Part Two

.

I got it bad, bad, oh

I see you in my sleep

And I want you mad, madly

Come running after me

.

—Dream, Tessa Violet.

Morning dawned slowly considering the pitiful amount of sleep that Harry had gotten. Awareness returned in a similar way, pins and needles pricking his arms as he reacquainted himself with the world of the waking.

It took far too long for Harry to realize where he was—namely, that he was not in his own bed—and that he was no longer resting purely on the right half of Tom Riddle's bed.

At some point during the night, he had migrated to the middle, drawn towards the body next to his. He was now half-draped across Tom's chest, his face squashed against the other boy's shoulder, their legs tangled together under the sheets.

The gradual rise and fall of Tom's chest beneath Harry's shoulder was familiar. Harry knew the pattern of Tom's breathing well enough to know that Tom was awake, or nearly awake, and therefore able to recognize what was going on.

Harry was still sleepy, but he forced himself to focus on the panic building in his gut. What should he do? Pretend like nothing had happened? What did Tom want him to do?

This was a mess, Harry thought dizzily. It was an enormous mess. He shouldn't have these feelings for Tom, let alone a Tom that—that wasn't even his Tom.

A hand settled lightly against the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair. Harry's breath caught in his throat, a soft gasp that he fought hard to stifle.

"Good morning," said Tom, and he sounded... he sounded almost shy, like he was unsure how his greeting would be taken.

"G-good morning," Harry mumbled in return. He would have liked to pull away, but Tom continued to pet his hair as if it was normal, waking up next to each other like this, and so Harry fell silent and enjoyed the light scratch of Tom's fingernails over his scalp, soothing and pleasurable all at once.

"Did you sleep well?" Tom asked, almost as an afterthought. His hand stilled, then drifted down to rest on the small of Harry's back.

"I guess." Harry paused. "Could have used a few more hours, probably." Now that he was properly awake, Tom's arm around him felt uncomfortably heavy. Slowly, Harry extricated himself and sat up. "Um, we should probably head down for breakfast, right?"

"Breakfast, yes," Tom repeated. He sat up and watched as Harry slid out of the bed and stuffed his bare feet back into his shoes. "Snape will likely blame me if we're late."

"Which is weird," Harry felt compelled to point out. "Snape is supposed to hate me, not you."

"Perhaps." Tom offered a half smile. "Are you going down in your pyjamas, then?"

Harry shrugged and averted his gaze. "I mean, it's not like I have a choice." He wouldn't be the first student to trudge down to the Great Hall in their pyjamas. But maybe he and Tom could ask to take breakfast in the common room after today?

"I told you," Tom said, "I'll take care of everything. Wait here, okay?" He came around to Harry's side of the bed and touched Harry's forearm gently, his dark eyes flickering to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry wasn't sure what Tom wanted. "Okay, I'll wait here."

Tom bit his lip and swayed slightly, like he wanted to get closer. Only he didn't, he pulled away, leaving Harry more confused than before, and left the room.

Harry retrieved his glasses, put them on, then sat back down on the bed. Too much had happened between last night and this morning. He could barely think straight.

It did not help that this Tom was so—so attentive. Kept touching him. Harry felt his stomach twist with unwanted nerves. His Tom was nothing like this Tom and it was jarring.

Before today, Harry had never imagined waking up in the same bed as Tom, but now it was all he could think about. Had he always felt this way about his best friend? That seemed absurd, and yet…

Tom came back into the room with an armful of clothes. He set them down at the foot of the bed, a pleased smile curling the corners of his mouth. "See?" Tom said. "All sorted. I can get you anything you need, Harry."

Harry examined the clothes. They were Gryffindor robes. "Where did you get these from?"

"I had to go down to the common room to summon the House Elves," Tom said. "They often have spare sets of Hogwarts uniforms lying around for emergency cases." Then his eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, "And I remembered to ask for socks."

"Ha, ha," Harry said dryly. "Thank you, though. Really." He gave the robes a poke. "Maybe things will feel less weird once I'm dressed in regular clothes."

