Dumbledore's office led onto a large corridor that was mercifully empty as Harry headed down it, his heart beating rapidly. He couldn't tell if he was shaking more in anger or sorrow as he walked, trying to get as far away from here as possible. He felt an uncomfortable lump appear in his throat, and he struggled to compose himself. He walked all the way up to the seventh floor without meeting anyone, and headed into a deserted classroom there.
The room itself was dim, but the sunshine reflected against the grounds outside poured in from the windows that lined the whole wall to the right. Harry could barely believe it was a summer's day, as he stood with his back to the door, just staring out at the blue sky. He was trying hard not to cry, not to give into this impending reflection on everything that had just happened, but it was like trying to keep a boat afloat by pouring out water one bucket at a time, with no solution to the hole that had been driven through the heart of the frame. His own lungs felt like they were closing in on him as he continued staring out the window. He had been crying too much this year.
He had been so entirely wrong to assume that Dumbledore couldn't say anything that could hurt him, and he had been so entirely wrong to assume that he knew Tom well. He had fallen for Tom's trap, the disillusion every other idiotic student and teacher in this school had fallen for. Even the Death Eaters were smarter than him. Even the Death Eaters knew there was something wrong with Tom, no matter how often Harry overlooked that fact. Tom was a psychopath, and he had never cared about Harry in the slightest.
Harry felt as though his heart was being ripped into pieces, and his legs would no longer support him. He sunk to the floor, his eyes moving away from the windows to stare, unfocused, at the tables in front of him. Tom had never and would never love him. He was just crazy, and interested in how much he could play with Harry's emotions. Every whisper and every touch was meaningless to Tom. Every secret and every smile, every tear Harry had shed, and every flicker of emotion that Tom had displayed was an act. Harry didn't move a muscle as he sat in shock, feeling the unwanted tears running down his face.
He wondered why Tom had even decided to play this game with him. He couldn't think of any reasons why Tom would like him, now that he thought about it. He was neither handsome nor intelligent, his mood was gloomy most of the time, he wasn't funny, and he had only known Tom for roughly nine months – and apparently hadn't even gotten to understand him in that time. Harry couldn't even remember what he was supposed to be good at as he sat on the floor, staring into space. Tom was so brilliant compared to him. It was almost unbelievable. He was gorgeous, clever, charming, amusing and powerful…
But he was also a psychopath.
Harry felt his heart pulse in anger, sorrow, and misery. He hated Dumbledore for telling him this, for putting this idea in his head. He didn't want to accept that Tom was a psychopath, or to comprehend the idea that everything he had shared with Tom was worthless. Even if Harry did – even if Harry could walk away – how could he deal with knowing that all of his emotions had been completely disregarded? All of the desire that had passed between him and Tom, which had felt so real and sincere, had been a fabrication…
Harry wasn't sure whether he could take loosing Tom. He had already lost all of the other people he had known in his life, and Tom was the only person left. He found it very hard to breathe when he thought about it. He almost wished he had never allowed himself to get close to the Heir of Slytherin. He definitely wished he hadn't forgotten his old prejudices, which would have kept him safe from harm and attachment. He was trapped in the world of the living in fear of the people he had lost, and he was alone, and was about to live with the man he should have never stopped hating.
But he loved Tom, he truly did. He had loved every delusion Tom had put him under, every trick Tom had used on him, the promises of love and the pledges of understanding. He had loved every lie about Tom, and he still did. What was he even trying to gain from Harry? What could he have possibly hoped in attaining, when he blatantly didn't care about Harry as a person? Was Harry really just another puzzle for him to solve?
Tom was the only thing that seemed real to Harry, and it was driving him mad to think that all of it had been insignificant. All of those simple words of "I love you" that had filled Harry's heart with joy now made him struggle for breath. His hands were clutching his hair, and his forehead was resting against his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. His body was shaking as he tried to hold himself together. He wanted to scream, to smash every table, chair, cupboard and window in this room to relieve his suffering, but he knew he couldn't just go into outbursts of anger every time he lost or was loosing someone. He focused on breathing properly, as the tears poured from his closed eyes.
