Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. XD

//This is Parseltongue.//

As you can see, Tom is now referred to as Tom out of dialogue. Until this point, he was always Voldemort unless it was Harry speaking about or to him. This will differentiate between forms. Voldemort ≈ no nose. Tom ≈ nose. Any questions? XD

Also, for you skimmers out there, please don't totally skip over Hermione's section-- it will prove important.

Paraselenic

Spuriousness // not genuine, different from what it is claimed to be

Harry's harsh exhalation of air was like a thunderclap in the silent room, breaking the daze Harry had found himself in and causing his eyes to jerk to the man's obscured face. He didn't stir. This was strange in and of itself, and Harry took a step forward with a vague sense of worry. Tom didn't strike him as a sound sleeper, after all. Harry's eyes trailed down a thin arm to the wand held in a lax grip, a slightly blue glow surrounding it. That was it, then. It was something Harry himself had done many times over the years to assure he would get at least a bit of sleep when time was against him. It was a timed sleeping hex, able to be set to whatever amount of time was available and immediately cast you into a deep sleep, the hex lifting once the allotted time was up. Harry wouldn't have thought that such a paranoid man would allow himself to be put into such a vulnerable state, but he simply counted his blessings.

The man's skin glowed in the moonlight, only given modesty by the sheet draped low on his hips. Harry's eyes focused in on the sparse hair trailing across the flat stomach and disappearing under the sheet, his body tensing as he resisted the urge to follow the path with his tongue. His fingers twitched at his side in an urge to reach towards the pale skin.

Lust. Now this was something Harry was familiar with. He had to exercise every ounce of his willpower not to leap onto the bed and give Tom a wake-up call he would never forget; Harry wasn't particularly in the mood to be hexed out of his skin. These urges he knew, this appreciation of the lean body before him was something recognizable. He banished all the confused thoughts of the early evening and let his eyes peruse the beautiful sight before him more carefully.

Arms were thin but lightly muscled; Dark Lords Did Not Do physical labor, after all, and weren't expected to have bulging biceps. The chest was defined more than Harry would have thought, shoulders not overly broad. The neck was long and elegant, leading to a masculine, angled jaw line and prominent cheekbones. Lips were thin but shapely, nose long and straight. Harry wished he could see the man's eyes in that moment to see whether they were still burning crimson or if they were the dark blue of the younger Tom.

Harry noticed that the skin across the shoulders was slightly darker than the ivory tone of the chest and stomach and took another step closer, head tilting to the side and eyes narrowed. It seemed not all the effects of the reptilian visage were gone, as the skin appeared rough there in a likeness of the scales he had always noticed across the top of Voldemort's hands. Again Harry's hands trembled at his side as he held himself back from running his fingers across them to feel the texture.

Had Harry not been so distracted, he might have noticed the blue glow leave the wand, but was instead frozen in place as the man on the bed groaned and an arm came up to lay across his eyes. "Hell, half an hour wasn't enough," Tom grumbled, the muscles in his jaw tensed and working as he swallowed.

Harry remained entranced as the arm fell away and brilliant crimson eyes fell on him, the body tensing for a moment before relaxing again. "Do you make it a habit of watching people sleep, Potter?"

Harry gulped as the man stood fluidly, uncaring of his nudity, and arched his back in a stretch that sent audible pops into the room. Harry licked his lips as he tried to raise his eyes from Tom's backside. "You went on a journey for two months in order to regain your body?" Harry said with a flippant note in his voice that he didn't feel at all.

Tom scoffed as he reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of crisply creased black trousers. "Hardly. I'm not vain enough to have taken important time away like that."

"Oh really?" Harry drawled, regaining a bit of his equilibrium and finally managing to move his eyes to the man's face. He appeared middle aged in this form, perhaps forty or so with a dignified air to him. Tom was looking at him with amusement over his shoulder as he pulled up the trousers, chin length dark hair swept behind his ears. "And here I see you leave looking like a snake and returning…" Harry attempted to sound uncaring and make an offhand comment, but found he couldn't as an alluring smirk curved the man's lips.

Tom chuckled and turned towards him, doing up the fly as he stalked towards Harry. "You like what you see, then?"

Harry's tense jaw quivered. "It's… an improvement…"

Tom laughed again. "Really? Is that all you can say?"

Whereas moment ago Harry had been having trouble forcing his eyes up to meet Tom's, now the opposite was true. He was captivated in the crimson gaze, unable to look away to regain his dignity. He wished sorely that he had taken Lucius's offer of a robe as the half-bared man slunk towards him, moving with a grace Harry could never hope to possess. Tom stopped directly in front of him, Harry's back against the door, and leaned forward, his breath tickling Harry's lips. "You have a problem, Potter, with your incessant need to be in control of your life. Is it a byproduct of your younger years, perhaps? You seem to refuse to let yourself express what you think unless you are sure it will benefit your ends."

