Chapter's kind late 'cause while I had it all writen some days ago, I decided to change a mini-plot last moment and had to rewrite more than half of it. It's pretty long (for my standards) so it hopefully makes up for the lateness, though?

Once again, thanks to the everyone for the support, you're darlings.

To Guest: Thank you, too :)

To Midnight Runner: Noted. More "world" coming soon. And, well, Tom's also probably the only eleven year old psychopath you've read about, so he's allowed his nice moments. Okay, probably not, but the urge towards fluff is too strong! I can't help it! Shhh. Don't say his affection for Harry is a weakness. You're giving him ideas.

Disclaimer: Ten chapters and I still don't own Harry Potter. Uh.

We're going to get caught.

It was the only thought racing through Harry's mind, making him panic at the slightest sound as he and Tom slowly advanced in the sleeping castle. It was ridiculous- how many times had they snuck out of the Slytherin dorm at night and made it back just fine?

Numerous, but admittedly, there was a difference in being caught turning your classmates' robes fancy colours, and being caught rummaging through books in the Restricted Section in the library. It was probably restricted for a reason, and he doubted the rope at the entrance was the only thing stopping students from entering.

He wanted to curse himself for his every footstep, ringing far too loud for his liking, and for his heart that pounded frantically in his chest, as if it was trying to wake everyone up. He didn't know what Tom thought of the situation, but his friend's narrowed eyes and hard expression indicated it wasn't very much to his liking, either.

Technically, they could decide to turn back any moment. Practically, they were beyond frustrated with the lack of information in the rest of the library's books, enough to take the risk, and besides, backing down when they'd come so far already didn't appeal to either of them.

The walk to the library was made in complete darkness, which didn't help their resolve to make no sound at all, even after their eyes had somewhat adjusted to it. But they'd agreed beforehand that the occasional small noise would attract less attention than a light.

Finding books when they couldn't see them would be impossible though, and once inside, lumos was a necessity. The restricted section had an eerie atmosphere even in broad daylight, but when only lit by the faint glow coming from Harry's and Tom's wands, it was frightening.

At least, Harry thought so. Maybe Tom liked it. It wouldn't surprise him too much.

"Well, we're in and nothing's gone wrong yet," he murmured, more to reassure himself.

But his voice wasn't the only thing breaking the silence. He thought he'd imagined it at first, but he was growing more certain by the second: faint, but harsh whispers were coming from the books. They gave Harry the feeling he wasn't welcome there.

"Provided the books don't attack us. They don't seem too happy with our presence," Tom noted, confirming his thoughts.

Could the books attack them? With everything else going on in the castle, Harry thought it wasn't too far stretched. They looked creepy enough, anyway: with bloodstains on their covers, and titles in languages foreign to him, but giving the feeling that they spoke of terrible, half-forgotten things.

He'd said already that the Restricted Section was restricted for a reason, but he was only now starting to think what that reason may be.

Cautiously, they began their research, breathing a sigh of relief at every book they opened without resistance or reaction of any kind from its part, and then one of frustration when it proved to be impossible to read, or completely irrelevant to what they were looking for.

"We won't get anywhere like that," Tom decided, maybe two hours later. "We're not even looking for a specific book, and there's no apparent categorization. Let's go."

Harry was happy enough to leave.

Sitting on the roof of a building in the middle of winter, with light clothes on and the wind howling mercilessly was probably not the brightest idea he'd ever had.

Tom would have to head inside soon, both because he didn't intend to freeze out there, and because his absence would be undoubtedly noticed at some point if he was gone for too long. But he was probably in trouble anyway, so he supposed it didn't matter much.

His head whipped around at the sound of footsteps, footsteps- how was that possible, no one should be able to get up there other than him!- to see the one person he'd come up here to avoid more than anyone else, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey," Harry greeted, short of breath. He sat down next to Tom, shuddering from the cold and pulling his knees close to his chest. "And thanks for...you know."

Tom blinked. Surely, he was understanding wrong. Or maybe he was hallucinating, actually, because there was no way the boy was so unperturbed sitting next to him, and had just thanked him. But he pinched himself and nothing happened, so it probably wasn't a hallucination, and he knew he had heard right.

"...You're not scared?"