He was attempting to steady himself, when his mind turned back to Dumbledore. Oh, how he hated Dumbledore… Even his famous claim that love was the most powerful force in the world had been contradicted now, when he said he believed Harry should leave Tom. If love were more powerful than any branch of magic, Harry wouldn't be crying now. He could never love another person after Tom. There was no one else on this earth that would feel the same, who could compare to the power that drew Harry towards his greatest lover and worst enemy. They were soul mates, and no situation could do anything to change that…
Soul mates… Harry lifted his head slowly, opening his eyes. Dumbledore and Grindelwald hadn't been soul mates… Grindelwald could have been a psychopath like Tom, and Dumbledore could have been madly in love with him, but Dumbledore and Grindelwald didn't share a part of the same soul. Some of the pressure around Harry's lungs seemed to loosen, and he could breath marginally more accurately. There was still a chance that Tom could love him if their connection was powerful enough. There was still a chance that Tom loved him now, if a mix of such dark and light magic could be more powerful than psychopathy.
This was Harry's last hope, and he was desperately clinging onto it now. For the second time today, relief poured through him, making him feel light-headed with exhilaration. He was hardly daring to think about the details of this idea, in case there was a hole in this theory. Tom could still love him… His heart seemed to swell with hope. It was ironic really; that the reason Tom couldn't die is the same reason why Harry loved him, and why Tom was likely to love Harry. He was going to have to wait for a sign, a confirmation on this theory, which would be quite difficult, but he wasn't going to give up on Tom so soon. He would wait years for evidence, if he had to.
But even if Tom loved Harry, Harry would have to deal with the fact that Tom was a psychopath… or a psychopath to other people, at the very least. If Tom loved Harry, he surely wouldn't act psychotic towards him. But could Harry live with that? He didn't really see what other options there could be. But maybe… maybe if he and Tom fell even deeper in love through the years, Harry could try and explain to Tom what he was doing wrong. Maybe Dumbledore was wrong about not being able to change this.
Harry wanted to return to Tom now, to begin seeing whether he was right with these hopes. He stood up; glad to see that he was no longer shaking. He couldn't find any reasons to suggest how this theory was wrong. Tom had even talked about how odd he thought the power of their touch was before Harry had said a word about it, which proved that the effects of their connected souls weren't Harry's imagination, and weren't only experienced by him.
It made sense, somehow, that their souls could make them fall in love… and perhaps fix Tom's psychopathy. Harry was restless as he stood in this dark and deserted classroom, knowing that he couldn't possibly be wrong by this point. He wanted to go and talk to Tom, to see how he was right, but he knew he would need to think of an alibi for why he was gone for so long first…
Having thought of so many lies on the spot over the last few months, Harry found a solution to this after only a few minutes. To be safe, he would need to add in some truth, and that wouldn't be hard. Tom would know all of the important things, whilst being kept in he dark about his psychopathy and so on… his current psychopathy, Harry reminded himself with a smile.
He left the room, heading down the many corridors and staircases that would lead him to the dungeons. He was so full of happiness that he could barely stop himself from smiling as he walked, the sunshine that filtered down suiting his mood perfectly, all of the sudden. He was so relieved that there was a chance to make things right again.
The Common Room was almost deserted when Harry arrived in it, and he found that Tom was nowhere to be seen. He headed for the dormitories instead, hoping Tom hadn't left to find some of the other Death Eaters… Harry was glad when he found Tom lying on his bed, and reading a book when he entered the room. Tom put the book down as soon as he saw Harry, and he sat up.
"Where were you all this time?" he asked, as Harry headed towards him.
"I was still with Dumbledore," Harry replied.
"What did he want?" Tom inquired.
Harry sat down next to Tom, feigning annoyance after a moment of looking at the other Slytherin. "He worked out that we're together," he claimed. "I don't know how he found out. Maybe from that time he saw us holding hands near Easter… He acted like it was some great discovery, even after I denied it over and over again."