"I could say the same about you," Harry said as he tried to control his breathing.

"Perhaps. But there's a difference between us, Potter." Tom paused and smirked, licking his lips slowly. "I take what I want regardless of control. Sometimes, life is about losing it."

For a long moment Harry's breath caught, and he was sure the older man would kiss him. Tom leaned forward until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart, close enough that Harry was losing all his oxygen and was nearly lost enough to close the final millimeter between them, breath panting and heart rate soaring…

And then Tom leaned away.

"But that's a discussion for another time, don't you think, Potter?"

Harry glared at the other man, unreasonably angry for the slight. He growled and jerked his head to the side. "Whatever. If you meant to take a kip you could have warned me. I'll wait in your study."

Harry walked away from Tom without looking back. If he had, he might have seen the aborted step the Dark Lord took towards him.

"Are you done with your strop yet, Potter?"

Harry didn't look up, but he knew he was being foolish. What right did he have, really, to be so offended? He was being a twit and he knew it… but knowing the truth and doing something about it are two very different things.

"Whatever, I know you're listening so I'll just talk. I was searching out a spellsmith named Alec Greene. His grandfather worked for me when I first left Hogwarts and happened to have engineered several of the rituals I went through in those years. I left on a chance that his talent had been passed down. I needed something -- a spell or an object -- imbued with a spell that would allow us to discern someone's leanings. Taking down the ministry will be infinitely easier if we can decide whose loyalties lie congruent to our own.

"He attempted to hide himself away from me, but I was able to track him down. His personality and finesse are far inferior to his grandfather, but his speed was exceptional. Not that it spared his life, of course, but it was relatively painless in contrast to most people who try to secret themselves away from me."

"None of that explains why you're now sporting a nose, Riddle," Harry snarked, glaring petulantly.

Crimson eyes rolled. "You're so petty. I look like this because this is what I am supposed to look like. I am a metamorphmagus."

Harry finally turned to look at Tom, an irritated twitch asserting itself beneath his left eye. "You mean to tell me that you've been able to do this all this time?"

"No," Tom chuckled. "Unfortunately, the rituals I did to attempt immortality and gain power had many side effects. My eyes and skin are only minor ones in comparison to others. One of the more annoying consequences was that I became trapped in my affected form." With only the slightest tightening of his jaw, Tom was replaced by Voldemort."I was able to assume my natural form for a few moments, but holding it any longer than a minute or two and it caused excruciating pain. I had Mister Greene take care of that as well."

Harry's nose wrinkled. "Why would you choose a form like that?"

"The world is about power, Potter, but I wanted to so much more. I wanted unconditional fear, I wanted the Wizarding world at my feet. I wanted the mention of my name to strike terror into those opposed to me and cow those who served me. I wanted terror and mayhem at the barest glimpse of my face, I wanted real power. If this form is what struck terror and made me unable to be confused with any other… all the better. The heir of Salazar Slytherin needed to be distinguishable, after all."

Harry blinked several times before leaning forward, his elbow propped on the desk separating them. "Wow, you really are nutters, aren't you?"

Another slight shift in his posture and Tom was once again seated across from him. "I was… ambitious."

"No. Your followers, for braving through your torture sessions to see the world they envision, are ambitious. You are a megalomaniac."

"Semantics, I'm sure. Now, you know where I was and why it took me as long as I did." Tom seemed inclined to ignore the squawked protest Harry raised, casually raising his bare foot to prop on the edge of his desk and draping his arms over his bent knee. "So isn't it your turn? Or were you as useless in my absence as my Death Eaters?"

Harry gritted his teeth and growled. "Do shut up, Tom. I spent the weeks researching, mostly. First, Dante and I were creating a spell that will ensure privacy. It is keyed to an entire room and makes it impossible for the people within it to utter anything told to them in the room outside of a key person's presence and without permission; we based the concept on the Fidelius Charm. I hope to have the details worked out in time for when I meet with the students who might be converted. After all, without the proper steps taken, Dumbledore's death will only manage to cement the loyalties of those in the school to the Light."

Tom nodded. "Yes, because if he dies a martyr's death then we will become even more ostracized for being the ones to have taken down the 'wonderful Albus Dumbledore'. We will only attract the cowards who wish to save their own skin and miss out on the rest, giving us more opposition."