The laughter faded from Tom's eyes. "I hope so. I can't imagine how terrifying this must be for you."

"It is a bit," Harry admitted. "But it's not as bad as it could be, I guess?" Though truthfully, he didn't know how, exactly, things could get any worse.

"I should hope not," Tom said jokingly. "I'm doing my best here, after all."

Harry cracked a smile. "Yeah. Um, why don't I go get dressed in the bathroom? And you can get dressed here..." He trailed off. It felt odd to change in the same room as Tom, let alone this Tom from a different world. But then again, they'd never shared a bed before this world, either.

"Sure," Tom agreed. He stepped over to his trunk to retrieve his own clothes, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation.

Harry fled for the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face and ditching his pyjamas, he felt more composed and in control of himself. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, however, unnerved him. He did not think he would be able to look at mirrors the same way for a while.

"Harry? Are you almost done? I'd like to wash up."

"Yeah," Harry called back. "One second!"

Harry folded his pyjamas up and re-entered the dorm room, ready to ask if Tom thought Snape had made any progress.

Except Tom was standing next to the bed wearing nothing but his pants. Harry promptly felt any words he might have prepared die a painful death in his throat.

"Oh, good," Tom said, appraising Harry's clothes with a smile on his lips. "They fit."

Harry kept his eyes glued to Tom's face and his mouth firmly shut. "Yep," Harry said.

Tom lifted the bundle of clothes in his arms. "I'll be back soon."

Harry had to dodge out of the way as Tom came walking towards the bathroom entrance. Not because Tom was moving particularly fast, but because Harry had been too frozen in place to pick his feet up off the floor.

It was just Tom, he told himself. Just Tom... without a shirt. Or trousers. Harry was being weird. He was being weird because they'd slept together. Slept. Just sleeping.

When Tom came back into the dorm room, Harry was once again composed. As composed as he could be given the circumstances.

"So we'll get breakfast," Harry said carefully, "and then we'll go check on the mirror." His Tom had to have seen his note and left a response by now.

"Sounds perfect."

They left for the Great Hall. The hallways were curiously empty, and when they passed through the large oaken doors, Harry was surprised to see that all the house tables were also empty. Not only that, but the only teacher at the Head Table was Snape.

"Good morning," Snape called out to them once they were close enough to hear without him needing to shout.

"Good morning," Harry said. He glanced around the deserted hall. "Where is everyone?"

"Home for the holidays," Tom answered blithely. "You know how it is."

Harry did know... but he also didn't. He and Tom sat down at the end of the Slytherin table closest to Snape. Food appeared before them immediately, plates and plates of regular breakfast offerings. Harry piled a few things onto his dish, feeling uneasy and not very hungry.

Tom frowned at him. "You should eat more, Harry."

Harry looked at Tom's plate, which was full. "I'm not that hungry," he said honestly.

"You'll need your strength," Tom said after a moment, but he did not push the matter further.

Harry poked at his plate and pretended to be overly-interested in his food. He did eat a few bites, and the food was very good, but he found he was too nervous to stomach more than half of what he'd taken.

By the time he thought to look up again, Tom's plate was empty and so was Snape's. Harry set his utensils down and cleared his throat. "Should we go check on the mirror?" he asked. He was anxious to see his Tom again.

"Of course," Tom agreed. He set his napkin on the table, causing all the food to vanish. "Let's go."

Snape followed them out into the main hall. "I have singled out some research books that may help," he told them. "I will be in my office for the rest of the day reading should you have any questions."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said respectfully, feeling utterly out of sorts as he did so. "I hope it's not too much trouble."

"It is no trouble," Snape assured him, smiling, and again Harry was struck by the surreality of the situation. "I suggest you take care around the mirror, Harry. Touching it again may cause more problems."

"I won't," Harry agreed. "I'll be careful."

"I shall see you both at supper," Snape said, narrowing his eyes at Tom. "Do not be late. I am not above assigning detention."

"Yes, sir," Tom said, sounding contrite.

"We'll be on time," Harry promised. "And I'll let you know if my Tom has any important information to share, professor."

