back room a moment later, wiping something red from his hands and a swarm of hearts surrounding him. He perked up at the sight of Harry, a smirk making its way onto his face when he took note of the hearts around Harry's head.

"Ah, you got bite by the love bug too." Tom said, tickling one of the hearts that were surrounding him. It let out what Harry assumed was a laugh and floated over to a group not to far away, who all seemed to cultivate around it like gossiping teens after their friend had asked their crush out.

...That might have actually been what they were doing.

"Love bug?" Harry asked, trying to get the image of these little hearts as hormonal teens out of his head.

"Yes. They tend to bite people that feel a strong, burning love for someone. The more love the person feels for the other, the more sweeter their blood is, thus making them more tasty to the bug. They also have this," Tom waved to the hearts, who appeared to be doing some kind of interpretive dance, "Nasty side effect."

"Ah." Harry said, feeling his face heat up. "How long are they going to last?"

Tom shrugged. "Depends. Have you looked at a wild cabbage recently?"

16. Terrier

In retrospect, Harry thought, maybe telling the crazy goth at school that her hair reminded him of an untrimmed bush hadn't been too great of an idea.

Now here he laid in the pound, his now black and furry head resting on his new paws. A highland terrier. Small and fuzzy with a coat that needed near constant brushing or else it would become wild and tangled. At least she had a sense of humor.

He let out whimper as people passed by him, paying him little to no attention as they moved onto cuter and younger puppies. Something told him he was going to be here forever.

"Well, aren't we just adorable." A voice said above him and Harry raised his head to look at him, his tail beginning to thump against the ground.

It was boy about Harry's age, with straight brown hair and strange red eyes. Contacts, Harry thought offhandedly as the boy reached his hand between the bars, scratching behind Harry's ears.

"And what pretty eyes." he mused, moving to scratch under Harry's chin and making his tail thump faster. "I originally came here for a playmate for Nagini, but I think she'll live if I bring you home instead."

17. Origins Unknown

The day Petunia Dursley opened the cupboard under the stairs to find not one but two sets of eyes peering back at her was she truly began to regret opening her door that cold November morning seven years ago.

18. Crawl

"Come now, child, don't you want to bow for me?" Harpertort's voice said, sounding warm and inviting in Tom's head. Yes, he does want to bow, he would very much like to do that. Why was he fighting this again?

As he dipped low, a sharp grin spread across the Dark Lord's face. "Why don't you get down and crawl towards me? You know it's what you want, to be here at my feet, where you belong."

Yes, he thought, dropping down to his hands and knees, it was very much something he would want. On his hands and knees, slowly making his way across the grass to his majesty, What a nice thought, him at his majesty's feet, ignoring all the shocked looks from-

From who? He paused, his hand still raised as his thoughts scrambled, a flood of thoughts and memories reminding him why this was a bad idea. Ginny, a flash of green light, a blood stained diary, the kind face of the Weasley matriarch-

He was on his feet in seconds, breathing hard as the aftereffects of the imperio wore off, leaving him feeling slightly drained and tired. Tom was more impressed with himself than anyone would ever know, he could vaguely recall a text that said orders were harder to disobey when it was something you wanted anyway.

19. Should Have Known

"You should have known." The horcrux whispered softly, his blood coated hand coming up to touch Harry's cheek. "I told you, you're more important to me than anything in this world. Why would I throw it all away for a madman?"

Harry offered him a shaky smile, leaning into the hand on his face. "I know. You scared me for a moment. I thought everyone had been right after all."

The horcrux smiled, leaning down to press his nose against Harry's own, a smile making its way onto his face. "You really shouldn't listen to those friends of yours. They don't understand how my kind works."

20. Prized Possession

The diary was his prized possession, a small and unassuming black book, golden letter spelling T.M.R. along the bottom. He would spend hours every night laying in his bed, gently running his fingers over the cold leather of it's cover and feeling the cool paper beneath his fingers. He often got mesmerised when it would warm up, gently pulsing against his palm, allowing him to drift to sleep.

On those nights he dreamed of a boy in an orphanage and glowing red eyes.

Ron and Hermione both found it a tad strange that he slept with it and that sometimes Harry would stare blankly into space, absently rubbing a page of the diary between his thumb and forefinger, snapping at anyone who dared pull him out of his revine too soon. But, they reasoned, it was only a diary.

What harm could it really cause?

21. Individuality

"It's called being an individual! God, dad, you just don't understand me!" Delphini shrieked, storming out the room, her now white hair, dipped blue and shaved on one side, flowing behind her.

"Please tell me you back me up on this?" Tom said in frustration, turning to Harry and earning a shrug.

"Well, I mean, it's not the family hair, so…"

22. Tragic

His bandaged hands shaking as he pulled the last feather from his form, gritting his teeth at the discomfort it brought him. His last feather, his final hope in getting the medicine Tom so desperately needed. A sharp pain in his fingers made him gasp, the feather slipping free from his grasp and falling to the floor, and he cradled his hands against his chest.

"Someday, even if I wasn't human, would you still love me?" Harry asked himself softly, staring at the blood soaked feather before him, his eyes beginning to burn as several feelings crashed over him. The fear of his secret being revealed, the desperation to save his husband from his terrible fate, the crushing realization that his own life might slip away before he was ever done began to overflow within him, making his hands shake more than they were and the first tear to slowly fall down his cheek.

"But of course." Harry sucked in a breath as cool arms wrapped around him, gently pulling him against a strong chest. Tom smiled gently as he gathered Harry's fingers in his own, rubbing his thumb over them as tears began to fall from freely from Harry's eyes .

"I can still remember that day, how beautifully that crane had taken flight. And I think I love you even more without wings." he whispered to Harry, resting his head on Harry's shoulder and leaning against him.

Harry smiled sadly at that, resting his head against Tom's. They didn't have much time left together, Tom would succumb to his illness without the medicine that Harry was too weak to get, but it did comfort him to know that Tom still loved him, even if he was a crane at heart.

23. Fuck You

"Fuck you." Majesty Harpertort said, firing the killing curse at his long time enemy, the-boy-who-won't-freaking-die.

"Fuck me." Tom said, immediately regretting it as all eyes on the battlefield turned to him. "I said that outloud, didn't I?"

24. Suicide

You should just end yourself, no one really likes you anyway. The voice in his head whispered sweetly as he ascended the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, one goal in mind.

No one would even care if you're gone. Harry could only nod in agreeance, tears beginning to blur his vision with each step. No one really would care; they would be saddened by the fact that their scapegoat was now gone, but not that his life had ended.

They only like because you're the chosen one. It was a strange feeling, being up so high and not caring if he fell. It was liberating in a way, feeling his feet leave the safety of the wood and gravity beginning to push his prone form downward.

At least he would get to see his parents again, was his last thought before his body hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

As people around his body screamed and stared in horror, the eyes of Harry Potter flickered open, a deep shade of scarlet where emerald should be, and hysterical laughter filling the air.

25. Bitter End

"You've gone through all this for her and yet she still chose him over you." Tom spat beside Harry, watching as the happy pair danced in the center of the room. "It's disgusting. I don't see why you wanted to be so like these wretched beings. Their vanity will be their downfall."

Harry gave him a significant look, his eyes drifting to Tom's long hair. He had let it down tonight, the dark locks tumbling over his shoulder. Harry had always prefered that look on him, the sight of his hair flowing around him from as they swam deep within the sea or clinging to his head when the surfaced, the resemblance between Tom and a drowned rat so similar it always made Harry laugh; Tom would glare, but his lips would stretch into a smile against his will, delighting Harry even more. Now, Tom was not smiling in the slightest, his mouth set in a somber line instead of his usual curious smirk.

"They don't know, do they?" Tom asked, motioning to the bride as finished her dance, her fire hair spilling free from her bun as she smiled at . "I suppose, if she did, she would have wed you out of pity...but you don't want that, do you?"

Harry looked away from Tom, down at the glass in his hand, swirling the rose colored liquid around. He knew Ginny would have, her heart pulled by his sad fate and the thought of Harry leaving her side. He knew it would bring Tom great joy to tell her, watch her face crumble as she realized what her fate would be, marry him or live with the guilt of having caused Harry's death. But Tom remained silent, knowing that Harry did not want such a fate for her, the joys of telling her would be soured by the knowledge he had hurt Harry in the process.

The music ended then and Harry glanced up, tugging at his brother's sleeve and pointing at the stage. Tom snorted.

"No, I'm not performing without you." Tom said, standing from his chair and dragging Harry up with him, ignoring the way he winced at suddenly being forced to his feet. "Come on, let's go somewhere else. You like you're about to cry."

Harry allowed himself to be lead from the dancefloor, away from the happy celebration happening behind him and into the bowels of the boat the reception was held on, Tom eventually opening the room at the end of the hall and leading him within.

The honeymoon suite, Harry deduced, as he took in the clean sheets upon the bed and the bottle of wine on the bedside table. Tom led him towards it, gently coaxing Harry to sit upon it and allowing Harry to wrap his arms around him, burying his face in Tom's stomach.

Harry had always liked these moments between them, in the calm and quiet when Tom would let his guard drop and the softer side of him slip through. They used to float along the water's top, both gazing at the stars as they cuddled together, enjoying the silence that surrounded them and the moon hanging high in the sky.

"My hair." Tom said, his hand coming up to stroke Harry's hair and pull him closer, wishing to offer him as much comfort as he could. "The witch had offered a counter in return for it. My hair in exchange for a blade. Kill her with it before dawn and once her blood spills on your feet, you will have your tail again."

Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms tighter around Tom's waist. He didn't want to kill her, he loved Ginny with all his heart, with the every inch of the soul his kind we're said to not have.

Tom hummed, displeased with his brother's resilience, but dropped the subject for now, instead leaning dropping to his knees and taking Harry's head in his hands, gently coaxing Harry to look at him. "Then at least let me comfort you. Like we did when we were still living as our true selves. It will help ease your pain."

Harry was hesitant for a moment, his shoulder slumping as he nodded his consent, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilling forth. Tom shushed him, nuzzling against Harry's cheek and placing light kisses upon his lips, his hands trailing down the front of Harry's shirt, unpopping each button in his quest downwards.

And later that night, as the party raged on above him, Harry sat in the bed, his neck still covered in a necklace of Tom's bites when his brother returned to him, his hair trimmed close to his ears and a knife clenched tightly in his grasp.

26. Snow

"We should fuck."

Tom scowled. "No, we should not."

"Why? Scared your dick will freeze off?" Harry teased, laughing at the face Tom made, stopping when he saw Tom smirk.

"No, yours might. Mine will be somewhere nice and warm."

It was well worth the snowball in the face.

27. Brotherly Love

"What wrong with showing you a little brotherly love?" Tom asked innocently, tilting his head and leveling his brother with a cold stare.

"Well, nothing, but-" Harry was cut off by his twin smashing their mouths together, only pulling back when Harry felt himself getting light headed.

"Then just lay back and let me love you." He said, forcing Harry to lay the bed he had been sitting on. Harry could only gulp as Tom began unbuttoning his shirt, moaning when Tom mouthed at the tanned flesh that was revealed for him and threaded his fingers into hair similar to his own.

28. Best Friend

"Ginny's a nice girl, isn't she?" Harry sighed, placing his elbows on the table and leaning on them, staring at his best friend with hearts practically visible in his eyes. "She's so kind and soft and smells so good, don't you agree?"

"Yeah. she's fucking great." Tom muttered, taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitterness of the drink matching his mood perfectly.

29. Complain

"It's just-Ugh." Harry dragged his hand down his face, anger and stress radiating from his very being. "I get it, they want me safe and everything, but do they have to be so…"

"Insufferable?" Voldemort supplied, pouring them both another cup of tea. "I understand completely. It's almost like I have to hold my followers hands. Why, you won't believe what Bella managed to mess up last week."

Harry accept his cup of tea, taking a sip. "Ooh, girl, do tell."

30. Calming Down

Voldemort was furious. Another raid, ruined by the Order. Another failed attempt at gaining the upper hand, the only comfort being that the light side had not progressed any further either.

The Death Eaters all shifted, glancing uneasily amongst themselves as their lord paced back and forth before them, the magic in the air thick and suffocating. Lucius, being the only smart one within the gathered, had long since fled the room, the traitor.

Just as their lord rear back, ready to fire another crucio on some poor death eater, Lucius returned, followed by their lord consort.

He took one look around the room, at the cowering death eaters and the raging dark lord, and sighed. He approached the podium their lord was currently raging on, his face as calm and serene as though he was going to noon tea and not about to face a homicidal maniac.

His arms wrapped around Voldemort's waist and he nuzzled against his back, muttering something into his robes. Voldemort took a deep breath, his hand coming up to rest on the one on his shoulder.

31. Pain

"This hurts." Harry whined, holding onto his jaw as he curled up on the couch, sulking not so quietly.

"Don't be a baby. They're just braces." Tom scowled, earning him a dirty look.

32. Angst

"Why won't you touch me?"

The question was abrupt, cutting through the peaceful silence in the dormroom and startling Harry out of his studies, making him glance up. Tom was staring at him, sitting cross legged on the foot of Harry's bed with his elbows propped up on his knees, his head resting in his palms and head tilted in a way that Harry had learned meant that something was bothering him.

"I-what?" Harry asked, closing his potions book and setting it into the side. He wasn't really studying, merely staring at the pages as he got lost in a daydream. Professor Snape would be disappointed.