"Exactly. So, other than finding a way to reveal myself to many students without fear of being turned in, I have also been researching Dumbledore's past… something that has proven very interesting. Were you aware he was friends with Grindelwald?"

"Was he now?" Tom purred, a content grin stretching his face and once again nearly making Harry's breathing catch. "How delightful. What else have you learned?"

"I wrote out a report on the things I've found." Harry pulled a small trunk from his pocket and tapped his wand on it to resize it, rifling through it until he came across a scroll of parchment labeled 'D x G'. "So I'll give this to you now so that you can do what you please with the information. There are also some people listed who might be able to give you more information… willing or not. I have an identical copy linked to yours, so as I find out more I will add it."

Tom put the parchment aside and nodded. "Good, this will make for some interesting reactions, I'm sure."

Harry nodded and moved to close his trunk, pausing and looking into it. After a glance to Tom he sighed and reached inside, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in a bit of silky cloth. "Since I will be spending Christmas with the Malfoys, I will give this to you now. I didn't think you'd mind it wasn't wrapped." Harry refused to meet crimson eyes that were watching him with surprise. "It isn't much and it's more of a practical gift than anything… but, well…" He sat it on the desk and pushed the material aside, tapping it with his wand and hissing a sibilant command before looking at a wall to his left.

Tom watched as the revealed silver snake, only the diameter of his pinky finger, became animated and slithered towards him, hissing unintelligibly. It took his distraction and slithered over his lax hand, winding itself around his wrist and becoming still, now nothing but a metal bracelet, "It's lovely, Potter, but you said it was practical?" Tom managed, still entranced by the craftsmanship. Every scale was defined and though the coolness told him it was but metal, the way it had moved had been fluid and natural.

"It only responds to Parseltongue and will allow us to send messages back and forth." Harry undid the button of his cuff and rolled his sleeve, revealing a duplicate of the snake found around his forearm near his elbow. "It will warm to signify that a message is waiting, and you only need to tap it with your wand and say 'Play' for it to give the message. To send, you merely tap it and say your message. The two are linked magically."

Tom stroked a finger over the lifeless bracelet. "Ingenious. Where did you manage to find something like this?"

Harry shifted in his seat. "I made it."

Tom's eyes left the gift and fell on the uncomfortable countenance of his partner. "Really, now?"

Verdant eyes flicked to meet crimson before looking away again. "I found out years ago that I had a natural talent for metalworking. All it takes from there is some creative spell work."

"Thank you, Potter, it is a royal gift."

Harry nodded but looked awkward. Tom changed the subject easily, knowing exactly what to say to rile up his partner again. "So, how long did you stand there watching me sleep? You're lucky I didn't hex you immediately upon waking."

An angry flush crept up Harry's neck. "I was only wondering why a short shower took you over an hour and went looking for you. I had just walked in when you woke up."

"Funny, Potter, because your eyes were rather glazed for someone who had just walked in…"

"Stuff it, Riddle," Harry threw back automatically before he paused and took a deep breath. Realization spread over him slowly with a comforting warmth. He was never this way. It was true he often felt much less confident than he appeared, but he never let such weakness show to those who would exploit it. And right now, Tom was doing just that. He was better than this, damnit, and he knew it. Even if Tom was only using their usual repartee, Harry had to do the same. Pouting like a child was getting him nowhere.

As Tom had said so definitively… sometimes life was about losing control and taking what you wanted.

Harry stood and planted his hands palm-down on the desk, leaning over it to look into Tom's eyes. "If I didn't know you so well, Tom, I'd think you enjoyed the attention. And I'd also think you have no idea how to do anything about it," he paused and let a wicked smirk curve his lips. "If I didn't know you better, of course."

Tom was obviously thrown off balance by the change in Harry's demeanor, eyes widening, before his face smoothed into a mocking smile. "Funny, Potter. But I think your Gryffindor audaciousness is showing through. You could very well be making an arse out of yourself if you're wrong."

"I could," Harry conceded. "But I think I've thrown you off balance. You know me, too well I think most of the time, and I know you just as well. I'm not faceless or anonymous. You don't know what to do about me, do you? And if I'm wrong…" Harry leaned forward until their noses almost touched, eyes half lidded as the remembered lust of an hour prior swept through him like a tidal wave. "Then say it, Riddle."

Tom's face morphed into a vicious look and a growl rose from his throat. Harry hardly had a moment to react before lips collided with his own, a hand gripping his collar and yanking him forward across the desk. Papers scattered and Harry submitted instantly to the harsh pressure, tilting his head back and letting a groan escape his throat.

