I'm back! I'm very sorry about the long wait for this chapter, but I should be getting back to more regular updates now.

Major Cookies to:

1. tonks*is*cool for pointing out a mistake in the last chapter (it has been fixed!)

2. bkwyrm16 and Sakamoto Itoe for figuring out Helga's gift!

3. lennox03237 for figuring out how Helga told Harry about the scarf! (It shall be revealed in this chapter, if you missed it)

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!

Chapter 21

The following morning, Harry remembered that he had delivered his 'present' to Dumbledore, but he had not yet given Hermione and Neville their gifts. Recalling the way Lavender and Parvati were always telling Hermione that she needed to worry less about studying and more about finding a man (they'd even left a copy of Witch Weekly open to an article titled "Why Wizards Won't Date Smart Witches" on her pillow), Harry had a mischievous thought. He pulled out the perfume bottle, which he'd had gift wrapped by the shop girl, and Conjured some flowers to go with it. Then he got out a nice piece of parchment and wrote a quick note:

Dear Hermione,

First, this letter is charmed so that only you can actually read it. To anyone else, it looks like a gushy love note from 'a secret admirer.' I thought it might help get those two harpies you call roommates off your back, for a while at least.

Second, please accept this small token of my appreciation for inviting me to your house for break. I had a fantastic time--in fact, I can quite honestly say that it was the best holiday I've ever had, and it was all thanks to you.

Well, that wasn't completely true--quite a bit of it was thanks to Tom. But if Hermione hadn't been willing to cover for him, Harry wouldn't have been able to see Tom, so it wasn't completely false, either.

Should you decide that there is someone you're interested in, after all, let me know. I'll help you get him--after I threaten to hex his balls off (like any good brother would).

I hope you like your gift!

Love,

Harry

Finishing the note, he proceeded to call Dobby and instruct him to leave it on Hermione's pillow. That done, he got out of bed, only to find everyone but Neville still asleep. Which gave him another perfect opportunity.

"Hey Nev, can I talk to you for a sec?" Harry said quietly, not wanting to wake the other boys.

"Sure, Harry, what is it?"

"I...I wanted to say again how sorry I am that you lost Trevor. I feel like if I had just moved a little faster, maybe I could have..."

Neville cut him off. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. There wasn't anything else you could've done. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, for not keeping track of my own pet. Which, to be perfectly honest, I did on purpose...I couldn't exactly tell Uncle Algie 'no thanks,' but, well, I never actually liked that damn toad. And when it happened, I was mostly just relieved."

Harry smiled, knowing that this wasn't the entire truth. "Well, I also wanted to thank you for what you did for Hermione. I know she'd feel absolutely awful if she knew what happened, and I'm really grateful to you for thinking of her. Anyway, the point is, I wanted to make up for it as best I could, so I got you this." Harry stuffed the Magical Menagerie gift certificate into Neville's hand, winked, and scooted out the door before the astonished boy could have a chance to protest.

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That evening, Harry made his way deep into the bowels of the castle to Helga's kitchen. He stomped into the room, growling, "All right, Miss Empath! We need to have a talk aboout these little scarves of yours! It seems they do quite a bit more than advertised!"

"No, they don't," the plump woman replied calmly, without even looking up from her knitting. "They do exactly what I said they would."

"You said protection, lightweight, unbreakable, and to keep me from losing it. You didn't say anything about emotional manipulation!"

Now Helga looked up from the knitting needles flashing in her hands, and gave Harry a coy smile. "Didn't I?" she said smugly.

Harry looked rather nonplussed. "No...you really didn't."

Helga sighed. "If it had been Salazar that had given you this, you would have considered every possible meaning of every word he said about it. But nooooo, not Helga! 'Sweet Hufflepuff' would never say anything misleading!" She managed to hold an indignant pose for all of three seconds before bursting into giggles.

Harry thought about it for a moment, while glaring at the giggling founder. "You consider it a protection charm?" he guessed.