"Why won't you touch me?" Tom asked, reaching his hand out to Harry, only to have him flinch back. "See? You always move away. Are you scared I'm going to hurt you?"

"No." Harry said too quickly, causing him to sigh at the look Tom gave him. He turned towards Tom, being sure that their knees did not accidentally brush, something that Tom took notice of. "I don't think you'll hurt me. I'm scared I'll hurt you."

"How could you hurt me?" he inquired, scooting closer to Harry and watching as Harry hastily moved back before their knees could touch.

Harry took a deep breath before answering. "Do you remember what I told you happened at the end of my first year? With Quirrell?" Tom nodded. "I'm scared that when I touch you, the spell that my mom cast, the one Dumbledore told me about, the one that killed Quirrell, will do the same thing to you that it did to Voldemort."

"There's no way to know unless we test it out." Tom said, looking at Harry with a strange look within his eyes; Harry would swear it looked like regret.

Tom's hand darted out before Harry could stop him, gently caressing the skin on his wrist in almost reverently. Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax as Tom's hand rested harmlessly against his wrist. It was okay, he could relax and let Tom touch him, nothing bad was going to happen. He was calm-

Until Tom winced and a loud sizzling sound was heard.

"No!" Harry shouted, attempting to jerk his hand free but Tom easily held him in place, even as his fingers begin to smoke slightly, similar to how Quirrell's own flesh had reacted when Harry had gripped his face. "Tom, let go!"

"The damage has been done. It can't be fixed." Tom said softly, bringing Harry's hands up to gently touch his throat. Harry's struggles slowly subsided as Tom guided his hand up his face, nuzzling against his palm.

"Kiss me?" Tom asked, his smile at bit sad as he gazed at Harry. Harry could do nothing but obey, Tom's grip slipping away as he moved his free hand to cup Tom's face, leaning in to press their lips together. Tom met him halfway, his hands coming to rest on Harry's shoulder and slipping his leg between Harry's, easily maneuvering himself so that he was sitting on Harry's lap.

It was amazing, just like how Harry had thought it would be. Tom was soft and warm against him, the pumpkin pasties he had been snacking on earlier still lingering on his lips and an almost ashen taste beginning to rise. Tom quickly pulled back, licking where a bit of his mouth had began to crumble away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad. I just wanted you to feel me and to feel you." Tom breathed against his lips, rubbing his thumb over Harry's cheek and catching a stray tear. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you will be the last thing I see."

"Not much worth there." Harry muttered, pulling Tom closer as he laughed against his lips, tears of his own beginning to slip from his eyes as he felt himself crumble against Harry, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ashes and a ratty old diary.

33. Loveless

There was a man outside of the school gates. This wasn't unusual, seeing as most children had their parents or older siblings walk them home, except something about him seemed off, his red eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Harry.

He smiled, a seemingly innocent and friendly gesture, though Harry was still weary. "Hello, you're Harry correct?"

Harry was hesitant, the hair on his tail puffing slightly. "Yes."

"My name is Tom. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your brother had spoken very highly of you." The man-Tom- said, his hand coming to rest against his chest as he bowed slightly to Harry. Harry noticed that he lacked ears and a tail, something that set him on edge.

"You-you knew my brother?" Harry asked, his tail flicking in anxiety and his hands twisting his shoulder bag strap. He couldn't remember James mentioning any friends, except for a lovely red head he had been infatuated with.

"Of course. We were...very good friends." Tom said, leaning down to Harry's height and bracing himself on his knees. Harry was slightly insulted. "He talked about you all the time. His cute little brother, a curious little kitty with a love for photography. Do you still like taking pictures?"

"Yes." Harry said, nervously playing with the straps of his school bag. It was a bit strange, this man who claimed he knew his brother yet Harry knew nothing about him. He could be dangerous. "They help me make memories. And remember them."

Tom's smile widened, making Harry shift slightly. Something unnerved him about that smile, though he couldn't figure out what. "That's wonderful! Would you like to make some memories with me? We can talk about your brother, if you like. He was very...dear to me as well. I'm terribly sorry about his passing."

Harry couldn't help but notice that, while his tone was sympathetic, the man's smile had not faltered. "I don't know…"

"I'll buy you ice cream." He said. "Or anything, really. We can go to the park and have a picnic, if you want. It would be nice to finally get to know my dear friends brother. He did speak so highly of you."

Well, he said he knew James…

"I guess." Harry said, shifting a little. "I have to be home by dark. My aunt doesn't like it when I'm out late."

"Of course. Wouldn't want to worry you're family like that." Tom straightened up, holding his hand out to Harry. "Shall we?"

Harry hesitantly slid his hand onto Tom's. It was strange, while Tom did not have his ears and tail, his nails were still very talon like, much like Harry's own. He must file them, Harry thought, giving Tom's hand a gently squeeze. "I want pizza, not ice cream."

"Of course. Pepperoni and olives, right? James had mentioned it was your favorite."

34. Addicted

"Back again, Harry Potter?"

The question was spoken softly, but sounded so loud in the quiet room. Harry shifted, his eyes straying to the carpet below him. It was a lovely dark red color- maroon or burgundy, he wasn't sure. Colors were never his strong suit.

"Tsk. You should really look at the person that's talking to you."

Pale fingers -cold, so very, very cold- traced under his jaw and lifted his chin, forcing his eyes to connect with his companions. Red. There was no mistaking the color in these eyes, red like to infinite pools of blood, connecting with his own shining green.

"Now, I wonder- what could the great Harry Potter, who has so graciously allowed me to bask in his presence, possible want from the Dark Lord."

Harry stayed silent, his eyes flicking to admire Voldemort's robes. They were nice, black and colorless, reminding him-

His thoughts were cut off when something dark and suffocating seemed to fill the room, making him tense and suppress a moan. Oh yes, this, this was what he was here for. The raw power, the danger, that seemed to roll from Voldemort like dark waves was so tantalizing, so addicting, so delicious, Harry could feel himself beginning to drown in the sensation.

And, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Harry heard himself let out a whine.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what you want." Voldemort teased, watching as Harry bit his lip, distress making its way across his face. It was so fun to tease the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve; his expression were the most amusing thing.

"This." Harry managed to choke out, leaning dangerously close to Voldemort's face as he chased the last threads of magic that was still in the air, faint but definitely there. "You."

"Why didn't you just say that to begin with?" Voldemort's grin was sharp as he dragged Harry closer, crushing their mouths together as he released another wave of his magic, making Harry whine at the feeling.

35. Dynamite

"Why?" Harry asked, staring at the crates full of dynamite that littered Tom's apartment. How the hell did he even manage to get this many through security?

"Work." Tom said, holding the black tape in his mouth as he wrapped the dynamites cord's around one another, twisting them into one cord and tossing it over his shoulder to the pile behind him. Harry could see that Tom had already made at least ten of them, if the size of the stack was anything to go by, and he still had several more empty crates to go through.

He regretted coming over, wondering what sort of illegal activity he was going to be covering Tom's ass for this time.

36. Ghouls

The dress he was wearing today had been beautiful, simply and white, reaching his knees and stopping at his elbows, contrasting with the dark color of his skin and hair. The large red splatter of blood across his stomach contrasted the white as well, the poor man he had taken down minutes prior delicately prepared and resting on Mama's plate.

"You did very well, my angel." Mama said, his hand combing through his hair and making him lean into the touch, craving the gently Mama's hands currently held, knowing it might not last long. Red eyes, their sclera as black as night, filled with mirth at the display, quickly retracting his hand and causing his angel to sigh at the lose. "Hurry up and eat. You don't want it to get cold."

Harry obediently picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the cooked meat (Mama had specially request his to be cooked) and raising it to his lips. Human wasn't his favorite meal, but the last time he had refused Mama had made him eat it raw.

Mama smiled at that, turning to his own raw meal and picking a piece up with two fingers, popping the piece within his mouth and swallowing it whole, humming in pleasure at the taste.

37. Agony

"Dear agONY!" Harry screamed, ripping his shirt open as he posed on the mini waterfall.

"Oh the torture they teach!" Nagini hissed, hastily ripping open her own shirt with her tail and reclining as well. The sleeves of the shirt dipped into the water, making her sway as she was almost pulled along with the current.

"Nagini, stop indulging him." Voldemort hissed, his fingers coming up to rub his temple as Nagini raised her tail at him, her version of flipping him off.

38. Haunted

Number twelve Grimmauld Place was much creepier than Harry had remember as a child. It's walls seemed much darker and larger than when he was a child, it's creaky steps and shadowed windows only adding to the atmosphere. Nonetheless, he steeled his nerves, hauling his suitcase up the ridiculously long stone staircase and to the door itself. No matter how creepy, his godfather had fallen ill and he was determined to make sure he was well cared for.

He panted slightly, straightening up before raising his hand to knock, only to startle when the door opened on its own. Weird, his godfather must have been him walking up and opened the door for him.

He hoisted his suitcase up and stepped into the house, surprised to hear his godfather call out from another room.

"Harry! You're early, I didn't expect you for another hour." Sirius said, walking slowly into Harry's line of sight, his arms braced against the wall as he walked towards Harry. He was much thinner and paler than Harry remembered, which worried him greatly.

He dropped his suitcase once more and rushed to his godfathers side, placing his hands on his godfather's waist in order to support him. Sirius waved him off.

"I'm not that sick, I can stand on my own." Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Did I leave the door unlocked again?"

"No?" Harry said, amused at his godfathers

"Oh, then Tom must have let you in."

"Who?" Harry asked, jumping when the door suddenly slammed closed behind him and the sound of several locks being locked. He whipped around, a shiver running down when he saw that no one was standing at the door.

"Tom. He used to live here, still does too." Sirius said, an amused smile on his face. "Don't worry, he's a friendly ghost. Only pulls you out of bed by your feet if you piss him off."

39. Scroll

Harry was terrified. No, that word didn't quite cut it. Petrified was more accurate.

He had been carrying an armful of scrolls for one of the many members of the royal court, trying to keep up with the blond man's fast pace, and had stumbled over his own feet. The tower of scrolls had tilted, the one on the top breaking free and rolling free. He could only watch, horrified, as it rolled across the hall and stopped before the one being Harry knew he could not approach.

Pharaoh.

His eyes were planted firmly on the scroll, his breathing picking up when he saw those sandaled feet turn slightly and a pale hand picked up the scroll. He wanted to glance upwards, to take a look at Pharaoh's face to see if he was angry or disgusted, but he was not fit to look upon the visage of a god, a mere servant that he was. He chose to keep his eyes firmly planted on Pharaoh's feet, watching as they began to make there way over to him.

Oh no, that could not be good.

He kept his eyes on the ground, his whole body beginning to shake as Pharaoh got closer and closer, until he was standing mere inches from Harry. Harry could make out the finer details in Pharaoh's robes and could smell the perfume he wore. Oh dear Ra, he was breathing the same air as a god.

"You dropped this." Pharaoh spoke softly -he always spoke so softly, Harry had heard, but it did not make his words any less powerful- the bracelets adorning his wrists clinking together as he raised his arm. Harry flinched, fearing he was going to be struck, only to have the scroll deposited back onto his pile, the subtle change in the stacks weight the only indication of this, as his eyes were still firmly on the ground.

"T-Thank you, my Pharaoh." he managed to stumble out, keeping his voice soft and respectful, hoping the flesh bound god before him would not find anything about him too offensive.

Fingers clenched around his jaw suddenly, their long and painted nails digging almost painfully into his skin, forcing his head upwards. His first instinct was to tense and fight, jerk his head free from the grip holding him. He quickly squashed that instinct and averted his eyes, not wanting to anger Pharaoh more than he already had.

There was a hum, contemplative, as Pharaoh forcefully turned his head from side to side. "Look at me."

Harry was hesitant, not wanting to receive a lashing for glancing at Pharaoh, but he also could not disobey a direct order. His eyes slowly lifted to Pharaoh's face and his breath caught in his throat.

He had heard stories about Pharaoh's eyes, whispered rumors between nobles when they thought no one was listening. That his father had been some form of foreign evil, who had ensnared the previous Pharaoh's daughter, running off as soon as he had produced an heir, ensuring his spawn would take its place as the ruler. That the only true link to his demonic heritage lied in the lightness of his skin and his unnatural red color of eyes. Eyes that were now locked with Harry's own.

They were both beautiful and terrifying, as the rumors had said. Eyes the color of Isis's blood, a deep scarlet color highlighted by the kohl around them and the gold on their lids, the color of protection and power. Eyes the color of Set, chaotic and angry and violent, their pupils slitted unnaturally, similar to a cat when they moved into sudden sunlight. Eyes that stared into Harry's own with an almost curious look.

"You have lovely eyes. Such a rare color." Pharaoh mused, his own head tilting and jewelry clinking together as he observed Harry. Harry's trembling increased under that stare.

"A-as do you, my Pharaoh." Harry stuttered out, fear of insulting Pharaoh overriding his fear of punishment for speaking freely to someone so above him.

Pharaoh seemed shocked for a moment, blinking at Harry a few times. He laughed then, a sound both terrifying and beautiful, sending shivers down everyone's spine. He smiled, his painted lips curving upwards in amusement. "How cute."