Snape walked off, cloak billowing like usual, leaving Tom and Harry alone in the hall. The sight of Snape departing like the irate dungeon bat Harry knew him to be was oddly comforting.

Tom held out his hand. Now it was daytime, the gesture felt more serious. Still, it would be rude of Harry to turn down the offer now.

Harry slipped his hand into Tom's and let Tom guide them back towards the unused classroom.

"So," Harry asked while they walked, "do you have a Harry here as well?"

Tom was quiet for so long that Harry wondered if he'd touched upon a sore spot of some kind by mistake. "There isn't a Harry in this world," he said softly, his eyes drifting to gaze blankly at the wall.

Seeing the closed-off expression on Tom's face, Harry regretted asking at all. "I'm sorry," he said. "You don't have to explain if you don't want to."

Tom forced a smile. "It's alright."

When they arrived at the unused classroom, Harry pulled away from Tom and reached for the door. Tom beat him to it, however, and shoved it open the rest of the way with his longer arms.

"You first," Tom said with a grin.

Harry snorted and ducked under Tom's arm to enter the classroom. Everything was the same as before, only now the space was drenched in light from the tall glass windows.

Harry made a beeline for the mirror. When he saw there was no note, he nearly panicked before remembering that he had to position himself properly in order to see the reflection correctly.

After centering himself, Harry saw that his Tom had indeed left a note plastered to the mirror, right above Harry's own note.

In the reflection, Tom was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books. His clothes were rumpled and he did not look as if he had spent the night in a bed.

The note on the glass read 'Working on getting you out'.

Harry felt horrifically guilty. He stepped closer and knelt down on the floor in front of the mirror. He wished he could rap on the mirror to get Tom's attention, but he had promised Snape—Nice Snape?—that he would leave the mirror alone.

A few seconds later, though, his Tom glanced up and squinted at the glass. His eyes widened and he dropped his book to the side in favour of scrambling forward. Tom pressed his hands against the mirror and mouthed words that Harry tried very hard to understand.

Harry tore his previous note off of the mirror and turned around. "Do you have a pen? Or a quill?"

"One moment." Other Tom rummaged through the pockets of his robes and retrieved a self-inking quill. "Here."

Harry scribbled out a message to say he was okay and that this world's Snape was looking into solving the problem. Then he held it up for Tom to read.

Tom's brows pulled together as he read the note. He ripped his own piece of parchment off and wrote his own response on the other side.

'Who else is there?'

Harry frowned. "Tom?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the mirror. "Is there anyone else in the castle?"

"No," Tom said after a moment. "Everyone else has gone home for the holidays, Harry. Why do you ask?"

"Tom wants to know, that's all." Harry wrote down the answer— 'No one else' —and held it up to the glass.

"Has he made any progress? This other me?"

"Hold on. He's writing." Harry watched as Tom rummaged through his book bag for a larger piece of parchment to write his message on.

Tom dashed off another message, a much longer one. When he was done, he read it over before holding it up for Harry to see.

'This mirror is meant to show your heart's true desire. It should not be able to take you anywhere. Be careful.'

Since when did anything that magic could do make any sense? Harry sighed. He did not know what his heart's true desire was meant to be, but it certainly should not have involved him being trapped in another world with Nice Snape as the only other human being in the castle.

Harry wrote back, 'Okay, I will. Do you know how to bring me back yet?'

Tom shook his head.

Harry stifled his disappointment. Tom was trying his best, Harry did not doubt that. He scrawled out another message saying so and held it up.

Tom's lips had flattened out, but he nodded grimly and shuffled backward to grab a new book to read.

"Harry? What did he say?"

Oh, that was right. Harry had forgotten that the Other Tom was still in the room with him. "He doesn't know," Harry said. "But he's working on it."

"I doubt he'll find an answer before Professor Snape does," Tom said sympathetically. "I know I would be hard pressed to do so if I were him."

"He might," Harry said absently, still fixated on the sight of his best friend on the other side of the mirror. "He's the top of our class."

