"Sirius." Harry grinned despite himself, at the wide, delighted smile he received from the man. He took a few steps closer, hesitated – only for Sirius to close the gap and tug him into an embrace, arms wrapped tight around him.

Harry couldn't remember the last time someone had been so happy to see him, when they didn't think he was dead and tortured in his absence.

He wondered if this was supposed to be what family felt like; then dismissed it as absurd, like the warmth in his chest. Too soon in their knowing each other. Though he supposed Sirius had known him for a while, to grow so affectionate.

"Hogsmeade weekend?" Sirius checked. "You're not sneaking out, are you? Does anyone know you're here?"

"Hogsmeade weekend," Harry confirmed. "I left Ron and Hermione at Zonko's. Said I'd see them at the Three Broomsticks after I sorted something out. Sirius," he pressed on, with far more important things to consider, taking a step back. "It's Pettigrew. He's at Hogwarts. My friend Ron – his rat-"

"At Hogwarts?" Sirius' whole posture had shifted, to something far more unstable. Something far more like the notorious convict he was reputed to be. There was a wild gleam of murder in his eyes, that was frankly worrying.

But Sirius' thinness was worrying too, and Harry tightened his grip upon alarmingly emaciated arms.

"I thought you'd want to know. But I've got a plan-"

"-Oh, I have no doubt about that." This time it wasn't Sirius who replied, and Harry whipped around on heart-hammering instinct. His wand hit his hand, the stunner lashing out in a split second as he moved.

Tom ducked it all too easily, and sent his wand clattering out of his hand and to the floor of the cave. Harry's eyes widened.

Sirius had transformed, hackles bristling as he took a snarling step forward, to stand protectively between them.

Riddle's lip curled at the sight.
Harry swallowed, and reached out, pressing a warning hand to the scruff of Sirius' neck. His gaze fixed on the wand in the Slytherin Heir's hand.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

"We've done nothing to betray you. You have no reason to punish either of us."

Riddle took another slow step towards him, and Harry wanted desperately to lunge for his own wand in turn. But to do that was like a scream of guilt, and frankly the more Tom thought he had the upper hand here…the more chance there was that he wouldn't lash out.

Sirius growled even harder.

"And yet you felt the need to deceive me and go behind my back?" Tom raised his brows, giving a breathtakingly terrifying sort of smile.

Unlike Tom's normal façade of pleasantness, this smile was all teeth – the bared fangs of a viper just waiting to strike.

Harry refused to let his legs give out and turned jellied. He would have shoved Sirius aside, but he just knew the man would immediately get inbetween him and Tom again, and that would immediately escalate the situation to something worse.

"You seemed busy," Harry began, instead. "I didn't want to trouble you further with something I-"

"My, when did you become such a pretty liar, Harry?"

Harry's mouth clicked shut again. His fists clenched a moment, before he steeled himself once more.

"I learnt from the best. You can hardly lecture me for lies, be they lies or simply things I didn't tell you, considering your own behaviour. You brought him home and let me believe he was just a dog."Harry's voice was quivering with a quiet rage. "You hypocrite."

It took him a moment to even realize that they'd slipped into Parseltongue in the first place...which meant that whatever was at the core of this, was to do with him, and not Sirius. If it was Sirius, Tom wouldn't exclude him by talking in a language that the ex-convict couldn't understand. He pressed on regardless, heart hummingbird fast.

"Sirius is just trying to look out for me," he continued. "He's not a threat to you."

"No?" Tom continued to walk forwards, to the point that one step more and he was in the danger zone of Sirius' jaws. "Are you?"

Harry's insides plunged cold.

"Me?"

"Are you a threat to me, Harry?"

Harry shook his head mutely, and tried to think. Fast. It had been some time since he'd seen Tom like this. The last time he had, there was death involved. He didn't want that here – but if Sirius dared to lunge at Tom, if he got involved, Harry had an awful feeling that there would be.

"You said it yourself, I'm not that stupid," he whispered. "I just want the man who betrayed my parents caught. Pettigrew. It's not about you."

"Oh please. Your parents' murders are intrinsically linked to me," Riddle laughed softly.