He released Harry and turned, making his way back to his throne. Harry could only watch, admiring the way his robes swirled about him and the gold glistened in the unforgiving sun, too stunned to do much more.

A god had retrieved something for him, a lowly servant who was barely acknowledged by the men and women he served. He had looked upon the face of a god, a god had let his unworthy self gaze at his perfect face, a god had observed him and deemed his unworthy being to be cute.

He had a feeling that was not a good thing.

40. Asprin

As the first Death Eater stepped before his lord, Voldemort pulled a small bottle from his robes and dumped four of the tiny white pills into his hands. Potions just weren't enough anymore and it was a rather muggle thing to do, but anything to stop the headache these moron's forced upon him.

41. Death

"So...you're a master of death, too?" The small child before him asked, his head tilted and his green eyes wide as he observed Tom.

"Yes." Tom said simply, trying to get over his shock. He knew, logically, that there were others like him. Infinite realities stacking upon infinite dimensions that were constantly intersecting and intertwining, he was bound to run into a different Master of Death eventually. Hell, he worked for a god version of himself and was currently tasked with hunting down a version of him who was stealing the time other versions of him had left on their life to gain his own immortality.

He was beginning to wonder why he even bothered to be surprised anymore.

"That's cool." The child -Harry, if this really was another version of the god he had met a few weeks ago- said, rocking back on his heels and looking up at Tom, his scythe held behind his back with both hands. It...was honestly very adorable. "How did you get to be one?"

"I decided this was the best way instead of horcruxes. I found the philosopher's stone in the mirror of erised -which was surprisingly easy to trick into giving it to me-, stole who I assume would be your grandfather's invisibility cloak, and challenged Dumbledore to a duel for the Elder Wand. I won, obviously." Tom paused. "How did you get to be a master? You don't look old enough for anything complex like that."

Harry smiled sadly. "No, mine was an accident. I already had the cloak and when I faced Quirrell, I managed to get the stone. Well, while I was still recovering in the hospital, Dumbledore had come and had left his wand. I picked it up to bring it back and...well, the rest is history."

Harry nodded to himself and Tom felt an eyebrow raise. Such a mature attitude, especially for someone so young. Well, was he really that young? Tom was sure he had already passed his three thousand and tenth birthday, but still only looked to be twenty-one. Looks were not a determination of maturity and age in his profession, he supposed.

"Have you been tasked to do anything?" Tom asked suddenly, earning a confused look from Harry. "You know, like from your god? No criminals you need to track down or coffee that needs to be brought?"

Harry shook his head and Tom grinned. "Excellent. Tell me, what do you know of interdimensional tracking and handcuffing someone resisting arrest?"

42. Don't be a Hero

"There's no such thing as a hero, the sooner you learn that, the better." his father spat, throwing his stack of comics into the fireplace and watching it burn. Maybe that was why he didn't stop his father from stumbling drunkenly into his car, only to crash and be killed instantly.

He wasn't a hero and didn't want to be one.

"Do you believe in heroes?" Harry asked one day, startling Tom out of his revine.

He studied his secretary for a moment, taking in the way he was currently lounging on his expensive couch like he owned the place and typing away at his phone, before answering. "I don't think such things exist."

"Really?" Harry paused, looking up from his phone with a scandalized look on his face. "I think they do."

"Sorry to disappoint." he said blandly, going back to the book in his lap. It was fascinating, the strange symbols and spells this book contain. All the untold power, right at his fingertips, waiting for someone to snatch it up and claim it as their own.

"I'm not disappointed. You just haven't found one yet."

"Don't be a hero." His own words echoed around his head, the magic within him beginning to burn hotter than before as he forced it to turn against itself, to absorb the power he was about to release into the city and contain it within himself. It was suicide, this much was obvious -this much raw energy channeled through anyone would obliterate them instantly.

But, the defeated look on Harry's face had made his heart wretch, the acceptance of his own failure written so clearly across his face. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't be the reason for that look.

"Don't be a hero."

His veins were set on fire as he screamed, Harry's shocked and horrified face the last thing he saw before everything was consumed by black.

43. Malfunction

All AI's had a strict set of rules coded into them, rules that were impossible to hack into and corrupt. Rule 1: Never do anything that would harm or cause harm to a lifeform. Rule 2: Do not engage in criminal activity nor activity that could bring harm or damage to those around you. Rule 3. Never disobey a direct order from your master or Anterograde Tomorrow Inc. AI's could not disobey the rules no matter how conflicting they could be to the current situation.

Or so it had been believed.

Harry could still hear the screams of the men who had tried to jump in him the alleyway, the sounds of their bones being smashed into the concrete street and their choked sobs for mercy, watching as their blood splattered against the walls and ground beneath them.

He could still hear TOM's laughter, a sound AIs should not be able to produce, cold and hard as he smashed the man's face into the wall, flinging him into the terrified crowd that had gathered when the screaming started. He could still feel the knot in his stomach when the ATI security had arrived, there guns trained on him and TOM and ordering TOM to stand down, only to be met with the same cold, mocking laughter.

He could still feel the wind on his face when TOM scooped him up, turning away from the officers and cradling Harry in his arms before leaping, ricocheting off the walls of the building around them to land on the top of one of the building, the officer's bullets sinking uselessly through the soft synthetic skin that covered TOM's back, easily running along the rooftops and jumping the spaces in between them.

His arms were still shaking when TOM lowered him onto his bed, gently brushing Harry's bangs from his face and accidentally smearing blood across his forehead. "I shall get cleaned up and bring you some tea, Master. I believe some chamomile with lavender is appropriate."

Harry drew his legs up to his body, wrapping his arms around them as TOM left the room, tears beginning to spring to his eyes. Something was very wrong with TOM, something deep in his programing, and Harry was too scared of what TOM might do if he contacted the ATI for help. He could only hope TOM wouldn't try to murder him.

44. Uncalled For

"Well, at least I don't look like my parents dropped me on my face one too many times! Oh, wait, that's right, neither of you parents wanted you!"

Harry didn't know what he expected to come from the insult, but he didn't expect the Dark Lord to stop his tirade of spells and stare at him in shock. Harry also didn't expect said Dark Lord's eyes to suddenly fill with tears and his bottom lip to start quivering. He definitely didn't expect the Dark Lord to turn on his heels and run from the battlefield, light sniffling following his wake.

"Harry!" Molly chided in shock, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over everyone. "That was highly uncalled for."

"Indeed." Bella hissed before running after her Lord, shouting that it's okay, my Lord, I still love you!

45. Unexpected

The night was cold and dark as Tom made his way down the alley, pulling his coat closer to him and silently cursing the orphanage matron for forgetting him at the theatre. He hadn't notice her gathering up the others and departing, too wrapped up in the previews for the movies upcoming sequel.

It was when Tom was halfway down the alley that a man suddenly stepped in front of him, startling him. Tom could have sworn he was the only in the alley.

"Hey, little boy, do you think I'm pretty?" The man asked, tilting his head and staring at Tom with unreadable green eyes, hidden behind a pair of round glasses.

"Um…" Tom said, an uneasy feeling overtaking him, but he felt compelled to reply to the stranger's question, looking the man up and down. In the dim light of the lamp above them, he could see the man was fairly nice looking, with pale skin and dark hair, though his face was covered by a surgical mask, making it difficult for Tom to decided. "Yes?"

"Oh? You think I'm pretty?" the man asked, his tilting further as he leaned down closer to Tom, his fingers coming up to hook onto the top of the mask. "Really? What about now?"

Tom's breath hitched when the man ripped the mask off, revealing his face to Tom. Both sides of his mouth were split nearly to his ear, both wounds still bleeding freely as though they were recently made. His mouth opened, both wounds splitting to reveal several rows of sharp teeth, all sharp and deadly. It reminded Tom of a shark's mouth, much like the monster he had seen on the screen earlier that day.

"Yes," Tom breathed out, his face beginning to get a light dusting of red that had nothing to do with the cold. "You're lovely. Just like the monster on the screen."

The man's smile fell then, his glorious mouth closing then. Oh no, Tom couldn't have that. Revealing those lovely canine's and then so cruelly hiding them, it was a travesty.

Tom reached up, caressing the man's shocked face and all but prying his mouth back open, revealing his teeth once more. "Is it okay to touch you? Oh, they're so sharp, do you file them? Or are they natural? They seem natural."

Tom could feel his heart rate increasing as he stared into the man's mouth, his breathing becoming more shallow with every caress. Oh, this was just so amazing, the rows of flesh ripping teeth and so much saliva beginning to drip from his mouth being held open for so long.

"Oh yes, please devour me!" Tom all but moaned, trying his best to fit his head into the man's mouth. He could feel the teeth scrape against his cheek when the man jerked away.

"You disgusting little pervert." The man shrieked, slapping Tom across the face and knocking him to the ground. He turned as Tom sat up, gathering his mask and running out the alley, a thoroughly freaked out look on his face.

"Wait, come back!" Tom called after him, getting up to his feet with every intention of chasing after him. However, the man had already vanished, leaving Tom alone to huff in the alley.

What did a kid have to do to get eaten around here?

46. Bruising

His sleeves were always long in the summer, foundation heavy along his eyes and jawline, sunglasses worn indoors no matter how rude it was.

There was always an excuse. I fell down the stairs. I burnt myself making tea. I ran into the door frame. Mind your own business!

But it was okay. Because Tom loves him and he doesn't really mean it.

47. Blood Splatter

There was a blood splatter on the sink counter. Harry stared at it for a moment, his mind blank as he processed it. A splatter of blood, on his sink. A fresh splatter of blood on his pristine, clean sink counter. He quickly grabbed the hand towel from the rack and wiped it away, trying to think of where it could have come from.

He could remember, vaguely, of the boy who had shoved him yesterday withering on the ground beneath him, shivering and convulsing in pain, his screams still echoing in his head as he washed the blood from his hands, smiling and humming the same tune from long ago-

Harry felt the locket around his neck pulse, a warmth that immediately chased off the horrible memories that were flooding his mind.

48. Death Bed

Voldemort's prison cell was much nicer than Harry thought it would be. A simple six by eight stone room, with a bucket in one corner of the room and a wooden plank for a bed, suspended by two chains on the wall and with a thin blanket on it. A surprisingly nice set up for one convicted of piracy.

The man in question was currently sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and both hands chained over his head. A precaution to ensure he didn't attack any of the women gathered outside the prisons, eager to show the pirate one more good time before his sentencing.

Voldemort raised his head then, his dark eyes raking over Harry form and causing him to poorly suppress a shudder. "I said I didn't want to see anyone." he bit out, glaring at the guard beside Harry.

"You specified no prostitutes, this is a governor's son. Big difference." The guard grunted, before turning to Harry with a wicked grin. "I'll give you some privacy. Do whatever you like with him, he's no better than corpse at this point."

Harry glared at him as he shut the door, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt. He really did not like that man, with his leering eyes and too long touches and innuendos.

"So," Voldemort spoke when the door clicked shut, turning Harry's attention to him. "What brings you to my cell this evening, oh governor's son? Here to take revenge for a family member I've slaughtered? Angry at daddy and want to take hit something that won't cause a fuss?"

"Something like that." Harry replied cryptically, watching as Voldemort both looked intrigued and angered by the statement, but did not specify any further. He watched Voldemort careful as he began to undo the strings of his pants, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation.

There was a head tilt, but no protest. Harry steeled himself, undoing the finally lace and letting the pants drop to the floor. He stepped out of them and towards Voldemort, his eyes locking with the other man's as he dropped to his knees and slid onto his lap. He could see surprise in the man's face, but that was quickly overshadowed by cool indifference.

Voldemort simply raised an eyebrow, shifting himself so he was a bit more comfortable with Harry's additional weight on him. Up close, Harry could smell the scent of soap on the man's skin; he had obviously bathed recently, perhaps to make him presentable at the gallows or for one of the women outside.

"Oh? So a rebellious act against your father, then?" Voldemort drawled, leaning away as best he could. "No thank you, I'm saving myself for marriage."

Harry smirked. "It's a good thing I came prepared, isn't it?"

He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small box, opening it to reveal two little golden rings within. Harry was delighted to see surprise come across the pirate's face once more.

"It's always been my dream to marry a pirate." Harry said, glee taking over him. "To leave this awful place and see the world, to travel alongside the seafaring men. Father says I'm a fool."

"He's right." Voldemort said. "You dream is rather...romantic, to say the least. Unrealistic and absurd."

"So," Harry whispered, his arms wrapping themselves around Voldemort's neck. "Does it matter? It will never happen anyway. Which is why I'm here, to make an offer to you. I only want your hand in marriage, the right to say that I did accomplish my dream, and in return, you can have me."

"You think you're worth that much?"

"Perhaps not." Harry said, leaning in close, his lips brushing Voldemort's ear. "But I am untouched. By neither man nor woman. That has to bring my worth up, don't you think?"

"You would willing give your virginity to a pirate?" Voldemort asked, disbelief coloring his voice. Harry said nothing to that, nibbling at the shell of Voldemort's ear, and was rewarded with a long sigh. "Fine. What's your name, kid?"

Harry was pleased, having gotten what he had came for. "Harry Potter. And please, don't 'kid" me. I am legally old enough to marry you, you know."

Voldemort hummed at that but said nothing, and Harry took that as his que to start.

"I, Harry Potter, take thee, Voldemort-"

"Tom." Voldemort interrupted, startling Harry. "My real name is Tom Riddle. Use that one instead."

