Harry's POV:

I was in a white room. There was nothing there except me, wearing my grey shirt and jeans, sticking out of the pureness around me. I wasn't even sure it was a room, really; there were no walls or floor, it seemed; it was more of a space. Everywhere I looked was white, so bright it seemed to glow. I took a step, then another. I wasn't sure if I had moved forward, exactly, since nothing seemed to move, but I continued to take steps. My surroundings were beginning to hurt my eyes when I spotted something up ahead that brought relief to my eyes: a shadowy figure.

"Excuse me!" I shouted to it. The figure moved slightly. They were so far away; I could barely tell they had turned to face me. "Do you know where we are?"

The figure moved in an odd way. It wasn't until it had come closer, into better focus, that I realized they were walking towards me. I could make out their silhouette now: slim, on the tall side, well managed hair, poised when they walked so that they seemed to float. They closer the figure came, the more details I could see. It was a male, dark hair, pressed clothes, broad shoulders, ruby eyes. My breath slowed, but my heart raced.

I knew that person.

But he'd broken my heart. He'd treated me like an object. I didn't want to see him now. But there was nowhere to hide, no where to go.

He stopped ten feet away and stared at me, eyes soft like velvet.

"Harry," he said, voice smooth, flowing into my ears fluidly, sending electric shocks straight to my heart. "Come here." He held his arms wide, an open invitation.

I couldn't help myself. I loved him. I needed him. I ran over to him with no inhibitions, as fast as my legs would take me, not holding back when I ran into him, wrapping my arms around his solid body with as much force as I could muster. His warmth began to seep into the cold that had begun to form around me.

"I did not mean what I said," he whispered into my ear. "I am so sorry, Harry. Truly. I never want anything bad to happen to you. I…I love you."

Tears fell from my eyes. The words that came from his mouth were perfect. They were everything I had wanted to hear since I realized my own love for him. And I was here, in his arms. He held me close to him, surrounding me with a safety I'd never before known. I buried my face in his shoulder.

It's too perfect.

I knew it was, but I didn't want to let the moment go. I wrapped my arms tighter around him.

Any moment now…

I felt fingers run through my hair. I pulled away just enough to look at him, his features gentle and full of adoration—eyes bright with happiness, lips curled into a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and the apples of his cheeks perch high on his face. It was a look I had never seen on his face, but one I wished for. He pressed his forehead to mine, and we stared into each other's eyes. We were so close, his two eyes merged into one, filling my vision with cherry red. It was quickly becoming my favorite shade of red. I would give anything to stare at it forever.

The tears continued to run from my cheeks as sorrow began to overtake me. This was everything I ever wanted, and it was that very fact that made me realize it was all a dream. My chest began to shake with sobs.

I pulled away, untangling my arms from his, shaking my head viciously, making the world spin with pure white.

"You're not real," I said to Tom. "You're just a dream. A dream that's going to be ripped away when I wake up! This is all in my head!"

Tom simply stood there, face falling into sobriety.

"Of course it is happening in your head," he said, "but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

And then the pure white around us began to fade into darkness. I reached out for Tom, and he for me, but before we could grab each other, the world went dark.

My eyes finally opened, but it was still dark. The surface under me was hard, and the metallic coldness was seeping through my clothes and into my spine.

I sat up with caution, careful not to hit my head on the handles of the playground's spinning wheel. It wasn't meant to sleep on, but it beat sleeping in the dirt. My eyes burned with dryness, all their natural tears depleted, instead staining my cheeks.

Shivering, I pushed my bare feet of the cold metal and into the dirt, finding it only a slight relief. In only my jeans and shirt, I was left feeling exposed to the biting wind of the late august night. I hadn't considered bringing anything to keep me warm, and the thought now seemed obvious. Summer was ending. It was Autumn, practically. Nights were colder.

I felt around myself for my wand but found only metal.

"Accio wand."

I held out my hand, and my wand flew into it in seconds. I casted a quick warming spell over myself, finding it wore off much too quick. My skin had no chance to defrost, still holding tightly onto the clammy numbness. I was about to cast another but saw no point. The warmth of the spell was artificial and temporary.

I knew what kind of warmth I needed.

I shook my head, my train of thought from earlier continuing right where it left off.