"You had no personal hand in it, you were in the diary, you couldn't have-" it suddenly struck him what this could be about. The specifics of the current situation were irrelevant; it was the fact that he'd lied, proven himself capable of deceptions and manipulations. Because if he could do it now, he could do it in the future when Tom did have far more stake in the matter.

Even now…Tom viewed Sirius as a threat. Sirius' existence was a threat. It didn't matter to Tom that Harry wasn't going to leave with his godfather, the mere possibility of it was something Riddle found difficult to bear.

For all of his hedonism and enjoyment day to day after the darkness of the diary, Tom Riddle was a being whose mind operated in the future. In plans and possibilities, ideologies.

You're so scared people will leave you that you would never give them the choice.

He'd said it himself! The playing fields of Hogwarts or the cottage didn't matter, their bargains didn't matter when at the core of it all was the fact that Harry had been desperate to leave. Their whole relationship was built on prisoner and jailor - the fact that he would have done anything to escape the man in front of him.

How many more have to die for the famous Harry Potter?

Sirius collapsed to the floor, stunned; and Harry looked down at his hand. The singe of accidental magic that maybe was only half accidental at all. Tom's gaze dipped to his hand too, and for a moment Harry was hopeful, hopeful that the display of power should prove sufficiently distracting and impressive.

Then Riddle's eyes moved back to his face.

This wasn't going to be that easy.

Harry stepped around Sirius to stand deliberately in the path of the man's wand.

His owl. His dog. His godfather. No.

Recklessly, he caught hold of the wrist of Tom's wand hand, staring up at the incarnation of the young Dark Lord.

"Tom, he is not a threat to you," he said, again, softly. "And nor am I. I care about the collateral, remember? Besides, I'm your…" he swallowed, "your soulmate." That was what the Slytherin Heir had said, wasn't it? "We're tied together. Where the hell else would I go except back to you?"

If Pettigrew was caught, and Sirius became a free man…he was Harry's legal guardian and could challenge for custody. Tom's claim on him outside of their games, was a fragile thing in the eyes of the law, all things considered. Especially if Tom intended to maintain some form of cover as a teacher, however thin.

And yet, how could he allow his godfather, an innocent man, suffer for crimes he hadn't committed?

He kept their gazes locked.

"You seem awfully desperate to save him."

"I don't like people dying because of me," Harry snapped, before forcing himself to try and remain calm. "Tom, please. You don't need to prove anything."

"Don't I?" That awful smile was still present, and fingers gripped his chin painfully tight, tilting his head up further. "I once thought you were smart enough not to lie to me, especially after I expressly warned you on the matter. It makes me what else you're not smart enough to comprehend without further reminder."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

"You can't punish me for something I haven't done yet. For something I might do in the future. That's not fair."

"Of course it's not," Tom said. "Punishment for an act that hasn't been committed yet would be unreasonable. You know I'm not an unreasonable man." Harry allowed himself, warily, to hope. "No, if I did anything to you or your mutt it would be a matter of reinforcement on how to behave." Almost all hope vanished.

Harry's grip squeezed tighter around Tom's wrist.

"Look, let's just go back to the castle, alright? Or the cottage, if you want. We can talk about this properly. You're exhausted, you've been working non-"

"-Are you telling me I'm too unstable to know what to do with you?"

Before, it had just been the smile that was vicious, now the tone was too. Harry suppressed a wince.

"Punishing me, or – or punishing reinforcement or whatever it is you're thinking of, is not going to help," he said. "You know it's not."

"You'd say that regardless," Tom murmured. "To get out of the fact that you are a manipulative, two faced liar."

"So what, I should do as you say and not as you do?" Harry's voice cracked. "For god's sake, make up your mind on what you want out of me. Maybe I shouldn't have lied to you, but how can you expect me not to when you react like this?"

Riddle stared at him, flatly. Harry's jaw clenched.

"Trust is a two way street," he muttered, not sure what else he could say. "I can't stop you killing everyone I get remotely close to outside of you, but it wouldn't do any good if you did. Not if you actually want me to stay on my own free will."

"And there was me thinking we were soulmates and you had nowhere else to go," Tom mocked. Harry glared at him.