"Okay then, Tom Riddle." Harry said, his mouth curving into a smile. He had a feeling that not even the judge had known this, seeing as he was only ever addressed as Voldemort, in both the courtroom and on official documents. "I, Harry Potter, take thee, Tom Riddle, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge my faith, and myself, to you."

Voldemort was quiet for a moment, and Harry feared that he would be rejected. Then, he spoke. "I, Tom Riddle, take thee, Harry Potter, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge my faith, and myself, to you."

Harry smiled at him, bright and happy, placing the ring on his finger and doing the same for Voldemort, seeing as his hands were currently tied up. His hand trailed down Voldemort's arm, up the curve of his neck, and threaded through Voldemort's hair as he connected their lips in a fiery kiss, on that Voldemort quickly took control over.

They drew back a moment later, their lips still lingering close to one another's.

"What now, husband of mine?" Voldemort asked, his lips brushing Harry's as he spoke.

"Now," Harry whispered, rummaging through his shirt pocket once more and producing a small vial of oil. "We consummate our marriage."

49. Psychic

The immediate future was very easy to see, a vivid and clear picture, the first thing that always pushed to the forefronts of his mind; a victory for the dictator that held him captive, his enemies retreating with battered pride and armies. From there, it was easy to follow the strings, a million different outcomes being produced and shifting with each change; a meeting of the rebels, an assassin sent to dispose of him, a missed opportunity but a boy spared, the press of flesh against flesh in an intimate dance-

"What do you see?" Draco asked, cutting through the silence of the room and breaking his concentration, the future he was trying so desperate to see dispersing before his eyes.

"I see a great victory for you, my lord." And my eventual freedom.

(When the time came that night and he turned around, the handsome assassin pausing in shock at the sight of him -he had not expected someone like him to be a king's sorcerer- he calmly spoke the words he knew would take him down the path he wanted.

"You've been betrayed, Harry Potter.")

50. Unnerving

"Hello, I am Tom Riddle. It is a pleasure to meet." The man before Harry said, his hand sticking out towards Harry and his smile a bit too wide for comfort.

"Nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Harry." Harry said, his hand coming out to shake Tom's. It was cold and clammy. "I take it you are my new partner?"

"Affirmative." Tom said suddenly, then coughed. "Sorry. I meant yes, I am."

Harry paused, his eyes squinting as he studied Tom. Something didn't seem right about him, his posture to stiff to be natural and his face a little too smooth, not wrinkled like it should for that big of a smile.

"Ooooookay, cool. Well, Tom, if you need me, I'll be at my desk." Far away from you. "I'll let you know if we get a case. Or you let me know. Either is good."

"Excellent, Harry. I look forward to working with you."

"Yeah, me too." Harry muttered, turning away from Tom and making his way to his desk. He missed Tom raising his writes and typing quickly on it, the skin parting just enough to reveal a small screen. Tom tapped the red button on the screen.

"I have made contact with the subject. He seems uncomfortable around me. Further research in human relations is need before next interaction."

51. Reincarnation

Gryffindor manor had been lost in time, quietly crumbling down on a forgotten cliff, animals running wild within the once great walls and foliage climbing the walls. It saddened Harry to see such decay, but nothing could be done, at least not in this life.

He sighed, feeling the warm sea water splashing his face and his feet kicking against the rocky edge. He heard a soft pop beside and shifted over, making room for the newcomer to sit.

"I've missed you." He said, leaning his head on a slightly boney shoulder and hooking one of his arms with his companions.

"I've missed you, too." Voldemort said, resting his head atop Harry's, his soft hair tickling Voldemort's cheek. "It's been a long fifty years."

Harry's laughed echoed around them. "Yeah, it has." They lapsed into a comfortable silence, looking out over the water, watching the sun begin to set.

"I hope we're muggles next round." Voldemort said, breaking the silence and startling a laugh out of Harry.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that." He said, eyes dancing with mirth. "The king of muggle haters, wanting to be one. Oh, the irony."

"Big word for a little mind." Voldemort teased, earning an elbow in the ribs for his troubles. "I just think it would be easier. No magic, no problems."

Harry smiled at that. "I don't think that's who it works." he said as he stood. "I have to go. The Order will be looking for me."

Voldemort stood as well, catching Harry's hand and threading their fingers together. Harry moved closer, his head coming to rest against Voldemort's chest. "I hate that you're like a seven foot alien this time." he said, making Voldemort chuckle.

Harry tilted his head up, raising on his tiptoes to give Voldemort a light peck on the lips. "I'll see you next life, my little snake."

Voldemort smiled, watching as Harry turned to leave. "I'll be waiting, my brave lion."

52. Snuff

The metal pipe came down in one final swing as the man begged for it to end, brain matter splattering all over the ground and Tom's naked body. He stood, dropping the pipe onto his, causing a small amount of blood to leak out and turned to the camera.

"Did you film it beautifully?" Tom asked, stretching his arms wide and smiling beautifully, a smear of blood the only blemish on his otherwise perfect face.

"Yeah. Beautiful." Harry breathed, his breathing growing heavy. It was a mesmerizing sight, miles of smooth and hairless skin covered in thick blood, dripping from his abs and mixing with the corpse's at his feet. His pants suddenly felt very tight and he fought down the urge to press down and relieve some of the pressure.

Tom's eyes flicked down, his sweet smile turning predatory at his prominent arousal. He leaned close to Harry, his bloodied arms wrapping around Harry's neck and sweet breath drifting over his face. "I knew I picked a good cameraman."

53. Missing

Harry James Potter

Born July 31. Height: 3'5. Last seen on April 15 wearing a large gray shirt and baggy shorts. If seen, please contact authorities or call 0800 xxxxxx.

Tom blinked as he stared at the smiling child on the paper, his head tilting as he observed the child. He was rather cute, with a messy mop of black hair and large green eyes hidden by wire frame glasses. It was no wonder someone snatched him up; just the sight of that sweet smile had Tom's pulse racing and his face heating slightly, a taste as sweet as that smile beginning to fill his mouth.

He looked around to ensure no one was watching and quickly ripped the paper down from it's home on the light pole, shoving it into the bottom of his school bag. He turned on his heel, fishing a key from his pocket, and made his way towards his home across the street.

It was a rather nice brick house, as old as the street it was located on, with a tall brick fence surrounding it, the only way to enter being a locked iron gate. His late father had been very big on privacy, something that, as a child he had disliked, but was grateful for now.

He quickly made his way across the yard and up onto the porch. "It's me." He said, quickly undoing the lock on the bottom of the door. He heard the telltale signs of a latch being undone and unlocked the door, stepping into the dark house.

There, standing in the hallway, was a young boy. He appeared to be about seven years old and wearing an overly large white shirt, with a mop of black hair and bright green eyes framed by round glasses. He smiled brightly at Tom, running up to Tom as he shut the door.

"Welcome back!" Harry said, wrapping his small arms around Tom's waist and burying his face in Tom's stomach. "I've missed you!"

Tom smiled down at him, gently running his fingers through Harry's hair as the sweet taste began to make its way across his tongue once more. "I missed you too. Were you good all day?"

Harry nodded, releasing Tom from his grasp and stepping back, holding his arms up. Tom was all too happy to oblige, scooping the small child up into his arms and heading towards the kitchen.

"I cleaned the house and made the bed and fed Nagini, just like you asked me to! Then, I watched some TV until lunch and ate the sandwich you left for me. And then I played with the toys you got me and then I saw it was late and I wanted to make you a surprise! " Harry babbled, playing with a strand of Tom's hair as he spoke; the sweetness in Tom's mouth was getting stronger. "You look so tired all the time and I tried to make you a cake, because sugar always make me less tired, but we didn't have the right ingredients for it and I ended up spilling milk all over me and had to change. I cleaned it up though!"

"I'm just glad you didn't get hurt." Tom said honestly, his mouth thick with the taste of sugar. He was practically melting from the happiness within him; Harry, his sweet little slice of happiness, had tried to bake him a cake because he looked tired. What had he ever done in this life to deserve such a sweet child?

"Besides," Tom said, setting Harry on top of the kitchen counter and lightly tickled his belly, making Harry squeal and laugh. "You're all the sweetness I need." Tom placed a kiss along his hairline before turning to the pantry door and plucking his apron from it.

"Oh, your birthday is coming up in a few days. Is there anything that you want? Toys? A cake? Maybe an extra set of clothes." He asked as he shrugged off his bag and secured the apron around his waist, not wanting to dirty his school uniform; Harry was currently wearing his other uniform shirt and he just looked too cute for Tom to ask him to remove it.

Harry paused, appearing to think about what he wanted as Tom rummaged through the cupboards, before smiling. "No. You're all that I need."

That sweet flavor seemed to completely feel Tom's mouth, so sticky and rich and unbearable that, for a moment, he was sure he was going to throw up. But the saccharine taste did not fade as he turned to look at Harry, who smiled at him with the same sweet, naively innocent smile he had had in paper shoved in the bottom of his school bag.

He wrapped Harry in his arms once more, pulling Harry as close as he could and nuzzling his cheek against Harry's wild locks. Harry giggled and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck.

"I love you, Tom!" Harry said happily, and Tom felt like the sweetness in his mouth was caramelizing, so thick and rich as it slid down his throat to infect his whole body with its sugary goodness.

"I love you too, my sweet baby." Tom managed to choke out in his happiness, his mouth so thick he almost couldn't speak. His pulse was racing, the shards of sweetness that had pierced him the moment he had seen Harry from across the crowd seeming to cut deeper, mixing with the caramel that had been in his mouth, leaving him feeling warm and happy at their union.

Yes, this was the feeling of happiness he had been searching for his whole life, not the awful and painful version of it his mother had often tried to convince him it was. This was the sweetness he had always craved, even as he kissed the bitter mouth of ever boy and girl he had tried to convince himself that he loved. This was the warm feeling he had only felt when he had shoved his father down the basement stairs, watching him tumble down before locking the door and never opening it again. This was the same love he had felt all those months ago when he had first held his happiness close, ignoring the dying woman's pleas not to hurt her son.

Harry was his spoonful of sugar within a world of bitterness, and he was not going to give him for anything.

54. Pale

"You're very pale." Harry slurred, his head resting on his arm as he loosely gripped the his drink, his free hand reaching up to touch Tom's cheek.

"Really now?" Tom asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth when Harry began to play with the tips of his bangs.

"Yesh." Harry nodded, sitting up and leaning closer to Tom, wrapping his arms around Tom and nuzzling his neck. "Like...like a vampire. Or milk. Or somet'ing."

"Milk?" Tom said, amusement coating his words as he waved to the bartender to refill Harry's drink. "That's a new one. The vampire one is tired and old."

Harry shrugged, removing himself from Tom to down the drink that had been placed before him in one swift motion. He swayed slightly before leaning against Tom once more, his head thumping against Tom's chest.

"Wanna go somewhere else?" Tom asked his obviously intoxicated companion, slapping on fifty on the counter and standing up, forcing Harry to stand as well.

"Sure." Harry giggled, tugging Tom across the club, out the side door and into the cool night air. "My place or yours?"

"Here's fine." Tom said, pushing Harry against the brick way and began to mouth at Harry's neck.

"A voyeurist, huh? Tha's good too." Harry giggled, tilting his neck and allowing Tom more access to the column of flesh.

Harry shuddered when Tom dragged his tongue over his pulse point, the appendage feeling as cold as ice against his skin. Tom licked him again and Harry was about to comment on his strange body temperature when he felt two fangs pierce his flesh, causing him to tense up in surprise.

Tom smirked at that, his hands coming to Harry's hips to hold him in place and his eyes glowing as he drank from Harry, the vague taste of the fruity alcohol he had been drinking lingering in his system.

Tom had expected Harry to try to call for help or scream, like many before him had when they realized what Tom was, so he was genuinely surprised when Harry moaned loudly and pushed Tom's head deeper into his neck.

While this was unusual, it was also a pleasing development. It was so much easier to feed when the victim wasn't struggling and deriving pleasure from the act alway sweeten them.

55. Shock

Tom could only stare at his long-time boyfriend, unable to process the words that had just been spoken. "I'm sorry, what?"

Harry shifted on Tom's luxurious couch, staring down into the cup of tea in his hands. The warmth it provided offered a small amount of comfort as he repeated himself. "I'm pregnant."

"Right. Pregnant." Tom repeated dumbly. "My boyfriend. A male of the male species. Pregnant. How?"

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy -or in our case, daddy and daddy- love each other very much-" Harry began, only for Tom to interrupt.

"I know how children are made." He snapped loudly, causing Harry to flinch at the sudden tone. Tom sighed, running his fingers through his hair; he hadn't meant to be so loud, he knew how Harry hated people raising their voices at him. "I'm sorry for yelling, but how can you be...pregnant. You're a guy."

"It's okay." Harry sighed, placing his cup on the glass coffee table between them. "Have you ever heard of a doctor named Albus Dumbledore?"

Tom snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd hardly call that man a doctor. Mad scientist, maybe -emphasis on the mad. Definitely a crackpot."

Harry's lip twitched. "Yeah, his ideas were a pretty wild. But not too wild as to deter a few couples from offering their children to several of his 'scientific breakthroughs', as he claimed them to be."

Tom's eyes widened. "You're joking. You were-" Tom cut himself off at the somber look Harry was giving him. "Fuck."