"But he believed you when you said it wasn't true?" Tom suggested. He sounded slightly concerned to Harry, and Harry wondered what that meant. Was every emotion Tom displayed a slight lie?
"I was trying to convince him," Harry lied, "I even told him he was delusional and sick, but he didn't buy it."
"What did he say to it all?" Tom asked. "Why did it take you so long to get back here?"
"Well… we sort of got into a fight," Harry said, attempting to sound sheepish, "and I said some things I really shouldn't have…"
"Like what?"
Harry took a deep breath, before saying, "I told him that he didn't understand me, and never would… and I told him that I wasn't him, and you weren't Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert 'fucking' Grindelwald, actually."
Harry didn't know why, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he was testing Tom here. He was keen on seeing Tom's reaction to this situation, keen on seeing whether Tom would get mad at him for being so careless about their secret. It was almost amusing to him, though he felt slightly bad about that.
Tom had been staring at Harry, before his eyes drifted away to gaze into space. He did indeed look annoyed, and Harry waited for him to speak with bated breath.
"I knew Dumbledore would be a problem," he said quietly, his tone deadly. "That old fool never seems capable to just let me be. I don't even know what he has against me…"
Harry wasn't sure what this meant. Tom had chosen to get angry, as Dumbledore said psychopaths do in exchange for other emotions, but he didn't appear to be angry at Harry directly… Harry almost smiled.
Tom looked up sharply, surveying Harry closely. "How could you let him find out?" He asked. His tone was irked, and Harry's heart sank.
"I didn't 'let him find out'," Harry retorted. Suddenly his tests weren't so amusing. "He was so annoying I just… just sort of cracked."
"You should have known he would be annoying," Tom declared. "When isn't Dumbledore annoying? You should have lied through your teeth if that's what it takes to satisfy that ever prying bastard!"
Harry could feel his heart sink even lower, and doubts began to seep back into his mind. His throat was even contorted in worry and sorrow, and he took a minute to overcome his woe. Tom hadn't noticed anything, which made things worse, but he was examining Harry, confused by his pause. "So you're blaming me?" he asked.
Tom didn't answer this directly. He merely looked away, thinking. "I knew Dumbledore would find something out in the end. I just wish we had lasted three more days…"
As Tom stared into space angrily, Harry said, "At least he's obviously homosexual too. He won't tell anyone anything now that he knows what we know about Grindelwald." His voice was a monotone in exchange for showing his actual emotions.
Tom contemplated this for a minute, still not looking at Harry, and some of the anger on his face seemed to disappear. "I suppose this is true…"
Harry waited for him to continue.
"How scared was he?" Tom asked, looking at Harry now.
"Extremely," Harry replied. "He didn't even say a word after it. That's when I left."
"I assume he will never be able to guess how we discovered his secret, what is more," Tom added quietly. "He knows nothing about your past, and who you might have received this information from, even if he works out that I researched his life…"
"So do you think we're safe?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sure… If we're not safe, we are at least equipped to ruin the rest of Dumbledore's life and go into hiding, which is always good to know."
Harry smiled a little.
Tom examined Harry from where he sat. Sighing very lightly, he said, "I wish we didn't have to hide this secret so determinedly…" He reached out a hand to take Harry's own, and Harry felt happiness join and perhaps overthrow his worry. Tom didn't seem that angry with him now…
"I think the world will accept homosexuality one day," Harry remarked, "for sure."
Tom's countenance darkened once more, and he laughed humorously. "There are too many prejudices and other problems in the world for anyone to spare a thought towards this, never mind deal with it. We are too rare to be noticed so soon… yet maybe if we gain enough power…"
Harry had a mental image of the future he knew changing because of his relationship with Tom now. He wondered whether time worked like that… he would only find out through experience, he supposed. The world would certainly be a better place if homosexuality were accepted, amongst a few more bias formalities in society he had grown up with. He would need a lot of power and luck to change such things, though.
"I think there are probably more homosexual people in the world than we know," Harry stated. "Or rather, there are more than we can ever know, while people are so secretive about it. Dumbledore's proof."