"Are we? Are we soulmates or am I still just your prisoner with no rights to speak of?" Harry snapped. "You don't get to have both. It doesn't work like that!" At least not in his definition of soulmates, and what it meant to promise to look after someone. Frankly, he had no idea what Tom's definitions were, and his breathing grew heavier.

He ripped his chin away from Tom's hand, stepping back though he stayed between Riddle's wand and Sirius.

His stomach was tied up in knots.

"Move out of my way," the Slytherin Heir murmured, eventually. Harry's gaze shot up.

"What?"

The Dark Lord made a gesture with his free hand that Harry should step aside. His head was spinning. He rooted his feet even more firmly into place, and pulled Riddle's hand up so the wand was pointing straight at the lightning bolt scar only half hidden by his overgrown fringe.

"Harry."

"I'm not betraying you," he replied stubbornly. "But I'm not just going to step aside and let you kill the people I care about either. If you want to, you'll have to go through me."

Sirius was starting to rouse on the floor now behind him, from his not-all-that-strong stunner.

"And if torture you?" Tom's head tilted. "Or if I take your senses, decide you're too much trouble and just leave you like that in the cottage, making sure that you don't die and can't get into trouble…?"

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the throat. He shrank in on himself.

"I'd wonder what kind of monster you were to do that to me when you know what it's like, and I would never forgive you," he said coldly. Despite his best efforts, his voice went a bit unsteady. But he didn't move. "And I'd tell you, my lord," his eyes grew wild, "to just finish what you started instead of taking the coward's way out in case killing me doesn't go like you expect."

"Harry, just move," Sirius rasped, having transformed behind him, staggering to his feet, putting a hand on his shoulders. "This is my responsibility. I won't see you punished by that bastard for my-"

"Come along, Harry," Tom turned away. "I believe we have a rat to track down."


Tom felt distinctly unsettled now, and it was doing nothing to make him want to slice Black up less.

If he'd known the importance of the mutt, he would have murdered him before he ever introduced him to Harry. As it was, all he could do now was pull the strings of the situation he'd gotten.

He turned slightly to watch Harry pick up his wand, give Black a look and hesitate a second longer, before hurrying after him quickly. Lest he change his mind on his seeming tolerance on the situation.

He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders as the boy reached him, head still turned to see Black stiffen rigid at the sight. A smirk flickered across his lips, before vanishing.

"Go back to Malfoy Manor, Black. I've got a handle on things here. I'm sure Harry will update you with any developments, and at least in my care you won't have to satiate yourself on rats."

Harry pressed further against his side, looking up at him with obviously careful scrutiny.

He took the opportunity to apparate them both.

The living room of the cottage was a comfortably familiar sight, though Harry tensed, all things considered.

"…why are we here?"

Tom could practically hear his racing thoughts, even without the use of Legilimency.

"Put the kettle on, and make us some tea."

He flopped to sprawl on the sofa, gaze still fixed on his young charge. Harry was blank-faced, neutral in that way which showed how desperate he was to affect no-expression at all, to hide his nerves.

The quietness with which he slunk to make the tea only reiterated the point. To the boy's credit, his hand was steady when he handed the cup to him five minutes later. Tom smiled, and patted the sofa next to him.

Harry sat down, fingers white-knuckled around his own drink.

Tom took great glee in letting the silence stretch taut as he blew gently on the hot tea, before taking a sip. Harry looked like he might start twitching at any moment.

"I thought you said we were tracking Pettigrew down." The boy broke the silence eventually, seemingly unable to stand it with the combination of his unfaltering study, and the threats from earlier.

Tom hummed. Said nothing, still, and merely sipped some more of his drink.

So it continued in silence broken only by the clinks of fine china, before Harry snapped again and surged to his feet, slamming his cup down, fists clenched at his side.

"I'll be in my room if you're not going to bloody well doing anything."

"Sit down." His tone remained pleasant, and he even smiled again. Harry swayed on the spot, breathing heavy.

"Stop this, Tom."

"Sit down, Harry."

They stared at each other. Slowly, Harry sank to sit on the other end of the sofa again. Tom finished his tea calmly and without speaking, before eventually setting the cup delicately aside.