"So am I. But this is old, dangerous magic, Harry. Perhaps you should tell him to put it off for now. It would be terrible if something happened to him because he didn't know what he was dealing with."

Harry tore his eyes away from the glass. "You think so?" he asked. The mirror did not seem hostile aside from trapping him here.

Other Tom knelt down next to him and pressed a hand to his back, right between his shoulder blades. "I think that anything is possible and we can never be too careful."

Harry had to admit that this made some sense. He wrote out another note and waved it back and forth until he got Tom's attention.

When Tom looked up, Harry pointed sharply at his message to indicate the importance of it. Tom scanned the messy line of Harry's handwriting, and then his eyes narrowed. He scratched out a new note and smacked it to the glass.

'Don't be stupid. I can handle myself.'

Harry let out a huff. "He's not going to listen to me," he told Other Tom. "We better hope that Snape figures it out before he decides to try something on his own."

"Let's hope," Other Tom echoed. He rocked back on his heels and sat down on the stone floor. "Will we be here all day, then?"

Harry thought about that. "I mean, you don't have to stay if you don't want to." Harry kind of wanted to stay and make sure Tom didn't try anything especially idiotic.

"I don't mind. I like spending time with you."

Harry jerked his gaze back to the mirror. "I like spending time with you, too," he said awkwardly. But he did want to go home.

Other Tom hummed. "This Hogwarts must be exactly like yours, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Harry said after a pause.

"And we have the same meals, the same uniforms."

Harry glanced down at his Gryffindor robes. Just like his own, right down to the lion patch sewn onto the breast. "Yeah."

Other Tom shuffled a little closer. "And you have me here, too."

Harry nodded uneasily. "Yeah."

"So really," Other Tom finished, his hand settling lightly on the nape of Harry's neck, "it's quite similar. In fact, from what you've told me, this other version of me isn't very nice to you. He doesn't listen to you or respect your opinions. Much like the Severus Snape of your world."

"Tom's just like that," Harry said defensively. "He doesn't mean anything by it."

"Does he ever tell you how much he appreciates you?" Other Tom asked. "How much you matter to him? Because I do, Harry. I appreciate you very much."

Harry frowned. In the mirror, Tom was still reading, unaware of what was going on. Harry could not see Other Tom reflected in the mirror at all, but he supposed that the mirror could only show one thing at a time.

"Tom and I aren't like that," Harry said at last. "We're friends."

Tom never held the door for him or offered to hold his hand but that was because they were just friends. Harry had never given thought to him and Tom in a romantic context. They had been friends for years and more than half of that time had been spent with Tom driving him up the wall.

"But wouldn't you like to be more than that?" Other Tom breathed softly. "You like him, don't you? You like me."

Did he like Tom? Harry stared at his reflection, at Tom. Tom was his best friend. They did everything together. Tom had once said that Harry was the only person he could put up with on a regular basis, which was the closest he'd gotten to acknowledging any sort of compatibility between them.

"If you stay," Other Tom added softly, shifting forward so that his chest came into contact with Harry's shoulder, "then I can give you what you want. The two of you are friends, as you said." He dipped his head so that his words skimmed the shell of Harry's ear. "But I can give you everything he will never be able to give you. Intimacy. Affection. Love."

It sounded fine and well, if Harry discarded the rest of it. It sounded like just the sort of thing he would agree to if he cared about Tom loving him more than he cared about Tom simply existing, flawed and human and real.

"But you're not my Tom," Harry said, turning his head to look Other Tom in the eye.

"I could be, if you gave me the chance. I could be everything you ever dreamed of."

"Or he could be," Harry said, just as firmly, "if I gave him the chance."

"You belong here, Harry. With me." Other Tom's grip on his neck tightened. It felt like sharp talons were digging into Harry's skin. "What would you like? I can give it to you." His voice was so low it sounded like hissing.

The drastic shift in tone was worrisome. Harry's spine stiffened with dread. He felt very uneasy, like ants were crawling on him, and he knew, somehow, that the boy pressed against him was not Tom. Was nothing like Tom at all. But what was he?