Of all the things he could have done…even an Imperious curse…he chose to use me for his own pleasure…to force it on me, make me want it…that sick bastard…

I hated the thought because something in my head screamed that Tom would never.

Making me practice curses, that voice said, that is something Tom would do. Encouraging me to hate people, maybe. But share everything we shared? Be as vulnerable as he was with me? And then reveal that he was just using me? That he felt nothing for me? He would never.

I scoffed inwardly. And yet here we are, I thought bitterly.

I hated everything he had done since I had arrived at his manor, from giving me a bed to sleep in to decorating that room for me, and everything in between. I hated that he didn't kill me on the spot once I returned to the forest, that he extended an official offer of partnership, and later an unofficial, personal offer of partnership. I hated that he complicated everything, making me see him as a human being rather than some inhuman villain. It was so easy to hate Voldemort, to show his actions and to brand them as obviously evil. But Tom's actions were anything but, it seemed. He had me so completely convinced that he cared about me, that I was not just his ex-enemy, or The Boy-Who-Lived, or whatever anyone else sees when they look at me. He made me feel like Harry Potter was just my name. And that was probably what I hated most.

And loved.

I couldn't help but love him. The more I thought about hating him, the more I remembered the little things that made me love him: the way his perfect hair would fall out of place, the way he could take my breath with every kiss, the soft look in his eyes reserved for me, how he would ask for permission, and wait for me to arrive before eating meals. He could be so kind when he wanted to be. It was something he prevented others from seeing for fear that they would mistake it for weakness.

Maybe it was.

But none of that mattered anymore. I couldn't help him. I couldn't help the world from him. I couldn't even help myself. If Tom was gone and only Voldemort remained, or if they were truly the same person all along, then I wanted nothing more to do with the world. My life purpose was over, I decided.

I'm so sorry, Mum, I thought, my eyes looking up to the darkened sky above me. I know you sacrificed your life to save me, but I failed. This is it. I'm not strong enough, even with your protection. I don't deserve it anyway. My eyes burned more, a request for tears to cry.

I shivered again. Slowly, I stood, hoping my blood would move around more, heat me up. I couldn't freeze to death.

Not yet. I had something to finish, first. I just had to work up the nerve, and the body warmth, to do it.

3rd Person POV:

Ron arrived at the Burrow, figuring everyone would be heading off to sleep, but knowing it wouldn't take much to convince everyone to wake up and help search. He ran through the field and into the house, immediately finding himself caught off guard by the whole family sitting in the living room.

"What's everyone doing up?" he asked in confusion.

Mrs. Weasley stood up. "We were worried! You and Hermione just left! No note! No one wanted to sleep until you came back. Is everything alright?"

Ron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Harry's gone missing."

Mrs. Weasley gasped. Everyone else's eyes widened.

"I've come here to search," Ron continued. "Has anyone seen him?"

Everyone shook their head and glanced around the room at the others.

"Alright, then. We need to spread out and search everywhere here. He would most likely be outside, but someone should check the house, too, just in case."

At once, everyone stood and began to bustle about. Ron led the small crowd through the doors and out to the fields, where everyone (except Mrs. Weasley, who checked the house) began milling through the tall grasses, searching for signs of Harry. Without much coordination, they seemed to split into different areas.

Fred and George finished their area first. "We're going to check around the shed!" they announced in unison to the family.

One twin went inside and the other walked about the outside. From within, Fred exclaimed, "Oi!"

George rushed back to the door. "Did you find him?"

Fred stepped out the door, a large tin jar in his hands. "No, but I found out where our gunpowder went. We've been looking for this for weeks!"

George shook his head. "But we've been in there while it's been gone. Where was it?"

"In the corner, just behind the box we keep the balls in," Fred answered.

Ginny walked by with a smirk on her face. "Next time, you both should think twice before you put fireworks in my porridge."

Both twins shook their heads.

"Unbelieveable," Fred said.

"Absolutely no appreciation for comedy," George agreed.

"I almost put some in your underwear drawer," Ginny said, eyes scanning over the horizon distractedly. "I thought better of it. Was going to put some in your sock drawer tomorrow."

"Anything?" Ron called out.

"Nothing over here," Percy said from the other side of the house. "I've looked twice, now."

"Nothing here," Bill said.