He curled his fingers over his wand and twirled it idly, and watched Harry itch towards his own, hands flexing before-too-still in his lap.

"What do you think I should do with you, Harry?"

Harry bit down on his lip, before turning poker-faced again just as quickly.

"I'm sorry I lied."

"That's not what I asked, Harry," he all but sang the words out.

"I don't think you should punish me for the same crimes you commit so frequently that they're your everyday mode of conversation," the boy said stiffly. "It would by hypocritical. Hardly make you a good role model."

"I thought I wasn't a good role model?" he raised his brows once more.

"Well you definitely wouldn't be if you did that."

"And if I asked you to get down on your knees for me now?"

"What?" Harry startled.

"Would you do it?" Tom asked sweetly. "If I asked you to."

"Stop playing with me," Harry hissed. His eyes were starting to get that wild look again.

"It's a simple enough question."

"Are you asking me to?"

"Would you?"

Harry looked away, taking several deep breaths, fingers flexing in his lap again.

"If you're trying to remind me how horrible you can be, you're doing a great job. Not that I was ever in danger of forgetting." The boy's tone was clipped, as he stared across the living room. He seemed to be making an active effort to calm down again.

Tom's thoughts were racing.

After a moment, Harry turned to him again – and edged closer despite all of the odds.

"You like games," Harry muttered. "Let's play truth then." The boy's gaze fixed on him, edged with something awful and desperate. "You think I'd pick Sirius over you, and leave."

He was silent for a few seconds, eyes flickering. The unexpected turn of events threw his mood and plans off completely, his fingers relaxing around his wand. He supposed he should have grown used to Harry surprising him.

"Truth. You would pick Sirius over me, and leave."

"Not truth," Harry said fiercely. "He already bloody well asked me to, when we first met him. I told him no, and that I couldn't leave you. Because if I did, there would be nowhere we could go that you wouldn't hunt as down and slaughter him. Truth?"

Tom's mouth had gone strangely dry, and he hated it. He leaned in.

"Truth. You're mine."

Harry's throat bobbed.

"Truth. If I'm yours, you aren't going to kill anyone else because you feel…threatened. You feel threatened, don't you?"

His head tilted the other way. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so honest a conversation with anyone, or been so plain in his emotions or manipulations.

"Truth."

Harry blinked, after a moment.

"…was that truth you feel threatened or truth you aren't going to kill anyone because you feel threatened? Or both?"

He offered up a smile, but it was somewhat less vicious this time - even if not exactly kind. Harry sagged, rubbing his eyes.

"I would destroy you if you ever dared betray me for real."

Harry's gaze moved across him again.

"Truth," the Gryffindor confirmed quietly.

Oddly, the silence splintered to something unnervingly companionable. Not quite, but…he reached out a hand once more, watching as Harry stiffened like he'd stopped doing for a while. He turned the younger boy's head to face him again, waiting until his gaze was met.

"I am not in the habit of trusting people," he said. "I don't know how to. It is against everything I know. You cannot be betrayed by somebody if you never trusted them in the first place, that's why you're no doubt left wondering why Pettigrew would have betrayed your parents. Trying to find the reasons why."

"If you can't trust someone," Harry murmured, "You can't ever really have their full loyalty either. It's not loyalty without the choice."

"I don't have your loyalty. Truth?"

He'd expected uneasiness, but Harry laughed, the sound startling in the hush of the otherwise empty house.

"Tell me when you figure it out. I am…between loyalties," the Boy Who Lived said, before his expression turned dark. Serious. "But killing or hurting the people I like won't gain you it. Truth. Help me catch Pettigrew, and see Sirius free," Harry persisted. "And then I suppose you'll find out for sure."

He studied the boy for a long moment, resisting the urge to frown.

"I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on you, Harry Potter."

It was never supposed to turn out like this.

Harry snorted, and any sense of maturity or wisdom had gone.

"You're a Dark Lord. What the bloody hell were you expecting?"

Tom rolled his eyes, dropped his gaze and stood up.

"Tell me about Pettigrew."


A/N: Official Chapter 50. I personally thought it was suitably dramatic? Woo! Wow, this fic's come a long way. At least in my opinion.