It was ecstasy. Perhaps it was his confusion, perhaps the anticipation and the effort needed to get to this point, but Harry lost himself instantly and let himself be pulled into Tom's lap and pressed hard against the desk. The edge dug into the small of his back painfully but he didn't care, the pain only reminding him of the reality of the situation. He pushed his hands up into Tom's hair at the slightly graying temples, gripping tightly in an attempt to pull the man impossibly closer.

The lips trailed down across his jaw to his neck, teeth sinking harshly in against the skin. Already long fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, and Harry was struck but how hot the other man was, how alive and burning. "This means nothing, Potter," was hissed against his neck.

Harry pressed harder against the older man and let his eyes fall shut, a grimace unseen over his features even as he arched his back. No matter how his heart clenched, he knew it was better than nothing. It had to be.

"Yes, nothing. Of course not, Tom. Nothing at all."

Hermione's head was killing her. It throbbed incessantly with the intensity of a jackhammer, growing steadily the more she thought over her current problem.

Her parents wanted to pull her out of Hogwarts.

The disaster at the Department of Mysteries had seriously worried them. In the previous years, Hermione had always tried to gloss over the dangers that were rife in the Wizarding world, skipping over the more death defying aspects of her adventures with Ron and Harry and letting it sound far more like a fairytale than any real menace. She had managed to allay any fears they had had, never mentioning her personal sacrifices. Her petrifaction was passed off as a spell backfiring, bruises and scrapes after third year played down as an incident with Crookshanks, and her stressed countenance after her fourth year had been taken as teenaged angst. She had never wanted her parents to realize just what kind of life she had there, how much turmoil being close to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' (not that her parents had any understanding of why he was so special) brought her.

But when Dolohov had injured her in her fifth year, she couldn't pass it off as anything else. Dumbledore's letter had been very specific, after all. They had been frightened and confused, unable to understand why they had been after criminals and how such men were able to get away with what they did. The world of magic was much like a fantasy novel to them, and trying to reconcile it with reality had been very hard.

When she had left just weeks before her seventeenth birthday, it was with her parents watching with troubled eyes from the platform and a dire assurance that they would not tolerate any further danger to her person.

They had received a letter from the school, as all the parents had, regarding the death of Sybill Trelawney. Hermione was actually rather aghast at the detail it went into, but thought her Transfiguration professor's rather clinical personality lent to that. And as such, her parents had decided she would not be returning to Hogwarts.

She was a legal adult in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, though, and she didn't plan to abide their mandate.

They had been arguing since she got home days prior; for the first time in her life, Hermione could recall her parents being red-faced and shouting. She had always been a good child, a stickler for the rules with a complacent demeanor. And her parents, too, were rather calm and intelligent people, never arguing in loud tones but instead preferring to speak through their differences. But this last week had been full of shouts and clenched fists, threats and harsh declarations. And Hermione had had this headache for days.

And currently, it was killing her.

Lou Granger was a kindly man by nature, but currently his jaw was vibrating with tension and his eyes had a hard cast. "Hermione Jean Granger… you've left us with no choice. If you will not stay away from that… that school of yours, we will have to take harsher action."

Hermione glared. "Just what will you do? I am of age, Dad, and no matter what you and Mum think, I won't leave Hogwarts! I refuse not to graduate and I can't leave Harry like that!"

"That boy," Patricia Granger said slowly, her voice much quieter than either her husband or daughter's, "is the reason everyone gets hurt around that school, isn't he? You don't need any certification they can give you, Mi-Mi, you can go to university and get a good, respectable job, away from all these… Voldiemarts and Death Swallowers…"

"I don't want a 'good, respectable job', Mum! I want to stay in the Wizarding world! It is where I belong now, can't you see? I am a witch, and you've always supported me until now, why are you doing this to me now?"

"It's for your own good, Hermione. You will not be returning to that school. We will pull your tuition…"

"I'll get a scholarship, then! Or I'll ask Harry to lend me next year's fees! You can't stop me, Dad!"

"I can and I will," Lou said in a low voice, a dangerous tone that raised Hermione's hackles and sent her headache thrumming so painfully through her mind that she could hardly see. Vaguely and for the first time, she was conscious of the tiny voice in her mind whispering how unnatural the headache was. "If you won't listen to reason, we'll take you to an asylum! They won't know anything about this magic you spout on about, and you won't have any chance to endanger yourself there!"

The last thing Hermione remembered was drawing her vine wood wand as the agonizing pain in her temples reached a crescendo… before her world went dark.

Food for Thought: Voldiemart. Imagine, if you will, Voldemort in an apron selling cooking supplies on an infomercial… now there's a thought to lighten your day. XD My lovely Raine and I had a ball thinking about this one. XD

Revised: 3/19/09