"Haven't seen a thing," Mr. Weasley said. "Not even a mouse."

"Not 'ere," said Fleur.

Ron sighed. "I've got nothing, either."

Everyone gathered and went to the house, where Mrs. Weasley had just finished checking the house.

"I've found nothing but a few dirty socks under the beds," she announced.

Ron nodded solemnly. "How long has it been since we've started looking?"

"Forty minutes?" Percy considered, looking at his watch. "Forty-seven minutes."

"Alright," he looked around the room. "Well, I should go check in to see if the others found anything. Keep your eyes open. If he shows up, let me know. Patronus charms, alright? Be back late, Mum."

Ron gave her a hug, which she refused to let end.

"Be safe," she said.

"I'll do my best." Ron jogged back out to the fields and disapperated.

Hermione had arrived at the Grimmauld Place not seconds after Ron had arrived at the Burrow. She had taken two steps inside, her wand at the ready, when Kreacher appeared.

"What you be needing?" Filthy mudblood, he muttered under his breath.

"Have you seen Harry Potter here?" she asked, all-too aware of the dirty looks she was receiving.

He crinkled his long nose. "Kreacher has now seen Harry Potter in ages."

Hermione sighed. "Alright. Thank you, Kreacher. I'm going to look around and see if I find him. Could you help me?"

"Kreacher would know if Harry Potter was here."

Hermione nodded once. "Alright. I'll give it a look-over, just to be sure."

She walked around the house elf and into the house. She stepped into the dining room, which led into the kitchen. Pulling out her wand, she cast "Homenum Revlio." Nothing happened, and so she moved on, heading up the stairs. She repeated the spell in several other rooms, getting the same result. She had one room left to check when she found Kreacher in her path once more.

"Kreacher already told ya. Master Harry Potter is not here."

"Yes, I know. But I'm just checking to make sure he isn't hiding somewhere." She was trying to be nice (elves had rights, too), but this was an important matter. She tried stepping around the elf once more, but found he blocked her path.

"Please, Kreacher. I'm just looking. I'll leave as soon as I look."

"Harry Potter is not here," he repeated.

Hermione was losing hope. "I'm really sorry for this, Kreacher. Petrificus Totalus." Her spell his Kreacher, and he froze in place.

Shaking her head at herself, she hurried into the last room, casting the spell and looking around, for good measure. Once she finished, she left the room and quickly released the bind on the elf.

Kreacher started muttering to himself (something about blood that Hermione didn't catch). She looked to the clock. It was a quarter till. She needed to get back to Hogwarts. She took a moment to rub at her forehead, wrinkled from all the worry she carried there, and then disapperated.

After dropping off Tom, Snape had arrived back at Hogwarts. It was quite a large school; this he knew. It would take everyone on the grounds to be able to search the whole place in an hour. He had walked through the doors and made the first turn towards his office when he saw McGonagall and Flitwick headed his way.

"Good evening, Severus," McGonagall greeted. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I was about to ask you both the same question, but I have something much more urgent," he watched as their pleasant expressions sobered. "Harry Potter has gone missing. He may be hiding somewhere in the school. Please alert others within your house and then begin to search. Keep me informed."

They quickly nodded and hurried off, sending patronuses as he did. Snape sent off one to Hagrid, then another to Sprout and Slughorn for them to inform their houses and then search.

He continued walking but thought better of going to his office.

Harry will not be hiding there. I need to be searching.

He changed course for the Room of Requirement. It was the one place that would hide him, rather than him hide there.

Snape arrived at the wall and waited. Many long moments passed. He paced before the wall, concentrating immensely on finding a place to hide. After a bit, a door appeared. Snape walked through the doors, finding a room filled to the brim with an eccentric assortment of items, like an cluttered attic on steroids. He raised his wand.

"Homenum Revelio."

When nothing happened, he sighed.

Why could Potter not pick a clever place to hide?

Snape turned and left the room, already considering more obvious hiding places. He arrived at Gryffindor Tower. The portrait asked for the password, which he gave. The portrait swung open, revealing McGonagall and a few of the other professors gathered in the common room.

She turned her attention to him, eyes not filled with anything near success.