"Yeah, apparently offering your child up for human experimentation that had no foreseeable consequences seemed like a great idea to them." Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair, a habit he had picked up from Tom. "I just, what am I going to do? I can't go to the doctor, and if I do, the media will have a field day. I'll be made into a freak show." Harry put his head in his hands, fighting back tears. "I can't even get rid of the thing without-"

"Get rid of it?" Tom asked suddenly, causing Harry to look up at him. Tom had his head tilted, his face a cool mask of indifference, but Harry could see something lurking behind his eyes. "Why are you going to get rid of our baby?"

"I-I just didn't think...you would want it." Harry said softly, a warm feeling rising within his chest. Our baby, Tom had called it their baby, not just Harry's.

"Of course I do. I'm not my father." Tom bit out, sounding offended at the very thought. His eyes softened as he leaned across the table, gently wiping the tears that had started to fall from Harry's eyes. "Don't cry. I'll call Narcissa and set up a private appointment to check on the baby. No one is going to know about this that doesn't have to."

Harry sniffled, smiling slightly at Tom. "You're not grossed out that I have, you know, some girl parts somewhere?"

"First off, it's called a uterus. Secondly, I will admit I'm a little shocked and had I known, I would have used a condom. And third," Tom leveled Harry with a blank stare. "The only thing that grosses me out about you is that you think chocolate covered potato chips is a good idea."

Harry swatted him with a pillow, feeling miles better then when he had originally stepped foot in Tom's house.

56. Uprising

"This stupid peasants are dirting my castle!" Tom nearly shouted in anger, turning to face his closest servant and twin. "And you want me to leave? This is just some silly little revolt. They'll be crushed soon enough."

Harry stayed silent, staring at the spot on the floor beside Tom's shoes. The lie Tom had spouted hung between them, heavy and weighted. He took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself for his next words, and looked up to meet Tom's eye.

"Tom, this isn't a revolt."

Tom blinked at Harry, shocked that he would refer to him by his name instead of title. But, he knew from the seriousness lurking in Harry's eyes, this wasn't a time for titles.

"It's a revolution."

57. Dance Floor

There was a war raging around him, the rise of two formidable Dark Lord's keeping both the Ministry and Order on their toes and the threat of the Muggle world discovering them looming overhead, but like so many around him, Harry had found a small reprieve.

Nestled in a back alley of a Muggle city, down a flight of stairs and through a graffitied door was Harry's little slice of paradise; a dimly lit muggle dance club, filled with strobing lights and loud music. A place where he could just dance and flirt and not have to worry about the stress of his everyday life.

However, he soon found his little paradise darkening when he felt hands lightly grab his hips and a voice he hadn't heard since he was twelve whisper in his ear. "Don't make a scene and follow my lead. We both have company."

Harry tensed slightly, feeling the hands gently coaxing him to turn. He did so reluctantly, his hips moving before upper half did, his arms wrapping around his companion's shoulders and dragging their bodies closer together. The turn had given him time to discreetly look around the room, taking note of several disguised death eater and order members lingering on the sidelines. They appeared to not want to make a scene either.

"You didn't strike me as the type to go clubbing." Harry whispered in his ear, one of his legs slipping between Tom's to grind against him, trying his best to appear like they were just two regular patrons enjoying an intimate dance that could potential become something more. If Harry was being honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if it did.

"I'm not. I came here with the intention of kidnapping you, but both of us were followed." Tom said, dipping Harry and allowing him to get a good view of his godfather lurking on the edge of the dance floor, barely being held back by Remus, and Bellatrix's displeased face from the bar.

"Can't they let me have fun just this once?" Harry spat, getting a bit of a spiteful victory when Tom's hands slide up his side and Sirius actually snarled.

"They were right to follow you. If it weren't for them and my...company I would have been snatched you." Tom sneered, seeming more angered by the interruption than the intimacy of the dance they were doing. Harry could work with that.

"You still could." He said casually, separating from Tom but allowing his hands to trail down his arms, grabbing his hands and dragging him deeper into the dancefloor and closer to the DJ booth. He knew there was a secret exit to the alleyway out back and the deeper into the crowd they went, the harder it would be for either group to keep track of them.

"And what do you plan on doing when we're alone? I doubt you're going to come quietly." Tom said, allowing Harry to wrap his arms around his neck once more and pull them together.

"Well," Harry said, licking his lips as he grinded against Tom once more. "I could take care of that for you."

Tom smirked. "That could work too."

58. Thank You

"What did you just say?" Harry asked, causing Tom to pause in his work.

"Thank you?" Tom asked, confused at the look on Harry's face.

"Oh my God, you do know what that word means! Hermione owes me a hundred bucks!"

Tom threw a pen at him.

59. Usher

"Iconic." Tom said as Harry turned up the radio, the sounds of "Yeah" blasting through the speakers.

60. Pitbull

"It's okay. She doesn't bite."

"Like fuck she does!" Harry screamed from his position on Tom's counter, staring down at the large pitbull that was currently staring him down, her teeth bared and snarling.

"Don't be a bitch baby, Harry, Nagini's harmless." Tom said, pausing for a moment. "Well, she did attempt to rip the mailman's arm off, but he deserved it."

61. Misunderstood

"Nobody seems to understand." Voldebee sighed, leaning against Harry's thumb in anguish. "We work so hard for our honey and everyone just takes it away. All our hard work, gone. Because we're just stupid insects who only think about stinging."

"I understand." Harry said gently, holding his free hand out for Voldebee to grab in comfort.

"He's a bee!" Ginny shouted, ignored by the two loverbees who were staring deeply into each other's eyes.

62. Side-to-Side

Harry awoke with a groan, his head pounding and his entire left side numb. God, he hoped he hadn't drink too much last night and made himself a fool in front of his new boyfriend. That would have been awfully, seeing as Tom was so far out his league they might as well be playing different sports.

"Oh, you're awake. That's good." A voice in his ear spoke and Harry flinched, trying to turn to the sound, only to find the motion impossible. "Don't move too much, you'll tear the stitches."

He moved his head instead, coming face-to-face with his boyfriend. "Tom?"

Tom smiled, wide and slightly crazed. "Good morning. Did you sleep well? I feared I had given you too many pills. You were lighter than I thought."

Harry tensed. "You drugged me?"

"Of course. I doubt you would have set still for this."

Tom gestured downwards and Harry followed his hand, his blood running cold. There bodies were pressed closely together, held tightly together with dark thread that ran down the length of their bodies. He could see that Tom had even gone as far as making their fingers interlace before sewing them against one another, each finger spouting their own separate set of stitches. He tried to pull away, watching in horror as his skin raised slightly but did not give.

"I had to numb the area, but soon we'll be able to feel each other." Tom said, his free hand coming up to grab Harry's shoulder and stop his struggles. "Don't move so much. You'll rip the stitching."

"Why-Tom, why did you do this?" Harry demanded, feeling tears beginning to gather in the corner of his eyes. He felt slightly sick, trying to move as far as he could away, only flinch at the pull on his skin. Whatever Tom had used to numb the area was wearing off.

"You said you wanted to be with me forever, remember?" Tom said lowly, his smile softening as he saw Harry's tears. "I know, I'm so happy I feel like crying too. We can be together forever. No one will be able to tear us apart now."

63. Losing

"You're a very sore loser, you know that?" Harry asked, watching as Tom flipped the board in front of them. It was very funny, the temper tantrum Tom was throwing over losing a board game

"Fuck you!" Tom spat, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing, his body swaying slightly.

"We all lose sometimes, it's really nothing to be ashamed of." Harry said, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as Tom continued cursing. Honestly, how could anybody beat his A+ connect four strategy. (It also helped that maybe Tom was more than a little drunk).

64. Coming Back to Life

"What...is this?" Voldemort hissed out, motioning to his current body. And what a nice body it was, that of a fit twenty year old with hair touching his shoulders and flawless pale skin. God, Harry wanted to lick those abs so bad.

"I-My Lord-I don't-" Wormtail stuttered out, trying his best not glance down at his lord's crotch. Well, what could one little peek hurt? Harry clearly had no shame, his eyes trailing up down Voldemort's body in great appreciation.

"My face is up here." Voldemort ground out, his perfect teeth grinding together as he snatched his robes from Wormtail and wrapped them around him, hoping to cover himself from prying eyes.

"Yeah, but your ass is down there." Harry chirped from the stone, earning a glare that he pointedly ignored. "I mean, God, seventeen year old you was hot, but this? You went from 'hello sir, it's nice to meet you' to 'he calls me daddy too'."

Yeah, it was no secret who's fault his new body was.

65. Ah, Shit

"Ah, shit." Harry said, mortification filling him as he dragged the blanket higher, trying to cover his bare chest from the prying eyes of the shocked order members before him. He honestly didn't know why he thought a rendezvous at the order headquarters was going to end well.

"Couldn't agree more." Voldemort said, uncaring of the order members staring at him in equal amounts of shock and disgust.

66. Eyes

There were several rules when traveling through The Forbidden Forest that every traveler obeyed. One, do not stray from the path. Two, if one encounters a creature of the forest, do not converse with it. Three, if one should even encounter a Naga, under no circumstance should one look it in the eyes.

Harry thought he was doing a very good job at obeying them. He had stayed on the dirt path that led through the forest, lit by the street lamps that lined the path, his eyes planted firmly on the white tail of the Naga before him, listening to the creature hold a one-sided conversation.

"I still don't see why you won't tell me where you're going. What harm could it do?" Harry watched as the mass of muscle shifted, sliding out of his view as the creature circled him once more, this time the upper body of a man appearing in his line of sight.

White arms crossed over his white chest and the creature bent that the waist, attempting to look at Harry's face, only for him to look at his feet. "You know, it's quite rude to not look at someone when they're talking to you."

Harry gave no reply and the creature sighed, shifting so that his eyes were more focused onto the ground. The naga huffed. "Well, if you won't talk to me, I'm sure your mother would love chatting with me. Her hair is the most lovely shade of red."

Harry's head jerked up in shock at the mention of his mother, their eyes connected, and Harry was mesmerized. The Naga's eyes were two deep pools of red, their pupils slit like snakes, with lighter shades of red freckled within. They were very beautiful, so enchanting, Harry didn't want to look away.

The naga smirked at his hypnotized prey, a pretty little creature with dark hair and vibrant eyes, a color combination he had learned was quite rare. "Now, what's your name and where are you going?"

"Harry. I'm going to see my Godfather." Harry answered obediently, his voice now demure and meek.

"No, you are not." He said, earning a confused noise and quickly shushing him. "You are going to come with me to my home. I think we can be good friends, don't you agree?"

Harry smiled and nodded, eager to please. The naga was going to enjoy this one.

"My name is Voldemort, but you may call me Master."

67. Falling in Love Again

The land was in ruins. Trees dying and bodies littering the ground before him, the aftermath of the bombs dropped down upon the innocent people of the city. So much senseless death, so much hardship. And for what, he found himself wondering. For misdirected anger, for hatred born of lies and jealousy.

"I had not meant for it to go this far."

He did not react to the voice behind him, soft and gently, nothing like the voice that had once boomed over the land, igniting the fires of war and hatred within the people of the land. He continued his trek across the now desolate city, his eyes taking in the sight of the now eternal shadows on the buildings and the smell of burning flesh that lingered in the air.

"But it did." He snapped, his crouching down to smooth his hand over the forehead of a citizen, somehow still clinging to life though their body had been badly burnt. They would not last long, the only thing he could offer them was peace as they passed.

"And now look at what you've done." He spat, turning and finally facing the other being, unfamiliar anger bubbling in his veins. "And for what? To see me hurt? To see me in such a state of grief? Good job, you outdid yourself this time."

He watched as those red eyes tilted down, away from his face, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. As he should be. The pain Harry had felt, the feeling of himself becoming weaker and weaker as the war droned onwards, the agony and grief when the bomb dropped down onto the land. So many lives gone, so much hope lost. He could still feel the terror of seeing himself beginning to fade away, that people had truly begin to not believe in him.

"This was not my doing. I cannot control their actions. I just motivate them to do so. Like you." Was the response he received, said with the same cold and indifferent tone it always was. Never taking responsibility for his actions, always blaming the simple minded humans for the thoughts he planted within their minds.

He had never hated the other as much as he did in this moment.

A hand cupped his face, gently tilting his upwards to meet a pair of red eyes, their glow seeming to be dying from within. "Where you are, I'm always lurking behind, waiting for my moment to strike. I am loud and my voice may be poison, but it is a poison that can only affect those whose hearts let it in."

He smiled then, his own hand coming up to touch the one on his face, the hand that had willed these atrocities with a meer wave. "And, in turn, I am always two steps behind you, giving these mortals hope for a better tomorrow. Silent and calm, an soothing sound that wraps around those poisoned souls and lets them heal."

War and Peace touched foreheads then, speaking in perfect unison. "For neither of us truly shine without the other."

68. Girls Night Out

While Harriet didn't like going out, The Cherry Pit was one of the more tame bars in the city, the music playing at a level that still allowed for conversation and a wide variety of drinks for all of its patrons. She was having a good time, she realized, sipping her fuzzy navel while Tavia took her fifth shot.

Though, the amount of women checking her girlfriend (and who wouldn't, with her tight fitting black button down and jeans clinging to her shapely legs) was a bit disheartening, she was comforted by the fact that Tavia chose her every woman or man in the world.