Helga smirked. "Nope."

Harry tried again, but was still completely lost. "Could I get a hint?" he finally asked.

Helga's smirk grew wider. "Hmm. A hint. Well, let's just say that I would expect a sixth-year student to be more than old enough to keep track of his own clothing without magical assistance."

For a moment, Harry just stared blankly. "You said it had a charm to keep me from losing it."

"Indeed, I did. But I never specified what 'it' was. You just assumed 'it' meant 'the scarf'."

It finally clicked. "You intended for me to assume as much, and you know it," Harry grumbled, though he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the cleverness of the ruse.

"Moi? 'Sweet Hufflepuff'? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. So, Salazar told me you had some big news to share?"

Harry blushed, and mumbled something under his breath about meddlesome old revenants. "Tom...sort of...in his own way...asked me to marry him," Harry announced.

Helga squealed, clapped her hands, and pulled him into a warm embrace. "And you said yes?"

"No," Harry stated.

Helga gasped. "But Harry, why would say no? You love him, I can tell!"

"By 'sort of, in his own way' asked me, what I really meant was, 'told me he was going to marry me,' not giving me a chance to say yes or no."

"That's cheating! And I thought that I had managed to teach that young man some form of manners! Harry, the next time you see him, you tell him that you won't marry him until he asks you properly, like a gentleman."

"But...he already knows I want to marry him. Especially now that I've already agreed. Why should he ask a question he already knows the answer to? I'm not a girl, and I don't want flowers, candy, and romance."

Helga's warm cinnamon gaze met Harry's cool emerald. "Harry, take it from a woman who has seen a lot of relationships in her time--a marriage proposal isn't really about the answer. By the time it gets to that point, both parties should already know that they want to commit to each other for life. A marriage proposal is about letting your guard down. The moment where one person bares their heart to another, knowing that it may be rejected. It's about making yourself completely vulnerable to the one you love, and trusting them not to hurt you. It's a rite that proves love, trust, and commitment, on both sides. It's not just a formality."

Harry took several moments to consider this, then shook his head. "I'm sorry Helga, I don't think I can ask him for that. Tom has never allowed himself to be vulnerable to anyone. It's too much to ask."

Helga gave him a pointed gaze, but said only, "Well, it's something I hope you'll think about, anyway. But whatever you decide, congratulations, and I know you and Tom will be exceedingly happy together." Harry accepted Helga's congratulations, then excused himself. He still needed to visit Salazar and check up on the egg, and he had a great deal of reading to do. He hissed out the password to the Chamber of Secrets, and felt himself pulled into the lowest dungeon.

Upon arrival, Harry caught Salazar once again staring in utter fascination at the egg. The magic radiating from it had gotten just a tiny bit stronger since the day before, and Harry was happy to see that it still appeared to be working.

"Hey Salazar," Harry greeted.

"Good evening, Harry," Salazar replied, though he didn't turn around to look at the boy.

"How much longer do you reckon it'll be?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's been sixteen days so far. Which you know. It's supposed to take twenty-one days total. Which you also know. Since you were unable to answer that question on your own, I assume the problem is a lack of simple math skills. Remind me to speak to the other Founders about adding Remedial Maths to the Hogwarts curriculum. In the meantime, the answer is five more days," Salazar snarked at him.

Harry poked him in the side. "I guess I deserved that. Ask a stupid question and all that."

"Indeed."

The spirit really didn't seem inclined to further conversation, so Harry left Salazar in peace with the egg, and went into the library to get the two books Tom had suggested. He took both books back up to Gryffindor tower, used the spell to hide what he was reading, and settled down to read, starting with the book on ritual magic.