"We haven't found anything, Severus. Not a thread out of line. I've even checked the Quidditch field. Rubeus is checking the forest as we speak. Filius took the Great Hall. Helga looked through the kitchens. Horace checked the Astronomy Tower. There are still empty classrooms to check, and other miscellaneous rooms. Are we certain he's hiding at Hogwarts?"

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line. "No, we are not."

McGonagall let out a breath of exasperation before nodding. "Well, we shall keep searching." She turned to the others. "Have we checked the girl's lavatory on the second floor? The Chamber? The secret passageways? Hogsmead?"

"Sybil and Aurora were checking the second floor, I believe," one said.

"Do we have a map of the tunnels?" another asked.

The group began to discuss.

McGonagall turned back to Snape, who waved his hand in dismissal. "Inform me if you find him," he called out as he stepped back through the portrait hole.

So much time had passed, but he'd hardly done any searching, it seemed.

I waited so long for that infernal door to appear…

He mentally cursed the wasted time, especially since the effort was fruitless. It was already nearing an hour since they had split up. He needed to get back to the others. He had not received any messages, so he assumed no one had found him yet. It was a frustrating prospect, that a boy could hide so easily from those who know him best.

Still, he wished Harry would be found. He knew he was not in a good situation. Every second felt more crucial than the last. He hoped Harry would not do anything irrational but was almost certain that the clock was ticking away until the moment he did. His feet quickened their pace, carrying him to the front of Hogwarts with the utmost urgency.

They were on a timer, and he had to make sure that time did not run out.

Tom Riddle's POV:

I stared at Harry's muggle house for a bit longer before I finally walked up to the door. It was locked, but I unlocked it with ease, even in my state.

The plain white door swung open to reveal the rather small inside. It was incredibly plain, covered in horribly patterned wallpaper and devoid of all furniture. Each room held nothing but air and the distant smell of stale sweets.

I walked into the kitchen and found that it was smaller than my closet. The fridge was the only appliance missing, the space it left unforgivably large. It had obviously been large. I wondered, for a moment, if Harry's relatives had been fond of food.

I left the kitchen in a few steps, making my way down the hallway. I looked up to find the stairs, and then to my left there was a door. Like a ghost, Harry's words returned to me.

"Small room. Yeah. My room was a cupboard under the stairs. This is like a mansion compared to that…"

I opened the door and peered inside. The cupboard hardly could have comfortably fit a few coats, let alone a child. And the ceiling of it slanted up following the stairs, meaning one end one only had to couch halfway to stand up, but the other required one to be crouched on the floor to fit under.

How did he spend so many years in such a small place?

Of course, I answered my own question before I had even finished asking it: he had no choice.

It didn't matter how much he had wanted to leave, or how badly they treated him. This had been his residence, and some people thought that meant the same thing as home. It was an awfully familiar situation.

I closed the door and continued on, making my way up the stairs. Many of the steps were worn in the middle, the most worn revealing themselves by creaking under my weight.

Surely this house is not that old?

At the top of the stairs, I could see there were three somewhat-small bedrooms.

One for his guardians. There are still two others. Why could Harry not stay in one of those? Even if his guardians had other children, surely sharing rooms was not out of the question…

Stepping into the first bedroom, I found it a horrible mess, even without anything in it. The carpet was stained throughout. The wall was marked and damaged. Someone had terribly abused the room.

And it smells like… I sniffed the air. Ham? I shook my head. Disgusting.

I went to the next room. There was a bare window and a hook left in the wall. The hook was not large enough to hold anything like a painting, so I wondered what purpose it could possibly have had. I went over to pull on it and test its strength—its looks may have been deceiving—only to pull it from the wall with ease, leaving a sticky substance behind. The wall was undamaged.

If it was so easy to remove, why did they not take it off when they left?

I dropped the hook and moved onto the next room. It was just as damaged at the first, but many of the stains on the carpet were a faded, deep red, like wine. It was the largest of the rooms, and yet did not appear to have been occupied by a responsible, or careful, person.

These muggles could not care for anything if their life depended on it. I curled up my lips in disgust. Truly revolting that they willingly gave these people a child to care for.

My mind began to buzz, then. It was such an odd feeling, like there was adrenaline collecting. It made my emptiness feel whole once more, like I had found the key to a room long locked up.

Harry is here.

I froze where I stood.

He will find me. Then what?