"I'm so glad you came." Tavia said, leaning closer to Harriet and resting her head on her shoulder, looking up at her from under her lashes. "Gimme a kiss."

Harriet rolled her eyes at the antics but complied, gently pressing their lips together and reveling in the disappointed sighs behind them. When she pulled away, her lips were sticky with Tavia's fruity lip gloss.

69. Bringing It Down

"You really need to calm down." Harry said, watching as Tom began to sing a dramatic rendition of "What you made me do", using an empty vodka bottle as a microphone.

70. Put Your Hands Up

The alarm was starting to get annoying, Tom thought to himself, his hands working as fast as he could to attempt to pry the safe door open. His sources had either given him the wrong code or the owner had caught wind of his little heist and had changed it, leaving him to try and open the door the old fashion way. It was a good thing he had brought the crowbar, if only for his own protection.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons."

Tom paused, a smirk making its way onto his face as he recognized the voice speaking behind him. He raised his arm slowly, dropping the crow bar he had been using to pry the safe door open to the ground.

"Put your hands where I can see them!"

"They already are." Tom drawled, but nonetheless stretched his other arm outwards and raised them up to his head, allowing them to rest on his head.

He suddenly found himself shoved to the ground, a pair of legs on either side of him as his arms were forcefully pulled down behind his back and a pair of handcuffs clicked onto each wrist. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Officer Potter. How are you?"

He could practically feel the eye roll. "You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Riddle. I suggest you exercise that right."

"Maybe I don't want to." Tom purred, grunting when he felt the officer get off of his back and he was forcefully jerked upwards by his cuffed hands, pressing him into the wall before him.

"Do you have any other weapons on you I should be made aware of?" Officer Potter asked, beginning to pat at Tom's arms. Long sleeves had been a good choice then.

"I have a very dangerous weapon, Officer. You should probably go a little lower though." he said, grinding himself back against the officer.

That earned another slam into the wall.

"Do. Not. Do. That." Officer Potter growled, one hand staying secured on Tom's back while the other clicked his radio on. "We got a 211, suspect is unarmed and detained. Heading back to the station." A pause. "Yeah, it's Riddle again."

"Aw, I'm popular." Tom drawled, earning another eye roll.

"Aren't we special?" Officer Potter drawled, opening his mouth to begin reading Tom his Miranda rights.

Tom tuned him out then, a pleased smile making its way onto his face. It was faint, but he could detect a hint of arousal in the officers voice when he was reprimanded. If he played his cards right, he could get himself a much lighter sentencing.

71. Baby

"What the fuck is that?"

It wasn't often that his lord cursed, so Wormtail chalked that up as his win of the day.

"It's a baby, my Lord." Wormtail said, bowing low and placing the child on the ground before Voldemort's chair. The baby made a small noise at being placed on the cold floor before settling once more.

Voldemort made a disgusted face. "It's repulsive. Why are you putting it on my floor?"

"It is the Potters child, my Lord." Wormtail leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, the child."

"It's still disgusting." Voldemort said, eyeing the child thoughtfully.

So, this was the prophecies child, the only who was destined to kill him. It resembled a wrinkly red prune more than anything, much less a hero. Though, he supposed he couldn't really talk. He wasn't much a looker anymore either.

"Take it from my sight. I will figure out what to do with it later."

72. I'm Sorry

"I'm sorry." Harriet whispered softly, her hand resting on the glass of the tank. "That they treat you this way. It's not fair."

The creature blinked at her, moving closer to place her hand over Harriets. It was similar to her own with the exception of webbed fingers and claw like nails.

"You're very pretty. They shouldn't keep you locked in here. You deserve to be free." She muttered, watching as the creature tilted her head, her second eyelids blinking this time.

I agree.

Harriet jerked her hand back, her eyes never leaving the creature as she backed away. Had she just spoke to her?

The creature stared a moment longer before pushing off on the glass and swimming deeper into the tanks murky water, her white tail still managing to glisten in the low lighting.

73. Cold

Harry hadn't thought twice when he had pulled the stranger out of the blizzard and into his home, wrapping him in as many blankets as possible and placing him before the fire, fearing the man had managed to catch his death before Harry had heard his desperate knocks; but now he was reconsidering his actions, shaking as he felt two hands grip his arms, the cold managing to penetrate his thick winter coat and chill him to the bone, and two burning eyes stared him down.

"Won't you warm me up? I'm just so cold." He whispered into the still room, his blue lips parting just enough to give Harry a glimpse of the sharp teeth beneath.

74. Hot/Heat

He was hot. Uncomfortably, unbearably hot. Had the living room always been this hot?

Harry grumbled, shifting around to try and escape the tortures heat, only to find an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him in place.

He cracked his eyes opened, finding himself leaning against the locket's chest, the horcrux in question reclined back slightly and appearing to be asleep, his hands folded behind his head and his breathing slow and rhythmic. Glancing down revealed the diadem, his arms wrapped tightly around him and his face buried in Harry's stomach, snoring lightly. It was honestly kinda cute and Harry was willing to let the "no touching" rule slide just this once.

"Isn't that just precious." Voldemort drawled from his position across from them, startling Harry. He had not realized Voldemort was in the room, much less sitting in the chair across from him.

"Fuck off." Harry rasped, his voice dry and croaky from his impromptu nap. He wasn't even sure what year it was anymore. Hopefully the same one he had went to sleep in.

There was a displeased grumbling from the diadem as Harry's talking disturbed his sleep, causing him to shift and squirm before settling down once more, snuggling deeper into the blanket Harry had not realised was thrown over him and his light snoring returning.

Voldemort made a displease sound, returning to his book as Harry settled down once more, hoping that he didn't die of heat stroke until the two horcruxes decided to awaken.

75. Eternal

"Eternity is long time to sit around and mope, you know." Voldemort drawled, watching as Harry sulked in the corner of the room. Really, he just didn't understand why Harry was so upset, immortality was a gift very few received.

76. Stay

The sun was beginning to set, the rays making its way in past the curtains and bathing the room in a pale orange glow. Harry sighed, sitting up in the bed and disturbing his partner.

"Stay."

"I can't, you know that." Harry said, a smile beginning to form on his lips. "The Order will go crazy if I'm late."

"Don't care." Arms wrapped around his waist and he found himself being tugged back down onto the bed, back into the warmth of the covers and his lover. "Stay here, with me. I will deal with them."

"Tom…" Harry muttered, his hands wrapping around Tom's shoulder and pulling him closer. He really didn't want to leave, to have to face the outside world once more, to be the shining beacon of hope during the war that raged on. "I can't. They need me."

"I know." Tom sighed, nuzzling his face into Harry's hair. "Stay just a few more minutes with me. They won't mind if your a few minutes past curfew."

Harry smiled, knowing that that those words were a lie, but nonetheless snuggled closer to Tom, pressing their flesh together and sighing at the warmth. The Order would just have to deal.

78. Tonight

Just for tonight, he was no longer Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, and he was no longer Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord who threatened the peace of magical Britain. They were just Harry and Marvolo, two people in the world who just wanted someone to love them if only for a little while.

79. Heavy Rain

The rain had come out of nowhere, a fast and heavy downpour that had Harry struggling to stay upright, the droplets hitting his wings and weighing him down. After a few minutes of struggling in the downpour, he managed to land against the branch of a tree, safe from the onslaught of water.

Or...not. A giant drop of water chose that moment to fall from the leaf above him and land directly on him, soaking him thoroughly.

Angrily shaking himself off, Harry made his way across the branch, pleased to see a small opening in the wood, appearing to be devoid of any squirrels or other woodland creatures that might want a quick and easy meal.

Once within the crevice, Harry realised he was not alone. There was another butterfly with him. A rather beautiful one, with large red and black wings.

"Sorry. There was nowhere else to go." He said awkwardly, shuffling around on his little butterfly legs.

"It's no problem." the other butterfly replied smoothly. "You can wait out the storm if you'd like."

"Oh. Thanks." Harry said, shuffling all six of his legs. "Um, my name's Harry."

"Voldemort." The other butterfly offered.

"Cool."

80. Kidnapped

"He's not coming." Harry scowled from his position on the chair, yawning immediately afterwards. "I'm tired."

"The note said he was coming tonight. We have to wait, honey." Lily said gently, watching as Harry huffed and stood. "Where are you going?"

"I'm tired." Harry repeated. "It's well past midnight and Voldemort still hasn't shown. I'm going to bed."

Lily opened her mouth to object, to say she would feel much better if he just slept on the couch, but a hand on her own stopped her.

"Let him go, Lils. This place is crawling with Auror, I'm sure letting him go up to his room isn't going to hurt anything. Besides, those two have already clocked out." James said, nodding his head towards the other couch in the room, where Remus and Sirius currently slept, Remus leaning against Sirius's shoulder and Sirius snoring loudly.

"I guess so. Good night, honey." Lily said, nodding at Harry to continue up to his room.

"Night." Harry called over his shoulder, nodding to Mad-Eye as he made his way up the stairs, intent on heading to his room.

He could understand their paranoia. A note had been taped on their door that morning from the infamous thief Voldemort, claiming that tonight he was coming to steal the Potter's greatest treasure. He had gained quite a reputation, his perfect crimes and quick footed magicless escapes making it impossible to track him or find any suspects, given that there was too many variables with the lack of magical usage. Order members and Auror's had swarmed the house around noon, deducing that he must be after the sword of Gryffindor, which hung proudly in the living room, right above the fireplace. Even Skeeter was lurking around, hoping to catch a picture of the infamous thief.

"Night." He said to the Order member posted outside his room, who made a motion like she was about to enter the room, only to stop when Harry held up his hand. "I'm a teenage boy. Do you really wanna come in here with me?"

She flushed, her hair turning as pink as her face. "Well, I could go get Mad-Eye. Somebody's gotta be in there with you."

"I'll be fine. My window's locked and you guys are doing sweeps outside every minute. I doubt Voldemort will be able to get in. And if anybody asks, just say you searched the room before I came in. I'm sure you guys already have. Night."

"I suppose." She said, chewing her lip nervously. "Alright. Good night."

The cool breeze from his window was a welcome feeling as Harry shut the door and sighed, leaning heavily against it. He found this all to be too ridiculous, kick up so much fuss over such a little thing like a sword.

There was a rustling of fabric beside him and he turned his head, watching as the scenery shimmer for a moment as the invisibility cloak was taken off, revealing man a few years older than Harry. He was tall and lean, dressed in loose black robes and his eyes covered by a white ornate mask.

"Hey, Tom." Harry said, getting on his tiptoes to kiss the man's cheek, earning a displeased grunt.

"I told you not to call me that." He said, wiping Harry's kiss of his cheek and making Harry grin at the childishness of the action. "Did you do the switch?"

Harry hummed and walked across the room, Tom railing behind him, enjoying the view as he knelt down to reach under his bed and pulled out the sword of Gryffindor. The real one, not the fake that was currently hanging on the wall above the fireplace.

"This took a bit more work than I would have liked. Do you know how hard it was to convince the goblins to make me a replica? Half my vault, gone. They want it returned to them before this gets out in the paper tomorrow too." Harry grumbled, twirling the sword in his hands and giving a few fake swings. "I was never allowed to play with this as a kid."

"And with good reason." Tom said, leaning back to avoid a swing. "You did great. This would have been nigh impossible if it weren't for you."

Harry flushed, stopping in twirling of the sword and smiled. "Well, you could always just not leave a note. That would definitely save you some trouble." He teased, holding the sword out for Tom to take.

"Where's the fun in that?" Tom asked, a grin making its way onto his face as he waved off Harry's offer for the sword. "You hold it. It'll be too much bulk if I do."

Harry blinked in confusion, letting out a slight yelp when Tom scooped down, his hand knocking against his knee and unbalancing Harry. He was thankfully caught by Tom's other arm and found himself being lifted into the air.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, the sword resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around Tom's neck and he was bounced, Tom's grip on him becoming more secure.

"Why, I'm stealing the Potter's greatest treasure." Tom said cheerfully, earning a wide eyed stare from Harry. "You didn't think I meant the sword did you? I would think you're far more precious to your family than some hunk of metal. I know you are to me."

Harry felt himself flush, hiding his face in Tom's neck. "God, you're such a fucking dork."

Tom grinned. "You love it. Now, hold tight. This is gonna be a bit difficult."

With that, Tom jumped out the open window, startling Skeeter who had been lurking beneath Harry's window.

81. Mutt

It always perplexed Harry how someone like Tom was considered to be undesirable amongst the general population. To Harry, he was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen, standing over six feet with eyes like the sky's in hell and hair darker than his very soul. Even his ears and tail were neat and trim, as expected from a sleek black cat, very unlike Harry's own scruffy dog tail and floppy ears. Everything about him was utter perfection and every time they kissed, Harry feared he was going to be sliced by those gorgeous cheekbones.

Of course, he knew why. It was the same reason why Harry was seen as so unwanted.

"You shouldn't let stupid thoughts bother you so, especially when you're hurt." Tom said, his arms wrapping around Harry's waist and pulling him closer, his face nuzzling into the back of Harry's neck with a content purr.