Two hours later, he was beginning to see why ritual magic had fallen out of favor. The ancient tome, handwritten, and in terribly archaic language, was extremely difficult to read. Thus far, Harry had only read the introduction--one hundred pages of flowery rhetoric that seemed to boil down to: Be Careful! At the end of the chapter, Harry found a note, written in Tom's handwriting. It read:

"Summary of Introduction:

1. Ritual magic is highly complex. Get even one step wrong, and the ritual fails.

2. Consequence of failure: Could be just wasted effort, but could be death. Or anything in between. (Well that's helpful.)

Harry could almost feel the sarcasm coming off the page.

3. Should you actually manage to succeed, ritual magic is highly potent and completely irreversible. Be bloody damn sure of what you want before attempting."

Harry snickered, appreciating Tom's sense of humor. Of course, he rather wished he could have found that note before he spent all that time reading the whole introduction. After the introduction, the book began listing individual rituals, and the steps needed to accomplish them. He knew he'd never be able to make himself actually read through every ritual in the book, so instead, he flipped through until he found the one he wanted. It was called simply "Consortem," and it was a binding ritual for two male partners. Harry read further:

"If thou shouldst wish to be bound forevermore to thy partner, herein shalt thee find thine answer. But heed ye this warning! Thou shalt be bound by body, by magic, and by soul. These bindings, once formed, shall not ever be torn asunder, even though they be assaulted by the power of a thousand Merlins. Death itself shall claw at the bond, and rend it not, for where once were two, there shall be but one, and how could a being be rendered separate from itself?

Harkening to this warning, if thou shouldst still wish to proceed, thou must needs follow precisely these instructions. Deviate not from the path laid out, or thou shalt find only loosing wherein binding was sought.

Firstly, thee and thy submissive partner must come to the ritual freely, of thine own will. Thy submissive partner must be Untouched by all hands, even thine own, upon entering the ritual.

Secondly, thou and thy submissive partner must spend one full cycle of the earth in silent meditation. Naught but air may pass your lips; neither food, nor drink, nor speech. Thou shalt abstain thyself from these things until the ritual asks for thy words.

Thirdly, thee and thy submissive partner must face each other in thine own natural states, exposing all and concealing nothing. No implement of man nor magic may hide thee from each other's sight. Thee and thy submissive partner shall Cleanse each other, bathing thyselves in water, to which thou hast added chickweed, hyssop, anise, and sage. Thee and thy submissive partner must then anoint one another with Juno's oil. Arise from thy bath, and come thee to thy bedchamber.

Fourthly, take thee thy heart's blood, and that of thy submissive partner. Mix them well. With no implement but thine own finger, thou shalt mark thy partner with the mixed blood, in the rune of ansuz upon the brow, in the rune of gebo upon the heart, and in the rune of wunjo upon the groin. Thou shalt likewise be marked by thy partner.

Fifthly, thou shalt give unto thy partner these words: "With Merlin and Morgana as my witness, I, (state thy name), claim thee (state thy partner's name), as my Consort. As proof of my claim, I offer unto thee my body, my soul, and my magic. Thou art mine from this day forward."

Thy partner shall respond, "With Merlin and Morgana as my witness, I, (thy partner shall state his name), accept the claim of (thy partner shall state thy name). I give myself to him as his Consort. As proof of my acceptance, I offer unto thee my body, my soul, and my magic. Thou art mine from this day forward."

At that point, the book started going into the physical consummation of the binding, in quite graphic detail. Harry blushed, but he knew it was only partly from embarrassment. There was also a good deal of anticipation causing the flush of blood to his skin.

He thought these might be the longest four months of his life.

But at least he could go to sleep now, and spend some quality time with Tom. He was sure that would help.

After falling asleep and waking up again, he found the magical representation of himself no longer in Tom's study, but in the bedroom. And wearing only his boxers.

"My, my, Harry, were we expecting something?" Tom's svelte voice came from behind him.

Harry spun around, only to find Tom in a similar state of dress. "Well, you're the one who brought me to your bedroom, so if I was, it must have been mutual," Harry replied, smirking.