It was supposed to be a statement, and he didn't like the sneaky burst of uncertainty that rose in his chest and coloured his voice, turning it into a question.

"Not really," the other shrugged. "You helped me. Even if..."

"I terrorized and injured a bunch of children in the process?" Tom supplied. "And could do the same to you, for all you know?"

"Yeah, that."

He narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. Was Harry lying? Harry was probably lying.

"So I suppose you didn't tell the matron what happened," he stated- good, a statement this time, but the uncertainty remained, even if he didn't voice it. Probably was not certainly.

Harry frowned, appearing offended at the notion. "Of course not! I'm not going to get you in trouble for helping me."

The boy couldn't be lying about that, he wasn't stupid enough. Tom would find out anyway once he got inside, so there would be not point in it. But if the other wasn't lying...

Harry wasn't afraid, Harry was thanking him, Harry hadn't given him away. And he had no idea how to react to that. Why did the boy insist on doing this? Why did he have to stick around every time Tom thought he'd cringe away, just so it'd be harder to deal with when he eventually did leave once and for all?

Tom wasn't stupid. He refused to believe, or even hope, that Harry would stay despite anything. Just because he hadn't run off as fast as everyone else didn't mean he never would. Just because he wasn't lying or afraid right now didn't mean it would always be like that.

It was bad enough that he genuinely liked having Harry around. He didn't want to deal with this. Why couldn't the boy have been just another whiny brat like the rest of the children in the orphanage?

But no- Harry just had to have the same abilities as him, and do ridiculous things like seek out his company, even on a freezing roof in the middle of winter, and thank him, and be honest to him, and cover for him.

And make Tom wish Harry would stay.

"Why does everyone hate us?" the boy murmured. "I didn't do anything to them! And you- okay, you hurt them, but they tried to hurt us first."

Tom folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know. I don't care."

"Really? I...it's horrible. They all play games together, and they laugh, and Martha's really nice to them. Don't you want that?"

Harry seemed really bothered by that, and if Tom could vaguely understand the feeling, he'd never admit it, neither would he admit how much the sudden image of the boy 'playing games together, and laughing', to quote him, with the rest of them scared him.

"No," he said, sharply. "You shouldn't, either. They're just idiots, and they're afraid of us, because we're better than them."

"But-"

"You don't need them. You have me."

Harry's face lit up at that, all sadness and worry gone. "Okay."

The only information regarding Parseltongue in the library available was that it was very rare, presumably very Dark, and that the most known Parselmouth was Salazar Slytherin. Which was not helpful in the slightest, and Tom was wondering with growing irritation why the skill should be mentioned at all if nothing would be said about it.

All he could deduct was that it was something one was born with, not learned, and he was trying to determine if it happened at random, or if only certain people could be born as parselmouths. With how rare it supposedly was, he assumed two parselmouths born in the same year, growing up in the same place was rather uncharacteristic.

It made him wonder, sometimes, because even if his and Harry's personalities differed like night and day, there were certain similarities that couldn't be missed.

There were too many things he didn't know enough about. He'd thought that learning more about Parseltongue would give him a clue about his heritage, and maybe even his connection with his friend. The problem was, without information he couldn't learn anything more.

If they'd known the title of the book they needed, Tom was certain he could get Slughorn or some other professor to sign the required note to take a book out of the Restricted Section, but as things were...

Sneaking in there had been a fiasco, and he didn't care to lose his sleep and risk being seen wandering around at night again, just to do something that was completely pointless. If they wanted to find anything in that absolute mess, they needed to do it at daytime and without the fear of someone seeing them.

An impossible combination, of course, but he didn't see what else would do it. As he couldn't think of a way to achieve that...well, they hadn't read every book available in the rest of the library yet.

Which was why they'd skipped lunch, grabbing a couple sandwiches from the Great Hall and headed straight to the library. For once, Harry was fully agreeing with him; his friend seemed just as curious in the subject as he was.

So Tom thought that Harry would also agree that they had no time to waste with a grinning Charlus Potter, who approached their table and invited himself to sit down. Perhaps Tom should add him to the list of people he despised merely because they were on good terms with his best friend.

Though, maybe he should be a little bit more worried that he had such a list in the first place.