Tom only nodded to this, leaving Harry to guess what he was thinking about while he stared down at their interlinked hands. In his will to believe that Tom could feel emotion, Harry wondered what Tom really felt about Dumbledore knowing about them, past the anger he was evidently experiencing. Harry was glad to reflect, once again, that Tom's declination of anger towards him meant he must have felt something – anything – for him emotionally. He wondered if Tom was perhaps worrying about what they would do if their secret got out.
"We probably won't even see Dumbledore again," Harry said softly, still watching Tom.
"Thanks to you, we may not even see the world again," said Tom, a scorning note in his voice.
Harry stared at Tom, and a silence fell. His mind was frozen in shock, as he wondered despairingly whether Tom was joking. Tom was gazing at him now, a hint of irritation in his dark eyes, which was enough to begin shattering Harry's heart again. He had to be joking, Harry told himself firmly, yet not at all convincingly. He was just being paranoid… Tom smiled a little, unable to read Harry, and leant forwards to kiss him.
Harry could barely believe how much he suddenly craved Tom, and he kissed him back passionately. He supposed it must have been the idea of losing him that was making him cherish Tom's every touch. Tom seemed to enjoy his yearning, for their kiss deepened more and more. Tom had to have been joking… though he kept biting Harry's lips harder than usual. Harry was caught between desire and fear, and anxiety was spreading through his body with the help of his hammering heart. He felt his hands shaking slightly, and he tried in vain to steady them.
Tom's hands were sliding along Harry's waist, pulling him closer as Harry continued to struggle with his distraught mind. Tom had been angry with him the whole time, and was just hiding it, like he hid every other charmless emotion. Dumbledore had been right, after all… Harry could feel Tom's rough breath against his own, and Tom's had made their way up his back. He bit Harry's lips and tongue every few seconds lightly, and not so lightly. Tom was a psychopath, and he would never care about Harry even vaguely…
Unable to take this idea, Harry pulled away, ending their kiss abruptly. It felt as if his heart was going to die in agony as he gazed up at the Heir of Slytherin, so he averted his eyes. He didn't want to cry. In fact, he knew he just couldn't, and he wouldn't allow himself to. Tom would wonder why, and any explanation Harry gave wouldn't be nearly good enough as the truth that couldn't be told. If Harry couldn't take what Tom saw as a mere conversation with Dumbledore, Tom would leave him, thinking him too fragile for anything he wished to do in life.
Harry's nails were digging into his flesh as he concentrated on composing himself. He had already cried in front of Tom twice, but seeing the people he had led to death and worrying about Tom's intentions with murder were different than just cracking under Dumbledore's inquiries. Tom probably already thought Harry odd for when he panicked at the idea of them being soul mates. Not that Tom understood tears very much at all… Harry blocked that thought away as he concentrated on explaining his pause.
"You're angry with me," Harry commented quietly, using all of the will within him to look back up at his lover, and to keep his voice from shaking.
"You're surprised?" Tom asked coldly.
Harry's nails were digging even deeper into his skin as he attempted to distract himself from showing any sorrow. He wondered why Tom had to start showing his psychopathic characteristics so soon… but maybe it was just that Harry was only seeing them now. "You could at least tell me," Harry said, annoyed. "It's not going to do any good just bottling up everything you hate about me."
Tom laughed, just as humourlessly as he had before. "The suggestion of 'bottling up' emotion is a mere excuse to view another's true feelings easily. I do not believe that anything less or more comes out of the art of concealing real opinions on matters. Even seeking revenge, or finding a solution to a problem one has does not fully extinguish emotion felt to the situation as a whole."
"Yeah, you'd certainly know a lot about revenge," Harry commented in irritation, thinking about Tom's murders. He was trying to exchange all the sorrow he felt for anger, for that seemed to be the easiest thing to do. He didn't want to think about what Tom could and couldn't feel emotionally.
"Yes," Tom replied, his voice irate, "and you will know this too, when you murder Gellert Grindelwald yourself."
