Harry couldn't breathe. The horcrux was within arm's length. He'd snuck back down into the Chamber of Secrets before coming here. It was how he'd destroyed the diary the first time, so it stood to reason it would work again. He'd torn another fang from the basilisk, and it was in his trunk.

He could do it.

So why did the thought make him sick?

Tom ran his wand across himself and then Harry, cleaning them from what they'd just done. Tom licked Harry's ear and growled quietly.

"You're incredible."

Such strange words coming from the man that would become Voldemort.

"Thanks," breathed Harry, noticing how tired he was.

"I like a boy who knows how to take a compliment."

Harry found his gaze slipping to the diary. Could he bring himself to do it? To destroy the horcrux?

"I'm going to run to the restroom." Tom's blue eyes examined him. "Don't leave."

"I won't," said Harry.

Tom smiled, and brought his mouth to Harry's, biting down his bottom lip.

When Tom pulled on a shirt and left the room, Harry slipped out of bed, adjusting his wrinkled pants. He picked the diary up in his hand and ran his hands over the cover.

He could hear it hissing. The parseltongue coming from the pages. Merlin, it even sounded like Tom. Something stirred in his stomach. He dropped the horcrux.

How was he ever going to do this?

"Hey, Harry," Tom's voice sounded as he stepped back through the door.

Harry jumped away from the desk.

"What are you doing?" asked Tom.

"Nothing." Harry pushed a smile onto his face. "Waiting for you.

Tom sauntered up to him and twisted a strand of Harry's hair in his fingers. "You don't have to go back to your dorm, darling."

Harry bit his lip. "I – I don't know, Tom."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he purred against Harry's neck, moving his mouth down to his collarbone.

"I know," Harry responded, surprised at how fast he did, at how much he meant it.

"I am going to touch you though. Would you like that?"

"Mmph-" was all Harry managed as Tom slammed their lips together again. He struggled away from Riddle's touch. "I can't. Not yet."

"You're anything but easy, you know that?"

"Would you like me better if I was?"

"I'd like you the same." He smirked. "So what do you say?"

"Good try," said Harry, pulling away.

"Give me one good reason why not."

Harry laughed. He had a thousand reasons. You killed my parents. Tried to kill me. More than once. You killed my godfather. You killed Albus Dumbledore.

But not yet, this man in front of him with a clear smile and eyes that burned, this man hadn't done any of that. He had killed someone though. Myrtle, probably. To make the horcrux. He'd framed Hagrid and ruined his life.

"There are so many reasons."

"Tell me one." Tom hooked his fingers into Harry's belt loops and pulled their bodies flush.

"I can't-"

"Then, it doesn't count, darling." He bit down on Harry's ear. "Stay and be mine. You know you want to..."

Yes. That's what Harry wanted to say, his body begged him to say, but he was tired and scared and just couldn't.

"If you want me that badly, you can't wait."

Tom groaned. "How long?"

"As long as I want." Harry brushed a stray lock of hair away from Tom's pale face. "See you in the morning."

Tom's shoulder slumped. "This is a disappointing turn of events."

"Patience," said Harry as he slipped out of Tom's room, taking one last look at the diary.

It took all his will power not to charge back into Tom Riddle's room, lay down on his bed and let that man make him forget everything that's hurt him.

The next morning, Tom sat down beside him at breakfast. Harry's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't slept the night before. He'd been too busy thinking about what went down with Tom, and what he was going to do with the horcrux. He'd promised to destroy it. Promised to kill Tom Riddle. But now that he'd found the horcrux, he just wasn't sure he could do it.

They didn't say anything to each other, but Tom reached over and took Harry's hand. Merlin, he hoped nobody noticed. But Tom didn't seem to care. He was tracing heavy circles on the palm of Harry's hand that sent jolts through him at every turn.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Tom," he whispered. "Not now."

"I'll have you when I want."

A heat rushed to Harry's face met with a tinge of anger.

"It doesn't work that way with us."

Tom smirked as if he knew, no matter what Harry said, that when Tom talked like that, it made him absolutely crazy. But still, they'd decided Harry was in charge of all this, and Harry wasn't about to give up that power.

"I'll come to your room tonight," said Harry. The words fell out of his mouth before he could really examine them. He knew what he meant to do though.

He could grab the basilisk fang, hide it in his sweater, which he'd quickly take off. Then... it would be easy if Tom hadn't moved the diary. He could destroy the horcrux and kill Tom.

Kill Tom.

He felt his breakfast burn his throat. No. Not Tom. Just the horcrux.

The horcrux is Tom.

Harry shook the thought away.

"Can't wait," said Tom. "After nine though. I have a, um, meeting."

Harry nodded and watched the movement of Tom's hips as he walked out of the Great Hall. Why did he feel this way for him? Why did Harry Potter want Tom Riddle more than he wanted to breathe?

Just as planned, Harry hid the fang in his cardigan. Tom left his door slightly open so Harry could get in. Harry tossed his sweater over Tom's desk chair, and quickly scanned the room for the diary. It was no longer on the desk, but it was in the bookshelf.