Harry smiled, remember the first time he had heard that purr, when they were curled together in Tom's dorm, Tom helping Harry study for their upcoming Newt exams, Harry leaning back against him like they were now. At first, he had thought the rumbling in Tom's chest had been some form of indigestion, but when it seemed to increase in volume and intensity, he had nearly passed out from shock, believing that Tom simply had the inability to feel content enough to start purring. Tom had been offended and had shoved him away, sulking in his corner of the bed, but his purr only seemed to get louder, making Harry smile.

"Are you happy I'm hurt or something? You're awfully loud back there." Harry asked, hoping to distract himself from his memories.

"Purring helps regenerate bone growth and promotes good health." Tom piped up, his voice almost overlapped with the sounds of his purrs. Harry laughed as he felt the face Tom made against his neck.

"I bet it does." Harry hummed, letting his full weight rest against Tom. It was rather soothing, the rumbles coming forth from Tom's chest and the muffled feeling of his heart beating. He felt himself growing sleepy at the feeling, his eyelids growing heavy and his body sagging against Tom's.

"I'm going to make them suffer." Tom hissed out after a moment of silence, his grip on Harry tightening as his tail puffed slightly. "They will pay for this."

"I bet you are." Harry hissed absently, feeling a bit apathetic towards Tom's threat on his housemates lives. Maybe it was the bruised ribs he had or the fractured arm that were swaying his decision towards uncaring.

Though, he often wondered how they would treat them if they ever heard them hissing amongst themselves as they were now, in the calm and privacy of Tom's dorm. Though, Harry thought as he began to drift off, he was starting to suspect Tom's house mates had already figured it out.

82. Time

"Remember, Harry, you must stab him before the clock strikes midnight. The potions effects will have worn off by then."

Those words had been playing in his mind since he had found the raven masked man within the crowd and had been led to a secluded hallway, watching as the knife was dipped into the liquid that had dripped like tar before absorbing into the metal, leaving the knife the same shining, silver color.

His hands shook as he brushed his fingers against the handle, the outline concealed underneath the layers of his shirt and fitted vest. Tonight, he would become a murderer, the killer of a killer who had slaughtered thousands.

God- his hands began to shake more and he balled them up, hoping that his whole body wouldn't follow their example- he couldn't do this. He couldn't kill another person, another living being with thoughts and feelings, even one that had done such terrible things.

He couldn't do this. He had to back out. He had to let them know that that prophecy had to be fake. He wasn't a hero. He had to leave right now. He ha-

"May I have this dance, little lion?"

He was startled out of his thoughts, his breath catching in his throat and his head whipping in the direction of the voice. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a man standing a few feet away from him, his approaching having been silent.

He was tall, his robes fitted to him and matching his hair perfectly in color, and his mask-

His mask was completely white save for the red painted around the eyes and covering the top half of his face. He knew this mask. This was the mask of the Dark Lord. The man who ruled over both the muggle and wizarding world with an iron fist. The man who had caused so much pain and sorrow in the world. His target.

"Wha-what?" He asked, forcing his breathing to start up and his heart to calm down. He needed to be calm, or else all would be for naught.

"Your mask." The man tapped his own mask. "Lion."

"Yes. Lion. That's my mask." He replied elegantly, finally regaining control over his respiratory system.

"Would you like to dance?" The Dark Lord repeated after a moment of silence, extending his hand out to him.

His breathing nearly stopped again, his body tensing as he stared at the offered hand. He should say no, run out of the ball room and into the streets outside and not stop running until he was far away from the castle. Far away from the organization that wanted to use him for their own benefit. Far away from the admittedly handsome man offering his hand. Far away from everything.

The knife pulsed against his chest.

He took the offered hand.

Tonight, he would become a hero.

83. Ticking Like a Clock

The sound of a clock chiming sounded through the empty chamber, startling the two conscious occupants.

Harry glanced up to the clock above his head, shocked that the hand had finally unstuck itself and struck the twelfth hour. The shock was quickly overridden by fear when he glance at the teen before him, finding him staring at Harry, a dangerous smile making its way onto his face.

"Well, well, isn't this quite the shock." Tom purred, his eyes hungry as he stepped over Ginny and towards Harry. "Who would have thought my soul mate would be the very one to kill me."

Harry gulped, taking a step backwards. Something about this seemed more dangerous than before, like something more predatory had been unleashed within Tom.

Tom was on him in a second, one cold hand holding him in place while the other stroked his cheek. "Oh, it's okay. There's no need to be frightened. After all, we're soulmates."

Tom's grin was sharp and Harry felt his insides turn cold.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll call off my basilisk. I would never do anything to hurt my soulmate."

84. Favorite Brand

Harry honestly couldn't believe they were having this argument. Well, considering how picky Tom was, he could.

"Listen, Babe, you know and I know that they literally taste the exact fucking same. They're even the same fucking price."

Tom clutched the container of doughnuts closer, glaring at his boyfriend. "There's a huge fucking difference and you know it. Hostess is always so dry and bland, Little Debbie knows what's up."

85. Walkin It Out

"You're fine." Tom said, earning an incredulous look from Harry. "Walk it out. 'Tis but a flesh wound. Toughen up."

"Oh yeah, I'm absolutely fine." Harry said, gesturing to his broken leg. "I'm sure this will be just fine after a quick lap around the room. Jesus Christ, just heal me already."

Tom tisked but did as instructed, waving his wand over Harry's leg and watching as the bone's snapped back into place, the skin knitting back over it.

"I'm never training with you every again." Harry hissed as he stood, gathering up his bag as he did so.

"That's fair, my skills are just too high caliber for you."

Harry threw his bag at him.

86. Skill

"Are you serious right now?" Tom asked, staring at Harry incredulously. Honestly, how does a high level thief like Harry fail at picking a lock three times.

Harry shuffled his feet, embarrassed at having Tom stare at him. "Well, it's not my fault my skill set is so low."

"This kind of is your fault." Tom hissed. "You're a thief. I'm a fucking necromancer and I'm a better lock pick than you. What did you invest all your points in if not that?"

Harry kicked at rock that was by his foot and hung his head lower, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" Tom asked, leaning closer to Harry. "I didn't catch that."

"I said I invested it all in cooking." Harry said louder.

"Why?" Tom demanded, frustration rising within him. What use did Harry have in cooking? He had no interest in owning a tavern or shop, much more preferring adventuring and dungeon runs to all of that "boring nonsense" as he often called it.

Harry crossed his arms, a light flush making its way onto his face. "Well, you said that you liked that chowder they served at Hogshead and I cleared a mission from Madame Rosmerta to get the recipe for it a few months back. And as it turns out, it requires a level twenty master chef to cook it just right and I didn't want to disappoint you or waste my time, so I just dumped all my skill points into that."

Tom blinked, a blush rising to his own cheeks. He coughed awkwardly into his fist, a bit embarrassed for having fussed at Harry after all the trouble he went through to please him. "Oh. Well, thank you for that, then. Um, I really do like the chowder."

"I know." Harry bit out before sighing. "We can always come back later when I level up more and try again? I only need a few more points to get master locksmith and I know a few missions that had them out as rewards."

"That's fine. I'm sure Voldemort can wait for us. It's not like he's trying to destroy the world or anything." Tom remarked lightly, making Harry smile at their private joke.

87. Gun Fight

There were many perks to working out in the West, but Harry's favorite was how slack everyone one was when it came to the law. Some were enforced, of course, they were not a lawless savages after all, but most seemed to slip from most people's mind when they stepped out of their cushy northern homes into the harsh and unforgiving environment that was the West. Murder and rape we're still capital punishments, the offenders hung in the town square, but things such as how modestly a woman should dress or who someone chooses to crawl into bed with at night seemed to go unbothered by the general public.

He himself had taken up a lover, a handsome young outlaw who called himself Voldemort. Harry had doubted that was his real name, but all posters of him referred to him by such a ridiculous name, Harry himself had no choice but to call him that as well. He was such a strange man as well, his manners and speech speaking of someone of a higher breeding, someone who did not seem like they would enjoy living in such a ruthless place, but he seemed to thrive amongst the lawlessness of it all. Harry found that he loved that part of Voldemort the best, his ruthlessness and cunning, his drive to do what he pleased and take what he wanted, a rare find even out here. The gold he often gave Harry to help him keep his business running even in the dry seasons certainly helped sweeten the deal.

However, there was a downside to having such a lover. Once the sheriff caught wind that Voldemort was heading back their way, him and the deputy often patrolled the streets day and night, their eyes on the lookout for any sign of Voldemort's trademark black horse over the horizon. Nagini, Voldemort had informed him the first night they were together, laying amongst the hay and dirt of the barn his uncle owned, was her name and Harry thought it fitting, she most certainly had the temperament of a snake.

Today was such a day, Voldemort due to make his monthly visit back to their little slice of desert heaven any day now. And Harry was sure their was going to be a fight.

There was one thing about the West that he had found that he heated most of all. Gun fights. He had yet to see a day without someone trying to shoot another person over something as simple as them being in their spot at the bar. Though Harry himself was guilty of getting into a few himself, customers becoming too rowdy or being too rough with his girls, though most of the times the other patrons were quick to take up for his girls.

The door to his saloon swung open and everything quieted immediately. Harry didn't look up from polishing the glasses on the bar, already knowing who it was by the sound of boots hitting the wooden floor and spurs jingling with each step. The stopped just before Harry and he heard the stool scraping across the floor and the squeak of someone sitting on it.

"Your usual, Mister Voldemort?" Harry asked in the silence, already pulling out the whiskey from beneath the counter and setting the glass before Voldemort.

"I don't think my usual is appropriate with this many people present." Voldemort said smoothly, his hand coming up to cover the glass as whispers broke out around them. They didn't have much time to talk, Harry knew, watching as several patrons left after the mention of the sheriff, leaving only him and his girls in the bar. Such gentlemen they all were.

"At least take the drink. You'll need it for the long ride. Next town isn't for several miles." Harry said, earning an amused smile and Voldemort's hand removing from the glass.

He poured the drink and Voldemort's hand curled around the glass, easily throwing the shot back. Harry watched him swallow and his hands twitched to reach out and touch him, to run his fingers down Voldemort's throat and to touch feel his skin beneath his fingertips once more. It had been so long since they had last seen one another and Harry had missed him dearly.

"I'll have to go soon. I had thought this place would be deserted this time of day." Voldemort said, dropping a small pouch onto the counter. Harry could see it was overflowing with coins and several bills. "Can I get a kiss for the road?"

Harry smiled and leaned over the counter, lightly pecking Voldemort's cheek. As he pulled back, Voldemort grabbed the back of his neck, growling out "A proper one" before forcing their mouths together. Harry's smile grew and parted his lips, allowing Voldemort's tongue to slip into his mouth for a moment before pulling away.

"That's a proper kiss." Voldemort whispered, releasing Harry from his hold and quickly leaving the store, followed shortly by the sounds of shouting and gun fire outside.

Harry's smile remained on his face as he turned to his wide-eyed girls, his finger rising to his lips as he slid the bag towards himself and under the table. "Remember, girls, mum's the word."

88. Boondock

"I am very uncomfortable right now." Harry blurted out, clutching at Tom's sleeve and causing him to pause in search of his wallet.

"I don't see why." He replied, finally managing to find his wallet between the seats. He briefly wondered how it had gotten there, but decided he didn't care enough to actually figure out how.

"Tom, are you blind? We are literally in 'You got a pretty mouth, boy' country right now." Harry clutched Tom's sleeve tighter as the man at the pump glance at them. "What if he senses our sinful love and calls his friends to off us? Or worse, he decided he wants my young and supple body for his own?"

"What a shame that would be." Tom deadpanned, snatching his arm from Harry's grasps and getting out of the car, ignoring Harry's indiginate yelp.

89. Saint

"Dear Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name-"

"He's not listening, you know. He never is."

Harry's grip on the rosary tightened and he gritted his teeth, turning his head to glare at the demon lounging on the ceiling rafters.

"Why don't you go bother someone else?" Harry hissed, turning back to his prayers, grateful that the chapel was empty. "I hear the alter boys are playing ball outside. Maybe you wanna go make one of them trip or kick the ball beyond the fence?"

There was a loud huff above him and a rush of cold air that expelled several of the candles around him before an almost unbearable heat pressed against his back.

"Don't be like that." He breathed against Harry's ear, his hands coming up to rub Harry's shoulders. It had the opposite effect, making Harry tense further. "I always listen when you speak."

Harry shrugged the demon off, clutching the rosary tighter. "Go away. I'm busy."

"Doing what?" The demon asked, tilting his head like a curious cat. "Kneeling in a cold chapel, praying to a God that's not listening? Why would you want to do such a boring a thing when we can do much more...fun things."

Harry tensed further when he felt those hot hands move from his shoulder and trail down his back, lightly scratching his frock with his long nails. He reached around and stopped his hands before they could stray lower.

"Stop that."

"Stop what, Father?"

Harry immediately released the demon's wrist and whirled around, finding one of the alter boys standing in the chapel's doorway, looking slightly puzzled.

"Nothing, um, I mean, not you." Harry said, coughing into this fist at the child's increasingly confused face. "What brings you into the chapel, my little lamb?"

The child looked down then, sheepishly kicking at the carpet, "Um, the ball got kicked over the fence. Can you go get it for us?"

"Of course." Harry said, standing from his kneeling position and trying to inconspicuously side-step the demon. It didn't work, seeing as the creature had taken to sprawling out on the step, his loud laughter ringing through the air.