"I could make it good for you, Harry, so very good," Other Tom crooned. His eyes flashed crimson, the colour so vibrant that his skin appeared sallow, almost ghostly in comparison. "Your friends, they can live here with us. Your favourite professors. Your parents, if you like."

"My parents?"

"I can create them just as I created this world for you. For us." Other Tom ran a gentle hand through Harry's hair, fingers threading through.

"This world…" Harry trailed off. This world with no people other than this Tom and a strange, agreeable version of Snape. This mirror meant to show him his heart's true desire.

"Everything you want if you give yourself to me. Will you give yourself to me?"

"I need..." Harry forced himself to swallow and lower his gaze. "I need time to think. Can I have some time to think about it?"

Other Tom went still for a second, then withdrew entirely. "Of course. Take all the time you need, my sweet. I will be here waiting for you." He swayed forward a final time and placed a delicate kiss on Harry's cheek.

Harry did not release his breath until Other Tom pulled away. He waited for Other Tom to retreat to his previous position a pace away from the mirror, then allowed some of the tension to seep out of him.

It was not safe here. Harry's wand was in the pocket of his robes, but it would be impossible to grab it without Other Tom noticing. He had the feeling that if he tried anything rash, he would regret it. But what else could he do? There was no one here to help him. His Tom was locked away on the other side of the glass.

"Will we still be here all day?" Other Tom asked again, sounding bored.

Harry figured Other Tom would not like it if the answer was 'yes'. "I don't know," he said, willing his Tom to glance up and look at him. "I want to see if he's going to try anything."

"I suppose that's a wise choice."

"Is it?" Harry asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. "A choice."

Other Tom's voice was light and charming as he said, "Why wouldn't it be?"

Harry didn't answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the mirror. When his Tom finally glanced up, Harry tried to convey his alarm through his expression. Tom's brow wrinkled as he crawled forward and scrawled a new note to hold against the glass.

'What's wrong?'

Harry didn't dare write a response. Instead he twitched his head to the side and shifted his eyes to stare at some point far to the right, as if someone was standing there.

Tom followed Harry's gaze off into the hypothetical distance. His concern hardened into something more severe. He placed his hand against the glass, fingers spread, but the mirror seemed as solid and unforgiving as ever.

Harry wished that they were together, that Tom was here with him, as terrible as this situation was, because at least together they would stand a chance. Staring into Tom's eyes at this moment, he thought that Tom likely agreed with him.

Tom pressed his hand more insistently against the glass and jerked his head towards it. He wanted them to touch hands.

"Is he still reading books?"

"Yeah," Harry said hoarsely. "He's still trying."

Tom glared and mouthed words that were obviously intended to disparage Harry's intelligence and general lack of common sense. Harry wanted to laugh, because it was funny, but if he laughed now then that probably meant he had lost it, which did not bode well for his continued survival.

Should he risk it? That was the question he now asked himself. Was raising his hand to the glass worth the risk? Harry had been told not to touch it, though he was now beginning to suspect that Nice Snape was not actually nice after all and that his advice was less than kind.

"I think we should go for a walk about the grounds," Other Tom continued. "Some fresh air will help you make the right decision. I can show you how wonderful this Hogwarts is compared to your own."

Harry gazed at Tom, whose expression had only grown more incensed as the seconds passed and Harry failed to move.

"Okay," Harry said. He nodded, still looking at Tom.

Harry got to his feet, taking care to plan his movements, then pitched forward like he'd lost his balance and smacked his hand against the glass, right over Tom's palm.

He could tell, from the moment his hand made contact with the cool glass, that he had activated the same stickiness as before.

"Pull!" Harry shouted, knowing that Tom could not hear him but had to be made to understand nonetheless.

Tom pulled.

As Harry went hurtling through the glass for the second time, the last thing he saw before he phased through was the surface of the mirror returning to normal.

Other Tom was nowhere to be seen—instead, Harry caught a glimpse of a grotesque, snake-like being with paper-white skin and gleaming, ruby-red eyes.