I considered that maybe he would run again. I could not let him. I needed time to explain myself, to let everyone know that he was alright. I needed to know where he was, and to never again feel so alone in my own mind.

The door creaked open downstairs followed by footsteps.

"Bloody fucking hell," a hoarse voice muttered. It was definitely Harry.

I took a step backward, hoping to get further back into the room and give myself time to send off a message to the others before I was found. The floor creaked underneath my weight, and I froze once more.

"Who's there?" Harry called from downstairs, tone tight with anticipation.

I shut my eyes and rushed into a happy thought.

Harry and I kissing on the hills. The grass around us is green. The air smells like…grass…and Harry.

It was hardly worthy, but it had to do.

'Expecto Patronum,' I whispered. A wisp of light came from my wand, not fully formed in the slightest, but shot off, taking my message with it.

"I know someone else is here. Show yourself!" Harry yelled.

I did not dare move. I wanted to go to him, to surrender to him and explain myself, but in that moment, I feared what he would say, what he would do. I considered, for a moment, that he would look at me with hatred, with disdain. I could not bear it. Not from his eyes.

"Homenum Revelio." A few seconds of silence passed. "I know you're there! I saw you! Show yourself!"

With some hesitation, I took a step forward, and then another. Then, my feet were carrying me, not quickly, but with purpose. I descended the stairs and down the hallway to find Harry standing in the middle of the empty living room, a thin shadow amongst much fuller ones. In the sparse light from the barely erupting day, I could just make out the mess of his hair, the paleness of his skin, and the dark circles that had resurfaced under his cat-like green eyes. When our eyes met, Harry's expression of anger drained into betrayal.

I put up both of my hands, palms out, at shoulder height, hoping to show him I meant no harm.

"Harry, I-"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

I was hit with the spell, freezing in place in an instant.

Harry's face was fierce, but his eyes were full of sorrow. "I don't know why you're here, but I don't care." His voice was low and dangerous, like Voldemort's when he was angry, or murderous. "You know…you put me through hell in many ways…but this was new. You made me like it. You…" he clenched his fists. "This is worse. And I…I can't believe you actually thought to do it when it would have been so much easier just to kill me. But…" he unclenched his fists and looked around the room. "It's done. I'm done. I…came here hoping to find my uncle, but…I guess I can't even do that right."

He was quiet for a long moment, the whites of his eyes growing red with irritation. He rubbed at them but seemed to find no relief.

"Can I ask you a favor? It's just up your alley. I need you to find a man, muggle, named Vernon Dursley. His wife is named Petunia, and they have a son named Dudley. Find that man…" he shut his eyes, tightly. "…and kill him." He shifted his grip on his wand. 'Please,' he whispered.

He was silent.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Well think something!" he yelled, accusing.

I pushed once against the barrier at the back of my mind with all my might, waiting a moment to see if it would move. It would not budge.

Harry let go of a sound that was half a laugh, half a cry.

"I don't even get your thoughts anymore? Am I not good enough for them? Or was that part of the plan to make me think I loved you? You get into my mind, and it's all easy after that, isn't it?" He shook his head. "Merlin… I still love you. Or, I love who I thought you were. Does that person even exist? Did he ever exist? Or was he all some act? Some ploy to seduce me for whatever sick game you wanted to play…"

His hands ran up to his head and pushed against it, as if he were in pain.

"I was so stupid!"

He let out a grunt of frustration. Then his hands relaxed, one going to his side and the other pointing his wand at me.

"I would let you watch, but you'd probably like that, wouldn't you? You've always wanted to watch the light leave my eyes."

Harry…no! I continued to claw at the barrier in my mind, desperate, not bothering to check for any change in the level of protection. Harry!

A small flash of light flew from the tip of his wand, hitting me and knocking me onto my back. I could only see the ceiling and the top of the railing of the stairs.

You can't do this! Please! Give me time to explain!

"How does it feel now? You can't see, but you'll know."

Harry, you can't do this.

Harry scoffed. "Sure I can."

There was a bright flash of light in the dim house, blinding my forcibly opened eyes. He cried out, then, and the sound rang in my ears like a bell. One by one, my senses turned off, filled with nothing but the sound of Harry's cry and the spots that danced on my vision.

Please…I'm sorry.