When Tom came into the room, he slammed the door, stomped over to the desk, grabbed a crystal glass for his firewhisky and chucked it hard at the wall, shattering it into pieces.

Harry gasped, instinctively reaching toward his wand.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry.

"Damn, Lestrange – the idiot. He's gonna get us all- and Avery. If I could strangle him!" Tom's face was a fiery red.

"Calm down."

"I don't care."

Harry stepped back, sudden fear gripping him. "About what?"

"Our deal."

"Tom-"

"I just need to."

Tom pulled out his wand and nearly as soon Harry felt something twist around his wrists, pull him face down on the desk, his arms still up like they were tied to the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

Tom pressed behind Harry. "Let me, Harry. Tell me you want me."

"Stop it, Tom. Stop now."

He could hear Tom breathing heavily behind him. Harry's heart picked up speed. Of course, this is what he'd come here to do tonight, among other things. But not this way, and not with Tom so angry.

"Talk to me," whispered Harry. "If you just talk to me for ten minutes, I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Had he just said that, and meant it?

Tom stumbled back from him. The ties loosened then let go of Harry's arms. He stood up, and turned, rubbing his aching wrists.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry... Harry... I'm... sorry."

Sorry. A word he'd never thought he'd heard from Tom Riddle.

"It's, it's fine." Harry caught his breath, trying to calm down. "Just tell me what's gotten into you. You've never wanted to – like that – with me."

A part of Harry (that he didn't like very much) felt jealous that maybe Tom missed the relationship he had with Avery. That Harry couldn't be that for him...

"Oh, I wanted to," he said with an unsteady laugh. "It's just there are other things I want from you more."

"Like what?"

Tom looked a bit like a young boy as he sat down on the edge of the bed, kind of folding in on himself. Timidly, Harry sat down beside him.

"I don't – it doesn't matter," said Tom.

"Talk to me."

"Avery's pissed I'm with you – or you're with me... I don't know. One or the other."

Harry sighed. Were they really "with" each other?

"OK. Why do you think that?"

"He told Lestrange, and everyone else that I'm a... a half-blood."

Harry laughed, and immediately regretted it as a hurt look crossed Tom's face.

"It's not funny."

"Who cares what Lestrange and Avery think of you?"

Tom shot up from the bed. "Because they're right."

"About what?"

"I'm not a pureblood. My father's a damn muggle. A worthless-"

"Tom, stop. You're a better wizard than Lestrange and Avery, a thousand times better. How could they possibly make you feel inferior?"

Tom ran a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. "Magic is diluted when non-magic blood is-"

"What the hell are you talking about? You know that's not true."

"What if it is? What if I would be an even stronger wizard if both my parents were wizards?"

Harry walked over to Tom. He could not believe he found himself comforting the man, but couldn't help it. "If both your parents were magical, you wouldn't be you."

"And that would be a bad thing?"

"I don't know. All I know is that two of the most powerful people I've ever known. One was a half-blood." Harry half-smiled at Tom. "And the other was a muggle born. I swear to Merlin, she could give you a run for your money. This Slytherin blood purity stuff is a load of crap."

Tom shook his head. "If my father hadn't been a muggle... he wouldn't have. I wouldn't have grown up in that orphanage. People wouldn't have tried to tell me there was something wrong with me."

"There's something I don't talk about. But you should know, Tom. My parents... they're dead. I grew up with my muggle aunt and uncle. Something you guessed. At least that I was raised by muggles. They hated magic, they hated me – and they made sure I knew it every day."

Harry's hands went to the buttons on his shirt. While they were together, Tom had taken his shirt off, but Harry never had. He guessed it was time.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry slid his tie off and then let his shirt fall to the floor.

"Is our ten minutes up?" Tom's eyes widened. "What the hell-"

There were scars all across Harry's chest where Dudley had kicked him repeatedly, or Aunt Petunia had tossed her fiery hot curling iron at him or where Uncle Vernon had hit him with the blunt side of his drill and cracked his ribs. Harry shut his eyes, trying to shove back the memories.

Tom's hands ran down his chest, his thumbs moving over the scars. "I'll kill them. I'm – your aunt and uncle did this to you."

Those hands went to Harry's forehead. To the lightning scar. "Did they do this?"

Harry shook his head. "No that was... that was someone else."

"This is why you're so angry," said Tom.

"I'm not angry."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Well I don't want to be," said Harry. He sighed. "Our ten minutes is up." He started speaking in parseltongue. "You want to tie me up and take me over the desk, now?"

Red blushed Tom's cheeks. "No."

"Oh."

"Don't look so broken up, Harry. I just want... I want to be with you differently, understand?" He batted his dark eyelashes and Harry's insides contracted.

Harry backed Tom against the bed. "You're wrong about blood purity. Don't forget that."

"Then don't let me," Tom said, his voice raspy.

Harry crawled on top of Tom, kissing him gently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm sure."

When he pushed his hands Tom's shirt, feeling the cool skin against his fingers, he forgot all about the horcrux on the bookshelf, and the true identity of the man beneath him.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. Sorry I ended it where I did, but I wanted to dedicate a big chunk of word count to what they're about to do next ;) so hope you're excited. Let me know what you think. I love, love, love reviews!