"Who were you talking to, Father?" the alter boy asked as Harry approached him.

Harry glared at the demon from the corner of his eyes, earning a far too innocent looking smile from the now sitting demon. "No one, little lamb."

The demon smirked at that, jumping back to his place on the rafters as they left, eyeing the glowing white wing that sprouted from Harry's left shoulder.

It was such a sad fate, a fallen angel trying to redeem itself in the eyes of God, only gaining back it's second wing when it had served its mortal sentence free of sin. If it could serve such a thing.

And Tom had already had made him fall once, he most certainly could make him fall again.

90. First Time

It had been amazing, magical even, everything Tom had ever wanted his first time to be. His professor had been so gentle yet deliciously rough, his hands roaming over Tom like he was a god taken human form and his teeth leaving a trail of purple on his neck, his hands tight on Tom's hips and the word's that had spilled from his lips so saccharine that Tom could feel himself flushing at the thought of them.

Harry stirred beside him, moving to sit up and Tom wrapped his arms around his waist burying his face in the tanned skin before and sighing in contentment. His peace was shattered a moment later when Harry spoke. "This was a mistake."

"What?" Tom asked, his arms tightening around Harry in case he wanted to leave. Tom wasn't going to let that happen.

"Tom, this can't happen again. It shouldn't have happened to begin with." Harry said, running his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't have let this go that far."

"But I want this." Tom protested, sitting up as his post-coital high began to wear off. He didn't like the way Harry was talking, almost like he was going to try and stop this, almost like he had a choice in this.

"Tom, you're sixteen! You don't know what you want." Harry shouted, panic beginning to creep into his tone. "Oh my God, if anyone found out I let this happen, I'd be ruined."

"No one's ever going to find out." Tom said, placing his hand on Harry's chest and pushing him back down. He quickly straddled him, effectively trapping Harry below him and beginning to trace patterns against Harry's chest, his next words soft and lazy. "I mean, the only people who know about this are you and I, and you don't seemed too inclined to go bragging to your friends, but who knows what might slip out when my friends ask me where I've been."

He could feel Harry's heart rate quicken beneath his hand and his expression turned nervous, making Tom smile at him. "Now, you're going to forget all about those little thoughts and fuck me again, or I can go tell my friends all about what we've been getting up to and see what they decided to do about it."

Harry gulped, his hands coming up to rest on on Tom's hips and rubbing small circles with his thumb. Tom hummed and threw his head back, allowing Harry to lean up and begin to mouth at his throat, pleased that he had gotten his way once again.

91. Told You

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it." Harry spat, ignoring the smug look on Tom's face as he dumped water from his boots. In retrospect, he should have known the horse he was petting wasn't a normal one, seeing as it was dripping wet and very friendly for a wild horse, but he wasn't given Tom the satisfaction of knowing that.

92. I Love You

"I love you." Harry said, looking Tom right in the eyes as he spoke. "I just thought you would like to know."

Tom was silent for a moment, his brow scrunching together and his eyes flicking over Harry's face, before he smiled at Harry. "I love you too."

"No you don't." Harry said, watching as Tom's face fell back into his regular impassive face. "Don't lie to me about that. I know you don't."

"I don't." Tom agreed, allowing Harry to wrap his arms around him and place a kiss on his lips.

"Thanks."

He knew Tom couldn't feel anything like love, he could fake it and produce a superficially imitation to please Harry. And he was fine with that, it was a small price to pay when one loves a psychopath.

93. What If

Harry James Potter smiled at his little sister as she bounced excitedly in her seat, a large and toothy grin on her face. This would be her first year at Hogwarts and, while she was a ball of nerves, Harry had assured her that everything would be okay.

The teachers were nice, the headmaster friendly, and everyone got along to an extent. Her main concern had been if she would get Gryffindor or not, but Harry, a rather proud Slytherin, had assured her that it didn't matter, Mom and Dad would be proud either way.

After all, everyone already knew she was destined for Ravenclaw-

"You watch your home dimension?"

"Sometimes I even visit." Tom said, circling the orb that was floating before him and touching the warm surface, watching the image flicker from existence. "You don't?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't really know how and I kind of don't want to. I mean, why do you? Don't you think it's a sad thing to do?"

Tom smiled bitterly. "That's why I do it. To see what the world would be like without me in it. It's a reminder."

Harry tilted his head, a sign for Tom to elaborate, which he did.

"When you think about it, how important are you really? People sit there, trying to imagine what the world would be like if they vanished, if they died, if they ceased being. We have that option, we can see exactly how important we were in the grand scheme of it all. And, depending on how we choose to look at it, it's either a good thing or a bad thing. In my case, it was probably for the best. No pointless deaths, no blood war -or at least not yet-, no tragically orphaned children. You grow up and have a normal childhood, a good life. In your case, Voldemort probably found a way to resurrect himself and, free from the prophecy, began a reign of terror on the land. Or Neville stepped up and fulfilled it. But he's still down one horcrux in the end."

Harry was silent for a few moments and Tom spared him a glance, finding his youthful face twisted into a thoughtful mask. Tom almost smirked but kept his own face neutral, if he showed any signs that he was plotting anything, Harry would automatically reject the idea, even if it was something as mundane as getting ice cream. He had learned that trick several hundred years ago.

"I wanna go."

"Alright. All you have to do is touch the orb and-"

"No! I wanna go there. I wanna see it all for myself, in person." Harry paused, his cheeks darkening as he glanced down. "Will-will you come with me? I don't wanna go alone."

So fucking cute. Tom thought, though he kept his face blank. "Sure. I'm sure we can spare a few minutes to pop on over."

94. New York

New York had been quite an adventure, Harry could admit; from his niffler escaping his case, to a rampant Obscurus, to Grindelwald himself.

"Are we ever coming back?" Tom asked beside him, nervously twisting the hem of his sweater, staring out at the rapidly disappearing island, his home for the last nineteen years.

Harry took a moment to observe the Obscurial, eyes lingering on the awful bowl cut he was sprouting and bag under his eyes that gave away more than it should, beside him before answering. "I don't see why not, I quite liked it. But I think I'll leave my case in London next time."

95. Old Life

"Do you miss it?" Harry started at the sudden voice behind him and wiped around, blinking in surprise at the horcrux sitting across from him on the bed. It was a rare sight for the horcrux in him to manifest.

Harry turned then, bringing his legs up onto the bed and crossing them. He felt it would be a bit rude to have a conversation with the horcrux while his back was turned to him. He would have found it rude at least.

"What do you mean? Privacy while I'm getting ready for bed?" Harry joked. "Yeah, it would be nice. Though it was never really private with you in my head, right?"

"No, I meant the life you had before you were dragged here." He elaborated and Harry tensed. "Don't you miss your friends? Going outside unsupervised? Having fun?"

That almost seemed to be a taboo topic around here, no one ever really mentioning that Harry was essentially a prisoner, a well cared for and free roaming one, but a prisoner nonetheless.

"Well," Harry shifted and sighed, knowing there was really no point in lying to this horcrux. He was in Harry's head after all. "I do. I really do. I miss the sun. I miss my friends. I miss just being able to do stuff without one of you breathing down my neck or Voldemort intervening every time one of you want to go out with me." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, I don't blame him. I would have ran at the first sign of freedom, but I think with you in my head it would be a little pointless, you know?"

"I can talk to him." The horcrux offered. "I can convince him to let you go outside and maybe kidnap a few of your friends so that you can visit them. I know how much you despise talking to Draco all the time."

"Would you?" Harry asked, perking up immediately. "That would be awesome. Ooh, we could go to Hogsmeade. I've been craving some sugar quills for months now, but don't really trust any of the other to go get it for me. Oh, and we can go to Rosmerta's pub and get some butterbeer too! That would be so sweet."

The horcrux smiled and Harry was surprised at how natural it looked on his face. He hadn't thought Tom could do more than a little smirk. "It shall be done."

Harry smiled and unthinking leaned over, wrapping his arms around the horcrux neck and kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much! You're officially my favorite of all these heathens here."

He felt the horcrux's arms wrapped around his waist and himself being pulled closer. "I would hope so. I am the one that knows you best."

96. Light

"Don't turn that on!"

Harry's hand stilled over the light switch, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness around him. "Tom?"

"Don't. Please. I'd rather you not see this."

Harry raised an eyebrow, his hand falling from the switch. Tom never said please to anything, and this worried him. "What's wrong?"

"Just...don't turn on the light. You don't need to see this." A pause. "I'm on the couch. Walk towards my voice."

Harry did as instructed, accidentally banging his knee on the coffee table as he passed and cursing loudly. He could hear Tom's soft laugh in the darkness and he could just barely make out his outline in the darkness of the house, curled on the far end of the couch.

He managed to find his way to the couch relatively unscathed and flopped down, scooting a bit closer to Tom so that they were shoulder to shoulder and reached out for his hand. Tom initially pulled away, but after a moment of hesitation, allowed Harry to hold his hand.

Tom felt cold to his touch, and his skin felt damp to the touch, as though he had just bathed and hadn't dried himself very well. Harry could swear he could feel scales beneath his fingers.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, gently rubbing his thumb over Tom's knuckles and resisting the urge to bring up the subject of scales.

"This will be gone in the morning. Just...keep the lights off for now, okay? Everything will be all better then. Everything will be better in the morning."

Harry found himself nodding along with Tom's words, not sure why he was agreeing or trusting them so easily. They seemed wrong, but a voice in his mind whispered for him to pay no mind to that.

"We can sleep out here tonight. No need for us to get up and leave. Let's just sleep."

Harry nodded once more and shifted, his head falling onto Tom's shoulder. He felt Tom tense then relax, a cool hand coming up to pet his hair.

"Sleep."

And Harry did.

97. Flame

"What the hell?" Tom sputtered, liquid cascading down his face and waking him. He tried to move his arms, only to find himself secured tightly to a chair. He struggled against the rope, pausing when the smell of gasoline assaulted his nose. "Harry?"

Harry ignored him, dropping the canister he was holding a reaching for another one, this time pouring it onto his lap.

"Harry, baby, what are you doing?" Tom asked calmly, though it was painfully obvious what was about to happen.

"What do you think?" he asked, setting the canister on the ground and digging in his pocket, pulling out a lighter.

"But why?" Tom said, struggling a bit more as Harry flicked the top off, the flame dancing along the metal top. "I've been nothing but good to you!"

"Have you? Must have been after you pushed me down the stairs. Or before you broke my jaw. Or, just maybe," Harry leaned closer, the lighter held above the puddle at Tom's feet. "You never really were."

He dropped the lighter, turning his back as Tom was engulfed in flames. He began walking away, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as the smell of burning flesh and profanities filling the air.

98. Candles

It was said that if one so much as flickered out for even a second, the great god Voldemort would bring his vengeance down upon the city, leaving them in ruins. And now all seven of them weren't lit, blown out by the strong winds from last night. All of them, Harry realised with horror and growing dread, not a single candle even held a faint cherry atop it.

He was supposed to be on watch the night before, but had fallen asleep halfway through his shift, something that he was ashamed he had done. To watch over the flames was considered an honor, not something one should be sleeping one. His punishment for sleeping was going to pale in comparison when the counsel saw all of the candles.

Harry could hear them rapidly approaching and placed his head in in hands, curling in on himself as the door to the chambers opened and the council walked in. He could hear their footfall cease and a gasp of horror pass over them.

"The flames…" Dumbledore cried out in horror. "Boy, what have you done?"

"I-" Harry started, flinching when his arm was suddenly seized and he was dragged upwards.

"Do you realize what you've done? You've doomed us all." Dumbledore roared, causing Harry to flinch. "We'll have your head for-"

A chill settled over the room and a low hiss sounded around them, making everyone freeze and tense. They watched as each candle suddenly lit itself with a soft hiss, and a voice echo through the room.

Leave him be.

Dumbledore immediately released his arm, everyone backing away from a shivering Harry in shock and terror.

Harry knew that voice. It was the same one that had whispered in his dream every night since he was young, that urged him to play and have fun and be himself, the same one that whispered in his cupboard that he wouldn't be living like this for much longer, the same one that had whispered in his ear last night to sleep, that it would all be alright.

Harry could understand their fear. No one had heard their gods voice in several years save for himself.

99. Blame

"Thanks, Voldemort." Harry said sarcastically as he tried to dip his too large cookie into a too small glass.

"Stop blaming me for all the petty problems in your life, Potter." A voice hissed in the back of Harry's head, which was immediately ignored by Harry.

100. Kill 'em All

"I have to kill them all now." Tom said, reaching for his wand. "There's no other choice."

Harry rolled his eyes, swatting Tom's from his belt. "Oh, calm down, you drama queen. It's not going to hurt for them to know you actually do know how to be affectionate, you know."

101. Destructive Personality

"God, you're always like this! It's no wonder everyone's left you!" Harry shouted before angrily slamming the door, leaving Tom alone in their shared apartment.

You knew this was going to happen, why are you crying? The little voice in his head mocked as Tom dropped to the floor, tears beginning to fall from his eyes and a sad smile stretching across his face. He's right, you know.

Yeah, Tom agreed as he stood, making his way to the kitchen to fetch the broom and clean up the mess their argument-turned-screaming/throwing-match had made. But what else was he supposed to do? It was better to feel disappointed now than later when Harry realizes he's too good for Tom.