"Hello, Harry," the irritating sixth year greeted easily. "I don't think I've been introduced to your friend...?"

No, he hadn't, and if it was up to Tom that wouldn't change. But he forced a polite smile on his face and waited for Harry to do the introduction, anyway.

"Right. Tom, this is Charlus Potter," Harry said, throwing him a don't sulk just because I'm talking to people look- and it was a bit disturbing that he received that look often enough to have made a name for it. "Charlus, this is Tom Riddle."

Charlus extended his arm. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure's all mine," Tom returned, lightly, shaking it- don't break his fingers it will get you nowhere!- briefly.

There, they met. No one was murdered or maimed. Now the other could go away, because they had studying to do and he was testing Tom's patience. But Charlus, of course, chose to remain seated and engage in some stupid conversation about Quidditch with Harry, and his friend seemed willing enough to participate.

Tom wanted to choke someone. Preferably the older boy, but anyone would do.

"-Will you be trying for the Slytherin team next year, then? Of course, I want Gryffindor to win the cup, so I probably shouldn't encourage you, but you have the body shape to make an excellent seeker."

"Huh?" Harry looked genuinely surprised, as if the notion that someone assumed he'd be good at something was entirely unbelievable. "Er, no, I don't think so. Probably wouldn't have enough time for it anyway."

Charlus chuckled, not unkindly. "I see. Funny, I somehow hadn't taken you for the studious sort."

"It's all Tom's fault," his friend accused, and how dare he involve him in that ridiculous conversation! "He's turned me into a bookworm."

"I don't recall turning you into anything. Now, if you happen to follow my example and take your studies seriously, I'd hardly call that my fault," he replied evenly.

"My studies, every other topic in the world that can be possibly found in a library, then some more that can't but let's try and study them anyway..." Harry murmured, huffing.

"Oh, yes, because you're so against that and I dragged you in here by your tie, hmm?"

Actually, that seemed like a very effective way of getting his friend where he wanted him, instead of wasting his time arguing about it. He should definitely try it at some point.

Harry refused to answer that, and the third (unwanted) member of their company decided to speak up again. "So what are you trying to study right now?"

"Er," his friend started, unsure how to continue. At least he wasn't stupid enough to consider telling the truth. "We're not studying yet, actually. Just trying to find the right book."

And...weren't sixth and seventh years allowed in the Restricted Section? It was tempting, very much so, but parseltongue didn't so far sound like the kind of thing they could casually bring up around just anyone, even if they claimed to be researching it only out of curiosity.

Charlus frowned, concern and wariness written all over his face. "You...you're not looking for something dark, are you?"

Yes, they definitely couldn't admit to be looking for a book on parseltongue. But maybe if they approached the matter from a different angle...

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you'd think so," he returned cooly, eyes narrowing just enough to project an image of being offended, and maybe slightly wounded by the suggestion. He noticed Harry's eyes roll in exasperation, but Charlus missed it. "It's a rather common occurance in Slytherin, isn't it? And of course, we should remain ignorant of the magic our classmates can perform, with essentially no way to defend ourselves."

"That- that's not what I-" the older boy spluttered.

"We know," Harry murmured, joining in for all his apparent dislike for the particular method. "Just...it's necessary to be aware of some things, at least- you understand that, right? I mean, not everyone's like you, and ignorance isn't much tolerated in our House. You know we're muggle-raised- there's just too much we don't know, about this world generally, that may be obvious to you, even if you don't necessarily like them-"

He let the sentence go unfinished, voice cracking just a bit in the end, looking up at Charlus hopefully. Tom thought Harry was putting up a rather spectacular performance, even if none of the things he said were necessarily untrue. He felt his lips twitch into a smile, and fought it off.

He didn't quite like the pitying look they were now on the receiving end of, but Charlus had completely fallen for it, and that was what mattered for the moment.

The sixth year offered both of them an apologetic, somewhat bashful smile. "Of course, I'm sorry. It's so easy to forget you only recently learned about the wizarding world...tell you what? Ask me anything about any subject you'd like- light, dark, and everything in between- and I promise I'll answer to the best of my capacity, yeah?"

Mission accomplished.

My babies. I'm proud of them, sort of. Jealous Tom is fun to write.

Thank you for reading! I hope the chapter was to your liking?