Tom pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss, and Harry responded gladly. "Merlin, Tom, has it really only been two days? I've missed you so much," Harry murmured when he was released from the kiss.

"I've missed you too, Harry," Tom whispered back, biting along the edge of Harry's ear. Harry moaned into the intimate embrace. "Dearest Morgana, however shall I make it through four months without claiming you, my precious little serpent?"

Harry, now gently nibbling Tom's neck, answered, "I read about the ritual before bed tonight, Tom, and I was thinking the exact same thing."

And then conversation ceased, as Tom attacked Harry's mouth with intense fervour. Their tongues wrestled for control, but Tom, with his height advantage and greater experience, easily won, and Harry submitted, allowing Tom's tongue to map out the warm cavern of his mouth. Of course, that didn't mean Harry was going to just lie still and let Tom do whatever he wanted. Not breaking the kiss, he thrust his hips up against Tom's, bringing their silk-covered members into sharp contact. Tom obviously liked that, as he moaned deeply into the kiss. So Harry did it again. And again. Not to be outdone, Tom thrust his own hips against Harry's, making Harry cry out in pleasure. Suddenly, even the thin silk of their boxer shorts was too much of a barrier, and Harry frantically reached to pull Tom's down, feeling Tom's hands doing the same to his own, still not breaking their desperate kiss. With the removal of that last barricade, the two bare erections touched. Harry could no longer tell if he was thrusting against Tom or Tom was thrusting against him, but that didn't matter. Each thrust brought a higher level of ecstasy, and just when Harry couldn't take it anymore, Tom's hand reached down and fisted them both together, and at the same instant, they screamed their release into each other's mouths.

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The next morning at breakfast, Hermione was surrounded by an excited cluster of Gryffindor girls. They were passing around a piece of parchment, reading it aloud to each other and exclaiming over various parts. Harry put on a confused look and went to sit down with the other boys, who were trying their best to pretend nothing unusual was happening.

"He says he's long admired you from a distance, and now he wants to take a chance at getting closer! That's so sweet!" cooed one girl.

"And that perfume he got you! That's expensive stuff! Wow, Hermione, he must really like you!" another chimed in.

"Do you have any idea who it could be?" Ginny asked, and that question caused all the other girls to fall silent and look straight at the curly-haired brunette.

Hermione, blushing furiously, managed to stammer out, "I really haven't the faintest idea."

Parvati, with a smirk, squealed out, "I know a way! There's a simple spell you can use to see who sent a letter."

"Really, now, I'm pretty sure anyone who would go to this much trouble would also be sure to block the Writer ID Charm!" Hermione tried to interrupt, but it was too late.

Parvati tapped the parchment with her wand, and said, "Scribere Identitatum!"

Harry had to cover up his smirk, as he had in fact blocked the charm, and put in a little something extra as well.

As soon as Parvati finished saying the spell, she was hit in the face with a flash of purple light. A new sentence appeared at the bottom of the parchment, "Maybe this will help you learn to keep your nose out of other people's business."

Parvati reached up to her face, touching it gently. She screamed and asked Lavender frantically for her mirror. The mirror simply confirmed what her fingers had told her.

She no longer had a nose.

Some of the girls were shrieking in absolute horror, but most of them were obviously trying not to laugh. Finally, a fifth year girl managed to calm the hysterical girl down enough to take her to the hospital wing. The gossip at the Gryffindor table about who the secret admirer could be continued, but no one else attempted any spells to figure it out.

Over at the Slytherin table, most of the students were laughing at the nose-less Gryffindor and moving on with their day. But one lone person kept sending minute glances over to the table, with a tiny, barely detectable frown on their face.

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Thanks again for sticking with me and this story, despite the unforgivably long time between updates! And remember:

For every review you leave, Tom and Harry will donate 5 sickles to the Association for the Salvation of Serpents (which they started, but unfortunately let Hermione name...)