Harry made no comment to this, as he continued fighting back his tears. He was terrified that Tom didn't love him… but he knew too well that crying here would end badly. He barely spared a thought for Grindelwald even at these words, as he tried to accept Tom's tone.
"Do you expect me to seek revenge upon you now, while your mistakes are fresh?" Tom asked. "Do you expect me to act upon my every exasperation merely because you don't want it to get worse, or seem worse later?"
"I just want you to talk to me!" Harry exclaimed. He had spoken in a tone mixed with anger and desolation, and he fell silent because of it. He almost wished he could tell Tom what Dumbledore had really said, but his better judgement overruled this easy excuse to stop withholding his sadness. "I just want you to be honest with me. It's better if we just… just talk about the problem properly."
Harry was trying hard not to remember what Dumbledore had said about lies and concealment of truth as he and Tom stared at each other. Tom seemed to be contemplating this, and Harry watched him determinedly, waiting for any emotion he might show. One thought – perhaps a hopeless optimistic thought – crossed Harry's mind slowly as silence fell. Maybe Tom wasn't any angrier than an average person would be now. Maybe he, Harry, was just worrying too much…
"Won't you just tell me why you're so angry with me, at least?" Harry suggested.
"Shouldn't it be obvious?" Tom asked. "How could you let that old fool find out about us?"
"I've already explained," Harry said. "He was convinced that he was right – there was no way anyone could have changed his mind! There's barely even any use in keeping a secret from Dumbledore. He's even worked out most of the things about you, as you know."
"I was eleven when he suspected me most of all," Tom stated, "and he had access to my mind directly, because of Legilimency. You're older and completely shielded. You should have managed your lies without a struggle!"
Harry could feel the doubts to his hopes for Tom being just as angry as anyone else would press against his lungs at this, but he tried to ignore it. Tom was indeed more annoyed than the average person would be. "It's Dumbledore's fault," Harry nearly spat. "Even you've said he pries into other people's business for no reason. We were just another challenge for him."
"Another challenge he succeeded in winning," Tom added.
"So what's your solution to all of this?" Harry asked, feeling his eyes prickle slightly. "That we split up?"
Harry wouldn't be surprised if he had drawn blood with how much his nails were clawing at the skin on his palm. He stared at Tom, sensing the impending tears he so dreaded. He didn't want to look away from Tom, as he waited for any flicker of emotion to cross his handsome face at these words.
Then, Harry did something he really should have done earlier; he used Occlumency on himself. Every thought and every emotion within his head was suddenly muffled, and he had more control of himself. Even the voice that commentated in his head was silenced. He wondered, very, very quietly, weather this is how some people dealt with their problems. It was the exact same way Harry might hide thoughts from others. Other Occlumens must pause their entire minds when faced with Legilimens. Harry wondered how they managed that so well.
Tom was gazing at him, his expression showing slight concern, which seemed to be the only emotion Harry could ever see in him, besides anger. There was a heavy silence, where Tom contemplated this and Harry concentrated on hiding his thoughts from himself. Then, very quietly, Tom said, "I don't want to lose you."
Some of the shield in Harry's mind broke as he heard this. He was exceedingly glad that Tom had said this… even if it didn't mean anything to the question of psychopathy. "I don't want to lose you either," Harry said. After a slight pause, he took one of Tom's hands in his own.
Tom no longer looked annoyed as he examined Harry. He raised his free hand to touch Harry's face, as Harry so loved him to do. "I suppose I can't blame you for Dumbledore's endless intrusiveness…"
Harry knew that this was pretty much the equivalent of an apology for Tom. "I'm glad you don't blame me," he said truthfully.
Tom smiled very faintly. "I don't truly suppose this will do us harm in the future… Yet we should be cautious now."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "We'll be away from him, which will make that much easier."
Tom nodded, gazing at Harry. His thumb was tracing Harry's lips, before he lent forwards to kiss him softly. He pulled away after only a second, to whisper, "I love you."
Harry struggled with his words for a moment, but he wasn't sure whether this was in happiness or sorrow. "I love you too, Tom… I always will."
